#also fighting crying screaming throwing up trying to figure out how to color things beyond flats

[squeakadeeks]

wanted a new background....transient time ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

[normal-thoughts-official]

The world keeps spinning (it really shouldn't)

Vance did it. He defeated Josephine, saved his grandpa and Elliot, and saved the town. Everything's fixed.

No. Everything is awful. He failed, and now his friend- now Tom is gone.

And he'd rather fight Josephine all over again, because it'd be easier than what he has to do now- tell Andy about it.

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Relationships: Andy Kang/Tom Sato, Danni Asturias/Imogen Wescott, (dannimogen is background and very brief but i couldn't resist), Andy Kang & Ava Cunningham & Lucas Thomas & Lily Ortiz

Additional Tags: tom dies and everything is awful, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Friendship, for basic context im going with the version of ILITW that i got, which is that everyone survived and noah took jane's place, and then for ILB i did the version where tom dies obviously, (which is not the version i got), (everyone survived), (i feel the need to say this for my own ego), but anyway i was like what if tho. andy would be devastated, and then... this happened?, only difference from canon is that ILITW MC told everyone about noah a lot before, also like. imma be real with yall, im physically uncapable of giving my MCs serious names, so ILB MC was named That Bitch and i didnt want to give him a real name, cuz it felt like betrayal, so im just calling him vance for this one, is it his nickname? is he called vance vance? dont worry about it, Anyway that's it, Pining, you know. before the death part. it's mentioned, also we're ignoring the whole richard tries to murder MC thing, cuz i dont have time for that, so pretend ILB ended on chapter 17, Hopeful Ending, considering the theme i mean

Read it on Ao3

The city of Westchester looks exactly the same, but somehow feels a lot less wholesome, now. Vance walks in it and feels like a corpse among the living, like a ghost screaming to everyone that something's wrong. And being ignored.

It shouldn't look the same, without Tom.

But no one knows, yet.

He swallows, running a hand behind the nape of his neck. That's why he's here, anyway - they should know, they deserve to know, and he doesn't want to have the funeral without Tom's friends there.

Which is why he's going to tell Andy. Himself, in person. Because he might not know him very well, but he wants to do the right thing, and that's the least Andy deserves. He knows there's no one Tom loved like he did Andy, and from what he's seen of them together, the feeling was mutual.

He has to do this. But he feels sick, just thinking about that bond, and how it was ruined.

How could he let this happen to them?

He was so cocky, so stupid, so reckless... He thought everything would turn out okay. Assumed it would, even, because it kept getting him through it, to think that everything would turn out fine.

God. What a joke.

He walks into the little diner Andy had recommended. I'm sure you've heard of that place, Tom loves it, he had texted. We always went there to celebrate our wins back in high school. His stomach had churned, but he didn't say anything, because he wasn't going to tell Andy via text. He has to do this right. It's the least he owes him.

So he pretended that everything was fine, and agreed to meet him there. Woke up, and dragged himself to the place, trying to muster up the courage to face the world that seemed to not even care about his mistakes.

When he gets to the diner's door, he takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself for what he's about to do. Face his own mistakes. Face the pain he caused when he failed them both.

He walks in, and to his relief, and despair, Andy is already there. He smiles brightly when he sees Vance, and Vance wants to disappear.

"Vance! Nice to see you, dude. I heard about what went down in Pine Springs, glad you're okay," he says, not giving time for Vance to answer before continuing, this weird sense of calm and sympathy about him. "So, I assume you still need help with that ghost? From what I've seen in the news, it seemed like you handled it pretty well, but it's not like they are giving us supernatural updates or anything, so I figured there were still some loose ends to tie. Are the other guys coming? Where's Tom?" he looks over behind Vance, and Vance wants to die at the question. God, how is he going to tell him? He didn't really think about that, beyond the part where he has to. "I kind of thought you'd come together again. Bad move to come separated, Tom is always late to everything, I swear if it weren't for me he'd have been kicked out of the team for missing practice too many times. And I'm not the most punctual guy in the world, mind you, but I still had to drag his ass there so he'd be on time- is everything okay?"

Vance is a little shocked by the question. It's not, but what is he supposed to answer? "Andy," he says, a little careful, "things… went a little wrong, back there."

"Oh, shoot," he says, "I'm sorry, man, I kinda assumed, when I heard about how the flooding and the animal attacks were in full swing and then just stopped suddenly, that that was when you got rid of the ghost, you know? And seeing you all in one piece… I thought it was over already. Do you need help? I can round up the guys, and we can go-"

"No, Andy," Vance says, "the ghost is gone."

Andy looks at him, confused. "Then what's the problem?"

"Tom," he says, then winces when he sees all the color drain from Andy's face.

Andy waits for barely a second, then breaks into anxious questioning. "Tom? Why? What do you mean? Is he hurt? How bad is it? Did he have to go to the hospital? Where is he?"

Vance wants to cry. God. God. He can't do this. "Andy..."

Andy just looks at him, eyes wild, terrified, and it hasn't even hit him yet. "Vance. Vance. Please. What happened? Does Tom need me? Because if so, we need to go-"

"Tom's gone," he says, and it leaves him in a rush, a whisper, taking with it the last of his energy. He's empty, and somehow, it's still awful. "He's… he's dead, Andy."

Andy looks at him, eyes wide, unfocused, lost. "This isn't funny," he says. "If Tom put you up to this, knock it off right now. Tell him not to ever joke about-"

"Andy," Vance says, then swallows. "Tom wouldn't joke about that. You know that."

"No, he wouldn't, but..." His eyes begin to water, panic settling in, gaze darting across the room as if searching for him, "But… No. No. No, knock it off."

Vance starts crying before Andy does. "I'm sorry, Andy."

--------

Andy is in shock. He freezes in place, mouth hanging open, everything about him completely still except for his eyes, still so damn wide, still searching the place, searching Vance, begging for something, anything. Vance sits him back down on the table, gently, and Andy lets himself be handled back, eyes still not settling on him.

"I'm sorry," Vance says. "I… I promised you that I would take care of him. I tried, but… I'm so sorry."

"How?" he asks, "how could this happen? This isn't… After Redfield, when everyone survived, I just… I didn't think any of us could lose to another monster, I..." He shakes his head, vigorously, desperately. "This was supposed to be over. We were done, we were free, it was supposed to be over, we were all supposed to be safe, it shouldn't..."

"I'm sorry. It all happened so fast, I… If I had been faster, maybe..."

"Well, it's a bit late for that now," Andy snaps, and Vance bites his lip, not recoiling, because he deserves it. Then Andy stops, as if realizing what he had said, and for a second, his eyes seem clear again. He shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry. I… If there's anything I've learnt from everything that happened, it's that we can't point fingers when things get hard." He finally looks up at Vance, shaking, eerily still, nothing like the guy he was just seconds ago. He's wrecked, Vance thinks, and he wants to tear at himself in guilt. "What happened? Did he- did he drown, or… Did the ghost..."

"We were fighting monsters," Vance explains. "There were just… So many of them, and it all happened so fast, I..." he looks away, not daring to look back at the memory, not daring to remember the awful scene. As if he has to. Everytime he closes his eyes, it's back, punishing him. "We got his body," he explains. "Pine Springs is taking the victims to mass graves, but we wanted to give him a proper burial. I thought… You'd want to come."

Andy seems surprised, like that hadn't crossed his mind. "You haven't buried him yet?"

Vance bites his lip. "No. We're doing it tonight. We didn't have the time before, and… Well, I thought you'd want to be there. And I think he'd have wanted his body to be in Westchester, so..." He trails off.

Andy looks at him, hesitant. He bites his lip, looks away, then back at him. "Can I see the body?"

Vance does recoil, this time. He wasn't expecting this question. "I… You won't want to."

"What do you mean, I won't want to? I need to say goodbye to him, I-"

"Andy," he says, as gently as possible, because he deserves Andy's anger, all of it, but he won't let him do that to himself. "You won't want to remember him like that. His body…" He looks at Andy's eyes. He's still furious, livid, shaking, and he's lost, and Vance realizes that he doesn't get it, doesn't understand what Vance is saying, and this might be even worse than having to tell him Tom is dead. "It's torn to pieces, Andy. There's not much for you to see."

Andy freezes, for the second time that day. "Was he- oh, god," he looks at his own shaky hands, somehow even more in shock than before. "Was it… At least, was it quick?"

Vance starts crying again. He opens his mouth to answer. He can't. He chokes on the words, on his guilt, on his uselessness. "I'm so sorry, Andy."

------

Andy throws up. Once, twice. He doesn't insist on looking at the body. Obviously, he can't. Just imagining it- it's too much.

He tries to comfort Vance, because he- he's trying to do better, with his anger, with his impulsiveness, but all he can think about is how much he wants to destroy something, and honestly, the whole conversation is a blur. He punches the wall instead, once he gets home. And throws up. Again and again. Sends his friends a message, letting them know about the funeral. Cries. Punches the wall again. And again, and again, hoping that his hands will start to bleed, that he'll tear himself apart. His mom asks what's got him so angry, and he yells, "Tom is dead!". Her face twists in shock, and he can't look at it. He runs away.

Being back outside is almost worse. Everything- it should be in shambles. The whole town, the whole world should be on fire, fizzling, filled with screams and despair, like Andy is. He's never lived in a world without Tom before, never been away from him his whole life, and it shouldn't look like it's just the same. Everything should be gone, destroyed. And it is, but it doesn't look that way, and Andy wants to tear it all apart until it makes sense, at least.

He hates Westchester now. He hates it. God damn the stupid woods, and the stupid cult, and the fucking Power! God damn Andy for telling Tom about it, for letting him become this sort of- monster hunter, for believing that just because they overcame a ghost once, it would keep happening if they pushed their luck.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Tom can't be dead. It's impossible.

How can Andy still be standing, if Tom isn't here?

---------

He wanders like that the rest of the day, not noticing the hunger that builds up after going a whole day without eating, not noticing the passersby looking at him worriedly, not noticing the thousands of missed calls from his mom, not noticing anything but this awful despair. He knows the feeling of wanting to claw his chest off intimately well, but it's never been like that before. He wants to carve himself hollow. He wants to scream. He wants to run. And he runs from the all-encompassing nothingness, even though he has nowhere to go.

He goes from angry to empty, and then back to angry, all day long, and the day passes in a blur.

--------

Andy meets up with Vance and two girls from their crew. Their group was pretty small, he realizes. A lot smaller than Andy's was, all those years ago. Three years ago. Forever ago. Another lifetime. Just yesterday.

The cemetery is empty, but there's a grave with a black casket they're standing next to. "I thought all the cemetery crew was helping Pine Springs," he says, like he cares. Honestly, he hadn't thought about the logistics of this at all.

"They are," Vance confirms, serious. "You, uh… You know about Noah, right…?"

Andy nods. "Yeah, we, uh, reintroduced ourselves to him a little after you guys left." It was weird, to say the least. All that anger, all that betrayal, bubbling up again right when they had all started to move on from what had happened, to think that it was over… The urge to scream at him, demand answers… And then seeing all the hurt, and the confusion, and remembering that they had loved Noah, once, most of their lives, and that at the end of the day, the only one who had suffered from his actions was himself.

It wasn't easy to forgive. Not to Andy. Or Stacy. Or Ava. But they had been working on it. Maybe they couldn't forgive, much less forget, but at the same time, they couldn't get rid of that bond, either.

Still… "What does this have to do with… With Tom?" If Noah had anything to do with his death, Andy would kill him all over again. He doesn't care about his freaky powers, he'll die if he has to, but Noah will pay.

"He, uh, helped. Dig the grave and, uh, get a casket. That's how we got everything ready."

Oh. "I… I see," he says. "Is he here?"

"No. I told him you guys were coming, and he said it was better if he left."

"Oh," Andy answers. "I guess that's… Yeah. Still..." he raises his voice a little bit, in the direction of the woods. "Thank you, Noah."

He doesn't see or hear anything, not really, but still, somehow, he can tell that Noah is pleased. He can picture Noah's smile and that fragile little "friendsss..."

He sighs, suddenly exhausted.

Vance seems to notice, god bless his soul. "Are the others coming?", he asks, gently.

"Lily, Lucas, and Ava are," Andy replies. "The rest were out of town, and they… They won't make it."

"I'm sorry."

Andy kicks a pebble. "It's fine," he says. It's the kind of lie that's so absurd that it becomes true. Nothing is fine. It'll never be fine. So it doesn't matter at all, and it ends up being fine.

Vance seems to realize what's going through his head, somehow, because he looks unsure of what to say. Finally, he settles on, "uh, Andy. These are Danni, and Imogen," he says, gesturing to each of them, and Andy musters up enough energy to look at their faces while he does that, at least. Then, his eyes widen for a second, finally taking in what they look like.

"Wait, you're Imogen Wescott?" he says, a little dumbfounded. "When I heard that name, I kinda expected you to be, you know..."

"White and insufferable?" Imogen asks, a little smile directed at him, so gentle he can barely handle it. "Yeah. That's why I'd rather go by Genny, usually."

Danni frowns at her, slightly troubled. "You never told me that."

Imogen's smile turns a little brighter. "Oh, no, not for you, Danni. For you, I'd rather go by 'babe'".

Danni also smiles at her, and they squeeze each other's hands, and the edges of grief seem to turn just a little softer for them both. Andy can tell that things get just a little easier for them, just a little less grim, because they have each other. And he needs to look away, wants to run, because he and Tom… They could've… In a way, they were...

He feels like he's ready to run again. God, he fucked up so bad. What was he supposed to do now, how could he get better when the one thing in the world that always made him feel better was Tom? He lost him, he's gone, it's over, and somehow it hadn't hit quite the way it did at that moment, looking at that connection, that love that showed through grief. He averts his eyes, feeling wild and cornered, and turns back right in time to almost run into Lily - who looks devastated, and reaches out to touch his arm. Which feels crazy, because Andy is raw, and his whole body is bleeding, and rotting away, and who would touch him-

"I'm so sorry, Andy." She says, and Andy finds himself hugging her tight, and he feels like she should wither, die at his touch, suffocate, but she just hugs him back and pats him and Andy cries on her shoulder, and he's never cried in front of her before, much less like this. But he can't stop, he can't do anything, he's so heavy and dizzy and lost-

And Lily is stronger than they give her credit for, because she holds him, this endless weight that is him, even when he shakes and stains her sweater with tears, like it's nothing. She feels so solid, right then, the only solid thing in the world. She's got him, Andy knows, and it's like finally he ran into something he can take shelter in. He takes a deep breath, then another, and holds on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing he says, maybe the only thing he knows how to say right now. Maybe this is how Jane felt, in the end - this endless spectre of regret, bigger than everything, than everyone, encompassing her and drowning her until it ate her whole and left her empty, with only the Power and its evil inside her.

He's so tired, but he's not empty, not yet.

He almost wants to be.

"Don't apologize," Lily says, so sad and sympathetic, and it takes Andy a moment to realize what she's even talking about. "I'm really sorry, I..."

It's only then that Andy's eyes focus enough to see Ava and Lucas standing a little after her, their faces twisted with sadness and bodies frozen in place. At times like this, it really is obvious that Lily is the bravest out of all of them, by far. Andy doesn't think he's ever cried in front of any of them, and Lucas and Ava look- completely lost.

Lucas is the first to talk, out of them both. His voice is very soft. "Andy, if there's anything you need..."

Ava interrupts, words leaving her way too fast. "We'll be staying with you tonight." She blinks for a second, frowning at Lucas. "Sorry, I, uh, hadn't realized you were talking." She looks like she just came out of a daze. She probably had been running that in her head for a while. Lucas puts his hand on her shoulder, and Ava runs a head on her neck, embarrassed.

"It's okay," Andy answers, even though her apology wasn't directed at him. "You don't have to, you know, watch over me or..." He trails off.

"We're not leaving you alone," Ava says, resolute. "You know the others couldn't come, but we all agreed that we should be… You know..."

Andy chokes on something he can't quite feel. He looks down at his feet, and he hasn't felt this small in years. "I… Okay."

Ava reaches out to him, hesitant, and gives him a little pat on the shoulder. Lucas starts rubbing his back soothingly, and, very awkwardly, they gravitate into a group hug. Andy can see the nervousness in Ava's eyes, the worry that she's doing this wrong somehow, like a hug is the most complex thing in the world, and he tries to muster up a little smile of encouragement to her, but he's forgotten how to do that. He doesn't know how to do anything, anymore.

Slowly, they separate, and all three of them still keep some sort of touch with Andy - even Ava, with her hand close to his shoulder - like they're trying to anchor him, but he drifts away anyway, lost in whatever it is that's left of himself.

Vance looks down at him for a moment, as if waiting for a signal, but Andy doesn't know for what, so he waits for Vance to figure it out. Finally, he says, "should we start?"

Andy frowns. "Wasn't there some other guy with you? Pork something?"

Vance, Imogen, and Danni all look at each other, uncertain, surprised, for a moment. It's Imogen who speaks up. "He… He left us."

Ava swallows. "Did he also..."

"No," she says, shaking her head, sadly. "He, uh, deserted the group."

"He what?" Someone asks, shocked, almost outraged, and when Andy sees the looks in everyone's faces, he realizes that it was him.

"He couldn't take it," Vance says, face twisted with sadness. "All the fighting, the monsters… He left."

Andy is shaking. Falling apart. About to explode. "When?"

Vance doesn't look at him. "Right before the final battle."

"He abandoned you when you were going up against the evil ghost?"

"He..." Vance begins, then finds that he has nothing else to say. "Yeah."

"How…" Andy begins, lost for words, and then it happens. He explodes. "How dare he!" He screams. "Tom was counting on him, he trusted him, he needed him, and he just left? He should have been there! He should have been there, he should," Andy looks at his own hands, in shock, watching them tremble and go out of focus, like there are tears blocking his vision, and he feels sick, on the verge of death, and he realizes that he's not talking about that guy at all. "He should have been there!" He slips from his own control, falling to his knees, covering his face, feeling shame, shame, shame, hatred, disgust. "He should… I should… Oh God, I just let him go alone..."

"Andy..." Someone says. Maybe Lucas. Maybe Lily. Maybe the Imogen girl. It sounds so sympathetic. He wants to claw at his own skin and hide.

"I should have been there, I shouldn't… I had experience, what was I thinking..."

"Tom didn't want you to go," someone else says, gently. "I was there when you talked, remember? You didn't abandon him. You said you were going to come, and he told you not to."

"Tom.. Tom is not my damn boss," Andy answers, still covering his face, feeling the tears stop spilling and start to drown him from the inside, and god damn T, the least Tom deserves is for him to be able to cry properly- "I-I should have… gone," he chokes, shaking.

The next one who speaks is Ava. "He wouldn't have wanted you to be at risk, Andy."

"I don't care. I don't care. I'm selfish like that, I'd rather it was me. I could have helped him, I could have saved him, even if I had to- to take his place..."

"Andy..." is all Ava says, sounding shaken, devastated.

"Fuck!" He screams, punching the ground beneath him as if trying to punish the earth for taking Tom. "He would have never left me like that, I could always count on Tom, I could always..." he feels his chest constrict, or maybe burst, with all the tears and horror inside of him, like he's cracking from the inside. "Always..." he can't form the words, can't find the air, and he falls in on himself, more, more, more, closing in, suffocating, "always..." he can't breathe. He can't breathe. He tries to draw it in, to keep himself steady, but every time he tries to bring it in, the air escapes from him again, further, abandoning him, and he wheezes, again, again, closing in further, suffocating, oh God, he's going to die…

"It's a panic attack!" Someone screams, then kneels beside him, putting their hands on his shoulders. "Andy. Andy. Focus on me. You need to breathe. Deep lungfuls. Come on. I'll count to four. Keep breathing in. 1… 2..."

"Can't," he wheezes. It's too strong, like there's something… Something constricting his chest, inside and outside, and then he realizes… "Binder." He sits down straighter, no longer closing in on himself, and that awful vulnerability gets even worse, but it's easier to breathe. He follows the person's counts… 1, 2, 3, 4… Then up to five, then to six, then to seven, then eight… Until finally he doesn't need help, and he opens his eyes and contemplates the absolute mess that he is, and Imogen's kind, relieved face just inches from him.

"Good, Andy, you did well… I have these sometimes, too, I know how scary they are, you were so brave..." Imogen keeps on saying, painfully understanding, and he nods, a bit exhausted to explain. He didn't take his binder off all day, didn't remember… And if he wears it for too long, he's more prone to hyperventilating, especially if he's stressed. Tom knew that. Tom would have known what was going on. Tom… Fuck.

"I'm sorry," he says, to everyone, and no one in particular.

"Don't apologize. We're all glad you're okay," Lily says, and he realizes that, somehow, she had also kneeled beside him and brought him into another hug. He hides his face on her shoulder, shaking his head, trying to breathe. Breathing. She pets his head, a little bit, and he can feel some more touch, too - little pats on his shoulder and back, all gentle, not crowding him, like he's some sort of wild animal they're trying to calm down.

God, what a mess.

He holds Lily tighter, wanting to hide from the world. She lets him, because it's the kind of person Lily is. He feels himself drift away, for a while, but Lily's still petting his head and he can't lose himself completely. He shakes his head, wanting to fight it, almost wanting to get away from Lily, but he can't escape the gentleness in her embrace. He still can't cry, but he feels his eyes water and burn anyway, and he shakes his head against Lily's shoulder. He just wants this to be over. Please, he's so exhausted.

His breaths even, despite himself, but Andy keeps shaking, and he keeps shaking his head slightly against Lily. He wants this to end, it has- has to be a nightmare…

"Shh, Andy, don't hold it in, it's okay," Lily says, slowly, sadly, and Andy shakes his head more vigorously. No. He can't be weak right now, it's only going to make it last longer. He needs to end it, can't be done with this until Tom has gotten his goodbyes.

It's the least Andy owes him, now that there's nothing else he can do.

So, he speaks up.

"We should go on," he says, suddenly feeling resolute. It's easier to do this if he has something to focus on. He needs to see this through the end, for Tom. If he thinks only about that...

"Are you sure?" Vance asks, hesitant.

Andy nods, forcing his vision to focus. "He needs to rest."

----------

Everyone's speeches go by in a blur. Vance talks about how good Tom's heart was, how he was willing to drop everything to go help a bunch of strangers, how everyone could always count on him. He cries, and he says he's sorry, and the girls put their arms around him, tell him that he did his best. Imogen brings up how kind he was, and Danni talks about his strength. They really loved him, Andy notices, and feels his heart settle just a little bit. He was loved till the end. Of course he was.

Lucas talks about how supportive Tom was, how he was always uplifting everyone around him and would let Lucas babble on about conservation for hours. Lily brings up how much he believed in her and supported her when she was making her videogames. Ava says that Tom was the only one who ever saw her looking up Westchester's history and cults and just… Sat down with her and helped, understanding that she needed this to feel safe, to feel ready, and sharing that burden of getting ready for a disgrace, just a little bit. Andy never knew that Tom had been joining Ava for research. He could've helped with that, too. He could have done a lot of things, if he had paid more attention.

He's left for last, and a part of him wants to be a coward, to stay silent, but that was never his style.

"When Tom had turned into a zombie," he begins, "Redfi- Jane made him hurt me. And I wasn't worried for myself. I was worried for him. I wanted him back, no matter what it took, no matter what happened to me," he begins, not looking at anyone in particular, because he knows most of them already know this story, but he's not going to- he's not going to deny Tom the chance to know how he felt about him, before he rests. It's the least Andy owes him.

So, he takes a deep breath and goes on, pushing himself into saying something that matters.

"Then our friends showed up, and they said that Tom was still there. That I had to reach out to him. So I tried. I talked to him about our childhood. About how much he had been supporting me… How he was my best friend. He was hesitant, but so… Scared. I didn't know what to do. Tom and I always got each other..." He loses himself a little, shaking his head, purging the thoughts that were keeping him from going on, "And then someone said, 'Andy's hurt. H-he needs help'." He loses focus for a second, and that can't happen. He takes a breath, tries to make himself talk. "And just like that… Tom came back.

"He extended his hand to me, and helped me to my feet, and suddenly there was color in his face again, and for a second he wasn't even confused as to what the hell was going on, he just wanted to make sure I was okay. He came back because I needed him. Because he couldn't bear to hurt me. He was always there for me, and I… I don't think I ever needed him more than right now."

He stops a minute, to look at the faces surrounding him. There's a grief in them that looks almost like… Pity.

And Andy isn't even mad about it. He feels pitiful.

"I'm not the best guy with words," he admits, "so I don't know how to express how much this meant to me, or how much Tom meant to me. No one understood me like him. Tom is… Was… No, is a part of me. Maybe the best part of me, because I loved him more than anything else about myself. I'll miss him for the rest of my life." He looks down at Tom's grave, carved out of anything else to say. "I love you, buddy."

It's not the greatest speech that's ever been given, but it's what he can say, and at least he's done it. He'll be able to do better, later. He'll come back to talk to him again. As many times as he can, for as long as he can. He swears on that.

Andy steps back from the grave, and doesn't look as they slowly fill it, covering the closed casket with dirt. He finally allows himself to let the exhaustion catch up with him, and is overcome by that blissful, blissful emptiness.

---------

He's fully expecting himself to drop asleep as soon as they get to Ava's place. They decided to stay there for the night, because Andy still doesn't want to face his mom, to see that same grief in her, for her to want to talk to him, to tell him that everything would be fine. He can't do that, not today. At least Lucas had enough foresight to warn her of where they are, so she should leave him alone for now. Lucas is very reliable in a crisis, Andy thinks, making a note to himself to thank him properly later.

But he can't sleep. He's too exhausted to even rest. And for some reason, even though he doesn't want to talk, that's exactly what he found himself doing for the past few hours. Vomiting up all sorts of memories and thoughts, ranging from funny moments he had with Tom to all of his regrets, and Andy's always been kind of a stress-talker, but it's never been like this. He feels like he's been skinned alive; there's nothing to hold himself together, to hold anything at all in.

He cries all the tears he didn't think he had left in him anymore, and he curses himself, and the guy who left them in the end, and Noah, and the Power, and the cult, and himself again. He scratches his own skin until Lucas gently takes his hands in his, stopping him from doing more of it. And he talks, through all of that. Talks and talks and talks.

The words make him drift through memories, through states of mind, and he knows he's so damn volatile today, it's like he can't anchor himself to a feeling, but his friends put up with him anyway.

Finally, he starts to settle into this sort of… Slowness, like his mind is clear, or maybe blank, even as he keeps on thinking. And he keeps talking through it, letting all the minor regrets have their turn after he's too damn done to keep dealing with the worst parts.

"I never told him I was in love with him," Andy says, staring at the three empty mattresses in front of him, because it's easier than looking at any of his friends, who are currently sitting right beside him, as he babbles on. "I was going to, you know? After R- Jane. I had almost died, so I figured, you know- yolo, and all that. And then I told myself, 'I'll wait until I'm out of the hospital.' And then I started to think… What if he didn't feel the same way? What if things got weird? What if I end up losing him? And I never told him," he looks at his own feet, "and now I lost him anyway."

They all just look at him. They used up all the "I'm sorry, Andy"s left in them a long time ago, he thinks. There's only so many platitudes you can muster up when you know they're worthless, when you're just repeating yourself.

God bless them for trying, though. They're sticking with him through their own- everyone's inadequacy to deal with what's going on. Andy can't thank them enough for that.

"He knew you loved him," Ava says, serious, and Andy frowns at her, doubtful. "He might not have known you were in love with him, but… He knew how much he meant to you. I'm sure of it."

Andy laughs, humorless, "did you finally get those mind reading powers you wanted?" he says. It falls flat, but they pretend it doesn't, for his sake.

Ava rolls her eyes. "Don't be an ass, Kang," she says. "No. I just… I can tell. Anyone can."

Andy bites his lip, looking away.

She presses on, as gently as she can. "Besides, you also know, don't you? Regardless of anything else… Tom loved you, just as much as you loved him."

"I still love him," Andy says, before he can think about it, and a weird kind of shame creeps up on him - for saying it, for not saying it sooner, for realizing that this… It'll probably never go away, even now that it's completely pointless, that it's just proof of his cowardice.

"That's… Normal," Lily says, fiddling a little with her sweater. "You don't forget someone just like that, just because something happened. I mean, look at me and Britney. It took me years to get over her, and even then, I had to have supernatural forces show me exactly who she was, first."

"She didn't deserve you," Ava says.

"Maybe not. It doesn't matter now," Lily says. "The point is… It's okay to still love him."

Andy hugs his knees. "I don't think anything is okay, right now."

"That's okay, too."

They stay in silence for a moment, and then Lucas speaks up. "I know 'it gets better' stories don't really help at times like these," he says, "so I won't tell you that, but… I know what it's like, to feel like nothing will ever be okay, ever be enough. So… At least you're not alone, in that feeling."

Andy's mouth does something. It's not a smile, but it's what it can do right now. "Yeah. At least it's not like last time," he says. "With Jane. We all fell apart, and… It felt really lonely, even though..." He chokes up. "I had Tom."

Lucas rubs at Andy's shoulder sadly, and Andy shakes his head.

"It's just that he didn't get it, you know? And I couldn't tell him, about what happened," he says, instead of thinking about how much worse this is, no matter how many friends he has by his side right now. "So I… Missed you guys." He finishes, ashamed.

"We get it," Ava says, solemn. "And we're sticking with you, this time around."

"Yeah," Lucas agrees.

"Yeah," Lily adds.

"Okay," Andy answers. "I… Thanks."

They hug him tighter. It's all they have to say.

[ilguna]

Belamour - Chapter Six (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, murder plot, murder, DEATH IN DETAIL, gore

wc; 8k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games begin!” The words ring through the air, lingering in your head long past their existence.

There’s a sixty second grace period, in which you're allowed to check your surroundings and see what you’re up against. The land, who you’re next to, and what you want to do after the gong sounds. Run away, or run towards the cornucopia? You have to decide quickly. The more daring tributes will head straight towards the cornucopia, and it could end in two ways. Success, or death.

Whoever designed the outfits were right to make the jacket and the shirt thin. You’ve only been above ground for ten seconds and you can already feel the sweat running down your back. It’s weird that it’s so hot already, especially since it’s only ten in the morning. Back home, it would be cooler and much more pleasant outside.

The cornucopia is made out of gold, stretching twenty feet into the air. The mouth is wide, and it thins out towards the back. The tail stretches higher than the mouth, curling in the air like the tail of a scorpion. Inside of the building is everything a tribute could ever wish for. Things that could carry you for days, maybe even weeks.

It’ll all make survival a whole lot easier. Spread out in front of the cornucopia are more goodies. Weapons, food, plastic, firestarters, backpacks, tents, everything you could ever need. The further it is away, the less important it becomes. In front of your feet lies a rope that looks to be six feet long. Not worth it.

To your left is Cass, her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail too. Her eyes are on yours, and the two of you share a nod. Like you’re challenging her to a race to see who will get there first. Her or you? You may be small, but you’ve always been quick. You think she’d have a better chance if she ran away.

Past her is the boy from Six, Amos. Next to Amos is Verda, and beside Verda is Eytelle. Eytelle and you share a knowing look. That as soon as the gong sounds, it’s towards the cornucopia or you’re a coward and forfeit the alliance. You’ve fought hard these past couple of days to get here, and lost a friend along the way. To give up now would be foolish. You’ll see her there.

You can’t see anyone important past Eytelle. To your right is the girl from Ten. She’s weak, small and feeble. You saw how awful she was inside of the Training Center, and she scored an average five. You wonder if it was all a hoax to make people think she was weak. However, you distinctly remember her failing to pick up the swords because of how heavy they were.

Swinging them made her fall. She’s not much of a threat besides the fact that she’s also looking to go to the cornucopia. You’ll have to keep your eyes on her when you get there. To die by her hands would be an embarrassment. 

You see Blaire next to her. He has a kind smile on his face, eyebrows a little raised as he cocks his head towards the woods. Are you going with him? You shake your head no, you’re staying with the careers. You’ve made that decision already, accepting their offer. He’s disappointed, you look past him to see Lennox is also staring. He gives you a hard nod, and you give yourself the last twenty seconds to become accustomed to your surroundings.

This year, the cornucopia sits on sand, something that will be so hard to run on if you’re not experienced. It’s going to spray up everywhere when you run, and it’s going to slow you down. You know you’re quick, but this will slow you down.

There seems to be trees all around you. Behind the cornucopia on the other side, there’s a dense forest. Some are palm, reaching higher into the sky than others. There’s bushes, batches of leaves attached to the ground that you think are wild and could possibly be poison ivy. You can’t be sure how big the arena is, you can only see so far and it’s always a toss up.

Far off to the right is a cliff that looks fairly daunting to climb. Beyond that, you can’t see anything. Behind you is forest too, but you think it’s peculiar that there’s sand all around. You crouch down on the metal plate, being careful not to fall off. You remember the year where a girl had fallen off the plate and it blew her into the sky.

You can see through the trees, now. The trees aren’t as crowded behind you, they’re spread apart. You think you can see water washing up and onto the sand. Yes, there it is, a vast blue body of water. You don’t think you’re in the middle of the ocean, maybe a lake instead. Out there is salt water, the smell is unmistakable. Which only means that somewhere on this island will be a freshwater pond with fairly safe drinking water.

If the arena is an island, it has to be big. The arena’s are hardly ever small, typically they’re gigantic and it takes hours to reach one side of it. There will be plenty of hiding spots here, which means a hard place to explore and find other tributes, unless they’re stupid and pick the obvious spots.

You stand again, realizing that you can’t see Allio or Trink at all. Which just means that they’re too far or they have to be on the other side of the cornucopia, somewhere with Finnick. It’s not your problem, especially not Finnick. They’ll find their way to you.

Your stomach lurches the second before the gone sounds. The race has begun.

You jump off of the metal plate, not liking the way your feet sink into the sand. You take off running, though. It’ll be easier to make the cornucopia yours if you’re one of the first there.

You’re careful to dodge any of the goodies that are laying around in the sand. You don’t want to accidentally get your foot caught in something, and trip and go flying. You dig your boots into the sand toes-first, and use the little divots as leverage to push yourself forward. One foot in front of the other, you know that there’s a spray of sand behind you.

You live fairly close to the coast in District Four. Their beaches aren’t the best, but they’re covered in sand and a pain in the ass to run in. Your brothers always had a way of doing it though, and you’re not sure how. But the more you run, the more you seem to realize you’ve got a pattern down, and focus on that to get you to the cornucopia.

You spare a glance on either side to see that the others are having trouble with the sand, just like you thought. You’re way ahead of the others, the only person that seems to be a runner-up is Lennox. Blaire has made a beeline towards the trees on the far side of the cornucopia. If Finnick were running to the cornucopia too, the both of you would be neck in neck.

Ten more feet and you reach the cornucopia first, out of breath, chest heaving. You reach for the nearest weapon, a sword displayed on the wall. It’s just barely on the inside of the mouth. All the other weapons are too far back into the cornucopia, all displayed just as nicely as this sword. Going back there would mean to trap yourself, though. You don’t bother.

The sword is odd in your hands, heavy. You don’t like it. You can’t throw a sword like you can throw a spear or knife. You turn around, expecting to see you have a few more seconds before the rest of the impact hits, but you’re met face to face with the girl from Ten. In her hands is a sword, which she carries easily. The bitch was faking it.

A loud sting of fear pierces your heart. It’s your first fight, quite possibly your first kill. Despite the fact that you’re a literal threat in front of her, she still seems unsure on what she wants to do. Hesitance at any point during this could cost you your life. You don’t let her decide what she wants to do, and instead you swing as hard and as fast as you can.

She barely blocks you. Realizing that she can’t run, she has no choice but to fight, and she puts up a fight. Every swing you make for an artery or a stab for anything, she deflects you and counters it. You stupidly think of all the times you watched the boys back home pretend to sword fight with sticks on the playground.

Some would use one, others would have two. You remember watching boys and girls throw rocks and tiny sticks, pretending them to be bombs and throwing knives. You never really participated in these faux fights, but there was one time when you did. You hated every moment of it, but you managed to barely make it out.

But that’s all pretend, and this is real life.

Around you, you can hear the panicked shouts and blood curdling screams of others dying. The squelching of blood makes your stomach hurl and you bite back the vomit that is very much rising in your throat. The more you swing the sword, the more tired you grow to be. The two of you are far from the cornucopia, now.

This girl, who has gotten a five on her training score is putting up a fight you’d never had expected from her. You struggle for a moment, trying to figure out a chink in her armor. To see if she favors a leg, or an arm or completely leaves parts of her open. She doesn’t. 

To go from running to fighting has you out of breath and tired.

Without thinking about it, and expecting her to catch it, you fake right but swing left. She misses it completely, and you find your sword lodged in the side of her neck. She coughs, blood spraying onto your white coat. She reaches for the blade, fingers aching to get it out. 

Her eyes are wide, and it’s clear that she’s panicked. She slowly falls to her knees, face twisting. You reach for the hilt again, pulling on it hard, too hard. You fall back, watching the sword come looks and blood spray out of her neck and into the air, landing in the beige-colored sand. 

She watches you, choking. You barely get to your feet, feeling bad for this girl that you’ve just murdered. She’ll never get to go home to her family, she’ll never get to cry and hug them again. But then again, this is her own fault. This girl thought that she’d come out of the bloodbath alive.

You grit your teeth, looking away and towards the rest of the battle as you slam the sword through the side of her skull. There is no canon, and there won’t be one until much later. The gamemakers wait to set them off until the bloodbath is over. It’s hard to keep track of the alive and the dead and it would be a mistake to miss a canon or accidentally put one out when no one had died.

You see Lennox, he’s preying over the boy from Ten, eyes wild and mouth bared to a grin. There’s already blood on his hands, you and him are even at the moment. But he’s going to break the score by killing Ten. You know it won’t be merciful. The moment that Lennox launches himself at Ten, you know that he’s out to make it entertaining.

Trink and Allio have joined you. Both fighting their own mini battles with tributes that you know are going to lose. You can see a few bodies already, but can’t tell who they are. You drag your feet on your way back to the cornucopia, vigilant and wary of anyone who might make a run at you.

You don’t see anyone. You’re quick with leaning your sword against a box, using your foot to keep it upright. You yank off the jacket and tie it around your waist instead. You’ve begun to feel the effects of the heat, and you’d rather not collapse in a useless heap in the already hot sand. On the same box sits a knife that you pick up and tuck into your belt as a safety precaution.

You watch as Ten falls at Lennox’s knees, a sinister smile across his face. A chill goes down your spine as you watch Lennox prepare to kill him execution-style. He raises his sword up, and when he’s gathered enough strength, you flinch at the sight of Ten’s head coming clear off. The head lands face-down in the sand, the body becoming a water fountain of hot, thick blood, before it too, falls in the sand. 

You swallow thickly, and Lennox moves on to his next target. It’s the boy that Trink is having a hard time fighting. From Five, you think. He’s putting up a good fight, and it’s making Trink look bad. You grab your sword, dragging it in the sand behind you as you gather with Lennox.

The boy seems to realize how much danger he is in, now. His eyes darting from Trink to Lennox. When he sees you between them, you think you see hope in his eyes. He must think that you’re there to save him, but you’re not. You’re just here to make his death a whole lot quicker, and that seems to dawn on him.

He’s backing up, away from you guys. Lennox and Trink attack him from the sides, already occupying most of his attention. With you added, he’s working overtime, and he’s fearful. His swings become less calculated and more last-minute and full of fear. All you can think about is how this would’ve been you.

Five deflects Lennox, and then you, and then back to Lennox. It opens up a wide window for Trink, she places her hand on Five’s shoulder. Before he can turn and kill her, she slams the sword through his side, and you watch it come out the other end. You lower your sword, and watch as she slams it in a few mores times.

You turn to survey, hoping that there isn’t much left to do. But there’s a tall tribute, double and a half your height, a scythe in his hands. He’s taller than Eytelle, taller than Laurel. A scream rises in your throat, you reach out to grab Lennox to get his attention, but come across nothing but air.

His dark eyes turn to you. You know who he is now, Horace. Thyme briefly talked about him to Blaire, Verda and Finnick. You didn’t listen to her much, you didn’t care for what she had to say. The only real part that you caught from her was the fact that he’s a butcher’s son, and she’s seen him carry hundred-pound deer like they’re the lightest thing in the world.

She said that her and her friends used to watch him carry much heavier things after school. She said she never saw something he couldn’t carry. 

He scored a ten in training. And you’ve got his attention.

You raise your sword, which seems so useless against his scythe. His is long, and all he’d have to do is extend his arm and he could kill you. One swing of the scythe and your head could come clean off, just like the boy from Ten. One bad move and you’re suddenly a dead body on your way home.

You keep backing up, not wanting him to come close. You don’t even know if you’re the real target, because earlier he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at Trink, but now the two of them are nowhere to be seen. You shuffle your feet back, burying your feet in the sand first.

You need to get around him, behind him somehow. Away from his line of sight, have him focus on someone else again. Not you. 

Before you can move to the right, wanting to make a half circle around him, your feet get caught on something behind you. You think it’s sand, but the moment you’ve fallen, you realize that it’s Five’s dead leg. You go to get up, but Horace has got his scythe too close. Scooting to the side would do nothing, you continue to back up, the sand is resistant.

This is how you die. A child that had played up a show for the Capitol. A girl who had said she would make it home, and made promises that she would along the way. All it would take is one swing to break all those promises.

You release the sword, no longer wanting it to drag you down. Despite this, you’ve still got the knife occasionally digging into your thigh, but never hard enough to break the skin. 

The knife.

You reach for it, pulling it out and holding it in your hand. He doesn’t seem to notice or care. You stop backing up. You can pretend. You’ve been pretending. The sweet girl, you beg; “Please, don’t.” but he doesn’t listen and continues to advance on you. You keep your eyes on the scythe, waiting for the chance and then he raises, clearly preparing to kill you.

You wait a second, and then lunge at his calf the moment he swings. You stab the knife into his calf, yanking it down. The spray of blood is hot against your face. You can hear him yell out, dropping the scythe and instead moving to grab you. You jump again, out of the way and towards the sword that lies only a few feet away.

It’s a race to weapons. You barely scramble to your feet, the sword is warm now because of the sun on the metal, and the blood on your hands makes it slippery between your fingers. You grip it tightly, and then turn to Horace, who still has his back to you, fingers reaching for his scythe.

You raise the sword above your head, feeling the ache in your shoulders at the heaviness of the sword. Just before Horace goes to fight back, you bring the sword down. Like a king to accolade a knight, except the sword lodges in the back of his head instead of a gentle tap against his shoulder.

Another canon. A second person’s life on your hands. You watch as Horace falls forward, and since your hand is still very gripped onto the sword, you’re thrown onto his body. On your knees, you’re face to face with the back of his split-open head. You grit your teeth, the smell of blood is metallic and fills your nose. Tears spring in your eyes, stomach lurching again.

You can’t hold back the gag, or the cough that comes after. In two seconds, you’ve lost your breakfast and the water you drank before you came inside. You’re shakily holding onto the sword, trying to keep yourself upright. There’s vomit in your nose, and tears running down your cheeks.

You struggle to breathe, not wanting a second round. You turn your head away and hum loudly, pulling the sword free of Horace’s head and stumbling back again. You fall onto your hands and knees, next to your knife. You wipe the blood onto your jeans, and then tuck it into your belt. After, you’re struggling to your feet and making your way back towards the others with your sword in hand.

You rub the tears, snot and vomit away. Watching as Trink smears blood across her cheek by accident. Her eyes find you, face twisting. She’s confused, you can tell. She looks around you to see Horace, and suddenly her face is breaking into a grin, “You--wow!”

There’s nothing to say. There’s no more fighting. You didn’t lose a single person in your pack. Everyone who’s dead are outsiders. You regroup inside of the cornucopia with the others.

“What’d she do?” Allio asks, looking over.

“She got that big guy from Eleven.” She claps her hand against your shoulder, “I didn’t even see it!”

There’s a look of jealousy in Allio’s eyes.

“I’m lucky to be alive.” you muse, taking a seat on a box. You take the neck of your shirt and use it to wipe the sweat from your forehead. To them it’s a joke, to you it’s real. You might have been his equal when it came to training score, but that was not going to be a fair fight.

At least your odds have increased, and maybe have gotten a few sponsors in the process. After all, you just killed a man that was bigger, stronger and older than you. He might have had brute strength, but you had outsmarted him. 

You watch and listen to what they have to say about the bloodbath. They say it was fairly easy, and they didn’t have to fight as much as they thought they would. All you can think about is the fact that you threw up a good amount of food that could have lasted you until this evening. Now, it’s just before noon.

At least they didn’t see you lose your breakfast right after killing Horace. You push yourself up from where you were sitting, and head out to check who and how many are dead. There will be canons later, and even a recap of who has died in the sky later tonight, but you can’t wait. You need something to occupy your mind.

Both from District Ten. The boys from Five, Six and Eleven. Both from Nine, Verda, and Cass. You stop above Verda’s body, staring down at the way she’s laid out. She’s not even five feet from her metal plate, and there’s a knife lodged in her forehead. She’s starfished, eyes open. You crouch down, whispering an apology while your back is turned to your friends.

You close her eyes, and then pull the knife out of her skull. It’s a throwing knife, which means that one lucky tribute had made it out with knives. Because no one has them spread out or around them as far as you can see. You note this, and shuffle pass Cass, whose neck is clearly broken.

“Nine dead.” you tell them when you get back to the cornucopia. 

“Nice.” Trink sounds excited.

Five in your alliance, ten out there somewhere. Two of them are Finnick and Blaire. For now, you think that they’re alive. There’s really no way to tell until the canons start blasting and whether or not their faces show up in the sky, indicating their deaths. 

You pack a backpack, preparing to air out of the cornucopia with your alliance. You kick a box open, expecting clothes and useless things but come across a first aid kit and some throwing knives. You pack all of it into your backpack, zip it up and then throw it over your shoulder.

There’s enough food in the backpack to carry you if you get lost or split from your group. There’s a sleeping bag--but you can’t imagine you’ll be needing it anytime soon with this heat--a canteen, some iodine tablets, and a few other useless things. Once the others are ready, you all head off towards the thicker part of the forest, since it’s where you all saw the most tributes fleeing.

The gamemakers waste little to no time picking up the bodies. You’re about a mile into the forest, all spread out in a line, looking for tributes when the canons start. And just as you suspected, it comes out to nine. There haven’t been any extra deaths for now. It’s just a matter of time when there will be.

“So, what would you call the arena this year?” you ask, not wanting to succumb to silence.

“Some sort of island.” Eytelle says.

It’s nice to know they think the same, at least it confirms your thoughts. However, it still makes you wonder if they know about the dangers of an island, just yet. It’s not just dense forest and plenty of trees, it has wild animals.

Allio snuffs, “I’d like to say it’s tropical, but it’s… not.” he says, swatting a branch out of his face, “It’s just your typical wilderness with some curve balls.”

“Tall trees aren’t really curve balls.” Trink says.

Lennox shakes his head, “I think he might be talking about the cliffs.”

And right on cue, all of you look over at the same time. Even through the thick branches of trees, you can see the cliffs. You’re not even that close, but it’s so very obvious how high up in the sky it is. Just leaves a question of whether or not there’s ocean beneath it, or plain ground. Both have a feeling of cement on impact from that kind of height.

“You guys want to take a climb?” Allio asks.

It’s your turn to laugh, “And let everyone know where we are? Do you want them to take from the cornucopia?”

“We’re away from it anyway, so what’s it matter?” Lennox asks, “They have to know because of the bodies being retrieved, right?”

“Maybe.” You say, “Or maybe they think we’re somewhere nearby and we’re going to go right back once they’re gone. And you’re telling me you want to hike up that? What a waste of daylight.”

“What are we even looking for?” Eytelle asks.

“Water.” Trink says just before you can.

And despite your best efforts, you all settle into silence. For about an hour, it’s just walking and keeping an eye out for any hidden tributes. You twist your ring in small circles, trying to keep yourself from biting your nails or anything else that might give off how nervous you are.

You’ve survived the bloodbath, which is possibly the worst part you’ll ever come across in here. Of course, now it’s left to the  unpredictability of other tributes, but you ran straight into the cornucopia and made it out alive. You fought two older troubles, one of them the size of a giant, and came out the winner.

It’s good news to Mags and Anchor, you think. Gets a lot of sponsors to line up after taking them down the way you did. However, you bet they saw your not-so-graceful demise after. Falling on top of Horace and losing your lunch… probably not one of your greatest moments. And honestly, you hope that if you do win, that’ll be cut out of the recap.

There’s no guarantee that it was even shown then, actually. You know that the gamemakers tend to switch the cameras when tributes are having private moments. Which includes an array of things, and you think one of those is puking. Either way, it shouldn’t have turned people away.

If they were to be face to face with something so gruesome and gory, knowing that they’re the ones that caused it, you can almost guarantee that they’d lose their breakfast too. Then they’d probably scream and cry and make it a lot more painful. 

Eventually, Eytelle thinks she’s found water. You all follow behind her, with Lennox taking up the back in case someone were to attack. You don’t really feel like standing guard at the back, anyway. After the two people you killed today, you know that you’ll be able to take the person down. But why would you want to?

If he wants to have blood and murder on his hands, then that’s his deal. With the careers, they’re always after the most kills, anyway. Makes their recap when they win interesting, and they end up getting praised for killing half of the arena. It’s not that way in Four, exactly, but it’s definitely that way in One and Two, since that’s the way they think.

District Four is a unique place. Teetering on the edge of being a ‘real’ career and just a plain district. Your poverty rate is higher than the ones in One and Two combined. It’s all because they’re favored a lot more than you guys, as always. And you wonder why that is.

What makes fish so good, huh? You’ve been around it your entire life, and to be honest it’s awful. The smell, the smell when it’s been baking in the sun all day, the smell when it’s been baking and it’s been around sweaty men. And of course, it’s the cheapest thing on the damn market because you have such a surplus of it.

Needless to say, you’ve eaten a lot of fish in your life. And you’re not really looking forward to eating more when you get home. In fact, you think you’ll take your ass down to the butchers and bakery and finally feel what it’s like to be a rich asshole. Just for one day, before you decide that it’s not worth it.

Eytelle was right about water. It’s a small pond, you crouch down and take off the backpack, pulling out the silver thermos and uncapping it. You disturb the water on the top, and then plunge the bottle in to get the water in the middle. The others don’t really do the same, and you can’t care. They’re going to be the ones drinking it.

They have the sense to drop iodine into the water. You all take a moment to take a break at the water. You strip off the white jacket and use the water to wash off the blood. When you’re done, you work on your arms and face.

You dry your hands on your pants. Then you pull off your shoes and dump out the sand and brush the rest out. Out there, there is no sand, it’s just plain grass and dirt. And it’ll be a lot less distracting and uncomfortable if you get rid of the sand all together.

You tie the laces as tight as you did last time, and then sit back and watch as the others finish cleaning themselves off. The blood on Trink’s face is mostly gone, but there’s now pink streaks down her cheeks. Lennox helps her clean it up.

The water is mostly still, sometimes there’s a ripple. You push yourself to your feet, “I’m gonna walk around the pond.”

“Yell if you need help.” Allio mutters, he’s working with a stuck zipper, “Goddamn.”

You pick up the sword, now realizing that you never traded it out for a spear. At this point, you shouldn’t even bother with a spear. You’ve got the hang of the weight, now. And it’s proved to be useful so far, so what’s the point in making you get used to a spear?

Around the pond are a few bushes, lots of trees. The further you walk, the more you can’t hear your friends. To be fair, they’re not even being that loud. If they were yelling like they were earlier, they’d probably be alerting the whole area of where you are. 

You hum to yourself, watching the way that the pond curves. You can’t find any hiding spots, so far. This would be a nice place to stay. Except for the fact that it’s so close to the cornucopia, and plenty of people are going to use it when they pass through. A dangerous spot, actually. It’s risky.

Nonetheless, you look over it anyway, and you’re satisfied to tell the others that the area should be clean, and you can continue walking. After a quick water break, you all head deeper into the woods, planning to stay the night out here.

It’s more of just wandering and useless talk as the sun begins to set. Allio manages to kill a boar, you’re set on the task of making a fire and the others are forced to argue out who’s staying up late tonight to watch over the others. You and Allio keep quiet, not wanting the attention turned to you guys.

It doesn’t work. Eventually, they’re asking what you and Allio think should happen. Allio says he doesn’t want to do it and thinks he shouldn’t be forced to, because of the boar. Eytelle agrees and says that she found the water, so really it’s just a debate between you, Lennox and Trink.

“If I take it, will I get a pass tomorrow?” You ask, knowing that you’re going to be exhausted tomorrow. But if they insist on walking back to the cornucopia, you’re sure that you can push through.

“Yes.” Trink says.

“Then I’ll do it.” You say, and it settles it easily.

You help cook chunks of the boar, and since you’ve volunteered, you get the first bite. It’s unseasoned, and terribly burnt and nowhere near what you’ve been eating the past couple of days inside of the Capitol, but it’s definitely a wake up call. Slowly but surely, the body is broken down, until it’s left to the more unflattering pieces.

When it’s agreed that none of you are hungry anymore, the pig is thrown away from where you all sit. Almost like a warning, that if you could take down a wild, vicious animal with tusks, then it’s a wonder what you all can do in a fight.

Conversation continues as the fire dies out. The warmth is being sucked away with it, and you watch as the others settle down in the grass. You pull on your jacket, thinking that just in case it does get cold, you’re prepared. You’d much rather be warm, than shiver through the entire night.

The anthem starts to play, and this is when you all look up to the sky to see the tributes faces. It starts with Verda, you can feel the pain begin in your chest. She wasn’t even your ally and you feel bad for her death. It’s all Finnick’s fault, with his damn plan on making you friends with everyone inside of the arena.

After Verda is the boys from Five, then Six. Cass shows up, then both from Nine and Ten, and Horace. Surprisingly, it looks like both of the Twelve tributes have survived. They’re young, twelve and thirteen you think you said. Hardly ever eaten and basically no survival skills. The only reason why they’re alive is because they didn’t run to the cornucopia.

The sky fades to black, and this is when everyone finally decides to call it a night. They all find their respective spots, prepared to spend the night on the ground.

Leaned up against a tree, you count the amount of animals you can hear. Birds, cicadas, you think there’s wolves, crickets. Trink rolls over, curling into a ball. She then uses the jacket as a blanket, draping it over her upper half, rather than just pulling it on. Guess it is cold.

The others don’t move as much. They seem to find a position and stay there for hours. It’s hard to find things to think of to keep you awake. You almost wish you had someone to keep you company. Even if you can’t talk, it would be nice to have another pair of eyes catching anything you might have missed.

It’s a good thing you slept well last night, otherwise you’re sure you’d be delusional and be seeing things. You stare down at the ring for a while, feeling yourself doze but not being able to bring yourself out. You’re just so damn tired.

It would be a shame to fall asleep now. Five careers all asleep around each other. Something would be able to sneak up on you, take out the tribute they want. You’d get in trouble for falling asleep and end up dead, yourself.

With a hefty sigh, you lean your head back up and open your eyes. They’re heavy, and you struggle to keep them open. You rub your eyes to wake yourself up more, and the moment you do, a long, low growl fills the air. You can feel your heart sputter and die in your chest.

You don’t want to move your hands. Moving your hands could set off whatever the creature is. You don’t have much of a choice, you think. You two can’t sit here together in some sort of sick stand off. It’s going to jump eventually. Maybe because Lennox rolls over or Eytelle breathes too loudly.

When you remove your hands from your face, you’re very careful. You can see what you missed before. Just opposite to you, a couple of feet back from Trink, is a tall creature with glowing eyes. You can’t seem to remember any animal that would fit the description. Then it dawns on you, and you can feel the blood drain from your face.

There is only one species that is so flexible to make fantasy come to life. And they’re no creature of nature.

They’re Capitol mutations.

You need a plan. If it’s only one, you think you and the others will be able to fight it. It might be tall, but there’s five of you and it should be possible for you all together to take it down.

Then, the eyes double. Going from one to two to four to eight. 

Fighting it out of the question.

As if you’re a snail, you move over to shake Allio. It takes him a moment, eyes opening and ready to ask you the matter. You press your fingers to your lips and motion upwards. He sits up, a harmony of snarls coming from the beasts. He looks just as pale as you feel.

He gets Lennox up next, and together they get Eytelle and Trink. Trink is by far the worst, with the way that one of them looks over her. She pushes herself backwards and towards you guys. Your fingers fumble in the darkness, finding your sword, slipping your backpack strap over a shoulder. 

The moment it’s free, you all have to run, “Cornucopia.” You whisper.

They seem to get it. There’s a silent, very silent countdown between you all. And then you’re on your feet and running. You’re the lead at first, arms swinging at your sides, backpack jostling at every step. But Trink turns out to be faster because she has no backpack, only her weapon.

Behind you, there’s screaming. Loud and clear, inspiring you to continue to go faster so you’re not the one at the butt end of the group. You’re sure that anyone nearby can hear, and they’re wondering if it’s a tribute getting murdered or something worse. If you were them, you’d be assuming the latter.

Eytelle seems to be at the end, and she’s behind. So long for being able to run faster because of her long legs. They’re no use now. You risk a single look behind you to check on her, and with the help of the moonlight seeping through the trees, you’re able to see what they are.

Pure terror.

When you reach back around, a branch whips at your face, feeling the sting linger and the blood begin to run. It’s not only you who has this problem, the others are struggling to get the branches out of their faces before they hit them.

They slap at your jacket, some get snagged but you keep on running and hope that the thorns come clear off and no rips are forced into the jacket. Most of the branches are low, shoulders and below. Your thighs hurt, you dance around the ones that will get tangled in your feet.

Suddenly, Eytelle is shrieking; “They’re bears!”

And you know. You caught a glimpse. Giant, brown grizzly bears with glowing eyes. They weight more than you, they’re bigger than you. It’s the Horace situation all over again. Except this time, they’re the Capitol’s pets and they won’t stop unless they kill one of you.

Eytelle is the closest, so you think she’ll be the one to die. It’s a sick thought on it’s own, but it worsens when you begin to hope that it’s her. Anyone but you. You can get through.

You slip between a pair of thin trees, the backpack getting caught. You get out of one of the straps, turn the backpack sideways and watch as Eytelle catches up. The backpack still isn’t free by the time she whizzes past you. You hold your breath, frozen in time as you watch all eight bears go past you and right after the others. Two bears to every one tribute.

The snapping of branches and screaming gets further. Once you’re sure that they’re not going to come back for you, you detangle the last of the backpack and take a breather. Sweat is dribbling down your forehead, tickling your skin in irritating ways. You catch a hold of your breath, waiting until you go to catch up with them.

You head right first, and then straight, keeping a distance between you and the path that they should have taken. The jacket is making you feel hot again, but with the cold air blowing through the trees, you can’t be bothered to pull it off. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’re cold again.

Just as you begin to slow to a jog again, because you’re so obviously running on fumes at this point. A scream so raw, that you can feel the pain in your own throat, fills the air. It’s enough to make you hesitate on your next step, not wanting to walk in on whatever the hell is happening.

You watch where you step, making sure that there’s no branches or leaves that will crunch. It’s hard to see in the darkness, hard to be sure that every move you make won’t be the last or the cause of your demise. The screaming never stops, never fades into something quieter.

You find yourself getting closer, to your left is the bears. Straight ahead, another half mile it looks like, is the cornucopia. You think you could make it, if you run, not jog. You can’t see the others at all, and telling by the scream, one of them had been caught. The bears might just leave you alone, since they’ve gotten their midnight snack.

Peering through the trees, you’re able to see who it is. Stretched out on a sharp rock is Eytelle. Their hands dig into her limbs, her stomach as they tear her apart. She’s got her head thrown back, mouth open wide in a scream. You almost can’t believe that the animals haven’t shut her up yet. And then, you remember that it’s a show for the Capitol.

It doesn’t have to be, though. If you threw your knife, it would kill her now. Keep her from suffering too, and the others might even appreciate it. To know that you showed a girl you have hardly any knowledge of, mercy. She tries to yell for something, but it’s garbled out in tear-filled sobs that’s eventually interrupted by her own screaming.

Your fingers slip to your belt, pulling the knife out and preparing it in your hand. The distance between the two of you isn’t nearly as long as the spear-throw back inside of the Training Center. In fact, this one should be much easier. 

You wait and wait, looking for a perfect opportunity. Every time you think you have one, they’ll move in front of you. It’s all a game of anticipation. Unpredictable, until you find a pattern. They’re gamemaker controlled, of course. It’s a moving target to keep you on your feet.

The bear moves to the left again, and you throw your knife. You don’t even wait for the canon to go off--which it does--before you take off like a bat out of hell through the trees. You zip up the jacket to your chin, using your sleeves to block your face from the brutal hits of the thin branches that are bound to leave scars.

The roaring is much louder than the screaming. And their running is a lot more ground-shaking than it was the first time around. They’re all pounding against the floor, you can feel the rumble beneath your boots each time they make connection with the grass and dirt.

Before you know it, you can literally feel their hot breath down the back of your neck, feel the spit flying from their mouths during their snarls. One reach and they could grab you and tear you apart, just like they had done to Eytelle before you mercy-killed her. It hasn’t even broken dawn yet, and you’ve gotten your third kill.

You can see where the sand begins, dreading the moment you have to step onto it. In the depths of your chest, you have a feeling that the mutts won’t go further than the trees, and instead will sink right back to either mutilate Eytelle’s body or go back to the circle of hell where they came from.

Your calves and thighs burn, your cheeks flushed and itchy. All these quick breaths have got your mouth dry and throat sore. It’s only a little further, now. It’s right there, you can see it. Feel the free air on your nose. Ten steps, eight, six, four, three, two--

You’re thrown forward, flying over the first few feet of sand before you slam into it. Instantly, you know that something is wrong. And it doesn’t make itself known until you go to push yourself up, and your bag stings painfully. You yelp, tears gathering in your eyes as you give up the idea of saving yourself.

It hurts, even laying here in the sand does nothing but make you twitch. It’s warm, and it feels liquidy. You’re bleeding, and it has to be bad if you can’t even make out a lick of a cold breeze. You grit your teeth, blinking away your tears as you turn your head to the side, looking to the treeline. No bears, no mutts. It’s just you.

“Please.” you beg, you have to pick yourself up. 

The pain alone makes your vision turn black. You have to stop and take a break, using the cornucopia as a crutch to get to your feet. You don’t even know where the backpack or the sword is, anymore. All you can make out through your spotty vision is the vague sense of a campfire light that might be coming from inside of the cornucopia.

You want so badly to reach back and feel the damage, but the second you move your shoulders, you see white and black at the same time. Like heaven and hell clashing together at one, trying their hand at taking you to their paradise. You barely make it around the mouth, startling the hell out of your allies.

Lennox gets to his feet, arms outstretched to you as if you’re a toddler. It’s the same move that you had made to Alyssum when she had begun to walk. Urging her to come to you, and not your brothers. Who might as well be Allio and Trink at this moment.

You don’t want to give up the wall, but reach an arm out to him anyway. The moment you take a step, Lennox catches you.

“She’s gone.” you tell them, “I saved her.”

Two contradicting sentences, but they seem to catch on. You think they’re talking to you, or maybe it’s each other. The words begin to fade, and so does your sense of balance. The world is spinning, the slightest movement of your head has got dizziness stirring in your stomach.

You open your mouth, wanting to ask for help, but getting black vision instead.

[booknerd-r]

So here's a little something that I just found in one of my folders.

It's old, like jan 2018 old, and I'm probably never going to finish it because I can't remember for the life of me where I was going with this, but I thought I'd dump it here anyway so....

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

His vision was hazy.

He could faintly make out a set of figures, but he couldn't really pick up any significant features or traits. They just looked like...blurry, colorful shapes standing in the distance.

His hearing was a mess too. His ears were ringing, a sharp sound that made an unpleasant feeling go through him while his ears bled. Through the ringing, he could hear sounds of distant yelling. Familiar yelling. There was a scream, and then a loud cry....Uraraka?

Christ, he didn't know.

Groaning, Izuku tried to stand, or at least get up. His legs were completely busted, he could tell that much, and his arms were a bit bend; but still functioning. He forced the scream dying to come out to catch in his throat. His voice was already hoarse as is, and with what was going on right now, his injuries were the least of his- or anyone's -worries.

Okay so, his legs were out of the question. That sucked. He'd have to come up with something to deal with that if he wanted to get back into the field. As far as he knew, Uraraka, Kirishima and Asu- Tsuyu were still out there. Aizawa was on his way, and if he'd heard correctly, so were Todoroki and Yaoyorozu. Shigaraki was....somewhere, and Izuku was actually fine with not knowing; but then he thought about the countless of citizens that could fall victim to his Quirk and realized he wasn't as fine with the villain's disappearance as initially thought.

He had to do something, though. Lack of mobility or not, he had to come up with a way to help everyone; or his friends, at the very least. He knew for a fact that Uraraka must've been scared out of her wits right now, but kept on fighting either way. If she could force herself to be brave, then so would he.

Let's see...his vision was clearing up a bit, and if he saw correctly, then Kurogiri wasn't too far off. He was keeping himself busy by transferring the other villains out of the way whenever one of Izuku's friends managed to get close enough to do some potential harm. A pretty good, if not annoying, tactic. It wasn't airtight though, since it left him practically wide open.

Kacchan had disclosed his weakness before, and if Izuku managed to channel One For All into his arm, he might just be able to temporarily bring him out of commission with one, well-aimed throw. The rest was up to pure luck, but he'd take his chances.

With a low groan, he forced himself to sit. The ringing in his ears wasn't doing anything to help his pounding headache, but he had to ignore that for now. Blindly, he searched for something he could throw; preferably something that could pack a punch. Maybe a piece of rubble or something.

But then a flash of color rushed into his vision and something- he couldn't tell what, but it was definitely something hard and heavy -crashed into him; sending him back to the ground and knocking all the breath out of him.

Izuku coughed, pretty sure a splash of blood escaped him. He didn't know where the object had come flying from, but he did know that it hurt, and- was there someone yelling?

Izuku strained his ears, trying to push through the pain to make out all the sounds ringing through the field. His vision had gone hazy again, but unlike before, where it'd just been a slight blur; now all he could see were black spots clouding his vision. Someone was definitely yelling though. His name, maybe? He could also hear a few muffled curses and cries of worry coming from the other side- Yaoyorozu. Or maybe Jirou? Definitely female, though.

But that wasn't what'd caught his attention. The sound that stood out the most was-

"DEKU!"

Kacchan?

The sharp cry of his childhood-turned-hero name was followed by the sounds of heavy explosions and terrified yelps coming from all sides. Yeah, that was Kacchan, all right.

But what was he even doing here? As far as Izuku was concerned, Kacchan should've been back at the dorm. He'd refused to come with them when they'd asked- not that they'd known they would be attacked -so it didn't make any sense for him to be here in the first place. Had he overheard Iida's call to Aizawa? Possible, Todoroki had done the same thing, after all.

Another explosion, and then-

"DEKU, YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD! GET THE FUCK UP!"

His voice was closer now, and Izuku blinked. It almost sounded like...like he was heading towards him? The continuous explosions were nearing closer and closer too, and Izuku could only imagine his childhood friend using them as a means to get to him faster.

But why? There was no way Kacchan actually cared about his well-being, so anything Izuku could come up with was out of the question. As far as he knew, Kacchan didn't need him for anything, so there was no real reason he should've been calling out to him, of all people. To be perfectly honest, if Kacchan absolutely had to call out to someone, he'd have expected it to be Kirishima, or maybe even All Might, but never him.

Even better, (worse?) Kacchan sounded almost....concerned.

Had Izuku hit his head somewhere during the fight? He must have, because there was no other explanation he could think of and made sense at the same ti-

"Jesus, Deku, what the fuck?!"

Izuku would've jumped, if it hadn't been for his utterly destroyed limbs. "K-Kacchan?" He tilted his head upwards, blinking thrice at seeing a familiar head of explosive hair, and an equally as familiar pair of crimson eyes staring down at him. He was wearing his hero uniform, telling Izuku that yeah, he had definitely overheard the conversation and had come running to help. In full gear.

"Christ, just how badly did you fuck yourself up?" he murmured, his voice taking on a low timbre.

"K-Kacchan! I, uh-" Izuku pushed his weight onto his arms, trying to get up, only to let out a soft cry as the pain shot through his body.

Katsuki acted quickly, crouching down and catching Izuku's broken and beaten body before he could hit the concrete and possibly do more damage. "Dumbass, don't move."

Around him, he could see the chaos subsiding. Aizawa had arrived a little before he had; along with half-and-half bastard and that other chick. A few other pros had rushed into the scene as well, and the villains were already starting to back down.

Katsuki hadn't seen or heard that creepy old bastard when he'd come blasting in, and still didn't see him now. Granted, he hadn't really been focusing on his surroundings when he'd arrived; his main goal being finding his dumbass nerd and getting the hell out of here- though not before he'd blasted off a couple of heads, of course. Maybe all of them; he still hadn't decided.

Izuku let out a soft groan, and his attention drifted back to him. He'd fucked up his legs beyond recognition, and Katsuki was pretty sure those stains on his clothes weren't tomato juice or anything weird like that. Obviously, the nerd had overstepped his boundaries again, and Katsuki swore, he was this close to just ending the idiot's life his damn self. If Izuku didn't seem to give a fuck about the consequences, then why the hell should he?!

"Kacchan..." Izuku groaned softly, his face twisting as he tried to move his legs. "What are you doing here?"

Oh, yeah, right, he remembered now. Because Deku was nothing without him, and....and Katsuki couldn't stand to see him go.

Not that he'd ever tell him that to his face (too fucking embarrassing) but it was the thought that counted.

"Saving your fucking ass," he replied, scanning his surroundings. He tried not to think too much of the way Izuku's already gigantic fucking eyes seemed to widen even more at the answer; like it was that fucking much of a surprise that Katsuki would ever come to his rescue. 

I mean, it probably was, but Katsuki was pretty sure he wasn't that much of an asshole. 

After another quick scan of the field, the blond slipped his hands underneath Izuku's arms, ignoring the way he yelped in surprise in favor of getting him back into a position that didn't look as pathetic as being sprawled out on the ground. "Start explaining," he ordered curtly, forcing the boy to rest against him to not further irritate his injuries. 

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

....and that's where it ended, god the writing style is so different compared to now...

[fishy12233]

Chronicles of Sturgia

Chapter 2 Finale: “The Sinister School”

Porvurious Academy was once a place of joy. But now there was nothing left except despair. As the group entered the school, they could see that the school was filled with shadow. The grand hall was in ruins. Even the house whales that hung from the ceiling were destroyed. The surviving students could only feel despair welling up in their souls. They hoped that they could find their friends.  

As the group walked through the halls, they could only sense a feeling of loneliness. It was completely abandoned. The colorful attractions and games that were once here were all destroyed. Macabre lanterns were scattered around the school, just like outside. The group decided to split up, so that Prince Drake was with the six kids while Nadia was with everyone else. The faster they could find their friends, the better. 

As they walked through the school, they encountered a surviving student. She was a girl with long, dark hair, jaded eyes, and a skull bow.

“Dark and depressing,” said the girl. “Just like me.”

“Who are you?” asked Maddie.

“Me?” replied the girl. “I’m Jade Villaverde. If you want to survive, you need to make sure you do as I say.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lisa.

“If you step too far into the shadows, the creatures will take you,” said Jade. “And there will be nothing you can do.”

As Jade guided them deeper into the school, the kids noticed what she was talking about. Dark figures lurked in the shadows, fallen students who were taken by the darkness. As Jade shone her flashlight around, the figures scattered, followed by a swarm of insects.

“They’re scared of the light,” Jade said. “But don’t rely on a simple flashlight to ward them off. I’ve found that breaking windows can provide a decent light source.”

Meanwhile, as the other group walked deeper into the school, they began to freak out over the dark figures lurking in the shadows. Luckily, they ran into a mysterious adventurer who was able to keep them from venturing too far into the darkness.

As the kids wandered into one of the classrooms, they encountered a horrifying sight. It was a monster, much larger than the others. It looked like some sort of stuffed bear, abandoned by their owner and left to rot. It must have collected a large amount of mass from all the garbage, making it practically shapeless. It was attacking a frightened student, who was crying in the corner. The kids leapt in and tried to ward it off. It was frightened of the light, but it wasn’t enough to stop it. Jade tried using a cherry bomb she had on her, which was enough to harm the monster. The monster threw garbage at the group, trying to crush them under the weight.  Its smell was enough to make them sick. The kids found some flares that they could use to scare it off. It fled, burning and screaming in agony. It was a sad and frightening sight. Broken beings, fighting for survival. The kids felt sorry for the monsters, but they knew that they had to defeat them so that they could protect their friends.

The room was safe, for now. Everything was calm. But a sinister feeling still lurked in the halls. The kids turned on some lights in order to ward off monsters. It was surprising that the lights even worked. There were also plenty of windows, which helped them a lot. After they secured the room, they checked the surviving student to see if she was safe.

“I-I was really scared,” said the girl. “Thank you. By the way, my name is Tristessa Branwen, but you can just call me Tristy.”

“What happened?” asked Jade.

“Well, I was in the bathroom when it happened. After the incident, I had fallen into some sort of weird basement. Then, I tried to find my way back to the classroom. After that, the rest is pretty much history.”

“We should go,” said Maddie. “The faster we get find the culprit and stop them, the better.”

The group continued up towards the top of the tower in the school. They figured that the culprit was the shadowy figure in the tower.

As the group passed by Jade’s classroom, shadowy figures began to creep out and chase them. Jade looked more scared than usual.

“Run!” cried Jade.

The group of shadowy figures only got bigger. They chased the group to the tower. Jade was especially scared of facing them, because they were her classmates. Seeing the dead, anguished looks on their faces was more than she could bear. 

Everyone was tired of running, but the shadows were relentless. It felt hopeless, but Jade did her best to ward them off with the last cherry bombs that she had with her. Once they reached the tower, the shadows finally fled. Everyone felt a rush of relief, but they hoped that everyone else was okay. 

The tower seemed to never end. Everyone was already tired from running, but now they had to climb many flights of stairs in order to reach the top. As the group reached the clock’s inner mechanisms, everyone began to grow anxious. How could they fight their enemy after all this? The dark red light emanating from the clock face created a sinister atmosphere through the clock’s mechanisms. Gears were spinning out of control, and parts began to fly everywhere. Everyone needed to hurry. Peter tripped, grabbing onto the ledge of the stairway. Gears were spinning below him, scaring the group. They desperately helped him up, making sure that they were extra careful climbing the rest of the steps. Once the group reached the top, the saw that there was a huge lock on the door.

“What are we going to do now?” said Lisa.

“Wait,” said Peter. “Doesn’t that lantern look strange to you?”

Everyone looked up. There was a macabre lantern on the ceiling, but it was different from the others. The design was different, and even the color looked off.

Peter used his mechanical owl to hit it. Suddenly, light began pouring out of the lantern, restoring the top of the tower to its previous, more colorful state. Everyone was relieved that they could reverse the damage, but the contrast of the colorful tower against the rest of the school was disturbing. It felt out of place. The large lock on the door was gone, allowing the group to enter the bedroom.

The bedroom was colorful, saccharine, and incredibly messy.  Toys were scattered everywhere and there was paint splattered all over the walls. It looked like someone had trashed a princess’s bedroom. However, someone was waiting for them in the room. He looked like a skeleton in heavy armor. He led a troop of smaller skeleton knights while riding some sort of tank.

“I’m General Warren Bone-apart! And if you think you’re going to get the key that we’re guarding, you are sorely wrong!”

“You’re guarding the key we need?” asked Annie.

“Dang it!” General Warren muttered. “I-in any case, you won’t be defeating us! CHAAARGE!!!!”

The skeleton troop charged at the group. They tried to dodge out of the way, but they couldn’t dodge General Warren’s tank. He even fired small rockets at the group. 

“How can we even defeat them?!” exclaimed Lisa. “They’re already dead, right? We can’t kill them again!”

“I think I have a plan,” said Chris. He fired back his own bottle rockets at the troop, hitting the obvious weak spot on General Warren’s tank. Meanwhile, Jade shot at the skeletons with her slingshot.

“Ow! That hurt!” exclaimed General Warren. “You can’t just do that! STOP PELTING ME WITH THOSE THINGS!!!”

The group managed to destroy the tank, leaving General Warren vulnerable. However, the troop began throwing paint at the group in order to slow them town. But with the help of Prince Drake and Jade, the group managed to fend off the troop. Some of them even fell out of the window.

“STOP!!!” exclaimed General Warren. “You want this key, take it! But I promise that I will have my revenge!!”

He shoved the key into their hands and ran off.

The kids rested inside the bedroom for a while before hitting the lantern again, granting them access to the top of the tower.

Once the lantern reverted the top of the tower to its dark state, everyone felt a chill of despair. They had gotten used to the saccharine appearance of the bedroom, but now they had to face the music. Whoever was causing all of this destruction was beyond those doors, and they had no choice but to stop them. The group slowly unlocked the door, as the padlock shattered and fell onto the floor. When they entered the bedroom, they were surprised to see a princess in the corner of the room, trapped by a magical force.

“Elmira?!” exclaimed Jade.

“You know her?” asked Peter.

“Yeah,” said Jade. “She’s my classmate.”

.

Maddie quickly looked through her spellbooks to find a spell to undo the magical binding. Meanwhile, everyone else looked for the one who caused the disaster.

“Where is that coward?” grumbled Annie.

“Wait,” said Chris. “Was that staircase there before?”

He pointed at the staircase, which had previously been blocked by a large pile of plush toys and a huge splatter of paint.

“Doesn’t that lead to the observatory?” asked Jade.

“That must be where the next sanctuary is!” exclaimed Susan.

The group was anxious. They slowly climbed the stairs as they approached the sanctuary door. This time, it depicted a large amount of constellations, with the strange monsters and the skeleton troop that they had faced before. The six kids hesitantly opened door, just like they had done twice before.

The third sanctuary was a beautiful observatory. The kids realized that the tower rose above the clouds, because they could see a brilliant night sky filled with stars. The walls were made up of beautiful aquariums, filled with exotic fish. There was a desk, presumably for doing research. It was cluttered with papers and books. There was a raised platform in the middle, with a giant telescope on the top. Intricate patterns adorned every inch of the room. If it wasn’t for the current situation, the group would want to just lie down and look at the stars for all of eternity. And in the center of the room, there was a pedestal with the Piscatorical Gyroscope on it.

But they couldn’t focus on the scenery now. A witch stood before them. She was old and had a big nose, like a stereotypical witch. 

“Bwahahahahaha!!” cackled the witch. “So it seems that the heroes have arrived.”

She stared at the six kids, then she suddenly used telekinesis to push the rest of the group out of the room and lock the door. 

“And just who are you??” asked the witch. “You’re just kids. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“We’re not five!” exclaimed Annie.

“You think you can stop me??! An all powerful sorceress??!!” said the witch. “I can’t help but laugh!!! Bwahahahaha!!! But I digress. I never even introduced myself. How rude. My name is Soreena Le’Agitha, and you won’t stand a CHANCE against me!!!”

And so the fight began. Soreena began flying around on her broomstick, throwing potions at the kids. The kids dodged, trying their best to hit her. Lisa tried throwing water at the witch. 

“What are you DOING???!” she screamed.

“Trying to melt you!” exclaimed Lisa.

“This isn’t some sort of fairy tale!!!”

The kids threw all they had at the witch. It was enough to knock her off and daze her. However, when Soreena realized that she was in danger, she blew a loud whistle. Suddenly, the blue dragon that they had seen flying around the tower flew through an opening in the ceiling. The children felt greatly intimidated. How were they supposed to defeat her now?

“You really thought you could defeat me,” said Soreena. “How cute.”

The dragon spit fire at the kids. However, Chris noticed that the fire didn’t burn anything in the room. But it wasn’t time for questioning things. They had to find a way to defeat her, and fast. 

“Susan!” Chris exclaimed. “Use your fireworks!”

“But everything will burn!” cried Susan.

“No it won’t! Don’t you see? The fire isn’t burning anything in the room!”

Susan lit some fireworks and threw them at her. The kids stood back and took cover. Soreena and her dragon screamed in pain. Susan lit and threw more fireworks. The explosion was enough to throw them out of the window. Soreena screamed as she fell into the ocean below.

Suddenly, the sky was filled with sparks of orange light. Each of the lanterns on the Island of Dreams exploded, creating a burst of color. The kids ran outside and watched as the ruined island came back to life. It was the first time that the kids truly felt powerful. They felt like they could accomplish anything. Everyone got back together and celebrated as Porvurious Academy was restored to its former glory. The kids got to ride all of the fun rides and even enjoy the delicious food. Everyone was so happy. Fireworks were going off, illuminating the night sky. 

As the sun began to rise, Princess Elmira called the kids over to sit on the beach with her. She was blowing bubbles as she sat with the kids.

“Thank you so much for everything,” she said. “I don’t know what happened with my sister, you see. When she had that Royal Parade, I was only ten years old. I’ve been going to school here, but I just feel like I’m not strong enough to stop her.”

Elmira sighed, looking off into the distance. She blew more bubbles as the sunlight reflected off of them beautifully.

“You guys are so strong. I wish I could be like that...” 

“But there must be something you can do to help!” exclaimed Annie. “Even if you can’t fight the queen, you could help protect everyone here.”

Elmira sat up. “You’re right. I don’t want this to happen again. It’s my responsibility to protect this island, and my friends here.”

Elmira looked at the kids. “Thanks again. You guys are really nice.”

After an amazing night at Porvurious Academy, the kids bid farewell to everyone on the Island of Dreams, sailing back to Sunset Grove in order to return the Piscatorical Gyroscope to the monument. There is always a feeling of melancholic nostalgia whenever a fun time must come to an end. It’s always a sudden feeling, but it is inevitable. That is what the six kids from Citrione City were feeling at this very moment. But when it is time to say goodbye, we must always remember to reminisce on the good times, and look forward to the future.

[gobydana]

Leaving Part 4

A/N: Finally some fluff for you all. This one is super long, I got carried away. Debated making this two parts but no good place to split it.  A few more parts left in this series. Not sure how many as the story is still being written. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the remaining parts. 

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Y/N POV

Staring at the test couldn’t change the results. Yet that didn’t stop her from crying the whole night. Sometimes you need to cry and break before you can pick yourself up. That is exactly what she planned to do. Falling asleep on the couch with a trail of dried tears and the test still on the table.

The next morning though, it was time for action. She packed up the little belongings she had and sold the furniture to her neighbor. She bought a train ticket to a town on the other side of the country. There she could start over and tried to provide some life for her child. The child needed a father who would be around, and that’s something Jason couldn’t do.

By the end of the day she was gone, off to start a new life. It wasn’t easy. She had no money and no one to help her. Luckily she found a job. Maybe it was her stubbornness that kept her going or the passion to give her child a better life than what she had.

Jason POV

He knew he was wrong. He fell in love and it scared him, so much that he tried to distance himself. Telling himself that he would only hurt her due to his nightlife. Turns out it would be his actions as Jason, not Red Hood that would hurt her. It was only a fight, she would forgive him in a few days. Then he could explain everything.

Yet when he came through the window after patrol a few days later, she was not there to greet him. Rather an empty room loudly screamed back at him how wrong he was. Nothing stood in the place he had considered his second home. No signs of her. A search showed that her phone was shut down and there was no money trail. No doubt she was using cash to avoid him.

He spent the next few years with a pain in his heart. He had no one to blame but himself because he pushed her away on purpose. Instead of facing his fears head on and telling him that he loved her, he pushed her away. It was not like he didn’t know she was falling for him too. Sleeping with other woman and avoiding her was no doubt driving her away. He wishes he could go punch that old Jason in the face. 

Almost four years later

Jason was in town helping Roy with a mission. It was supposed to be a simple stop the drug bust and get out. Yet with those two, it was hardly ever simple. Not only did they not have a plan, but the drug dealers also decide to rob a bank. That is where they currently were.

“Ah the classic bank robber.” Roy chimed while sneaking through the vents. They were hoping to get them by surprise since hostage were involved. They found a vent right above the head person and jumped.

Bullets and swear words were thrown around the room. Roy throw some smoke bombs so that Jason could help the people get out. All were about out when he noticed her. She hadn’t changed a bit. Every part of him was dying to talk to her, but the concern was to get the robbers out. She didn’t even seem to notice him or pay him any mind. That hurt him deep.

The robbers were taken down easily once no one else was in the bank. They were zipped tied for the police and the boys left. The rest of the night Jason was silent while Roy did all the talking. Roy noticed though that something was off. He thought it had to do with the lady at the bank, the one Jason stared at a little too long. She seemed familiar but he couldn’t figure out why.

“Jason who was the girl” Roy asked while going to bump his shoulder playfully.

“No one” He said while lying to his best friend. Roy saw through it.

“She is the one from the picture. The one that fell out of your wallet one day and you shoved away quick.” Roy answered.

“Not tonight. Let’s make sure these dealers were all at the bank and now arrested.”

Roy didn’t give up though. Once Jason was busy cleaning his gun, Roy went to do some researching at the computer. The more he dug, the more he found. Y/N worked at the bank and took online computer classes. They had lived at the same apartment since moving to Star City. It was the last thing he found that cause him to about fall over.

“Jason, do you have a child?” He asked hesitantly. He figured Jason would have told him of any offspring of his.

Jason shot him a look back as if to say he was stupid.

“I’m serious. That girl from the bank, Y/” Roy started. He didn’t get to finish as Jason interrupted him.

“I told you to drop.” He said with his voice rising. He was mad and Roy knew he was about to get madder. He started to walk away towards the window, no doubt going out to smoke.

“Listen to me. She has a kid, a daughter who is 3. Rose Todd is the girls name.” Roy said while following his friend.

Jason stopped so quick that Roy ran into him, shock evident on his face.

“What did you say?” He asked cautiously.

“Rose Todd. According to her birth certificate she was born in Star City to the parents of Y/N L/N and Jason Todd.”

Jason yanked the computer from Roy. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Part of him didn’t want to believe it while the other part was hurting for his friend since she had to raise the girl alone. The rest of the night was spent finding out what they could. Some pictures from Instagram of her friends and coworkers showed the girl.

Rose Todd looked so much like Jason with black curly hair and his smile. Her eyes were her mothers. He was torn on whether to confront Y/N or let the two live alone. They had gotten this far without him, do they really need him in their life. By the next morning, Roy had convinced him to go talk to her.

He found her place. Luckily it was a Sunday, so she was off work. It took about three times walking up her street and walking back down before he finally got the courage to knock on her apartment door, hoping that she was home. Sounds from beyond the door indicated that she was.

“Rose hold on for a second, I need to see who is at the door.” He heard as her footsteps got closer. It could have also been his heart beating fantastically that he heard. Finally the door opened.

“Jason” She greeted warmly. “I was wondering if you would be stopping by after the bank.”

“You did know it was me.” He replied while still standing near the door.

“Yes” She replied. “I assume you also went digging and are here for a certain reason.”

“I want to meet her.” He said while trying to peek around the door.

“I am sure she wants to meet you too.” She said while finally moving away from the door and letting him in.

“Rose, someone is here to meet you.” She yelled out.

Soon a tiny, three foot girl came rounding the corner fast. Dressed in pink pants and a purple shirt and a plastic crown on her head. A plastic cup that was in her hand fell to the ground. It appeared Jason interrupted a tea party.  

“Hi” He said softly while bending down to her height. Working with kids as Robin and then Red Hood had taught him how to deal with kids. Yet it being his own child scared him.

“Mommy” the little girl said while looking up at her mother as if to ask if was okay to go near the stranger.

“Sweetie, do you know who this is.” Y/N asked slowly. She looked at Jason when saying it.

“He’s daddy, like from the photo” she replied while going to give him a hug. He tensed up at first but then gave her a hug back.

The rest of day Jason stayed and got to know his daughter more. Y/N even let him stay for dinner if he did the dishes. The little girl was slowly making a place for herself in his heart. She got him to wear a plastic crown while they colored. He got informed that the fairy he was coloring had to be pink and not red.

No matter how much he wish he could spend longer with the Rose, he knew that him and Y/N needed to talk. She was calm around her daughter but would turn the topic around if it came to her. She was tense and cautious, something he saw her do around others but not himself.

Finally it was time for Rose to go to bed. Y/N read her a story and soon the little girl was sleep. Jason watched from the doorway. He was happy and a small part of him wanted this all the time. He wanted this family life. Another bigger part reminded him that he was Red Hood and that could never happen. Plus he still needed to talk to her and there was uncertainty on how it would end.

They both made their way to the kitchen. She grabbed some beer and offered him one. Silence over took both of them. It wasn’t an awkward silence, more peace before an unknown force comes at you. Jason was drinking in the sight of her. She was always beautiful, but he forgot how much so.

“I was expecting you to be yelling at me.” She finally spoke up.

“I don’t want to wake Rose up” He replied while taking a sip of beer.

“She is a heavy sleeper, so no worries. Hell she sleeps through thunderstorms.”

“Why didn’t you tell.” He finally asked the question that was hanging in the air since he knocked on the door.”

“I was scared. We fought, you were avoiding me, and I was in no spot to raise a kid. Plus you were so concerned with getting back at Bruce that I felt a kid would get in your way.” She spoke the last part silently.

Jason laughed. “Bruce and I are on speaking terms now actually.”

“So I read in the paper. The son who came back I believe was the headlines.”

“I never, I just, ugh I am sorry.” He finally said.

“What for” She said with a raised eyebrow. “Getting me pregnant, the fight, the other girls, or just having sex with me.”

“How I treated you. I loved no love you Y/N and that scared the shit out of me. I should have told you and not done everything I could to get that feeling to go away. I wish I could back to that past Jason and kick his ass. I came back later to apologize and you were gone. I knew then that I screwed up. I debated chasing you down, but I figured you didn’t want to see me. If I had known for a second you were pregnant I would have came.”

Y/N took it all in. Truth was she had forgiven him a long time ago. He had given her the best thing in the world, her daughter. She knew that one day she was going to tell him about her, but she was always scared of rejection again.

Once he was done, she gave him that half smile he grew to love. “I guess we need to figure out schedule then.”

Jason was hurt that she shrugged off that he loves her, but he knew it was a lot to take in all in one day. At least she didn’t respond by saying get out.

With that the two of them sat down in order to talk about who would be with Rose on what days. Instead they talked about who they were today. She told him about wanting to go back to school to be a nurse, but had to wait till Rose was in school so she wouldn’t be at the daycare a ton. Jason talked about working with the bats again and his family. It was then brought up on meeting the Wayne family.

“It’s your family, up to you.” She replied. “I am just worried about her meeting a lot of people at once.

“It’s her family too.” He said back. “Why don’t we give it a month and then have her meet the crazy Waynes.”

“How are we going to do this, you in Gotham and me in Star City.” She finally asked.

“I have a friend here, you might have heard about him, Arsenal. He will let me stay with him. After a month we can go meet my family and figure the rest out. “

The month flew by. Jason took her during the day while Y/N worked. Rose still wanted to go to daycare to be with her friends, but once a week they had father daughter dates. He started telling her bedtime stories. He got suckered into too many Barbie movies and sing along. Soon a picture of him, Y/N, and Rose at the park made its way into his wallet.

Roy met Rose as he brought Lian to the park so the two girls could play together. He was there to answer any questions Jason might have. Y/N as well helped Jason adjust to being a dad. Rose was enjoying having both parents around. Sometimes she would ask Jason not to leave her before bedtime or promise to be back in the morning. Times like that broke Jason’s heart because he knew eventually he would have to go back to nightlife.

The whole time he put Red Hood to the side. Some nights he would text Roy and let him know that he was staying at the apartment on the couch. Y/N and him were on friend level. He wanted to be with her, but he couldn’t jeopardize it without risk getting Rose involved. A fight between the two would wreck the little girls world, especially if one left. So like before, he shoved his feelings down and ignored them.

Tagging: @superwhoteen

[poisonous-whispers]

Worthy (Bad End)

HELLO AND WELCOME THIS IS JUST A PIECE OF HELL Y’ALL

Prompt: „Virgil, what is the biggest difference between you and the others? “ „They are worthy of being loved

Warnings: torture mental and physical, blood and gore, loosing limbs, graphic description of violence, fire, angst

Fandom & Ships: Thomas Sanders, platonic or romantic LAMP

Virgil sat there casually on his bed, listening to some music, thinking about everything he shouldn’t (as always). He still doesn’t remember how it happened.

What he can remember is that his vision went away- then he’s sitting in that weird place full of flowers and space-themed statues. The couch he sat on was immensely soft and in a nice peach color he quite enjoyed – Virgil wouldn’t admit it even if his life depended on it.

Virgil never felt out of place like then.

(Well, that was a lie and he knew it- Christmas and Halloween and every other festive day, every single day was hell. But that’s okay, he can deal with that, as long as the others where happy)

Plants in all colors and variations where in there, from Tulips to Poison Ivy, even Corps Flowers and Jade Vines where here for Christs‘ sake! He was a black void in Garden Eden, so wrong in the midst of staggering beauty, tainting everything with his mere presence.

A cough interrupted his thoughts. Turning his head around, the first thing he saw was white- blindingly bright.

Sitting in front of him on another couch was a- a being. Virgil really couldn‘t describe it differently, because it was neither a human nor anything he has ever seen. Yes, it had human features; a nose and mouth, head with white hair softly flowing (it was fucking moving) down its body and delicate hands and feet

But that was where the resemblance ended. Their skin tone was translucent, letting him see that they had no organs nor bones, just shimmering flesh- if it even was that.

And god, the eyes.

Virgil can still remember them so clearly, theses voids staring through him, ripping his soul into shreds, searching but never finding.

„Hello, Virgil“- their mouth hasn’t moved, not even a bit. Whipping his head around trying to figure out where the voice came from Virgil tensed, fight or flight kicking in. If he jumped over the couch maybe he could-

„You don’t have to be afraid. Well, not now, at least. “

Not now?

„I can assume that you don’t know why you are here, am I right? “, it said, cocking their head to the side like a curious cat.

Virgil only stared, looking at them with all his guards up, hands emitting black tendrils of smoke.

It sighs, standing up and walking -no, floating- towards the Side. Virgil went rigid, then jumped and made a run for it

He had no chance.

In an instant, white ropes curled around him, cutting into flesh, taking all of his energy. Virgil was sitting there, completely defenseless.

And it terrified him.

Tutting softly, the being sat on his lap softly tracing over his face with razor sharp claws. „You are so lonely and hurt, yet still so pretty to look at. Well, people do say that broken glass shines and glitters the most, isn’t that right sweet Virgil? “

Their appearance had changed completely. Long, dirty claws replaced fingers, body rotting away and oozing out grey slime

He couldn’t answer, even if he wanted to. He couldn‘t move, not even his eyes, frozen and horror-struck. What is happening?

It laughed silently. Full on, body-shaking laugh, pulling at his hair. „Just preventing you from flying away, little birdy. “

What do you want from me? Who are you? What-

The thing swiftly ripped out the hair it had pulled at, successfully silencing Virgil’s thoughts, making him scream and cry, trapped in his mind

„I want to play, of course! I am so old and bored and you are so wonderfully dark on the contrary to me“, it whispered, drawing closer to his face with each word, piercing his skin with its nails, „and you look like a wonderful plaything. “

He would throw up if he could. Every cell in his body is being controlled and he is so fucking terrified-

„Do you love them? “

Silence. There was nothing but silence and fearpainfearpainfearpainfearpain-

„Do you love your brothers? “, it whispered in his ear, licking over it, making him shiver

He did. It doesn’t matter what they said to him, did to him. He still loved them, because that’s what he does. He bleeds for them, suffers for them. He may be Anxiety and Virgil to them but he is fight or flight, too, always protecting

And he will always fight for them.

The thing stood up, shaking its head in bewilderment, facing away from him.

„You really do. And you would also give up everything for them! “It turned around, digging its nails into Virgil’s arms, ripping flesh open

„But I can tell you one thing“, it whispered against his lips, clutching his jaw, cutting into the muscle, „they will never love or accept you, my sweet little birdy. “

Virgil knew that. He knew that, but why did it still hurt more than the wounds on his body?

„They insult you, hurt you, tear you apart and they know it. They find it funny, don’t you know? “, hand where sliding up and down his chest, ripping it open, severing clothing and skin like butter and he was s c r e a m i n g because that isn’t true and please stopstopstopstop-

“They know how you feel and they simply don’t care. They shoot where they know it hurts and watch you bleeding out, finding amusement in your devotion, in your hope”, it spat, gripping his throat and squeezed, eyes turned black and unnaturally wide open, void of every kindness he had previously seen, and hair falling around them like a curtain.

“Logic, Creativity, Morality. Brain, Ego, Heart. They despise you.” It was growling now, strangling Virgil, radiating pure, wild energy, suppressing his last sparks of fight, his hope.

And then it gripped his arm, looking at it and then into Virgil’s eyes “You don’t need this, do you?” it asked, pulling a lighter out of thin air “Because I really want to see you beg for your life”

That was the only warning he got before it held the arm up, holding his hand into the flame, starting at his pinky

It was agony. His skin was throwing bubbles, cracking open. Virgil couldn’t move and he wanted to runrunrunrunrun- escape from that place that was melting around him, plants and walls dissolving into black sludge, slowly making its way onto the floor

It was laughing, slowly going from finger to finger, scorching his flesh, even going as far as destroying his sinew “Oh sweet little birdy, I forgot the best part!”, it giggled, giving Virgil a little bit of control back

And god, he used it. Virgil was screaming, struggling in between tight ropes, blood oozing out of the dozen wounds scattered across his body

Materializing a knife, the being was drawling poisonous words into his ear, telling him what the others were thinking of him, what they did when he wasn’t there

“They play with you, build you up just to tear you down and you let them.” Jabbing the knife into Virgil’s leg, it grinned “So let me finish what they started, won’t you? It doesn’t matter anymore, you are so shattered that you won’t feel a thing”

That was a lie. Virgil was wailing like a wounded animal, voice turning deep and multiplying, he was so afraid and there was so much painpainpainpain-

“Patton is supposed to be the Heart I remember. But where,” it asked, painting his body red, opening skin, “is that kindness? Where was he when you needed him?”

“And Roman, isn’t he supposed to be the creative one? He was never meant to use that gift for cruelty, for swords and insults and blood” Virgil could see his bones, white shining through pink and dark red fluids, tainting the floor

“Logan, oh Logan. It hurts the most with him, doesn’t it?” It had stopped cutting, instead going for his fingernails. Nonononono- it yanked “Because he is always right, isn’t he? And you are just wrong, useless Anxiety.”

Virgil couldn’t give up. That wasn’t his job, his purpose. But he could lose hope.

He has never felt so powerless like in this moment. The being, a demon risen from his own personal hell, breaking his bones so that he could see them standing out between his torn muscles, ripping out finger after finger

He never wanted death as much as in these second where the black sludge touched him, as it burned away his skin, as it ate away his flesh

“I’m curious, Virgil. You love them still, even after all they did “, the being asked, letting go of him, “All four of you are villains, but tell me birdy, what is the biggest difference between you and the others? What makes you so unlovable?”

The black mass left his body, leaving behind a body broken beyond repair. His head was missing more than half of his hair, jaw broken and blackening rapidly. His arms and legs where broken, bones sticking out of places they shouldn’t, his chest had cuts scattered everywhere, rips shining through. Hands and feet both had no nails anymore, fingers missing

He still answered

„They a-are worthy o-of being lo-loved“, he whispered, voice distorted, coughing up blood.

“What? Say that again, I didn’t quite hear you”, it mocked, watching as Virgil tried to curl into himself, hoping to find a position not bringing him pain

“The biggest difference i-is that they are wo-worthy of being lo-loved”, he repeated, staring into nothing, “They may have treated me badly, but that isn’t their fault. Who wouldn’t hate me?”

Virgil laughed bitterly, lips red “They are always so ha-happy until I come in and ruin everything, o-over and over again. They have e-every right to react the way they d-do.” Tears had made their way out of his eyes by now, wetting his face, mixing with his blood

“And even if it hurts, I forgive them. Because I-I love them. I will bleed and grieve but I will always care for them.”

“Sad. It won’t matter anymore, though”, the demon spoke, letting its fingers wander around Virgil’s chest

Then it pushed. It pushed through his ribs while he was screaming in agony, gripping his heart and pulling it out, leaving behind his open chest

Virgil could have sworn he saw his brothers before he took his last breath

-

They weren’t worried, at first. Virgil sometimes retreats into his room, sometimes for hours

But he has been gone for days now, and they were panicking. They had kicked open his room long ago, finding nothing expect his phone and headphones, still playing music

Logan tried to find solution to Virgil’s disappearance, but failed miserably. Roman searched all of his Kingdom, sending every man and woman to find the dark persona, but never found something. And Patton? Well, Patton was crying non-stop, feeling anxiety and panic rise in his body. It was so wrong, because he knew that that should never happen.

They were in the main room, when they heard it. Hushed giggling came from Virgil’s room, quickly turning into full blown laughter before disappearing. After sharing a shocked glance, all three started running.

Logan was the first who stopped, was the first to see. Bloody trails lead to the cracked door, finally halting Roman and Patton

“Wh-what is happening Logan” Roman finally whispered, not being able to tear away his gaze from the fresh blood on the floor

“I have no idea, Roman. We have no other choice but to look for answers” Logan answered, swallowing the sense of dread that rose in him

Surprisingly, Patton was the first to make a step, opening the door to his brother’s room. The first thing that he noticed was the smell- the air was heavy with the scent of blood and rotting flesh. He stepped inside-

And screamed. Automatically, Roman and Logan lunged forward to steady the wobbling Side, only to fall to their knees.

There, hanging from the ceiling in white ropes, was Virgil. Or better what was left of him. He was missing an arm, which they later found on the ground next to the bed. An eye was hanging out of its socket, his jaw ripped out, letting his tongue hang freely. His chest was open, missing lungs and his heart, ribs sticking out.

On the wall behind Virgil stood one final sentence, written in neat cursive, shining red

“He still loved you”

[profxcio]

REAPER7 AS PRESCHOOLERS

@dcydrcvm / @isilmerana

Jayce: The only one Hajoon never gets mad at. Quiet, plays with the same toys pretty much every day, gets commanded to play ‘daddy’ during house and doesn’t fight it. Hajoon’s personal secretary ‘He doesn’t like that’ ‘He wants apple juce’ “Hajoon said, Hajoon said, Hajoon said’. Is not pushed over by anyone else other than him.  Always the most dapper looking baby in the daycare with little vests, nice shoes, and sometimes a very smol fedora. Loves the art station, often lost there. Teachers think he can’t speak because he’s so quiet but, really, has no need for words. Very easy going, never seems to get mad. 

Hajoon: King of the dollhouses, the playhouses, the play kitchen. You don’t get to touch them unless he says so. Touch them without his okay and he will scream bloody murder. Toys will be thrown, children pushed. Do not tread in his territory. He’ll play house and demand to be the mommy and you have to follow his rules. Play nice and he’s nice, play opposite and he’s scary. He likes one (1) teacher and even she has a hard time with him sometimes. First in line, shows off every little project he does. Praise seeker, the ‘LOOK AT ME’ baby, honestly the cutest one in the daycare, but also the most temperamental

Daichi: Don’t go near him. He bites. He throws things. He glares. He’s very scary for a child. Most teachers avoid him and it works out fine because he’s fiercely independent. You don’t have to call him to the table because he’s already there, finishes activities quickly so he can go back to what he wants to do. Chubby cheeks and a permanent pout make him cuter than he probably wants to be seen as. Accidental magic user, has hurt a few kids without meaning to. Laughed about it. Sleeps like the dead at naptime, cries angrily when woken up. Likes Baekhyun for some reason.

Baekhyun: Problem solver, conflict resolver. Kids fighting over a toy? He plays mediator. Someone got pushed? Hugging and comforting and saying ‘It’s okay’.  Mature beyond is age, teachers are thinking he may need to be in advanced placement because he has remarkable empathy. Hates the playground because everything is up high and he needs help just getting up a ladder, then gets upset when the slide is to high. Team captain 24/7, tries to drag kids who don’t want to play into the game. Friends with EVERYONE. The only one Daichi does not throw blocks at, the only one who can hug Daichi without getting hurt. Loves all the teachers, teachers all love him.

KT: Perfectionist. Sorts the blocks by color, then by shape, alphabatizes all the alphabet blocks, rainbow organizes his crayons. Every block tower he’s ever made is perfectly aligned and he’s figured out how to climb the chairs and stack more without knocking them over. Teachers appreciate his creativity, but scold him and his climbing. Not a bully, but not the nicest. Intentionally messes up Hajoon’s games, but is smart enough to avoid Daichi. A little rude to kids he doesn’t know, but a gem to his friends. Acts like an angel when in trouble, has charmed his way out of punishment. First to finish activities, but doesn’t seek praise. Gets upset when food touches. Loves the playground. Races Baekhyun and Yuu -- never wins, but still has fun. Tried to help Baekhyun climb the ladder, stopped after he fell on him. Annoyed by Yeri. Best friends with Yuu. Snack times spent in the corner, hidden ‘fortress’ on the playground.

Yuu: Bottomless pit of energy and noise. Teachers call him the ‘monkey’ because he climbs on any and everything. King of the jungle gym, the first kid to get up there without falling and can now hang upside down from it to the awe of many other children. Running, Running, ALWAYS running, seems like he’ll never calm down, but crashes at naptime. Cuddly, snuggly, loving, chased by all the little girls and has had lots of first kisses. Baby fairy who can’t control everything, teachers think he’s disappeared sometimes when really he just went into his fairy form and hasn’t figure out how to come back yet. Big bright eyes, happy in the morning, sits next to KT at all times, tries to comfort Yeri but doesn’t know how.

Yeri: Crying. Almost Always crying. Crying because mom left, crying because a toy got taken, crying because Yuu bumped into him, crying because KT bothered him, crying because hajoon is being loud, crying because daichi is being mean. Consoled in the arms of teachers, sticks close to them. Teacher’s pet, best helper, loves to help set up and help clean up. Gets anxious during group games about not doing well. Drops toys, drops cups, drops everything. Tries to be adventerous on the playground.  Puffs up when KT picks at him, gets excited when Baekhyun or Yuu pick him for games. Wants to be liked, tries to be liked, stumbles on the new words he’s trying learn. Brightest smile, cutest face, and is the happiest baby when he’s in a good mood.

[ilovejacksonswang]

Teach Me What Real Love is

A/N: Hello! It’s been a bit but here’s my second fic that I’m posting online!! Not going to lie, I’m pretty excited for this one because I’ve been working so hard on it and I had a lot of fun writing it :) I’ve always had a soft-spot for Wonho I decided to give this oneshot a chance. Also! This is my first time writing in second person POV! So!! That means that it’s my first time using “you” and “y/n” instead of making up an actual character with a name, so please have mercy if there are some mistakes! Thank you for reading, I hope you like it :) All credit for the gif goes to kaimikachan

Summary: The premise behind this story is basically that you’re engaged but you end up falling for your irresistible wedding florist, Wonho.

Rated: PG-13 even though there isn’t any smut or anything, there are just mild references. I’d say this is definitely fluff and possibly a little angsty?? I really don’t know bout the angst, definite fluff though, I think.

Word Count: 12,809

Edit: Here’s a link to the sequel if you liked this story you can keep reading! 

It’s like watching a house burn to the ground when all you could do is pour glasses of water on it, knowing it would turn to cinders anyway. It’s like trying to stop a car from crashing, knowing there’s nothing you can do from the passenger side seat. It’s like trying to piece together a broken vase, it would never look the same but damn it all if you didn’t try to make it whole again. At the end, all you’re left with is ash and soot, fire and pain.

           You loved him like a storm. Now all you could do is cry like one.

           But that’s the thing. Loved. You don’t know when you stopped and if only you did and you could’ve stopped the crash before it got too late.

           “Y/n! Please! Open the door, let us in! We want to help,” the door is locked and even if you could somehow will your limbs to move, summon enough strength to let your bridesmaids Jasmine and Aurora into your dressing room, you wouldn’t. He left you up there alone, so alone you wanted to be. Sobs wrack your body and you don’t even bother to quiet them. You couldn’t be bothered with anything. This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, the day you and your first love finally promised forever to each other. And you would’ve.

           But it’s hard to do that when one half of the married couple is missing.

           Curled in a ball in the corner of your dressing room, all you could do is blame yourself as tears kept slipping down your cheeks, you swore they could drown you. The signs were all there. Even if he was physically with you, he felt like a ghost and you tried to play necromancer holding séance after séance to try and keep his ghost coming back. Sitting there in the dark room, you realize you don’t even remember the last time he had told you he loved you, and a fresh bout of sobs leave you trembling.

           The worst part of watching a disaster come, is that you know it’s coming. But that doesn’t stop you from getting invested anyway, doesn’t stop you from caring. It’s like building a house you love in a flood zone. You know that when monsoon season comes, it will wash away the house and your hopes for it too, but how can you feel at home anywhere else?

           Staring into the dark as teardrops stream down your face, rivers of grief, you can’t even tell if you’re more upset that he left you or that he left you after you had planned this elaborate wedding, bought a dress, booked tickets for a honeymoon, planned an entire beginning to a fairytale happy ever after that he never planned to be a part of. Anger surges through you and you want to scream, to cry, to rip the wedding dress off your body, to cut your neatly piled hair off your head, to throw the flower bouquet-

           The flowers. Wonho.

           “Sweetheart, are you in there? Open up. Don’t shut us out like this, just open up and let Jasmine and Aurora in, let me in, please?” just like your thoughts summon him, he’s at the door and you remember that he was there, he was there to watch you walk down the aisle to no one, to watch you run out of the ballroom, his flowers in your hands and in the hands of your bridesmaids, decorating the room that hosted your family, and your fiancé’s – ex- fiancé’s – family. Like a ghost, you drift to the door, your hands hovering over the lock. Should you let him in? He’d seen you cry before, but do you really want him to see you so desolate and distressed? His job is to be your wedding guest, not your shoulder to cry, weep, bawl on until your body refuses to produce a single tear more. And yet, you remind yourself bitterly, this wouldn’t be the first time he saw you shatter.

           “Please…” his voice is muted by the door, but the desperation in it cuts to your soul. Before you can process anything, the door is open and he’s rushing in and you’re in his arms and he smells so good and-

           “Thank god y/n, please don’t do that again,” his voice cracks and you want to apologize, but the sobs choke you and you’re crying into his chest but instead of pushing you away, he just holds you tighter.

           “I – I don’t know what to do,” you sob into his chest, his hands gripping you tight around your waist as you allow yourself to shatter, “They’re all still out there, how can I show them my face again? I’m beyond embarrassed, Wonho, I’m mortified!”

           “It’s ok sweetheart, just breathe. Look, Jasmine and Aurora are going to go out there and take care of the guests, while I stay here with you and we’re going to figure this out,” he reassures, his voice shaking in barely contained rage towards your coward of a fiancé. His hand gently cupping your cheek stops you from further burrowing your head into him as he tenderly pulls your face up towards his, a severe frown marring his beautiful face, the soft brown tips of his hair tickling your skin and he’s so close you can almost forget about everything else…

           “You deserve so much better. I knew that the second you walked into my shop, in your soft pink dress smiling at lilies and lilacs. You’re an angel sweetheart don’t let him, don’t let anyone, steal your halo,” the seriousness in his tone sobers you and you sniffle, trying to stop your tears. It’s hard to believe that despite only knowing you for the three months leading up to your wedding, Wonho knows exactly what to say to make you feel like the world isn’t crashing and burning around you, like even if your house is washed away in the flood, you can still find home. You look up at him, his thumbs delicately wiping the tears from your face.

           “He has no idea what he’s missing out on. You looked like a princess walking down that aisle, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I’ve worked with flowers for years now so I can say with all my heart that it’s going to be hard going back to working with them knowing that they’ll never be as pretty as you are. And I know right now isn’t the best time, but I’m kicking myself for not telling you sooner so I’m just going to say that I want you. I want to be the one to treat you right, the prince to your princess,” his confession is a breath slipped between his lips and a shot straight through your heart. You can’t remember the last time your heart beat like this, it’s like coming back alive from the dead.

           Guilt washes over you, you were supposed to be marrying another man but the source of all your doubts is standing right in front of you with his arms surrounding you.

And he smells like flowers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 3 months ago ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Lilies, Lilacs, Lavender. Lilies, Lilacs, and Lavender? Lilies with lilacs? Or Lavender with Lilacs?

This store is known around town for having every kind of flower you could think of. But you? You’re stuck on the three purple ones because purple is your favorite color and even if your fiancé hates purple, he could suck it because it’s your damn wedding day, too. Not that he had cared or asked about how the preparations were going, where you booked your honeymoon, what the venue is, who you invited, or, you know, anything. It’s always “I’m busy with work” with him and you couldn’t remember when he had stopped adding the “babe” to the ends of his excuses.

But you weren’t going to think about your absent fiancé who hadn’t even showed up to the wedding hall booking appointment. There’s too much to get done and none of it is going to get done if you let yourself get upset. He missed the appointment, you bought your bridesmaids purple dresses, it was even.

So it’s just you and the Lilacs, Lilies, and Lavender…and the florist you’ve made an appointment with over the phone once your cousin started raving about how “delightful” the staff is to work with and how “fresh” their flowers are. Any minute now and you would go find him-

“Hello Ma’am, are you by chance y/n, my 3:00 appointment?”

Unless he found you first.

“Oh yeah, Hi! I’m-” you immediately start, expecting a retired older man to be standing behind you. It just made sense that maybe someone older would be working with flowers after maybe a corporate job that they found too stressful, so you’re entirely caught off guard when you turn around to find someone so drop dead gorgeous-

And then he smiles. And drop-dead-gorgeous became drop-my-panties.

A blush colors his handsome face. He has these eyes that look so soft and knowing, like he could unravel you at the seams with just a glance. His plump lips quirk up in a sheepish smile and an apron covers his toned body. His hair that’s brown and the color of pecans is styled in an undercut, the tips just brushing his dark eyelashes. There are traces of a black tattoo peeping from under the sleeve of the blue t-shirt that stretches over his chest and brings out his lovely brown eyes that are also roving over you and it finally dawns on you that you still haven’t answered and-

“Y/n! My name’s y/n!” you blurt, “but you knew that because you just said it and I’m you’re three o’clock and I’m getting flowers.”

He quirks his eyebrows at your nervous rambling and you fight the urge to jump inside the vases they keep the flowers in.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re at a flower shop then. I’m Wonho,” he smiles. It hangs crooked on his face and you have the urge to touch the laugh lines on his face. A breathy laugh escapes you and you don’t know why you feel winded like you’ve just run a mile and your awful habit of oversharing springs up on you as words bubble out of your mouth.

“I have a wedding, in three months. Well, it’s mine. I mean, the wedding, it’s my wedding like I’m the one getting married, I guess. And I’ve heard some really good things about this shop. So I booked this appointment because I need flowers. Actually, I own the bakery like two stores down, so it’s really close to this shop. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before, it’s so pretty,” you pause, sticking your hand out for him to shake. His smile transforms his entire face, his shoulders shaking in silent mirth as he reaches out to shake your hand and you’re taken aback that such soft hands could have such a firm grip.

“So that’s where I know you from! I go to your bakery for lunch at least once a week. It’s nice to finally meet the woman behind those amazing croissants. We can head back to my office and talk arrangements in there. Weddings are my favorite to work, I have a portfolio with arrangements I’ve done in the past that you can look at to kind of get an idea of what we can and can’t do,” he talks over his shoulder as he leads you through the maze of flowers and into an office in the back that’s also decorated with flowers, hanging from the ceilings and creeping up walls, lining a window that lets the sun illuminate soft orange walls.

“Have a seat,” he instructs as he rummages through a book shelf that stands amidst the flowers and behind his desk and you follow his command, plopping own on the plush love seat that sits on one side of his desk. You’re in awe at how quickly he changes from boy next door to business professional as he pulls out a binder and lays it open in his desk.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking but, how come you’re here alone?” He asks, his broad back facing you as he busily looks through the binders in his book shelf. You’re grateful he can’t see the embarrassed flush covering your cheeks and mentally curse your fiancé for subjecting you to this humiliation, the questions you’ve gotten from everyone on why you’ve been running around town trying to pull together a wedding without the person you’re getting married to.

“Um, my fiancé’s a lawyer who can’t seem to get time off and my bridesmaids are out of town right now,” you mumble, casting your eyes wistfully out the window and it must be vulnerability in your voice that catches Wonho off guard and makes him turn around toward you. His breathe catches in his throat. You’re a vision to be seen sitting on that loveseat with your hair falling down in waves around you, surrounded by flowers with the sunlight catching you through the window in a way that makes it look like you’re the one glowing. He has to remind himself that you’re spoken for and here to pick flowers for a wedding, your wedding to a sap who couldn’t even take time out his day to make it to a flower appointment. A surge of anger-jealousy rushes through him and he has to push it down. He almost regrets asking feeling the change in your mood from excited-nervous to something a lot more sober.

“Well, that’s ok! It’s all the more better, if I’m going to be honest. You wouldn’t believe the amount of fights I’ve seen that start from simple disagreements over what flowers to pick and where to put them,” he makes a sound of disbelief, “I even had to shield my flowers once from the rampage of a mother-in-law.”

The image has you laughing again and Wonho takes a deep, thankful breath, grateful he got that frown off your face. When he finally finds the binder he’s looking for, he lays it open next to the first one and flips it open to a picture of a lovely wedding venue covered in flowers.

“This bride really had a thing for hydrangeas. She said they were her grandmother’s favorite and since her grandmother couldn’t be there, she wanted the room to be full of them. She swore having them there made her feel like her grandmother was there with her. This is why I love what I do. Sometimes, a flower isn’t just a flower,” he explains, and the passion and raw emotion in his voice takes you aback. His eyes lift up from the picture and meet yours, and for the second time today you feel as if your breath has been stolen from you. You feel time freeze, as you both just look at each other, and you feel like you’re privy to some secret about this man that no one else knows, which is silly because you’ve just met.

“Why don’t you leaf through these binders, see what you like and we can talk about it right after I come back with some refreshments,” his voice is deeper than it was before and you’re so surprised and, you can’t believe it but, turned on that you can’t even protest and before you know it he’s left the room and left you with your thoughts and binders that showcase the fruits of this man’s passion.

Guilt creeps in as you realize that you’re acting like a teenager, fawning over this man because of the way he talks about flowers. You scoff at yourself, but you can’t even remember the last time Garret, your fiancé, talked about anything like that. It’s stupid and pointless, you know, comparing this random man to your fiancé but the doubts start creeping in and you shake them away and stop thinking about it because it’s all you can do and you don’t want to think about it anymore but it’s getting harder and harder to justify your absent fiancé and-

“I hope you like tea?” Wonho walks in holding a tray with a clear tea kettle and some tea cups, another man walking in behind him holding another tray that’s topped with cookies and chocolates. You nod avidly in response to his question as he places the tray down in front of you and you can see the tea in the kettle is the same color as his hair and there an entire flower in it. As if reading the awe on your face, Wonho chuckles and explains.

“It’s blooming tea, one of my favorites. The flower blooms when you put it in the hot water and it’s just as pretty as it is delicious,” you’re taken aback again, simply by the way his voice changes when he talks about flowers. He regards them so tenderly, like a mother talking about her children, and you can only smile in response. You feel the exact same way about baking, which is why you opened your bakery, despite how much Garret told you it was a failing venture and that you would never make it. A year later and business is booming, you’d designed cakes for weddings and birthdays and events and made a name for yourself as the town’s cake-girl. It’s like his spirit speaks straight to yours, his passion is magnetic and you couldn’t stop yourself from responding to it. You couldn’t even remember the last time you felt like this.

He gently places a sugar cube into a cup an pours the tea over it, making a show of it and you laugh in response to his antics. He stirs in the sugar and places the cup before you, surprising you by making his way around his desk and sitting next to you on the couch as opposed to across from you and behind his desk. It’s oddly intimate, being so close to him but you can’t help but be grateful, it made you feel not so alone.

You take the cup of tea and sip it slowly as you listen to Wonho talk animatedly about wedding arrangements, table arrangements, flower arches, and bouquets. Conversation flows so easily between the both of you it’s like you’ve known each other in a past life. The minutes fly by an you want to grab onto them and make them stay because truth be told, you haven’t had this much fun talking to someone since you started planning your wedding 6 months ago.

“I think that you’re better off having violets in your wedding bouquet, they can offer that rich shade of purple that you want and we can mute that deep purple by adding some white roses to the bouquet. That way, it won’t be overwhelmingly purple with your bridesmaid’s dresses. That way, we can give bouquets of only white roses to your bridesmaids and your bouquet will be the only one with violets,” Wonho explains, “I can make arches to put over the altar of drooping lilacs. Instead of red rose petals on the carpet, we can do the white rose petals and have arrangements of lilacs and violets at the ends of the rows where people will be sitting. And for the table arrangements, I think it would be nice if we do a mix of whites and purples.”

He shows you some pictures of tall arrangements, short arrangements, arrangements with flowers floating in bowls of water, and you’re astounded that he’s done all of them. His fingers flit around the binder and you can’t help but think how skillful they must be if he’s capable of creating such breathtaking arrangements. He listens to every word you say as if your word is holy and you revel in his attention. Hour by hour, time slips by as talking about flowers fades into talking about anything and everything you can think of.

           “The secret is not skimping on the butter, and layering. If you layer a croissant right and fold in the butter, it’ll be flaky and crispy but soft, too. You have to be careful with them, but if you do it right, they’re to die for,” you explain, on your fourth cup of tea and relishing on the fact that Wonho’s attention is exclusively on you. He’s an avid listener and once he got you started talking about your bakery, you couldn’t stop. You felt silly talking so much about it at the beginning, but his curious questions and encouraging nods put you at ease in a way that only very close friends have. You couldn’t help but bitterly think that Garret never asks about your bakery or anything in connection to your passion.

           “I could’ve sworn you guys were folding drugs in there, I swear I’m addicted to everything you sell,” Wonho laughs, shaking his head, “there’s no such thing as a good morning until I’ve had a cookie or croissant from your bakery.”

           You warm under his appraisal and awkwardly giggle, tucking your hair behind your ear, not used to the flattery. A knock at the door breaks the spell that binds you together, pulling you back to reality as Wonho’s eyes flicker to the door, a frown marring his face.

           “Sorry to interrupt your appointment, Wonho, but I think your next appointment is here and she’s getting a little antsy,” a lanky boy stands at the door, looking a little sheepish. Wonho lets out a deep sigh and looks at you apologetically.

           “Tell her I’ll be there in 5 minutes, Hyungwon. Show her the snapdragons we just got, it’s Sally, right? She’ll love that for her client,” he instructs the boy at the door, who nods and walks back out, as he clears the binders. You awkwardly stand up as he flits about his office.

           “I’m sorry I have to cut this short, I just seemed to have lost track of time. Why don’t you come back in two weeks and by then I’ll have some sample arrangements and bouquets set up so you can see what they look like and we can still change things. I’ll have some price estimates ready for you about then, too, depending on which flowers you decide on and how many I’ll need,” he explains, pulling a card out of his desk drawer and scribbling a time for a follow-up appointment on it. You nod as he hands his card over and you smile at him.

           “Thanks for your time, I can’t wait to see the arrangements,” you offer him your hand again and he takes it. You shake hands for a good minute, his touch lingering as neither of you are ready to head back to reality, unable to shake off the chemistry there is between you but as Hyungwon clears his throat from the entrance again, a woman standing by his side, you both head your ways. You can’t help from smiling all the way to your next appointment, scolding yourself in your head, for acting like such a child with a crush. You try to dismiss the guilt nipping at the edges of your mind, try hard not to think about it. Sure, there was chemistry between you and Wonho, but that didn’t – couldn’t – mean anything. In three months, you would walk down the aisle with Garret. Garret is safe, Garret is what is expected. You’ve known each other since you were children. He was your first love, you’re only boyfriend and you couldn’t complain over something so little as losing the fire that seemed to be such a big part of your relationship as teenagers. You try to convince yourself that it’s just because you’ve been together for a long time that he doesn’t or shouldn’t have to pay the same amount of attention to you. You made excuse after excuse in your head, contented with the sense of security they brought you, the doubts they dismissed. You would make sure your wedding is the best thing and hoped that Garret would change after you married him, after you showed him that you wanted to be his forever. So you put all your energy into planning, hoping above hope that if you could just do everything right, if you kept fighting, you could keep the two of you together.

           And that meant pushing flower boy Wonho out of your mind. Which couldn’t be that hard…right?

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

           The food is getting cold. You laid on the couch, watching the minutes tick by as the hour reaches midnight. You knew Garret liked when you have food at the table when he got home from work, but lately his hours were getting more and more unpredictable and whenever you ask when he’d be home the reply is always the same.

           Whenever I’m done. At a meeting right now. Can’t talk.

           Can’t talk. He never could anymore. It’s the same thing every day and you start to wonder when the silence stopped being comfortable. You used to revel in being able to be silent with him, doing your own thing while he did his, as long as you were together. He stopped being sorry for making you stay up for him, stopped bringing flowers home, stopped making it up to you. He stopped making excuses, so you started making them for him.

A minute passes. You think about how he proposed.

           You had both gotten out of college that year and his mother invited you both over for Christmas. His mother never got along with yours, but Garret didn’t care. He wanted Christmas to be spent at his house so you fought with your mom, fought for him. His mother doted on him like he was a king, praising herself for raising a top-notch lawyer. You sat at the dinner table as his family toasted to the tough case he won, their words of praise grating on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard because you and Garret knew the man he was defending was guilty of the crime he was prosecuted for. You couldn’t find it in you to be excited that he fought for a guilty man to walk free. He told you his fighting for his clients puts the roof over your heads. So you shut up.

He paraded you around like a trophy, the diamonds he bought you to wear for the occasion dangling from your ears, but they were only for show. You had fought earlier that day about you opening your bakery and he swore on his mother’s grave, the mother that was currently talking to you about how much of catch her son was and how she can’t wait for grandkids, that it was a waste of money. But you told yourself all couples have disagreements, and you would get past this. You were just as surprised as everyone else when he called for an important announcement. He asked you to marry him. He didn’t even get down on his knee. And you said yes because his eyes told you to. His mother cried, his dad patted him on the back. He put a rock on your finger.

Another minute passes. The food’s getting cold. You fall asleep on the couch waiting for him and wake up, on the couch, to empty plates and an empty apartment. You religiously try to ignore the emptiness inside you.

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

           Wonho stops by your bakery every morning on his way into his flower shop bringing with him the smell of flowers and peppermint, and you tell yourself the reason your heart is beating so fast is because you’re just excited to try out the new cupcake recipe you thought up, try to stop yourself from think that there’s anything special going on.

           “I’ll take 2 dozen cookies. I have some appointments today and I’ve found that your cookies go exceptionally with some of my blooming teas. My clients love them,” he smirks at you and you fumble around getting him his cookies like you have two left feet. He chuckles every time you bump into the counter and blows on your fingers when you shut the sliding door on your display case on them.

           “Feel better?” he smiles at you and you forget the throbbing in your fingers, nodding along trying desperately not to seem like a kid with a crush. He smiles. You slip a croissant into his bag. He comes back the next day. And the next. And the next.

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

           Two weeks pass by and you’ve started marking off the days on your calendar until your wedding. You’ve written in all the important dates, made calls to make sure your guests got their invites, written in all your appointments, you plan everything down to a tee because it makes you feel like you have control of something. You couldn’t control whether or not Garret started coming home at a reasonable time, you couldn’t control whether or not he would start talking to you or paying attention to you or anything, you couldn’t control the budding feelings you felt for your florist who had started coming in for lunch every day at your bakery and whom you’d eaten with the few times you had a break the same time he came in, and you couldn’t control the guilt that made your lunches taste bitter. You have reached a point where there was no going back, so there was no use for doubts now either. You could make damn sure that the day you hoped would fix your lackluster relationship was as close to perfect as possible, so that’s what you damn well did.

           You’re on the way to your follow up appointment with Wonho and you swear to yourself the extra swipes of mascara you put on and the rosy lipstick that adorns your lips are there because you’re trying to hide how tired you are from waiting all night for Garret to come home. He never came back. And you totally aren’t trying to look good for Wonho.

           The bells on the door to Wonho’s flower shop chime a sweet symphony as you enter and you embrace the smell of flowers. It’s becoming your second favorite thing to smell, right after the smell of a freshly baked batch of cookies. There’s a boy watering some of the flowers and his name is just on the tip of your tongue, Hyungwon is it? He looks at you through the glasses hanging on his nose and his eyes light, in recognition, and then curiosity.

           “Y/n? You own the bakery right? You’re here for wedding arrangements?” he asks, continuing to water some beautiful purple flowers that were not there two weeks ago. You nod in response and he notices the way your eyes are glued to the flowers.

           “Clematis. They’re climbing plants. We just got a shipment of them in yesterday. They’re pretty, huh?” he explains, cocking his head to the side at how enraptured you are.

           “They’re breathtaking,” you breathe out, and the awe in your voice takes him by surprise.

           “You like flowers?” He asks, and you nod adamantly and for the first time you see him smile. It’s like you’ve passed some sort of test, because he puts his pail of water down.

           “Let me go get Wonho for you, he’s been fussing over these arrangements for days now. I’m sure he’ll be glad you’re finally here to see them,” He mumbles the last part as he disappears somewhere and you peruse the plants, noting the ones that hadn’t been there the last time you came and reading the abstract names on their information cards. You’re surprised to find a section of veggie plants, tomatoes and peppers and you can’t believe you never thought about using freshly grown ingredients for your bakery.

           “There you are! I have your arrangements in my office, y/n. Are you ready to see them?” his smile is full blown and so bright you feel blinded, like you have seen a star from up close. You can’t help but feel his energy like the air is charged with it. It’s absolutely bewitching, his fervor makes you feel just as delighted and you follow him to his office.

           “Close your eyes,” he instructs, his voice overflowing with child-like excitement. You giggle.

           “But if I close my eyes, how can I see where I’m going?” you chuckle and he looks over at you, a coquettish smile on his lips. He sticks his hand out and you look at him in confusion.

           “Close your eyes. I’ll guide you. Trust me, I won’t let you get hurt,” his request catches you off guard and you stare at him a moment, dumbfounded. You don’t know what it is in you, whether it’s the fact that you’re desperate to feel close to anyone or if you’ve been starved of intimate touch for so long or something else entirely, but you reach out and take his hand, closing your eyes. You gasp as you feel his presence shift from in front of you to behind you, his grasp shifting from your hands to your elbows and his hands are so close to your waist that it leaves you breathless for one long moment.

           “Forward,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning over your shoulder and you shiver as you tentatively put foot in front of foot, Wonho guiding you to where you think his office is. You can’t tell if it takes 2 seconds or 2 years to get there, time skews itself as your eyes are shut and you are amazed with how the deprivation of one sense can highly tune in others. It’s like you’re smelling flowers all over again for the first time, noticing just how soft Wonho’s hands are on your arms, hearing the pitter patter of water landing on soil, and it’s like being shown a whole new world.

           “You smell like bread. And chocolate. Were you at the bakery?”

           “Yeah, I’m sorry, I-”

           “I like it. Don’t apologize.”

           You warm under his admiration, wishing you could hide. It’s a simple compliment, but it makes you feel like you’re absolutely open to him, like he could see into your soul and tear down any guards you built around yourself. It makes you feel vulnerable and you’re not used to it and you can’t figure out why you actually like feeling like this, feeling like you don’t have to be in control of something for once and-

           “Open your eyes.”

           Like a puppet on a string, you obey his command and take a second to notice that you’re in his office and that’s when your eyes land on a group of floral arrangements.

           And they are so beyond beautiful, you question if those flowers are really the same as the ones you saw outside, if he even got them from the same planet. You’re eyes flicker to Wonho’s and you see his confidence flickering, he looks nervous and you can’t for the love of everything rationalize how this man could possible feel insecure about his abilities. You look back at the flowers, taking them in. There’s just a perfect balance between dark purple flowers and the white roses that prevent the purple from being overwhelming. He’s found a way to twist little teardrop shaped crystals into the bride’s bouquet, they twinkle in the sunlight filtering in from the window and cast rainbows around the room. He’s filled in some lighter purple flowers to make the difference between the purple and white not so stark, and the bridesmaid’s bouquet is just as beautiful. For the table pieces, he’s arranged a faux mini tree with flowers creeping up the trunk and hanging from its branches. Little fairy lights also droop from the branches and create an effect like there are fireflies amongst the flowers. Little candles circle the base of the tree, floating in little glasses of water with purple and white flower petals sprinkled on the surface of the water. It’s absolutely perfect, beyond anything you could have ever imagined and you don’t even know how to begin to thank him. Your eyes meet his again and if he looked unsure a few seconds ago, he looks desperately anxious now.

           “I don’t even have words, Wonho. My dreams couldn’t even compare to these. I’m beyond wowed, I’m dazzled,” you breathe out and it’s like your words are the oxygen he needs to breathe. He lets out a long breath and the smile that sets upon his face has you wondering if it’s the flowers you’re actually dazzled by.

           “I’m glad you like them. So, are there any changes you want to make? Now’s the time to get the logistics straight,” he sits down on the loveseat and you sit next to him. You both talk business for the next half hour, placement and dates, orders and prices, fine-tuning all the details with a cup of blooming tea that Hyungwon brings in. The talk makes you feel giddy, so excited until you realize that no matter how much careful attention you put into these small little details, the table arrangements, the colors of the candles, the crystals, the flower arches, Garret probably won’t care much for them. You’re mind flashes back to the time you tried to splurge on some houseplants that you decorated your joint apartment with. He threw them away as soon as he came home, saying that he they were too girly.

           “Is something wrong? Your mood seems a little off, are you tired? Do you have a headache, a fever?” Wonho questions, his eyebrows scrunched in worry. You shake your head, he isn’t your relationship counselor. It would be unfair to him to sit in his office, taking up his time with your complaints and doubts. So you stopped thinking about them. Pushed them to the farthest corners of your mind and locked them there.

           “No… I’m ok, I’m just a little worried about some stuff. You know, when you’re the bride, there’s a million things to worry about,” you improvise. He nods his head knowingly.

           “You shouldn’t overexert yourself. Don’t you have anyone to help you with all of this? Your fiancé, for example? Usually, when I’m having these appointments for weddings, both the bride and groom come in. Sometimes, the family too. Sometimes I feel like a teacher in front of a small class of students,” he jokes and manages to pull a smile from you, although his mention of your very absent fiancé does leave a sour taste in your mouth. You are bitter. You hated feeling like you’re pulling together an elaborate wedding for… yourself. By the way things were going, it don’t even feel like you’re marrying someone. Garret is about as present and active in the planning process as a rock. If you ask him for help, he would complain.

           Don’t you know I’m busy? You’re perfectly capable of planning your wedding. I have these cases to file and important people to talk to. All you have to do is bake bread.

           And yet, if you didn’t do any preparations, he would complain.

           Isn’t the wedding close? What are you doing going to work? Nothing’s done and you have to make sure my Aunt Sarah doesn’t sit at the same table as Aunt Ester.

           “No. I don’t have anyone to help me. Fiancé went on a business trip,” you lie, because you really don’t know where Garret is. And you don’t ask because you’re more afraid of the answer than the question. He didn’t come back last night, at all. So you made excuse after excuse to put your mind to rest. If you started to question this, you’d question everything and then you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

           “How long is he gone for?”

           “Uhm… 4 weeks?” you answer, but you sound unsure to even your own ears. Wonho looks skeptical, but he doesn’t question the obvious lie.

           “Well, if you need any help, I know a few wedding planners. I could always refer them to you, they come to my shop for arrangements for their clients’ weddings,” he offers, a sympathetic smile on his face.

           “That would be great, but I can’t afford a wedding planner,” you respond even though you could technically afford one. If you used Garret’s money, you could afford a cruise around the world, twice. But you hated using him for money. Wonho nods understandingly.

           “Well. How about this then, if you need help with anything, you let me know. If you have appointments to go to and don’t want to go alone, anything really, let me know and I’ll personally take care of it,” he offers, his eyes brimming with sincerity and the weight of his offer settles upon you.

           “Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you! That’s too much, I wouldn’t want to bother you and to be honest, I’m sure you’re really busy and-”

           “No, it’s ok. Trust me. My mother was a wedding planner. I would help her with a lot of those things, so it’s in my blood, if you will,” you could hear the heartfelt desire to help in his voice, and you don’t know what it is in you that makes you nod and accept it. He smiles at you and you return it.

           “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but, what made you decide to become a florist?” you ask, curious to learn more about this mysterious boy who keeps shaking the boat you want to keep steady. A shy smile graces his lips and you take a moment to memorize him like this. He’s breathtaking, his lips read from biting on them while talking, his brown hair a mess from running his hands through it, his eyes alight with a burning passion that you long to understand.

           “You’re going to think it’s silly,” his eyes flicker away from yours and you scoff.

           “Silly? Silly is the fact that I once went through a flamingo phase and almost redecorated my entire bakery to be flamingo themed until my friends snapped me out of it. That’s silly. Not something you obviously seem to love,” you explain, coaxing a laugh from Wonho.

           “Flamingos?” he asks in disbelief. You nod gravely.

           “Flamingos. I had figurines made up and everything,” you shake your head at yourself, “So tell me. Why a florist?”

           He looks at you a moment, wondering if he could really divulge why he’s so passionate about flowers to you. Wondering if you would get it. He stands up suddenly, and you’re shocked when he pulls you up with him, his hand a live wire sending electricity up and down your arm where he grips you.        

           “A lot of people are passionate about dogs and cats. They love them with all their hearts and take care of them until they grow old and pass away. Companions for life, things like that. As much love you give for your pet, they give the same love back to you. A lot of people think that plants can’t do the same because they’re ‘inanimate’ or whatever. But look,” he stands behind you.

           “Do you trust me?” he asks. This time, you don’t hesitate before you nod your head. You can practically feel the smile on his face, his breath once again a silk touch on the skin of your shoulder and you have to suppress a shudder as his hands come up and rest over your eyes, depriving you of sight.

           “Breath in. And feel,” he instructs and you follow him, allowing your mind to focus on everything and nothing. You don’t know what you’re supposed to be feeling for, but you play along, starting with visualizing the room in your head, the plants that share the same space. A long minute passes by like this, the only sounds in the room are those of your shared breathing and your heart beating in your ears.

And suddenly, you feel crazy, you think you understand what he means. Sharing the same space, it’s as if the plants are alive. You can hear them rustling in the distance, the dripping of water into their soil, all parts of a bigger picture, all mechanisms of life. It’s as if they have a presence of their own.

           “A lot of times, people neglect that plants are a lot like humans, or like any other animal. You raise them, you grow them from a seed. You take care of their soil, their water, their posture and the amount of light they get the way a mother takes care of an infant that can only rely on her. And just like that infant will grow into a beautiful child for their mother, plants grow into beautiful flowers and leaves, giving us our love back in the form of fruits and flowers. It sounds crazy, but they have emotions just like any other living creature. A plant in a negative or stressful environment dies. They rely on us just as much as we rely on them. They give so much to us, whether in the form of fruits and vegetables or beauty so that our eyes may feel comfort upon looking at them. They make it so bees can produce honey and fertilize other plants and fruits. They are life. That’s what it means to me, to take care of them, to love them,” his whispered words wash over you like honey, and you are hypnotized by the quiet affection in his tone. His hands fall from your eyes and you open them, and it’s like the room is buzzing with vitality. You almost couldn’t believe that you’d never noticed it before, the way the plants seem to breathe.

           You turn around, your eyes meeting his and he’s smiling serenely, like this is where he belongs.

           “You’re crazy.”

           “I know.”

           A throat clearing from the door interrupts you as you both turn to see an incredulous Hyungwon standing at the door.

           “Am I interrupting something?”

           “Uh, no, Y/n and I were just finishing up. Why?” Wonho answers, frustration clear in his voice. Hyungwon’s eyebrows raise in question.

           “There’s a call from a supplier. They wanted to talk to you. I told them to wait 5 minutes and put them on hold,” Hyungwon informs, and Wonho grunts in frustration. He glances at you.

           “I’ll be out in 5,” Wonho dismisses Hyungwon and you both are left alone again.

           “So, you’ll call me for help with your wedding preparations if you ever feel overwhelmed again?” he asks, and you nod along.

           “Good. I have one condition, though,” his smile is sly.

           “What?” you ask, hesitantly.

           “I’ll help you with your wedding if you teach me how to make those croissants you’ve been slipping me for free for the past two weeks. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” your cheeks color at his acknowledgement.

           “Deal,” you stick out your hand and he quirks his eyebrow at you playfully, taking your hand and his touch sends goosebumps up your arms.

           You leave his office with a large smile on your face and some feeling consuming your chest.

           It feels like you’re falling.

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

           Wonho knows he’s above putting moves on a woman who is soon to be married. He doesn’t need Hyungwon’s disapproving words and sighs every time he came back from a baking lessons with you. So this time, when he came back drenched in flour after a baking lesson with you turned into a food fight, all Hyungwon could do was scoff and look at him in disbelief.

           But Wonho couldn’t get the image of you being so playful and open with him out of his mind. He had been surprised when you flung some flour onto his arm and giggled when he flung some back onto your apron. Soon enough, you were running around the kitchen with Wonho running after you, a handful of flour in his hands.

           “You came in here a flower boy, and you’re leaving here a flour boy,” you had actually winked playfully at him! He swore his heart had skipped a beat, or two. Or three.

           “Wonho, what are you doing? Honestly? Just think for a second here man. You’re arranging the flowers for her wedding! And you’re flirting with her?” Hyungwon emphasizes, and Wonho flinches.

           “I’m not flirting…” Wonho trails as Hyungwon gives him a withering look.

           “For one hot second Wonho, remember your morals and who you are as a person. Please?” Hyungwon says, his voice soft in sympathy but his words a harsh wake up call. Wonho knows he’s above going after a woman who’s taken. But what could he do? Your charm and wit, your honesty and the way your emotions played on your face, the way you opened up to him like a blooming flower, they’re absolutely beguiling to him, calling upon a part of him he couldn’t even begin to understand.

           “Well, I mean, how happy is she with her fiancé if she’s purposely staying at the bakery so late, barely talking about him, and I’ve never even seen the guy! There are couples that come from other countries together for my floral arrangements, and this guy is such a hotshot that he can’t take it upon himself to go to a single appointment with her, for their wedding? I mean, come on. She deserves more than that,” Wonho rants, looking at Hyungwon, but his best friend just frowns, patting his shoulder in consolation.        

           “Ok but, no matter what, that’s not your call to make. Don’t be that guy, Wonho. You don’t want to be the side guy, Wonho. You deserve more than that,” Hyungwon asserts, and Wonho can’t find it in him to argue with that point.

           Wonho knows he’s better than going after a woman who’s in a relationship.

           But there’s a feeling that consumes his chest like wildfire consuming a forest whenever he’s with you.

           And it feels like he’s falling.

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

           “We need to talk Y/n.”

           “About what?” you answer, beyond shocked. You couldn’t remember the last time Garret wanted to talk about anything. Being in a relationship with him lately seems like you’re also dating Silence because it has a presence in your relationship more than Garret has himself. Your heart drops to your stomach, this couldn’t be good. If something is actually important enough that Garret wanted to talk about it, it has to be serious. Your mind runs through thousands of scenarios. So this is why he had called you back from the bakery early and interrupted your baking session with Wonho. It had been a little more than a month since Wonho offered to go on appointments with you in exchange for baking lessons. He was a natural and caught onto things so fast you would hire him if it weren’t for the fact that he already have a full time job. So far, he had gone with you to a catering appointment and you two had had so much fun you couldn’t wait for the next appointment. It was awkward at first, especially when the catering representative had thought he was your fiancé, but the rest of the appointment went so well you were actually beginning to have fun planning for your wedding.

           “About our wedding. I have something to ask of you,” Garret’s monotonous voice snaps you out of your reverie and you need to shake yourself to get thoughts of Wonho out of your head.

           “Yeah ok. I’m listening,” you respond, highly wary of Garret’s request and sudden interest in “talking”.

           “You know how our moms don’t get a long, right?” he starts, peaking at you to see your reaction.

           “….yes?” you respond. For a second, you think he might want them to fix things between them in the spirit of the marriage and the two families coming together. But that hope flickers out quickly.

           “My mom doesn’t want your mom at our wedding. And frankly, I agree. I think it’ll just cause problems.”

           What.

           “Wait, what? You want what?” your voice goes shrill at the end. You cannot believe this.

           “I think it’s best if your parents don’t come to our wedding,” he sighs, as if he’s already fed up with talking about this. Well, you’re not. He wanted to talk, so you’re going to talk.

           “Oh. So now it’s our wedding, now when you want me to uninvite my own mother? Now after I’ve done 80% of all the preparations and all you’ve done is brush everything off onto me, now you’re asking me to tell my mom she can’t come walk me down the aisle? And my father? Are you absolutely insane? Who’s going to walk me down the aisle, Garret?” you inject his name with as much venom as you possibly can, and he stares at you with wide eyes, taken aback by your sudden outburst.

           You’re beyond angry. You’re absolutely livid.

           And it only takes a moment for Garret to return the same anger.

           “You can walk down the aisle with my dad, who, after our wedding is going to be your dad too, Y/n. Look, tell them that they can’t come and that we’ll swing by their place after our honeymoon, or something. You know how my mom’s been with your mom ever since your mom stole the homecoming crown from her. And since that’s not my mother’s fault, it’s clear that your parents just shouldn’t come,” Garret shrugs, as if it’s nothing. He defends his mother like any good prosecutor would, but you aren’t a defendant. This isn’t a courtroom and this case is most definitely not dismissed. You are his fiancée and you are furious.

           “It was a plastic crown, Garret!” you scream, your throat immediately beginning to hurt from never having to use this vocal range, “You’re being beyond unreasonable, you’re being absolutely absurd!”

           “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Your parents can’t come to our wedding, and that’s final,” he barks out, but even his harsh tone can’t hold you back.

           “You never want to talk to me about anything anyway! I’m not a dog, Garret and that’s not how a fucking relationship works! You can’t just give me an order and expect me to go do it if it’s not something I want to do! And uninviting my parents to my wedding is not something I want to fucking do!”

           “Don’t curse at me.”

           “I’ll fucking curse at you all I want, you dickhead, you’re being a fucking asshole!” you yell, unbidden tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your face. You furiously wipe them away, hating that you have to look so weak in this situation.

           “Oh, there you go. You’re always fucking crying. I can’t take you anymore,” Garret huffs out angrily and turns his back on you. Your lips quiver, you want to shout, to scream, to throw things. But Garrets already walking away and closing you out. And you can’t find it in you to look at him anymore. So you grab your phone and you leave, going to the one place you’ve ever felt at peace.

           Your bakery.

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

           The last thing Wonho expects as he’s locking up his flower shop, a little past 11 at night, is to see you walking down the street, sobbing with tears unceasingly falling down your face. He had thought the sounds were coming from a yelping cat or something, but as he saw your frame coming closer and closer down the street, he couldn’t help but feel everything stop. It’s pouring rain out, and you’re drenched from head to toe walking without an umbrella but even with your body dampened with rain, he knows the drops sliding down your cheeks aren’t from the clouds above.

           No. They’re the type of tears that came from pain.

           And suddenly it’s like his entire chest constricts. Here you are, roaming down the street like a wandering ghost, your face noticeably paler that usual, your soaking wet clothes hanging off your body like thousand pound weights, crying.

           He couldn’t explain how he’s feeling. Some mix between anger, sadness, and need. A need to make things ok, a need to see you smile again, a need to know who or what hurt you that caused you to put your health in danger by walking around in the rain.

           “Y/n?” he calls out your name, and you’re so surprised, you jump. Your eyes meet is and you want to wipe away your tears, to pretend you’re ok, to make it so no one worries. You have been keeping it together so well. You want to keep it together.

           But instead, you shatter. You’re wailing as tears flow down your face and Wonho is so shocked by how potent your grief is for a moment that he freezes. But it’s just one moment, because the next, he’s pulling you into him, his arms surrounding you as you bawl into his chest, desperately clutching his shirt in your hands as he shushes you, hands rubbing up and down your back in a vain attempt to get you to calm down. But you couldn’t stop. You haven’t seen peace in months and it’s like all the demons, all the doubts, all the regrets, all the insecurities bubbled out from between the bars you kept them locked up behind.

           You feel so inadequate. You feel so weak.

           And here you are crying into the shirt of the one person who gave you glimmer of happiness through it all. You wanted to stop crying. To not involve Wonho in the mess. But the dam was broken and all the tears you kept in, rushed out.

           And he let them. He mumbles soft nothings into your ear as you break in his arms.

           “Talk to me, please. What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Let me fix things for you, please?” his soft request to let you let him help you made you cry even harder. And you don’t want to be that girl but you couldn’t help but to think that this is supposed to be your fiancé right now. But it isn’t. It’s Wonho. And you don’t feel like you deserved an ounce of his help. He’s too good to you. He’s too good for you, you think.

           Wonho feels helpless. Here you are, shaking in his arms, your body wracked by the force of your sobs and he couldn’t tell where you’re hurt or what you needed. You don’t seem capable of talking, but he saw that you had dropped a ring of keys when you started crying into him. Assuming the keys are to your bakery, he swooped down and grabbed them, taking you in his arms on his way up so that he carries you. You yelp in surprise as he holds you in his arms, the tears pausing momentarily as you focused on how he carries you to the door of your bakery, strategically unlocking the door while carrying you bridal style, and carrying you inside and out of the rain. He softly places you on the floor and sits down next to you, pulling you into his arms as he strokes down your dripping wet hair.

           “If you want to cry, if that’s what will make you feel better, then cry. Cry all you feel like you need to and when you’re done, I’ll be here,” he murmurs softly to you. The tenderness and caution in his voice triggers a fresh bout of tears as you can’t help but think that you can’t even remember the last time someone held you like this, you can’t remember the last time you felt like you could be vulnerable, like it’s ok to not be strong all the time. You miss your friends, your bridesmaids that are currently backpacking in East Asia, the old Garret that cared, your parents who you couldn’t fathom telling that they couldn’t come to their own daughter’s wedding. They all seemed so far away.

           But Wonho is here. And he holds you as you stammer out your explanation as to why exactly you were crying like a maniac in the dead of night outside in the rain between bouts of sobs. He keeps you off the brink of hysteria, reminding you to breathe and to take your time, his soothing hands running up and down your arms and wiping tears off your cheeks every time they slip down.

           “Are you serious? Your fiancé wants you to uninvite your parents from your wedding just because your mom won homecoming queen and married the guy his mom had a crush on?” there’s anger and incredulity written all over Wonho’s face and you nod sadly. You’ve finally stopped bawling, but a tear or two still slid down your face every once in a while.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I really don’t mean any harm by it,” he starts, looking at you with sincere eyes, “but why are you still with him if he makes you this sad?”

           You sigh. He asked the exact question you had been avoiding thinking about yourself.

           “I know he seems awful. Things aren’t the same as they used to be. But that’s the thing, he wasn’t always like this. When we were little, he was my protector and my friend. When we were teenagers, he was my first boyfriend. In college, he was my rock. But that’s when he started changing, when he was in college. He started studying law, and it was like he was a completely different person. I always used to admire how driven he was. He never gave up, and that’s how I wanted to be. So I don’t want to give up on him. I hate giving up. I used to give up so easily. I want to make things work out, so I’m trying so hard. I’m trying so hard but sometimes, there are just things that I can’t do, like not inviting my parents to my wedding, and I hate how he makes me feel so inadequate for that.”

           The words hit Wonho’s heart like spears. But he tries to shake it away, to try and be the best listener he could. In his heart, he has to admit that he admires your persistence, your fighting spirit. He just hates that the person on the receiving end of your affections is such an asshole that he doesn’t realize what a treasure of a fiancée he has. All Wonho could do is nod along, the silence enveloping you two.

You’re so tired, fatigue washes over you like a tsunami and you let the waves of exhaustion take you. You sighed and started to lay down on the floor.

           “What are you doing?” Wonho asked, his eyebrows crinkling in concern. You shake your head.

           “I’m ok, just tired and cried out. I want to sleep, but I don’t want to go back. So I guess I’m sleeping here tonight,” you sigh. The cold floor causes you to shiver and Wonho scowls. Seeing you too afraid to go back to your home, choosing to sleep on a cold floor over going back to your fiancé leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and if he could he would punch the daylights out of the “man” who let you down like this. The words almost slip out of his lips, telling you to just sleep at his place instead of the floor, but he keeps them in. He doesn’t want to cause problems for you in your relationship, knowing how much it must mean to you if you’re fighting so hard for it. He doesn’t have it in his heart to take advantage of your trust like that. Hyungwon’s words ring in Wonho’s head.

           Don’t be that guy, Wonho.

           So instead, he lays down on the floor next to you.

           “Wonho?” you ask in confusion, your voice soft from fatigue.

           “I don’t want to leave you alone to sleep on the floor. Especially after I saw you crying like that. I know I have no right to pass judgements or anything, but I would never leave someone I care about alone in a state like this,” he murmurs, a quiet fire in his voice. His words wash over you and you blush. He smiles softly at you and you muster up the mental strength to return the smile. But you can’t find it in you to stay awake any longer, not after the long day at the bakery you had and the mental energy you exerted in fighting with Garret. The last thing you hear before you sleep is Wonho’s whispered words.

           “You look pretty when you smile. You deserve to smile all the time.”

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

           Waking up, you feel like lead was poured into your back from how stiff it is. You scowl at the floor, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as the sun shines in through the windows of the bakery.

           But the sun isn’t what woke you up.

No.

What woke you up is the smell of croissants baking. But you hadn’t put anything in the oven. You spring up and walk over to the kitchen, remembering that Wonho had said that he would be staying with you. But he couldn’t be the one making the croissants… right?

           Your jaw practically hits the floor as you walk into the kitchen to the sight of Wonho wearing your apron and pulling a batch of freshly baked croissants out of the oven. He turns around and sees you, a bright smile immediately gracing his face and you feel the breath rush out of you.

           His smile is something you’d never get used to seeing. It’s the type of smile that made you feel like you are home.

           Your eyes flicker down and take in the image of Wonho with your apron that is covered in purple elephants tied onto his body, and you couldn’t stop the giggles from flowing out of you. He looks so domestic, so natural like this that it takes your breath away.

           “Good morning,” he says to you through a broad smile and you return it, curbing your laughter.

           “Wanted some extra practice? Decided you need to get your early morning dough kneading in?” you ask him playfully, strutting over and picking a croissant up from off the tray and Wonho actually looks shy. He shrugs.

           “I didn’t know if you ate last night, so I made these…” he murmurs, his hand nervously playing with his hair.

           You feel your heart melt into a puddle of goo at his thoughtfulness and you blush too.

           “Thank you,” you say, and you hope he knows that you’re grateful for so much more than just the croissants on the tray. His shy smile crinkles the corners of his eyes and you feel your heart solidify from its previous state of goo and set off beating a mile a minute.

           “They’re probably not as good as yours, but I did learn from you so they shouldn’t be too shabby,” he excuses, picking up a croissant for himself and frowning at it in concentration.

           “They look amazing, Wonho. Thank you,” you reassure him, ripping open the bread and taking a deep breath in as steam rises from the fresh bread. This is your passion.

           Together, you and Wonho devour his croissants, talking freely with each other. He makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, your cheeks sore from the smile that he puts on your face. And god does he love that smile.

           The morning flits by, your employees filtering in to help you open the store. Garret never calls to ask where you are or if you’re ok. Wonho insists on helping you open your bakery before going to open his own flower shop. But you don’t let him leave without asking him something you’ve been sitting on asking him for a while now.

           “Will you come to my wedding? Not just as s florist, as a guest. As my guest,” you ask him.

           Wonho’s heart falters. He doesn’t know if he can watch you be handed off to another. Not when he already felt so deeply about you. But the sincerity in your tone, the innocent hope on your face made it impossible for him to let you down.

           “Of course, Y/n. Anything for you.”

           And he meant it.

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

           “Where are you going?” Hyungwon sighs, watering the flowers as he watches Wonho heading towards the door, a purple flower in Wonho’s hands. He wonders briefly why he even bothers asking when he knows. It had been a week since Wonho had come back from spending the night at the bakery with you, and Hyungwon couldn’t find it in him anymore to nag at Wonho. Not when he could see clear as day how much you meant to the soft hearted man. Wonho smiles at him sheepishly.

           “I’m just… taking this flower out… to catch some sun. You now, photosynthesis and all,” Wonho stutters out, unable to look Hyungwon in the eye like he’s a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Hyungwon looks at the other boy.

           “Really? Photosynthesis? Just, if you’re going to the bakery, bring me back a bagel. They’re so good, I’m surprised half the town isn’t head over heels in love with her like you,” he scoffs as Wonho’s face turns a deep shade of red.

           “I’m not in love with her!” Wonho defends, his voice a few octaves higher and Hyungwon just raises his eyebrow at his friend, eyes flickering to the flower Wonho held in his hands.

           “Yeah and I don’t love sleeping. We all know what’s up. Now go, and bring me a bagel. Toasted with cream cheese,” Hyungwon dismisses his embarrassed friend and Wonho escapes the flower shop, away from his friend’s scrutiny.

           He practically jogs down to the bakery. He couldn’t wait to see the smile on your face when he brought you the new purple flowers he just got in.

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

           You curse yourself for what seems like the nth time that night. The wedding is just a little less than a week away and you’re at your bakery at 2 a.m. for the second night in a row. It was always your dream to bake the cake for your wedding. But here you are, assembling a cake meant for several hundred guests to eat in just a few days. There is just one teeny tiny little problem.

           You couldn’t stop thinking about Wonho.    

           Piping flowers onto your cake, he’s all you can think about. He had brought over some real flowers earlier because he knew you would be putting the flowers onto the cake tonight and thought you could use some real life inspiration.

           Of course, they were beautiful. But what was more beautiful was the way he smiled when you took him to your dress fitting appointment.

           Your mind flashes back to a week ago when, once again, Garret was too busy to make it to your dress fitting. So you took Wonho. And the image of him beaming as he saw you in your dress has been on repeat in your head ever since. Since then, he’s met all of your bridesmaids and got along so well with them that you would think he knew them all since birth, an effort that Garret never seemed to make.

           You shake your head, trying to snap out of it as you huff and continue working on your flowers. It’s unfair to Garret to continue thinking about your feelings for Wonho when you are getting married to Garret in just a few days.

           It’s undeniable. You couldn’t look yourself in the mirror and say you definitively don’t feel for Wonho. At first, you tried to convince yourself that they were just feelings you would have towards any friend.

           But as time passed, you found he had wriggled into your heart and claimed space there, and not just an apartment for rent, but a permanent residence. But there is no point in doing anything about it now, you try to convince yourself as you feel your heart squeeze. All the thoughts you had, all the what ifs’ and how woulds’ would just have to stay that way.

           Thoughts.

           You push the “L” word as far out of your mind as possible.

           And you go back to work because you had a wedding to make a cake for.

           And it is your wedding.

           So why is it that you only feel excited for it when Wonho is there?

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

           As the past three months flash by before your eyes, you realize it was all useless.

           It was useless to fight for a man who would never want you the way he wanted his promotions and the way he wanted to win a case.

           It was useless to hope that a wedding could make a man stay when he was never yours to begin with.

           It was useless to fight your feelings for the man whose arms are around you right now.

           You sniffle, curbing your tears as you look Wonho in the eyes, guilt washing over you for keeping him waiting for so long, for not realizing that he was the one who had been there for you, for not cherishing him the way he had done for you.

           You begin to cry again, but not because Garret left you.      

           In fact, you couldn’t care less about that right now. All that matters to you is that you don’t crush the heart of the man who had just laid it all out in front of you.

           Albeit, he isn’t the one you thought was going to say such sweet words to you today. You couldn’t help but feel relief that he is.

           “I’m sorry,” you wail, as tears flood down your face, catching Wonho off guard, “all those times you came to wedding appointments with me, all the times you brought me flowers, when you baked with me, and trusted me, all I did was take you for granted. I’m so so so so sorry, Wonho, I-”

           “Shush,” he cups a hand over your mouth, giving you a sweet smile as he shakes his head, “no more crying. You’ve done enough of that. What happened, happened. You can make it up to me later. Right now, we have some things to take care of.”

           You nod along and he removes his hand from over your lips and you lick them. His eyes flicker down to your lips and you feel your heart in your throat.

           “Is it too soon if I kiss you?” he asks, his eyes trained on your lips and you shake your head, wanting to kiss him as much as he seemingly wants to kiss you. He leans in and your eyes flutter closed. His lips brush against yours and the sparks that ignite in your veins at the simple touch sends shivers down your back and just as his lips press against your and you reach to run your hands through his hair and pull him closer-

           “Finally! My god, I’m sorry to say this and I know it’s going to sound awful but I’m so glad that asshole didn’t show up,” you hear a voice exclaim from where you thought the door to your dressing room was closed. You and Wonho spring apart, looking at the door guiltily only to find the source of the voice.

           Hyungwon.

           Wonho seriously regrets asking him to be his plus one to your wedding.

           “Well, anyway, I just thought you should know that your mom and I think Garret’s mom are fighting outside and I think some shoes are about to be thrown and hair extensions, mostly Garret’s mom’s hair extensions, are going to be pulled. So you two might want to wait to release these months’ worth of sexual tension until after you stop this wedding from quickly becoming a funeral,” Hyungwon informs, and you sigh deeply.

           “I’ll be there in five,” Wonho dismisses Hyungwon, quickly taking charge of the situation. Hyungwon turns and leaves as Wonho rubs the bridge of his nose, but you can’t find it in you to be sad anymore. You’ve been sad for so long and let it make you believe that Garret was the best you could do. So you turned to Wonho, taking his hand in yours as you met his eyes.

           “Can you teach me?” you ask, and his brows quirk up in surprise.

           “Teach you what?”

           “Teach me what real love is?”

           He smiles at you, and it’s like there’s a whole new world around you.

           “Of course.”