#and my dad’s handwriting is on the inside of the battery cover

[stylesprimes]

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[keewriting]

Cove x MC - One Shot #1

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

The crescendo of rain hitting your window woke you from a peaceful slumber. It didn’t often rain this hard in Sunset Bird, especially not during the summer. You felt a pang of disappointment that your typical summer pastimes were not viable on a day like this.

You rolled groggily out of bed and sighed, wondering what Cove thought of the unfortunate weather situation. Knowing him, he’d be even more bummed than you — then it hit you! The list!

You scrambled over to your messy desk and opened the biggest drawer, which you affectionately called the “junk drawer.” This was the home to everything of value that didn’t have a specific place in your room. The actual value of the items in the junk drawer was pretty questionable. From old gaming devices and batteries, to loose papers that could maybe be useful someday.

With everything shoved out of the way, you uncovered the beacon of hope for this gloomy day. A small spiral notebook with a shiny turquoise cover, speckled in tiny yellow stars. You and Cove started using this notebook on rainy days for games of hangman and tic-tac-toe. There were years of games in this notebook, nearly every page filled with games and doodles.

You sighed wistfully as you turned the pages and reminisced about each game. Your first ever hangman game with Cove occurred on a particularly hot day. Yet, playing paper-based games became a rainy day tradition for you two. You went out and bought a special notebook just to keep them all in one place.

During your first hangman game with Cove, he settled on the phrase "you are cute." You couldn’t decide if that was the most Cove-like thing he’d done or if it was boldly uncharacteristic. You blushed at the memory and smiled gently.

Remembering your mission, you snapped out of the Cove-induced trance. You began flipping pages faster until you landed on one containing a list. On the last rainy day you and Cove suffered through, he had the idea to make a list of things you two could do to pass the time. It seemed he could only handle so many games of hangman and tic-tac-toe.

You each took turns writing something you would want to do on a rainy day. There were even corresponding doodles scattered on the page to illustrate each activity. The stark difference between your handwriting compared to Cove’s stood out to you today. His was relatively neat compared to your chicken scratch.

Rather than continuing to dwell on your poor penmanship, you looked closer at the items on the list. There were a total of 14 entries. You skimmed past each one with a focused scowl on your face until you landed on number 12: ear piercing. This was one of your suggestions, and one that didn’t come easily. You went back and forth in your head before writing this one. Considering how you would ask your moms for permission, what other people would think, and how Cove would feel about it. At the time of writing it down Cove seemed on board, for you at least. He was apprehensive about getting one himself, preferring to avoid the conversation with his dad.

A sly smile formed across your face. You decided that at 13 you were old enough to take control of your own body, regardless of what your moms would think. You emphatically shut the notebook and hopped up from the desk chair that you had slumped into earlier.

With a newfound energy you began quickly getting ready. You pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and rummaged through your closet, looking for your yellow raincoat and rainboots. As cliche as they were, you quite enjoyed the look. You could really use the brightness on such a cloudy day. You remembered to shove the small notebook in your back pocket.

You bounded down the stairs and out the door, calling out your goodbyes to whoever was still in the house. You paused under the awning to pull your hood over your head before walking carefully across to Cove’s house. The rain was still coming down hard and the street was slick with rain. With how clumsy you were you couldn’t afford to rush over and slip on a puddle.

Once you reached the Holden’s door you removed your hood and knocked confidently. Mr. Holden appeared momentarily to open the door, his face lit up when he saw you standing there.

Mr. Holden: Y/N! Hey, buddy. How are ya? Come on in!

You stepped inside with a smile and began wiping your feet vigorously on the door mat.

Y/N: Good morning, Mr. Holden. Is Cove around?

Mr. Holden: Sure is, he's surely tucked up in his room still. Why don’t you leave your boots and coat here and you can go wake him up.

You grinned at the thought as you pulled your coat off to give it to Mr. Holden. You slipped off your boots and thanked him as you tip-toed over to Cove’s bedroom door. You considered your options, truly unsure of what he could be up to behind closed doors. After some quick deliberation, you opted for loudly barging in while singing his name.

Without another moment of hesitation, you turned the knob and in a sing-songy voice, called out to him

Y/N: CoooOOoooove, rise and shine!

Cove’s sleepy figure stirred gently at the sound of your voice. He blinked open his eyes slowly and rubbed his hands through his seafoam green locks as you stood over him beaming. Finally, he uttered his first words of the day.

Cove: Y/N? What are you doing here so early?

You chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to make Cove blush and start to sit up.

Y/N: Do you hear that? Outside?

Cove paused for a second before looking past you out his window. His expression dropped and he groaned.

Cove: Rain…

You scooted closer and crouched so your faces were level. You smiled deviously and noted how his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened.

Y/N: Cove, today we will fulfil our destiny.

Before he could utter a word, you shifted to retrieve the crumpled notebook from your back pocket. Cove slid up more, clearly intrigued. You turned to the right page and faced it towards Cove while pointing decidedly to number 10.

Cove: Ear piercing… oh yeah! You want to do that one today?

You nodded enthusiastically, hoping Cove would still be on board for this idea. You knew it was a one-sided activity, but you could use his support since it would be your first piercing.

Cove: The mall has a piercing booth, right? Or did you have somewhere else in mind?

Y/N: The mall is exactly what I had in mind!

Cove: Cool. So, how are we getting there?

For the first time since early morning, you felt defeated. Your shoulders slumped and you looked down at your hands. At 13, you might be old enough to get a needle through your ear, but you still couldn’t operate a vehicle. The mall was also too far to walk to, you remembered the time Kyra drove you all to the mall for a visit. Noticing how down you became, Cove spoke.

Cove: I could… ask my dad to drive us there. He isn’t working today. I’m sure he’d say yes.

You instantly perked up and turned to Cove with an open-mouthed smile.

Y/N: Really? Really. Really? Would you?

Cove chuckled and nodded. You wrapped around him with a tight hug the instant his head jerked upward. Your face planted on his chest. You exhaled loudly as you listened to his rushed heartbeat. After you pulled away, Cove got up and smiled nervously, flustered and ready to get the day going. You sat patiently on the bed while Cove got ready and asked his dad about driving you both to the mall.

Once he returned to his bedroom, he wordlessly flashed you a smile and thumbs-up combo. You followed him out to the front door where his dad was waiting with your coat. You accepted the coat and slipped on your boots. Cove had no rain protection, but you decided to stay quiet, knowing he preferred minimal layers.

You all headed out the door into Mr. Holden’s car. Cove sat in the backseat with you even though he typically preferred to ride shotgun. You felt special that he would rather keep you company. A startling question from Mr. Holden interrupted your pleasant thoughts.

Mr. Holden: I hear you plan on getting an ear piercing today, Y/N. Is that right?

Your mouth fell agape and you looked over to Cove, who upon noticing your expression became concerned. You realized you didn’t tell Cove about your plans to keep the ear piercing a secret from your moms. Now that Mr. Holden knew, it was almost certain he would casually bring it up to your moms. Not willing to reveal your sneaky plans, you spoke confidently.

Y/N: Yep! I’ve been wanting one for a while.

Mr. Holden: Hey, that’s great. I bet it’ll look really cool.

You looked over at Cove and smiled at him, hoping to relieve any confusion or concern. He returned the smile, but still appeared deep in thought. The rest of the car ride was uneventful. Mr. Holden dropped the two of you off and notified you of his return in 3 hours.

As soon as you were alone, standing at the entrance of the mall, Cove turned to you with his arms crossed over his chest. You looked up at him sheepishly and noticed his shrewd expression.

Cove: What was that about? That face? Should I not have told dad about the piercing?

Cove’s perceptiveness toward all your quirks was a blessing and a curse. The smallest look on your face could be a dead giveaway to him. You knew he would feel guilty for ruining your plan, but there was no point in trying to hide it from him.

Y/N: I didn’t get permission from my moms to get a piercing.

His eyes widened as his arms dropped to his sides.

Cove: Oh my God, I didn’t realize. I’m really sorry. Are you going to be in a lot of trouble? I don’t want you grounded all summer. We won’t be able to hang out as much. Maybe we should get smoothies and tell everyone it was a joke—

You cut off his rambling, not wanting him to tire himself out so early. Although you appreciated his concern, especially regarding your ability to spend time together.

Y/N: It’s okay, Cove. Really. I totally forgot to mention it when I told you this morning because I was so excited. They would have to find out somehow, right?

Cove: I guess. Can I make it up to you, though? I’ll buy you a smoothie anyway.

Y/N: Well, I could never say no to a smoothie from Cove Holden.

You smiled at each other and continued into the mall. You walked with purpose toward the piercing booth. Your stomach was turning with eagerness and nerves. Cove’s long strides matched perfectly with your short but quick paces. He looked at you with a comforting smile as you closed in on the booth.

The piercer at the booth was an older teen with an assortment of piercings on their own face and ears. They chewed gum loudly as they took down your information and set you up on the cold, hard piercing chair. While they put on gloves and prepared the tools, Cove inched closer to stand next to you.

Cove: How are you feeling?

Y/N: Nervous, excited... very rebellious.

Cove hummed in acknowledgment. You felt his hand brush the hair behind your ear. He gently pinched the now exposed top of your ear. You felt goosebumps travel across your skin at the touch.

Cove: This is where you want it, right? What was it called again… a helix?

You felt your face get hot, pleased that he remembered, and surprised that he was so casually touching you. You managed a quiet “mhm” before the piercer sauntered over to you.

Piercer: Alright, kid. Where do you want it?

Cove shifted out of the way as you pointed to where he had touched. You explained to the piercer that you wanted a simple helix on your right ear. As the piercer was marking your ear, you looked at Cove with pleading eyes.

Y/N: Cove, can I hold your hand?

A distinct blush spread across his cheeks but he didn’t hesitate to position himself next to you on your left side. He offered you his hand and tried to smile reassuringly. You took it gratefully and practiced different levels of squeeze pressure. You didn’t want to accidentally hurt Cove. His hand was hot and familiarly comforting.

Piercer: Ready?

You looked straight ahead and tensed up. You felt your heart pounding in your throat, annoyed that you were so nervous about something you definitely wanted to do. You felt Cove’s eyes on you, a reassurance that he would always be there for you.

Y/N: Go for it.

The piercer lined up the needle and stuck it through your ear in one quick motion. The pain was sharp and quick. You winced and instinctively tightened your grip on Cove’s hand. He squeezed back gently and you could hear a slight sympathetic groan escape his throat. A throbbing soreness replaced the initial sharp pain. You sighed as the piercer removed the needle and inserted a simple silver hoop.

Cove: Y/N? Are you okay? How did it feel?

You looked up at Cove and met his concerned gaze. Without letting go of his hand, you offered a small smile.

Y/N: It definitely hurts. But having this helped wonders.

You lifted his hand and gestured to it with your eyes. His smile reflected a mixed sense of pride, embarrassment, and relief.

Cove: I’m glad… Here, let me get a better look at it.

With your hands still intertwined, he helped you hop off the piercing chair. You faced him and turned your head to the side so he could see the piercing.

Y/N: How does it look?

Cove smiled widely with eyes bright.

Cove: I like it. You look amazing, Y/N.

Although Cove instantly seemed to regret his phrasing, you felt thrilled. Knowing that Cove was into it made facing your moms later seem a little less daunting. You hoped he could be there to help back up your decision.

Y/N: Thank you, Cove. And thanks for being my stress ball.

Cove: Anytime. How about that smoothie I promised?

You bounced excitedly with a loud “Woo!” You finished the transaction with the piercer and listened to their spiel about piercing care. Soon you were off to the smoothie stand with Cove.

Y/N: Do you know what combo you’re going to get? Same as last time?

Cove hummed thoughtfully. You wondered if he was also remembering the time you stole a sip from his smoothie. He never ended up finishing it after that. You felt a pang of guilt and decided you would let him keep the smoothie to himself.

Cove: I think I’d like to mix it up. There were so many great options to choose from.

Y/N: Right?! I would love it if I could just add all of the fruit and berries. Make a super smoothie concoction.

Cove scrunched his face in exaggerated disgust. You chuckled at his reaction and gently nudged his arm. He nudged right back with a warm smile planted on his face.

You each placed your order with the smoothie attendant. Cove paid for both. You felt appreciative of the gesture, knowing he wanted to make you feel better about your foiled plan. His consideration for your feelings made you feel warm inside, even though you didn’t blame him at all for the mishap.

Cove picked up both smoothies and handed you your order with a smile. As you continued your walk through the mall, you took a long, deep sip and then exhaled loudly.

Y/N: That really hit the spot! Thanks, Cove.

Cove simply nodded as he continued to sip at his smoothie. For a second you thought his lips wouldn't move from the straw for the rest of the trip, not willing to risk losing a drop to your sneaky mouth. But then, he broke free and smiled with a wince.

Cove: Brain freeze.

You burst out laughing, relieved that he would actually be available to talk to you.

Y/N: I know a trick for getting rid of a brain freeze! Here, look at me.

Cove faced you quizzically. You opened wide, turned your face upward, and pressed your tongue up to the roof of your mouth. His gaze dropped to your mouth while his own mouth fell open. An obvious blush spread across his face and he nodded. You wondered if seeing the underside of your tongue was a little too scandalous for Cove. You closed your mouth into a cheeky smile.

Y/N: Try it. I promise it works.

Cove turned away from you and tried your trick with his mouth firmly shut. He sighed in relief and immediately took another sip of his smoothie. That earned another laugh from you. He smiled at you sweetly with a mouthful of smoothie.

The walk continued pleasantly for a few minutes. You laughed, and teased, and joked with each other comfortably. You both reminisced about the last mall trip you had with Lee and Derek, even though it was only a few weeks ago. Suddenly, Cove’s pace slowed and he came to a halt. When you turned back to look at him, his expression lost in thought. He absentmindedly picked at the side of the cup with his nails. You noticed tiny indentations marked across the styrofoam cup.

Y/N: Cove? Is everything alright?

Cove breathed out and walked towards you gently. He extended his smoothie towards your face. His face red and his eyes glued to the smoothie, refusing to meet your gaze.

Cove: Would you like to try mine? I think it’s delicious. I think you would like it.

Stunned, and a bit apprehensive, you thought deeply. You didn’t want Cove to miss out on the rest of his smoothie again. But this time he was offering. You wondered what changed, and hoped this wasn’t more piercing-related guilt.

Y/N: If you’re sure, I would love to. But promise me you’ll finish the rest.

Cove’s eyes snapped to yours and it was his turn to feel stunned. You never revealed to him that you knew he never finished the smoothie last time. He looked embarrassed, but you had to be sure he wouldn't throw it out again.

Cove: I— yeah. I’ll finish it.

That was good enough for you. You wrapped your lips around his straw and took a big sip. The flavor was different to yours, but still satisfying. You kept your eyes on Cove while you pulled away from his smoothie. He slowly raised the smoothie to his own mouth and took a quick sip, all while looking desperately to the side.

Y/N: Success!

Cove let out a nervous laugh, glad to have made that much progress. He was still blushing while you continued your trek. You wondered if his face would ever return to its normal color as long as that smoothie was in his hand.

You finally made it back to the entrance with Cove. His dad would be returning to pick you up in a few minutes, as promised. You both threw your empty smoothie cups into the nearby trash can. You looked out the glass doors and noticed the rain finally stopped falling. There might be a chance to enjoy the outdoors with Cove before it was time to face your moms.

You decided to wait outside. He stood next to you and sighed.

Cove: I’m sorry again.

Y/N: It’s okay, I couldn’t have asked for a better rainy day partner. Thanks for doing this with me.

You inched closer and smiled up at him. He grinned back, convinced that everything would be okay. You waited in a comfortable silence, satisfied with your own rebellious actions.

[cafedanslanuit]

I always wanted to marry rich || Jumin x MC (2/2)

genre; angst pairing; Jumin Han x MC notes; part two of two. read part one here. I finally wrote the last part! Honestly I had to rewrite it a couple of times because I wasn’t happy with how it ended. Now I finally do. Hope you like it! <3

~ ~ ~

“check your email”

Jumin didn’t even bother opening Seven’s text. He just read it on the notifications bar and opened his email app. He found a file with her future wife’s name and opened it. Two seconds later, his battery died out of the blue. Jumin sighed. The phone was charged, maybe it was starting to malfunction. He opened his laptop and his email. He printed the document Seven had sent so he could look over them more comfortably. Jumin poured himself a glass of wine and sat on the kitchen table.

MC’s bank account was rather small and the incomes where what he expected, savings from her last job she had told him about. She purchased small amounts in makeup stores, coffee places and other things. She had graduated top of her class at university in her homeland with a scholarship.

There were some pages about her estranged father. He was living in Spain and had remarried. He had two kids, ten and twelve. He hadn’t been in touch with MC or her mother apparently. There was a file about her mother. She was a teacher in South America and worked at a school. Jumin didn’t want to know how Seven got access to her bank account, but he had. She didn’t have much either and the purchases weren’t suspicious at all, MC seemed to send her money every chance she could.

Seven had even traced MC’s tweets back in her uni years. She had made some light-hearted jokes about being broke but nothing that made it seemed like she was planning something. Seven had been kind enough to write down some notes about those tweets not meaning a thing.

The last page was a message with Seven’s messy handwriting.

“Stop stressing! There’s nothing fishy about her”. There was a small drawing of a fish. Of course. “Happy wedding!”

Jumin sighed and crumpled the documents in his hand. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe it was an inside joke? Tons of possibilities were roaming around his head when he heard the door opening and MC’s heels making their way into the penthouse.

She quickly appeared in the kitchen and smiled at him.

“Buenas noches, amor” she teased him with a grin.

“Why did you say you always wanted to marry rich?” Jumin blurted.

MC’s smile fell abruptly.

“What? When did I--” her eyes went sideways, trying to remember. Then she opened her mouth in realisation. “Oh, okay. You listened to me and my mom. Okay” she sighed.

She left her purse on the kitchen table and sat in front of her fiancé, who was looking at her sternly. Never before had he looked at her that way and it made her feel really small. Like she had gotten herself in trouble. She took a deep breath before she could start explaining.

“Okay. You know my mom had serious money issues when I was growing up. So, since I was little she would always tell me to find a wealthy man, seduce him and marry him. That she didn’t want me to live poor all my life, not knowing what it was to not worry about not having enough money to pay all the bills at the end of the month.”

“So, that’s what you did” grunted Jumin, crossing his arms.

“Let me finish, please” MC asked. “Jumin, I’m not marrying you for your money. Let me finish my story, but you need to understand this more than anything. That’s not why I’m marrying you. I didn’t even want to get married in the first place!”

Jumin raised his eyebrows in surprise. MC covered her face with her hands.

“Shit, I’m only making it worse. I’m sorry, I-”

“There’s nothing to discuss here, then” he said, picking up the documents from the table and getting up. MC stood up in front of him quickly, preventing him to leave the kitchen.

“No. No! You’re going to listen to me. You owe me that, at least”.

“I don’t owe you anything”.

“Listen to me!” she pleaded, raising her voice, her eyes filling with tears. “Listen to me. Yes, that was her plan for me but I turned fifteen and decided I didn’t want to become anyone’s wife or depend on anyone. I didn’t want anyone to leave me like they left my mom! So I started studying, got a scholarship to a good university, graduated with honors. I was in between jobs when I joined the RFA. I wasn’t looking for anything. So yes, I didn’t want to get married and then I met you!” she cried.

MC’s face was now full with tears, messing up her make-up. She took another deep breath and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Jumin’s expression softened and embraced her, burying his face on her hair. The soft strawberry aroma broke his heart, how could have he thought this woman, who had shown nothing but love to him was capable to feign that love because she only wanted money?

“But you changed my mind” MC kept talking, her face against his suit. “You changed my mind about wanting to spend the rest of my life with someone. It was not about they money, it was never about the money” she softly pushed Jumin away and looked up at him. “I don’t care. It’s okay, I’ll sign anything”.

“Sign?” Jumin asked, confused.

“Yes, those are from a prenup agreement, right?” she said, looking at the documents Jumin still had in his hand. “C’mon, it’s okay. I’ll sign them right now, I don’t care”.

She took the documents from Jumin before he could stop her. Right when he was about to take them back from his fiancée, her face changed drastically.

“Is this… my bank account?” she asked softly.

“MC, give them back” Jumin said, taking a step forward, but she took a step back.

Her eyes went back and forth the documents, searching through the pages she had in hand. She noticed Jumin trying to get them back, so she quickly walked to the living room. The information on them was correct, but why on Earth did he need to see all of this information? Was this about the comment he had overhead? Why did he-- Before she could comprehend what was happening, she saw a face she hadn’t seen in a long time. She didn’t recognize him at first, but after reading his first and last name -her last name-, there was no mistake.

She stopped, letting Jumin take the documents back from her. If Jumin was talking she couldn’t hear him anymore. Everything had gone silent in her head.

She startled a bit when she felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her softly.

“MC, my love. Say something, I’m sorry, I--...”

“My dad had more kids?” she asked, in a broken voice. Jumin looked at her, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You didn’t know?”

“No, I… I haven’t heard from him since he left us. I didn’t know… He had more kids?”

MC walked to the sofa and sat down, still trying to process what she had learnt, tears falling down her cheeks in silence. Jumin sat by her side and put an arm around her shoulders, not knowing what to do. He hated himself for making herself feel like that. Her face showed how broken she was, how much weight the news had had for her.

Jumin hugged her, putting her small frame against his chest. He muttered countless apologies. Seven was right. He shouldn’t have dug up information that wasn’t his. He had hurt her more than he thought he could. MC cried in silence for a couple more minutes before she raised her head again to look at him.

“Why do you have this?” she asked, her hand grabbing his shirt and looking at him confused. “Why do you even have this information, I-- I don’t--... Was it too hard to just ask me? Would you have believed what I just said if it didn’t match up with these things?” she looked at the documents Jumin had left on the couch.

“I’m sorry” Jumin said, not counting how many times he had said that already. “I panicked. You know how many times my father has wanted me to marry someone that only wanted me for my money or my position at C&R. I… I certainly didn’t think this through. I’m sorry, I really am. There’s no excuse. I was scared, but I didn’t act like a man. I had no excuse to look into your family history, none”.

MC looked at the dark eyes of his fiancé and sighed. She pursed her lips and took his hand in hers, squeezing it softly. 

“I’m still mad at you” she said, her voice a little hoarse from crying. “And hurt. But I’ve already talked to my therapist about this thing with my dad so… I’m hurt, yes, but honestly… it’s water under the bridge, now. I don’t want to talk about him. What I really want… no, I really need my fiancé to bring me a cup of tea and stay with me tonight. You think you can do that?” she asked.

“Yes, I can” Jumin nodded and stood up quickly, grabbing the documents from Seven’s investigation and crumbling them in his hands.

“Wait, one more thing” she said and Jumin turned to her, expectantly. “You need to trust me, okay? I may not be always the best wife once we get married. But I will always tell you the truth. I meant what I said before, I will sign a prenup so please call your lawyers and tell them to prepare one for you, okay? Can we do this together?”

“No” Jumin said, turning around and making his way to the kitchen. MC felt a sharp pain on her chest.

“What do you mean no?”

“We’re not getting married with a prenup. I trust you. Even though tonight’s events may make you think otherwise, I do. And I want you and everyone to know that. So we’re not getting married with a prenup” Jumin explained from the kitchen. MC chuckled as she heard the sound of the electric water boiler starting.

“Okay” she muttered with a soft smile.

They were days away from the wedding. But somehow, instead of making her more anxious, it made her feel calmer. Jumin was going to mess up again. And someday, she would be the one to mess up. But if they could still find a way to love each other at the end of the day, maybe it was a good idea to get married after all. Honestly, she would have agreed to sign a prenup if Jumin had asked. She knew it wouldn’t have been for personal reasons, but mostly to protect C&R and all the years of work Chairman Han had given the company. But if he was willing to show her how much he trusted her by going against it and refusing the idea that she signed it, it definitely showed how much trust he was willing to show her.

MC saw Jumin coming back from the kitchen with a cup of tea and a bag of her favourite biscuits. She smiled and patted the spot next to her in the sofa.

They could do this. She knew they could.

[blueoswin]

La lune à 3h du mat

Summary :When he was little, around three years old, Lucas watched, fascinated, his mother writing diligently in a little notebook, humming contently,a peaceful smile on her face Only years later did he stumbled upon the new addition in the notebook. “ I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand why storms are named after people” He hadn't fully comprehend it at the time but it felt important somehow. The quote comes to his mind now, caught in an argument with Eliott,  in their tiny apartment,the summer heat clinging to their skin along with their frustration

. Lucas jolts awake, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, only then he hears the noise of his annoying ringtone. Still in a daze he answers.

“ Lucas baaabyyyyy I miss youuuuu!” 

Or : Lucas and Eliott got into a fight and Eliott drunk calls him.

//

"I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand why storms are named after people"

When he was little, around three years old, Lucas watched, fascinated, his mother writing diligently in a little notebook, humming contently,a peaceful smile on her face. She looked so close yet so out of reach in moments like this,the setting sun shining on her blond hair, casting a golden halo around her. Years later, his curiosity getting the best of him, he opened that notebook. He didn't know how to read but little Lucas wasn't dumb. He could recognise beautiful words when he saw them. After all he was a grown up now, 5 years old are almost adults. Yann told him ! But it didn't stop the feeling of guilt expanding in his chest when his mom caught him, standing up on a chair to reach the desk, notebook open to a random page in front of him. However, his mom didn't scold him like he had expected ( he had already been making up apologies in his head), no his mom only let out a little huff, sparks of amusement dancing in her eyes as she watched the scene unfold from where she stood, leaning on the doorframe. He had watched her come closer, eyes round, heart thumping loudly  in his chest. She ran a soft hand through his hair, taking his little body in her arms before sitting on the chair Lucas was previously standing on. Sitting on his lap, he was mesmerized by the sight of her long fingers caressing the thick paper of the notebook.

“You chose a good page darling”

She smiled at him proudly, adoration shining in her eyes, one hand still running in his hair. Lucas was happy, laying his head on his mom chest, listening to her heart beat steadily, her soft voice washing over him in a soothing wave.

“Do you want to know what is written in that notebook?”

He nodded eagerly, his curiosity peaking once again, his little legs kicking a bit in excitement. His mom chuckled at his antics.

“Look love” She put the notebook on his lap, the weight of it making him keep his legs still. Her hand went to cover his. “ I write words or phrases I love in it, memories, quotes, lyrics... Words are beautiful baby remember that. Letters upon letters assembled together to form words, once again put together to form sentences destined to make you feel. There is nothing purer than words.” Seeing Lucas was still listening intently, looking up at her with wonder, she goes on, smiling. “Do you want me to read you some of those quotes?” Lucas nodded again, not able to talk, fearful the magical moment would stop otherwise when his only wish was that his mom keep speaking, he wanted to hear her stories.

She took his fingers in hers, putting it under a written line. His mom had a beautiful handwriting, cursive intricate letters joined by graceful loops. She leant her head on his shoulders, whispering soflty in his ear, her breath tickling him,making a giggle escape him from time to time .

“We live in a rainbow of chaos. This one was written by Paul Cezanne, a famous painter.”

She looked over the pages, selecting the quotes that spoke to her the most in this moment.

“I like this one : “ Every story ever told really happened. Stories are where memories go when they are forgotten”

Lucas gasped, stars in his eyes.

“So fairytales are true? Princess Anastasia is real?”

His mom chuckled, amused.

“Well, yes she is. Just because you can't see her it doesn't mean she doesn't exist. I'm sure she is living her life happily ever after somewhere in the world.”

“So mermaids exist? What about dragons? Knights and wizards? Princesses, elves and talking animals? “

“Yes, they exist baby. As long as they live in your heart they are alive somewhere”

Lucas's mouth went slack in astonishment, not quite processing this new piece of information yet. His mom chuckled fondly.

“Do you want to hear another quote?”

How could he say no? He had a whole new world to discover in front of him. So the night went on like this, way past his bedtime, his mom reading quotes upon quotes to him until he fell asleep on her lap. Every night for the next months, they would sit at the desk, his mom teaching him how to read bit by bit, until he was able to read the quotes to her out loud, and then in his head when he read the notebook alone.

He was alone when he stumbled upon the new addition in the notebook. “ I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand why storms are named after people” He hadn't fully comprehend it at the time. But it felt important somehow, so he read it again and again until it was imprinted in his mind.

He was 15 when his dad left them. He understood the quote better now, as he watched his parents marriage fall apart until there was nothing left but shreds. The quote resonated even more with him when his mom starting drifting away and he couldn't do anything to help her. He was 16 when his dad sent his mom away in a clinic, under the pretext that she was unstable, it was the worst day of his life. He was also 16 when he moved out of the now empty house, too big for him alone to join the coloc. Sixteen and no parents in sight would have been a fucking dream for a lot of teenagers. Not for him. He was scared and lonely and confused and he missed his mom and he was terrified of the future. He was 17 when he met Eliott and his fear of the unknown no longer left him paralyzed in fright. It was still there, but it was easily forgotten with Eliott by his side.

He's 18 now, living with the love of his life, who is doing amazing in college when the fear comes back stronger than ever. He is rummaging through boxes left unopened in the back of their closet from when he moved in. His hands stumble across a hard cover. He takes it out of the box, sitting on the wooden floor with The notebook on his lap, as if he was still a little child. He brushes the deep purple coloured cover, not believing his eyes. He doesn't even remember taking the notebook with him when he left the house. He should give it back to his mom the next time he'll visit. And all of the sudden he remembers all the quotes his mom wrote in that book. Every single one. Especially the one he learned by heart. That's how his fear comes back. Because of a fucking quote that shook him to his core when he was younger, long before he could even grasp its meaning.

Eliott is not home, not yet. He's been working on a project consuming all his time lately. Lucas is left alone in the apartment almost every nights now, eating alone, falling asleep alone, Eliott coming back in the middle of the night, exhausted, waking up early only to be gone when Lucas wakes up. So loneliness strikes once again, he misses Eliott, not having spent time with his boyfriend for too long has taken a toll on him. It's Sunday afternoon and he promised Lucas he would be there so they could spend some time together. Lucas is already frustrated enough after a talk with the man who has the audacity to call himself his father, and Eliott is not here. One look at the clock on the wall indicates it is nearing four. Eliott promised when he left this morning that he would be done by two. And his calls are left unanswered ! Lucas is worried, tapping his phone in his hand while pacing the living room, stopping sometimes to look through the window in hope to see his boyfriend finally come home. He is this close to calling Idriss when the sound of the lock startles him. Lucas rushes to the door, hugging Eliott to death as soon as the door opens. He feels his body stiffen in surprise underneath him before strong arms tug him closer by the waist. After long minutes , they go back inside the flat, Lucas relief leaving him to be replaced by a dull annoyance. Eliott looks exhausted, dark bags under his eyes, his cheekbones even more prominent, a ghost is would look tanned in comparison. Lucas keeps him close, worried Eliott might faint if he takes a step back. He cradles his face in his palm, running his thumb over the growing stubble on his chin.

“What happened? Where were you? Why is your phone dead?” He asks in a worried tone.

Eliott only sighs, nuzzling in his hand.

“I was at Lucy's” Lucas only gives him a quizzical face. “ The girl I was partnered with for the project.” He heads toward the kitchen, looking into the fridge to find something to eat, Lucas follows him diligently.

“Okay, but why didn't you answer my call?” 

“I ran out of battery.”

Lucas frowns, not really believing Eliott's evasive answers.

“Doesn't Lucy have a charger you could borrow?”

“I didn't think about it” Eliott feels himself getting increasingly annoyed. “ Can we not do this now? I'm tired and hungry.”

“Well you wouldn't be if you had come home earlier to eat." The tension around them build up. " I was waiting for you, you know. It's the only thing I seem to be doing these days.” He utters the last part under his breath, hoping Eliott wouldn't hear him. The universe is against him it seems. Eliott stands up, closing the fridge.

“Sorry what did you say?”

“Nothing.” Lucas looks up at the ceiling. Perhaps if he stares long enough they will drop the topic. Perhaps.

“No you said something and I'm afraid I didn't understand.”

Eliott comes closer, at arm's reach. Lucas scoffs, he brought this on himself no need to put his head in the sand now.He inhales, pinching the bridge of his nose, his foot tapping rhythmically against the wooden floor.

“Okay you want to know? I said that the only thing I do lately is wait for you. Wait for you to reply to my text, wait for you to come home, wait for you to even acknowledge my existence.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

Eliott blinks owlishly, not quite understanding.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me damn well Eliott.It feels like I don't even have a boyfriend anymore.”

He regrets that sentence as soon as it leaves his mouth. Seeing the betrayed look on Eliott's face makes him feel even worse. 

“Do you know how unfair that statement is? I'm working my ass off to pass my exams! And I miss you too Lucas, so fucking much it hurts! I'm sorry for spending so much time away from you. It's only the matter of a few weeks!

Lucas only rolls his eyes 

“Pff, you already said that two weeks ago Eliott. And today you promised you would come back early but you didn't.”

“So that's what it is about? Me coming home late? Are you doubting me Lucas? “

“Of course Eliott! I was fucking worried about you!”

“Because you think I can't handle myself?”

Lucas mulls over his next sentences.

“Absolutely not. Because you're not the type to break a promise and something could have happened to you, that's why. Sorry for caring about you! It would be easier if you answered your fucking phone you know.”

“So now I have to answer every time you text? You are not my mom Lucas I don't owe you anything”

 Lucas tried to calm the situation but Eliott is being childish, he might as well let it all out.

“I don't ask for much, just one fucking text to tell me you're okay!”

“Damn it I can't believe it." Eliott paces around the kitchen counter, running a hand in his untamed hair, making wild gestures with his free arm as he speaks. "I can't believe it! You're just like Lucille. Why are you so fucking clingy?”

Lucas opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish, unable to speak, too hurt by Eliott's word. This went too far. When he speaks again, his voice is shaky, trying to calm down.

“Sorry for caring about you Eliott. Sorry for loving you.” The words are whispered, their weight heavy between them.

“Luc I'm...”

“Don't” Lucas raises his hand to stop Eliott from coming closer. He swallows back the lump in his throat. “If I speak I'm going to say something I will regret later, so for now I am going to the bedroom. Don't follow me, I don't want to see you right now.”

Lucas turns around, wiping away the falling tears as he sits on the bed, hugging his legs with his arms, screaming his frustration in a pillow. Hours have gone by, he went through his mom's notebook again in an attempt to calm himself. It worked for some time, until he heard noise in the apartment, reminding him that Eliott was here and he was the reason he was crying in the first place. It didn't work anymore afterwards. His heart aches, his body feels heavy, his mind is fuzzy from crying so much. Lucas needs to get out of here. He can't be around Eliott for now, it's too much for him. His decision made, he grabs the duffle bag hidden in the back of the closet, putting clothes at random in it, not really caring about what he's taking with him. He can always come back another day since Eliott is so busy.

Lucas opens the door, almost colliding with Eliott in the process. The latter was behind the door, his fist still hanging in the air in a failed attempt to knock at the door. He looks miserable, like a reprimanded puppy but Lucas doesn't care enough in this moment to feel guilty.

“What the fuck Eliott? I told you I wanted to be left alone!”

He goes to the living room, checking for something he might have forgotten, such as his phone on the piano. He knows Eliott is following him, with more distance between them than usual but he is trailing behind.

“Where are you going?” He asks in a daze,  his eyes not leaving the bag in Lucas's hand.

“I can't stay here for now, I'm crashing at the coloc tonight, and maybe for the next week. I need time apart from you.”

“So you just leave instead of talking it out? Very mature of you Lucas. Fantastic.” Eliott applauses mockingly

“ Eliott please stop, don't make the situation worse”

“I'm not the one running away.” He bites his nails, looking everywhere apart from Lucas.

“But you are being childish and petty.”

“Right. You're the one who started this remember? Just pack your things and go since that's what you want." Eliott turns his back on him. "You think I need you Lucas?”

His mom told him there was nothing purer than words, there is nothing as vicious either. Words cut deeper than a knife, Lucas is starting to realize that.

"I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand why storms are named after people"

The quote comes to his mind now, caught in an argument with Eliott,  in their tiny apartment,the summer heat clinging to their skin along with their frustration

Eliott is pacing like a wild animal in a cage in the living room, pulling his hair out by the roots, venom dripping from his mouth. He is a storm, has always been, ever since Lucas met him he was swept up off his feet, swirling in the wind, breath always knocked out of him. The eye of a storm is the safest place to ever exist so they say. Unfortunately Lucas left the peaceful eye to throw himself in the roaring thunder as soon as Eliott came home. Hearing the poisonous words hurts him more than he thought was ever possible, especially because the truth dawns on him : Eliott has left him. Right here, right now, in their shared apartment, he is physically here, but his heart no longer belongs to Lucas. So he leaves, with a watery “ Goodbye Eliott” he is sure the other one didn’t hear, shutting the door a bit too loudly behind him. 

Passersby stares at him, concerned looks on their faces. Lucas doesn’t care, too caught up in his head to control his body’s reactions. He doesn’t know the road he’s taken to arrive at the coloc, his body acting on autopilot. When he knocks on the door, he watches Mika’s smile fall off his face as he takes him in, pulling him gently into the flat, engulfing him into a giant hug when the door closes. Lucas lets himself be hugged, too stunned to return the warm embrace. Only then he bursts into tears.

//

“Lucas answer your goddamn phone I need my beauty sleep!” Mika screams from somewhere in the coloc.

He jolts awake, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, stretching his back, aching from sleeping on the couch for a week. Only then he hears the noise of his annoying ringtone. Still in a daze he answers, wondering who could call him at three in the morning.

“ Lucas baaabyyyyy I miss youuuuu!” He winces at the loud voice, putting the phone away from his ear.He hears a giggle in the background, covered by loud music.

“Eliott? Where are you?” He straightens up in the makeshift bed.

“Don't know” He hiccups. “ Why do you care?”

His words are slurred, making it hard for  Lucas to understand him completely.

“How much did you drink? Is there anyone with you?”

A moment of silence passes where he puts the phone away from his ear to check the line isn't dead.

“Sofiane...” A hiccup.” And Idriss were there but I lost them.” Another hiccup. “They are gone.” Lucas frowns. Is Eliott sniffling? He internally curses his friends for leaving Eliott alone in this state.

“Baby can you send me your location? I'm coming to get you home.”

“Noooooo I don't want to go home if you aren't going with me.” Eliott utters between sobs, if he wasn't crying before he sure is now..

Lucas can feel his heart beating in staccato in his chest, he has to get Eliott home safe. He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't.

“I'll go home with you.” He says softly, the ghost of a smile grazing his lips.

“Promise me?” The sniffling has died down a bit.

“I promise.”

Lucas can almost see Eliott nods. The line is again silent for a few minutes before a feeble okay  can be heard. He hears his phone pings with a text right away.

“Don't move Eliott I'm going to get you”

Lucas hangs up, throwing hastily on the first pair of jeans he can find, almost losing balance when he puts on his shoes. Grabbing his keys, he bolts out of the coloc into the chilly night.

Thirty minutes later, Lucas finds himself looking at his phone, squinting his eyes against the bright light to double check the location Eliott sent him. The garden of the house he is standing in front of is lit up by fairy lights, scattered on the grass or tangles in tree branches. His heart is pounding along with the rhythm of the loud basses sounds. There are a few people chatting in the front yard, drunken laughs echoing in the silent, someone is vomiting near a tree. Lucas inhales, in hope it will give him some sort of courage to find Eliott. He pushes past grinding bodies, the mixed scents of spilt alcohol, sweat and the lingering heat  makes him dizzy.

 Eliott is nowhere to be seen. He is on the verge of giving up when he catches a glimpse of a golden brown mop of hair standing in the kitchen, hands behind his back, resting on the counter. His heart soars in relief, at least he's found him, he is safe. Lucas slowly approaches, coming to a halt when he takes in the sight in front of him. Eliott is indeed safe, it looks like he's having the time of his life even, head thrown back in laughter, a pretty girl looking at him with hunger in her eyes, biting her lips, her hand travelling teasingly up and down Eliott's chest. She gets tentatively closer, her eyes fixed on his lips. Lucas's heart shatters , his eyes water. Everything happens in slow motion, the fast-paced track in the background doesn't reach his ears anymore, people drunkenly bumping into him doesn't make him turn his head, too transfixed on Eliott. He sees her lips part, can almost guess how fast her blood is pumping in her veins from the excitement of what she's about to do, their lips are millimeters apart when Eliott, in his inebriated state, catches up to what's happening. Lucas watches as he mumbles something close to a “ no thank you”. He slowly comes closer, wanting to know what's going to happen next.

“Why? You liked the first one....” He hears the girl speaking in a husky voice and refrains himself from scoffing bitterly.

At her new attempt at kissing, Eliott turns his head fast, his eyes widening in shock when they fall on Lucas, shoving the girl aside quickly before swaying in his direction. Lucas stands still, not able to move, it's becoming increasingly hard to breathe. He only remembers what he was doing here in the first place when Eliott drops a hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little to keep his balance. He goes for a hug, only to be rejected, Lucas shoving his hand off his shoulders, pinning him down under his stare, only muttering a short “ I'm taking you home” before turning away, guiding Eliott through the house by a firm grasp on his wrist. They part the crowd, ignoring people calling them, only stopping once outside to breathe fresh air. Lucas prevents Eliott from talking, he doesn't want to hear anything coming from him tonight, doesn't have the energy to deal with another fight. He only makes a small gesture with his head, asking him to follow him, their steps synchronizing along the way.

 The walk back home is uncomfortably silent, the two boys unable to utter a single word. Lucas hopes that by the time they make it back home, Eliott has sobered up enough for them to talk.

//

The door shuts behind them in a loud bang.

“I swear Lucas I didn’t kiss her! It was a stupid dare and it meant nothing to me! And then she came onto me and... I don’t know I was drunk and upset after our fight so I let her.”

“Can't you see that’s the problem Eliott ! You lead her on! Who knows how far you would have gone together if I didn't come to get you.”.

Eliott runs a hand down his face, dark eyes hardening.

“Do you really think I would cheat on you Lucas? Is that what you think of me?”

“Well I certainly don't want a repeat of the Lucille incident” He snaps, crossing his arms angrily.

“For fuck sakes Lucas it was once and we weren't officially a couple! Will you ever drop it?”

“Maybe it happened once but you were inebriated tonight Eliott, and you know you tend to get flirty when you drink, you can't blame me for being a little suspicious.”

“So you don't trust me. Great.”

“I didn't say that...”

“You didn't need to Lucas.”

They stare at each other defiantly, fire in their eyes. Lucas is the first one to look away, he sighs tapping his foot against the floor rapidly.

“ You know what Eliott, it's late, you're drunk and we're both tired. We'll talk in the morning if you're well enough. For now go to sleep.”

He turns around, not wanting to see the look on his face. The anger and the hurt he's been feeling for the past week are still burning underneath the surface, ready to be ignited again. Lucas closes his eyes, listening to the quiet surrounding them, he can hear the floor creaking above his head. One of their neighbors is a night owl, good to know. A soft hand encircles his wrist, not squeezing, just laying there. A weight falls on his shoulder, he can feel Eliott's breath on the back of his neck, nuzzling there. He suppresses a shiver. His hand goes up his arm slowly, so gently the featherlike touch tickles him. The touches stop once his hands rest on his shoulders, bringing them closer together. Nothing can be heard, only their synched breathing.

Every contact on Lucas's skin prickles him, lighting his skin up in anticipation. How he has craved Eliott's touch during their week apart, tossing and turning on the coloc's couch, feeling cold, having no one to cuddle him, encircle him with his arms in a protective hold. But nothing has changed, they have to talk at some point, about tonight, about them, about where they are going, about what Lucas is the most afraid of. They both said hurtful things, things they regretted as soon as the words were out. Apologies are long overdue. Eliott whispers muffled words against his skin like a prayer, barely audible.

“I'm so sorry love. Come to bed with me. I missed you I missed you I missed you...”

“I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible”

Lucas wants to give in, his touch-starved body wanting nothing more than to melt into Eliott's. His battered heart however can't handle being too close, in case one of them decides to pull away again. Eyes tightly shut, he wipes away the tear beginning to fall.

“You'll understand why storms are named after people”

“I can't Eliott” His voice cracks up. “ I miss you too but it's too soon. You really hurt me,  I need time. Go to sleep, I'll take the couch.”

He feels more than he hears the deep sigh behind him, the loud exhale leaving goosebumps on his skin. Arms hold him tighter, squeezing once before letting go, leaving him feeling cold, alone in a dark room.

“Goodnight love”

Lucas can't look at Eliott right now or he'll cave in. His will is already wearing thin.

“Goodnight Eliott”

He doesn't see the sweet smile faltering nor the sorrow in his eyes. Lucas stays a while longer looking through the window at the deserted streets, listening to the faint noise of the parisian nightlife. Only when he's certain Eliott won't return to the living room he lets the tears pour. Crying silently on the living room couch, his thoughts run in circles, making him imagine the worst case scenario over and over again. As the sun rises and the birds start chirping he falls asleep, too exhausted to keep his red eyes open.

//

NB: Hi I hope you enjoyed! So I just wanted to say that the pics aren’t mine ( except from the bottom right one) I found them on the Internet so if one of your pic is in there just let me know and I’ll credit you! Also the quote is from Caitlyn Siehl and the title of this fic comes from a song called “ La lune à 3h du mat”  (duh) written by French artist Maxenss, go check his work out his songs are awesome! ( really angsty for some though). Okay I think that’s all thank you for reading and have a good day! Love you all and see you next time! 

[sgnolivia]

weird flex— are you okay??

two days into maybe-olivia’s eat-pray-love-crush-enemy-skulls pillage of cleveland, she’s struck by a migraine so searing that she has enough presence of mind to google psnn hesd dyig strook e ? before she’s left twitching in a trash heap behind starbucks.

two days into maybe-olivia’s eat-pray-love-crush-enemy-skulls pillage of cleveland, she’s struck by a migraine so searing that she has enough presence of mind to google psnn hesd dyig strook e ? before she’s left twitching in a trash heap behind starbucks.

it’s still light out when her brain stops trying to design, manufacture, and detonate it’s own atomic bomb. maybe-olivia isn’t sure if it’s been three hours or three days. the double chocolate chip frappe she bought t-minus five to blackout (ha!) has solidified on her pants. she can taste seafoam under her tongue.

she stares up at the sky in muted exhaustion. 

god, it’s me, she thinks. i would like to invoke my right to choose. 

perhaps if the zygote tube had been pro-choice, none of this would be fucking happening. 

the lizard takes over all executive functioning at that point, forcibly ejecting her from the drivers seat. when she blinks down at her shirt it’s neon green and has a fun i love chicago! written across a black skyline. 

maybe-olivia wonders if she saw the blue bedroom and doesn’t remember it. hopefully the lizard wrote it in the unicorn book.

not that it matters. what’s another forgotten thing in the grand scheme of it all? it’s a fifty-fifty shot she’ll remember anything she’s written in the notebook, anyway. her memory is half a step above melted swiss cheese. 

from that point on, every decision is like russian roulette with a gun that’s fully loaded. maybe-olivia has no fucking idea what’s going to set her spinning into a migraine or send her flying off the realm of human existence or remind her, hey, she fucking loves macaroons. it’s a lot of calculated risks and maybe-olivia discovers that she’s very bad at math. 

it goes on like this for an indeterminable amount of time. 

she tries to balance her world-wide assassination tour with her brain’s need to self-destruct every seventy-three seconds. it is difficult. 

after the act of dying her hair a soft brown sends her tripping into a panic attack, shivering violently and puking all over the nice bathroom of the vacation home she’s squatting in, maybe-olivia decides this isn’t working. 

the unicorn notebook is full, so maybe-olivia unpacks the glittery purple one she bought to replace it. the pen that lights up was lost somewhere in bolivia so she has to settle for a fatter pen that holds four different wells of ink. she feels traitorous for liking it more than its predecessor. 

option 1:

die. 

honestly, this is the easiest and most cost-effective route. at this point she’s ninety-five percent sentient machine gun. there wouldn’t be much lost. blackout was set to be decommissioned after operation foxtrot anyway. maybe-olivia would just be finishing what was set into motion a long time ago. 

she switches the pen into the blue inkwell and sets up a t-chart.

pros:

no more migraines.

won’t wake up in romanian hostel.

stop randomly puking.

permanently get rid of lizard.

cons:

maybe-oliva sits back in the chair. this list is marginally harder. 

agency is exhausting and confusing. some days she’s completely post-verbal and other days she can only speak argentinian spanish, despite having no memories related to argentina. some days she physically can’t wake her body up for more than six minutes at a time. most days she throws up everything she tries to eat. 

maybe-olivia wishes she was strapped back into her holding cell in the unnamed facility, twelve floors below the earth. 

this transforms her body into a wet chihuahua. it takes four hours to pull her bones back inside her skin and another two just to get off the floor. 

jesus, she thinks, and adds keep bones in skin to the pros list. 

she ruminates on her death for a bit, losing time to daydreaming about the endless sleep that might await her. none of her training covered the afterlife so this is as much a guess as everything else in her life. maybe it’s an endless blank void. maybe it’s burning in a pit. maybe it’s a another shot. maybe-olivia hopes not. she doesn’t know if her spirit can handle another go-round of this. 

but, her brain lizard pipes up, then they would win!

maybe-olivia growls out loud and pointedly tells it to shut the fuck up even if she begrudgingly admits that it has a point. 

if she dies, then director howard lives. 

this alights something hot deep in her gut. it feels like she has to puke and run fourteen miles at the same time. there’s no way in hell marcus fucking howard gets to live over her. fuck that. fuck that. 

and really, doesn’t she deserve that? doesn’t she deserve the right to drag howard out of his villa safehouse, shove a piece of rubber in his mouth, break all his fingers, and ask what her real goddamn name is?

project sisyphyus has been trying to kill her— the real her— for eleven fucking years and they still haven’t gotten it done. she wins, they lose. they’ll have to try harder. 

she writes fuck that in the scrawling, bunched together lettering she’s beginning to associate with her own personal handwriting. it’s nice. it feels like she owns something.

fuck that.

if they want me dead, they better fucking find me.

option 2:

get it the fuck together

there are no cons to this. she doesn’t need a t-chart. 

getting it together proves to be a con all on it’s own. her brain is a glorified vegetable but it’s all she’s got. it’s not like she can swap it out for a new one. it needs serious repairs though, and short of hooking her scalp up to a car battery, maybe-olivia isn’t sure how to go about this. 

google is, though.

and google doesn’t care if she has to look something up four times an hour. it points her towards helpful websites. searching how do i get my memories back and following it with who the fuck am i six times in half as many hours points her to a self-help thread which leads her to a diagnosis forum. she has acute brain trauma, post-traumatic stress disorder, dissociative episodes, panic attacks, and sometimes seizures. also, maybe arthritis. she has to ask google what dissociation means. 

maybe-olivia is struck with the overwhelming knowledge that other people know what she’s going through. there are other people who fell head first out of a plane with no parachute and have been hurtling towards the ground for as long as they can remember. sure, they haven’t been tortured and brainwashed and denied the basic human rights that are allocated pretty much across the board but she doesn’t care. she feels connected to these people who live half outside of their skin, wondering the earth like zombies chewed up in the garbage disposal. 

they teach coping strategies. ways to fake normal existence so that it seems like they’re living in the same reality as everyone else. how to breathe when her lungs collapse. how to avoid physical contact in day-to-day situations. 

a lot of them gently suggest finding creative outlets for her feelings. she tries writing but after penning an expansive four page letter in cantonese only to suddenly forget how to read cantonese, she gives that up. 

she decides she isn’t really ready to sift through her emotions. her bodies fucked up instincts are enough without trying to decide if she’s depressed, furious, or anxious on top of it. 

google assures her that recovery happens in stages and at her own pace. if you aren’t ready today, try a little bit more tomorrow. 

her brain still jerks her around like it’s the worlds most aggressive dog owner and she’s the runt of a teacup poodle’s litter, but it works to her advantage. no one can track her if even she has no idea where she’s going next. the targets come in migraines, in hallucinations, in dissociative fits, but they come and maybe-olivia dutifully follows, even if she can’t remember doing it. it’s admittedly a reckless strategy but if there’s a part of her that isn’t a screaming disaster then she hasn’t recovered that part yet. 

she reviews her notebooks every few days, now. they look like they’ve been written by at least four people, one of them being a small child. there’s a variety of languages, handwriting styles, codes, and small illustrations. one page just says fuck licorice in increasingly bold font, fiercely underlined and surrounded by aggressive exclamation points. 

it doesn’t do much except reaffirm that she has the minimal amount of control required to be a human being, but that’s okay. 

a lot of her problems sort themselves out once a helpful blog post points out that she’s eating about a third of what’s required of adult women. this is mostly because she constantly throws up anything that tastes more flavorful than wheat bread but also because she’s never really had to feed herself before. hunger is just another loud, shrieking signal her body sends at her to inform her that something’s wrong, but it sends fifty of those a minute. how’s she supposed to know where the problem is?

a steady combination of pedialyte, muscle milk, and a bottle of gummy vitamins becomes the solution. she has to set alarms to remind herself to drink them and it isn’t ideal, but it keeps her caloric intake up, and solves the arthritis issue. 

it also makes it easier to actually keep the memories she recovers which is a huge win. 

that doesn’t mean things are smooth by anyone’s standards, including her own. random things still absolutely kneecap her— a dad yelling at his son, a lawn mower starting up outside the motel, her own abilities blinding her first thing in the morning. but every incapaciting moment gives a clue. 

a car backfires on the road and maybe-olivia darts behind a minivan, seeing both the tan metal under her hand and white sand beaches. 

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maybe-olivia has never infiltrated a fully-staffed enemy facility on her own before. that’s alright. it can be a learning experience for everyone.