#and realizing he's right about his suspicions that Eight had no desire of his own during KOTXX seeing the way he goes back to cold busines

[eorzeashan]

I keep forgetting Eight is SIS a lot of the time because I could never decide if it was the right path for him or not and most of his interactions with Jonas were outright failures that only made him even more disinterested, but then Theron comes into the picture again. And of course that is a point of deliberation.

Theron feels a responsibility towards him after KOTXX for not realizing sooner that Eight was just following Lana's orders to an obedient T not out of his own personal desire or will, but the simple need to repay a life debt, a fact which escapes most of the Alliance and even Lana herself despite it directly opposing his usual behavior. As the kind of person who has to save those in front of him whether they like it or not, this guilts Theron immensely not only for being a part of the blind crowd but enabling a violent warmongering path for Eight that he realizes now may not have been Eight's wish after all, that he'd pegged him all wrong-- and worse, treated him like so.

Eight himself cares very little at this point whether Theron treats him favorably or not. He was here to be used, and he was used. It's the way he's always lived. For a time he might've had the small hope to understand Theron and Lana during SoR, but that faded very quickly come KOTXX. He lived the same way during Intelligence with the added benefit that he did care for those people as they cared for him, but it never removed the stain of the dirty business he'd permanently undertaken, only made it more acceptable as part of his life and not treated like dirty laundry the way the Alliance did.

Theron latches on to the small thought that they could've been different if he'd only tried to get to know Eight, and out of a desire to make things right in his mind, starts attempting to extend the proverbial olive branch even though it's an awkward and uncomfortable attempt that feels too little too late. He has to do something, and try as he might he's not the kind of guy who cuts people loose to stay out in the cold. And maybe part of that is residual guilt for not protecting the Sixth Line and Master Surro, his repeated failure to be responsible for those under his command. Eight is essentially his last chance to prove he can do right by others, even when they share no common ground or bond. It's the barren ground of their relationship that makes him want to try, even if he shouldn't be using him as his own redemption.

Somehow this results in Theron making it a personal point to be involved in Eight's life from them on after, SIS included: unofficially, he stays as his handler. He prides himself secretly on the notion that Eight seems to like Jonas even less than him, which is legendary given Eight's notoriously aloof attitude (but not much to brag about from an outside perspective) and the SIS more or less doesn't give a womp rat's ass whether Theron meddles as long as the ex-Imperial agent stays on a short leash, and that's.. fine with him. Theron wouldn't have asked regardless.

Still, he tries. Hopes at the very least he can keep the SIS' use of him to a bare minimum so what happened in the Alliance can never happen again, optimistic as that is. Checks on him often enough that it looks like they're officially assigned to one another, and even lets him go in and out of his own apartment as he pleases (Eight gets his own. as usual, he doesn't care for it much and it still makes Theron antsy that he'll come to it one day and find it completely abandoned, so this is fine).

Eight doesn't say much. Comments that the life is fine when asked, doesn't watch the holos but idly listens when he puts it on. Does his work and doesn't when he's off the clock. When asked about how he feels killing Imps, it makes Theron's blood run cold when Eight casually says that was his only job over there too.

Theron buys him some street food in an attempt to make something different. At the very least, Eight says it's better than rations.

[hedgiwithapen]

i’d really like for you to write some of the au where flash(2014) cisco is universe hopping and stumbles upon the yj verse in the middle of the episode where nabu possesses zatara and prevents that whole mess.

The night air was pleasantly cool on his skin as Cisco hopped through the breach, one more stop on his retirement vacation. This earth looked much like his own, more than some of his other stops, with crickets chirping and only one moon  hanging above the buildings. Still, something was very much off. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was as he headed towards the main street in search of a diner, determined to see if anything could top his own Earth’s Big Belly Burger. He’d heard from Cynthia once that this particular earth’s “Chicken Whizzies” were surprisingly delicious. Reaching the road, though, the sense of wrongness increased, and with it the little alarm that even retirement couldn’t turn off. Abandoned cars, some of them crashed, lined the street. He jogged towards one, seeing through the window a child wriggling in a car seat. There wasn’t an adult slumped over the steering wheel, or pacing the crashsight calling for help, and there wasn’t any blood either. Cisco felt for the right frequency and popped the door open. “Hey,” he said brightly, wishing he was better with little kids. “Hey, it’s ok.” The kid just wailed louder, and Cisco winced. “Are you hurt? Can you tell me what happened? I’m here to help.” Cisco pulled his badge from his pocket, something he’d figured out was useful to have three earth’s back, even if Central City didn’t exist everywhere. The kid looked maybe 4, or five, old enough to talk. He hoped. “Hey!” a high pitched voice echoed oddly down the street. “Holy shit, it’s a grownup.” The sound of a gentle thwack and a muffled ‘ow’ followed as he turned, one hand still working the car seat buckles. A few more children--most of them roughly hobbit height, so maybe 8? 10?-- and a teenager were moving towards him, and fast. Cisco glanced around and had a sinking realization that they were talking about him. I’m the grown up. Oh no. I’m The Adult. I need an Adultier Adult. “Yup,” he said with what he hoped was a tone that did not betray his sudden desire to get out of this entire range of earths. “So, uh… what’s up?” If this was some Girl Who Owned a City shit, he was noping right on out. Lord of the Flies he could probably handle, what with the superpowers and all. “ All the adults are gone,” the teenager, a girl, said, eyeing him with suspicion and relief. “Ah,” Cisco said, trying very hard not to let the panic out. “ Gone gone, or dead gone?” This turned out to be the wrong question to ask, because the kid in the car seat, being expertly freed now by one of the ten or eight year olds, started to cry harder, their face crumpling like a tissue.

“Just Vanished,” one of the boys said. “How are you still here? Or… is everyone back?” “Ah,” Cisco said. “Uh… no, I’m going to guess no. but… I’ll try to help figure it out?” “You need to come with us,” the first girl said. “To the school. Robin needs to hear about this. Cisco did not know where that was. “Lead the way,” he said, reaching out a little with his powers to be sure that they still worked, should he need to beat a hasty retreat to say, the pokemon corner of the multiverse.

It was a short walk, mostly deserted, and the entire time Cisco could feel the Not-Quite-Right like a too tight shirt, taking up more of his focus than he wanted to give it, but unable to let it go..  “Who’s got the Radio?” the teenager asked as soon as they were in the door of a gym.  “We need to get through, tell Robin there’s an adult.”  “Who’s this Robin?” Cisco asked at last. A couple of kids, one offering a radio that looked like it had been scavenged from a truck, looked at him as if he was not quite bright.  “Robin. Like, from Gotham.”   When that didn’t get an instant note of recognition, another kid tried “Batman’s sidekick? He and his friends are going to fix things.” “They’re going to try,” a third kid, one of the group that had found him, said, a little bleakly.  “Oh, right,” Cisco said, suspecting that this was yet another earth full of teenage superhero nonsense. He was right. Shortly after the radio transmission went out, a flicker of lightning  brought a red haired  kid in a momentarily terrifying yellow suit skidding to a halt in the middle of the gym.  “Let me guess,” Cisco said, nodding to the lightning bolt, “Kid Flash?” “That’s me,” Kid Flash nodded. “ So. Who are you? How are you here?  How’d you stay? Is it a leap year thing?”  “Uh… I’m Vibe.” “Never heard of you, but it’s all hands on deck, you know. Mind coming with me?” Cisco did not want to be sped anywhere by a speedster in a yellow suit, especially one that did not look like Wally West. “Go where exactly?”  “Headquarters. It’s kinda a top secret?”  Cisco heaved a sigh. “I can follow you.” Even on this earth with the frankly strange vibrations, following a speed signature wasn’t hard. “Really? Cool.” And he took off.  Cisco followed, and found himself surrounded by a gaggle of confused and stressed teenagers. Some symbols or gear looked familiar-- besides Kid Flash there was a girl with Oliver’s shade of green on her mask, and a bow, a dark haired boy who wore the El Mayara of Clark and Kara on a dark shirt, or the redhaired green girl who was probably Martian.  Some didn’t, like the girl in a top hat.  “Who’s this?” Superdude asked. “The only adult in the world,” Kid Flash said.  They all looked over to two people that Cisco definitely didn’t recognize, a tattooed kid  with shaved blond hair, and a dark haired boy with white plate goggles covering most of his face and a large “R” on his cape’s front flap. “I’m Vibe,” he said again. “You’d be uh… Robin?” “Yeah. This is Aqualad, Kid Flash, Zatanna… “  “Introductions can wait,” Zatanna said. “We need answers. How did you manage to stay?” “It’s a leap year thing, I’m telling you,” someone--Cisco wasn’t sure who, murmured.  “ Stay isn’t exactly right. More of a ‘ came here after whatever happened’ thing.” Cisco said, and flinched.  Again, he felt the something not right itching at his brain.  “Came?”  “Yeah. From another… oh. Oh that’s--” it all clicked, a puzzle piece slotting into place. Or really, the opposite.  The Vibrations of this earth weren’t off they were missing.  Or really, half of them were. The place where every other note ought to have been was empty. “Someone split your earth,” he said, definitive.  “You can’t just cut a planet in half,” Superdude said.  “Not… the planet,” Cisco shook his head. “The… dimension.”  “Wait. Like… the multiverse stuff? You’re from another earth?.” Kid Flash said.   When Cisco nodded, he whooped. “ I knew it wasn’t magic.” “I mean, it might have been caused by magic. Unless you have a Vibe here and he’s evil it probably was.”  Kid Flash groaned, getting elbowed in the ribs by the Green-Arrow-Girl.  Aqualad shook his head at them both. “ We… knew, that there is another … half, of our world. We have a go between. But if you know more about this kind of thing, we would appreciate the help. Our current plan is a bit of a risk.”  Cisco nodded, not liking the sound of that. “Ok, well, I think I… theoretically can help. What’s your go between?”  “Me!” a tiny kid in a red sweatshirt said. “Great,” Cisco said, rolling with the punches. “Ok. Weird, but ok.  Can you… do whatever it is that you do, while I hold on?”  “I can’t take anyone with me.” “Right,” Cisco agreed. “I just need to get an idea of what’s missing. My powers work with vibrations. If I can get a sense of the other half, I think i can bring the two back together.” “I like that plan,” Kid Flash said. “Scientific.” “If magic did this, only magic can fix it,” Zatanna said, clutching a golden helmet and looking like she wanted to be wrong. Before what had to be an old argument about magic and science could break out, the ten year old waved his hands. “  I don’t know if that’s safe. I kinda have to get hit by lightning to do it.”  Cisco wished halfheartedly he had aimed for the earth with fried jellybeans instead of chicken whizzies. “Eh, I’ll live. It won’t be the first time.”  It hurt. Cisco fell forwards as the kid vanished, pulling blue from the bright white of lightning and pain.  “Yeah,” he rasped. “That sucked.  I’ve got it, though.” Everyone backed up, nervously, as he reached out with his hands and his powers straining for the other half of earth 16 until he could feel the cords in his hands. He held the two strands of vibrations and wove them back into one.

[shootingstarwritings]

Eight Memories a Minute

Follow up to Eight Cups a Day

He shouldn’t identify as “Forde,” for that was just the name of the host he had taken over, but it still felt nice to say. “Forde, Forde,” he muttered to himself as he walked around downtown. Though the alien received quite the unusual stares from various passersby, he remained concentrated on the sound of the name he had, for lack of a better term, stolen. Smiling, the alien said, “I am Forde.”

Only when he was about a block away from the general store did he remember what his assignment was. With the successful acquisition of the pool that he owned—his host owned—multiple hosts could be lured in and taken over at a time.

“A pool party,” Forde had suggested to Alan—or rather, his brother—earlier that day. “We can throw a small pool party with friends of mine—I-I mean Forde, my host,” he said. Alan had tilted his head in confusion before eventually agreeing to the idea. If anything went wrong and too much attention was drawn to them, the invasion would be a failure. It was easier to remain small while scoping out important and valuable hosts to take over.

Now, Forde was picking up snacks and drinks not simply to camouflage their intentions, but to feed the hosts that would be staying overnight to finish assimilating and continue planning the invasion. “Nolan, Michael, Seth, Casey, and Kyle,” Forde repeated to himself as he looked around. Just like with “Forde,” the names felt good to say on his lips; like he was savoring the sensation of speaking and the emotions that came from them.

Although Alan had said that most of his host’s memories were most likely gone after being taken over, Forde felt the exact opposite. One moment he would be looking at soda bottles, the next he would be deeply absorbed in a memory of winning his first kayaking race with Michael and Nolan. The soreness of his muscles, the light fluttering on his chest, and the cool sweat on his skin as they high-fived with their kayaks gave him goosebumps.

The cashier cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sir? I said your total is $56.42.” Forde snapped his head forward and nodded.

“I’m real sorry—I mean, my apologizes,” said Forde with a small bow. This time, he didn’t miss the way that the customers behind him stared. This human emotion, he figured, was embarrassment. Hopefully, he could avoid it with time. 

With the supplies stocked up, he drove home with a death grip on the wheel. The fear of a previous car accident in Forde’s life helped to keep complete focus on the road.

Alan’s possessor, clad in sandals and nothing else, was in the living room when Forde arrive. “Hello, brother,” he said, eyes focused on his host’s phone as Forde put away the groceries. “I see you have completed your mission. Good.” “With five new hosts by the night’s end, we’ll need all the food and water we can get our hands on. Without arising suspicion, of course.” Forde shivered at the sound of Alan’s deadpan voice. Only through rigorous effort could he express any emotion.

“And there is no point in doing that anymore,” the alien piloting Alan’s husk had said. Forde suppressed the shudder that went down his spine.

The small bits of personality that his host retained were most likely gone by now. At most, all Alan could do was simply smile and be polite. Aside from that, there was no emotion, no memories, and nothing left of the original. And Forde knew that his brother lacked any way to emote or even the motions themselves. Then why was he like this? Why did Forde’s memories continue to taunt and tug at his heart? Did he even have anything like that?

“Brother? You are being silent.”

“Huh? O-Oh! Sorry, Alan,” said Forde, looking away from Alan’s nude body. It was amazing what lacking shame would lead to. “I seem to be finding myself lost in thoughts, is all.”

“Lost? You are in your host’s house.”

“Ah, ahaha, that is not quite what I meant.” Before Forde could continue, there was a knock on the door. “Oh, hide! I’m clothed, so I’ll answer it.” Luckily, Alan’s possessor’s lack of emotions meant he was agreeable, for the most part.

Nolan was at the door. “Hey man, sorry for showing up early. Just wanted to pick up some stuff I left here from last time,” he said with an easy-going grin. At the sight of this young man, Forde felt his throat dry up and his pulse to surge. “S-Sure, of course, Nolan.”

“Great. Think I left it in your room.” Nolan stepped forward, and Forde eagerly stepped aside to let him through. The two marched upstairs, a rush of emotions flooding Forde as he stared at Nolan’s back. “You’re such a cool dude, Forde. ‘ppreciate ya letting me stay the night after that fight I had with my folks. And the time before that as well.” He let out a sheepish but blissful laugh. It was a side of him that only Forde had seen, and he would greedily hog it as long as he could.

When he realized that Nolan was waiting for a response, Forde let out a cough, only able to eek out an, “Of course, man.” Satisfied, Nolan continued up the stairs, and Forde continued closely watching him. What were these sensations? His chest would not stop vibrating and his crotch was so active. If Forde didn’t know any better he would’ve thought he was having a heat stroke.

Another memory flew by; this time of a camping trip. Gathering around a campfire, staring up at the stars, and chatting the night away while the rest of their friends quietly snored until the two were lulled to a gentle sleep were all the things that Forde recalled of Nolan. That was the night that he gained something beyond any value.

My very first love, Forde thought, biting his lower lip to prevent a sob. These emotions that the real Forde had quietly distanced himself from all burst forth at the invasion of an alien that shouldn’t have been able to comprehend. Now, they threatened to overwhelm the Forde that planned to take over his friends. The camping trip, the memories he had made with all of his friends, everything tore through his chest like a hurricane.

Why am I doing this? Forde thought.

It hurt like hell, but it also pushed him to act.

Right before they arrived at his room, Forde spoke up. “N-Nolan, there’s something important I have to tell you.” Though he very much wanted those words to be I loved you, he knew he had to warn his friends. The invasion would end this very minute.

Nolan spun on his heel, and that was all Alan needed. Emerging from the room, still wearing nothing, he threw himself onto Nolan’s back and slipped something rubbery and blue into his mouth.

No…

There was little that could be done. These creatures were famed for their efficiency. After the conversion, would there be anything left of Nolan?

Would Forde be able to chat with him under the stars like those old, nostalgic days?

“Ah! Aw fuck!” Nolan said as he pulled his shorts and underwear down. He was completely exposed, and the heat returned to Forde’s crotch. “Wh-What was that? Why am I so fucking horny…?!” said Nolan as his body began to convulse.

“Nice acquisition, brother,” said Alan as he stepped over the writhing Nolan. “I’ll leave this to you. The preparations of the pool shall be my responsibility.”

Forde didn’t answer. He just looked down at Nolan who was eagerly spreading his legs and fondling himself as his skin glistened with sweat. With every second that passed, each stroke, Forde found it harder and harder to resist. Eventually, throwing his shame and disgust to the wind, he stripped down and fulfilled his desire.

“Aw, aw fuck, you got a big-ass cock, Forde,” Nolan moaned as he eagerly moved his hips with each thrust. “F-FUCK! Fuck me good, fuck me tight! Just fuck me until I can’t move anymore.” He writhed on the floor, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Forde slammed into him and the slime slithered into his brain. The sensations grew to be too much, and his core tightened as he screamed, “G-God, I’m—NNG—I’M FUCKING CUMMING!” Rubbing his chest with one arm and jacking off with the other, Nolan shot several ropes of cum all over himself as the convulsions grew in intensity. He could no longer speak, and Forde knew that soon he would no longer think.

“I’m sorry…”

However, he held onto the hope that Nolan would end up like him. We can stop this together, he thought. It’s not over yet.

Forde sat next to Nolan’s convulsing body and prepared to wait. Praying was a laughable thing to a creature such as him, but he did so anyway. In the middle of his prayer, he reached down and gently intertwined his fingers with Nolan’s. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

[taecalikook]

Love, Rekindled.

summary : even if you’d rather cut your tongue short than to admit it, love was easy when it was with Jungkook—no matter how short it had been. yet when the guy fortuitously joined your company four months ago, he has been an expert in pulling your strings that you’ve been fighting every will to punch in his annoyingly ravishing face. but can you further deny the old feelings to rekindle when a certain company event and a group of gullible friends are involved?

{enemies2lovers! au, ex!au, professional!au}

pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (side kim taehyung)

genre : major fluff, slight angst, mutual pining and smut!

word count : 32.780 (one-shot)

warning ! fingering, sex with feelings, dirty talk, big dick, jealousy, dom(?), raw (use protection yall) its my first smut story soooooooo bear with me lol enjoy! 

=====================================

Working directly after you graduate in one of the biggest fast moving consumer goods companies in the country might be the dream. While to an extent it might be true, you realize that you have so many things to sacrifice—including your sanity and personal life.

So one dawn you spent all night working on the procurement report you have to submit to the finance team in just five hours, you are so distressed you bawl your eyes out so hard you feel like it is about to fall off. You were too loud to the point that Namjoon, your roommate, was awakened and had to console and accompany you, finishing the report for another hour until you could finally sleep.

And the next morning when you wake up after only three hours of sleep, you have to drive early in the morning to submit the signed reports to the finance team. You are not ecstatic to say the least. Not only that you had the worst night and don’t have the time to conceal your excessive eye bags, you have to submit the physical report to the most notorious, annoying person to ever exist—Jeon Jungkook.

You don’t even understand why destiny had to be that cruel to pair you with Jungkook for a tad bit too many of your tasks. He is annoying, self-centered, impolite, and probably the worst person that you have ever worked with. And it is quickly proven when you are going to submit the report and stride to his desk, finding he is still calmly typing on the laptop. Irritated by how divine he looks at eight in the morning compared with your hideous self, you slam the report right beside his laptop.

“Here it is. And once again thank you for making me change every fucking numbers in that report right the night before.” You hisses, folding your arms in front of your chest. He looks up to you with a grin, his fingers swiftly opening the report.

“I’m sorry, dear but if you wanna complain, you can directly do it to your boss.” He chuckles lightheartedly, and you roll your eyes in disgust. How can he still be this composed is beyond you. “And besides, it’s your team who mistakenly input the data. How is it my fault?”

“I can actually give you an essay for that as an answer, but I don’t want to violate the rules since we are now in working hours.” You harshly respond, tapping your feet impatiently while his eyes are skimming the report.

Another five minutes until Jungkook closes the report with a loud tap and smirk in mirth at your obvious disconcert. “So is that an invitation for a meet-up outside working hours?”

You hiss after hearing such an expected sentence coming out from the jerk. He really is that self-centered, and it shouldn’t have baffled you by now. “I hope you are very well aware that you are annoying and I don’t like you.”

“I am aware of that, beautiful. You have explicitly reminded me in every email chain—better tell me something I don’t know.”

“Nah, I don’t have anything good to say for you.” You scoff and stomp your heels around to leave him behind. The fury is still booming inside your head, so you repetitively let go of your breath, trying to detox your mind of his annoying, but forsakenly handsome face of that jerk out of your mind.

After arriving at your desk, you throw your belongings on the desk and sit on your seat after sighing loudly. It immediately attracts the attention of one of the team peers who sits beside you, Hoseok.

“Wow. Why the long face, Y/N? It’s Friday, lighten up a little.”

“I literally cannot ‘lighten up’ if I keep on working with Jeon Jungkook. Is there any way I can just… not see him or contact him even just for a day? Or even better, forever?!” You hiss while raucously opening your laptop. Hoseok chuckles in amusement.

“Y/N, I don’t know why you are so against the guy. Yes, I know he might be a little cocky—”

“A little?!” You immediately cut Hoseok, but he has been in this conversation too many times before to know that he needs to continue before you begin your patriotic speech of why Jungkook doesn’t deserve anything good in his life.

“—but he is not that bad. People, especially girls like the guy. He is great looking, charming and good with words. One of the best in his team too, even with such short time joining the company I even heard he might be promoted soon. I think you should give him a chance.” Hoseok shrugs.

You huff and stare at Hoseok in heavy betrayal painted in your face. “That’s not going to happen, Hoseok. Yes, I know people might be blind and think so highly of that cocky ass jerk, but you are my friend and should be educated about not seeing one person only by the assumption of other people. Jungkook is not as good as everyone thinks he is.”

“But why? I know you, Y/N. And I know this is not hatred only based on work—there is something else that happened.” Hoseok calmly speaks his mind, but it successfully throws you off guard. Not that you want to admit it, you are well aware that the dislike you got for the guy is not majorly caused by professional work. But you’d rather bite your hand off rather than voluntarily telling it to someone else.

Seeing how silent you have become, Hoseok immediately turns aghast. “Just a shot in the dark... Did you sleep with this guy before?”

The thought immediately puts you to shame and your face turns vermillion. God, how can he say that?! “What are you saying?!” You squeal in alarm, and you do realize you are too shocked to even speak clearly right now. Damn Hoseok and his outstanding deduction skill! “You are talking nonsense now, Hobi. Why-why would—fuck this I’m going to the restroom.”

You can hear Hoseok's distinctive laughter behind you when you stride towards the restroom, and the desire to knock your head to the wall is too much. You are literally fucked.

*

After working hours, you are finally able to escape the office and ask Namjoon to accompany you and eat in your favorite steak restaurant near both your offices. Namjoon looks at you munching on your steak like a starved woman while silently sipping his glass of red wine.

“Well, I never understood how people say they can get full only by seeing someone else eat, but I kinda get it now.”

You glare at him and hiss, stabbing the steak with your fork in pique. “Stop bothering me! I hate it. I hate everything! Work sucks, life sucks, everything sucks. And I literally don’t have any friends to hangout on friday night beside my own roommate whom I see nearly 24/7. I really had no life beside work it’s embarrassing—”

Namjoon winces, and you immediately halt every movement and stare at him in shock. You know that gaze. It literally screams apology and regret.

“About that…”

You gasp and smash your utensils in the table that few other people are glancing weirdly your way, but you cannot care enough about those prodding eyes. “No! You can’t do this to me, Namjoon! You are ditching me tonight, aren’t you?!”

He grimaces. “I’m sorry, Y/N but I promised the guys for drinking tonight. It’s already planned since god knows when, I can’t bail on them.” You sigh, massaging your aching temple. Noticing how upset you’ve been—probably due to the possibility of ending the stressful weekend only in your pajamas watching bad tv shows, Namjoon quickly continues. “But you can come if you want! We would love to have you there.”

You suddenly put your hand together, moving closer to Namjoon in vivid interest. There’s a possibility to drink your pain away tonight and you are all down for it. “I would love to! I am so stressed lately, I desperately need an outlet. I am going crazy for this work and another second just sitting around I will go mad. And I would love to hangout with the guys! It’s Seokjin, Hoseok, and the others right?!”

“Yeah… about that.” Namjoon’s hesitance is too obvious that you immediately squint your eyes in suspicion. “Yes, I’m with those guys. But there is one additional person joining us and… you won’t like it.”

You giggle at his concern, easily shrugging it away. “Who? I don’t think so, Namjoon. Don’t underestimate me, I may not be as friendly or outgoing as you are, but I can manage to meet new people well and—”

“It’s Jeon Jungkook.”

You immediately close your eyes and heave a breath, your fingers are gripping hard on the edge of the table until Namjoon literally had to move his chair a step back out of fright. It is not the first time he had to face your immeasurable wreath, and it is literally not a good sight he’d do anything to avoid it to happen ever again.

“Why?! In what circumstances would you ever hang out with that bastard?!”

“It just happened! Jimin is friends with the guy, both are from the same department as well. He is new and nice—to us, at least.” He quickly adds before you go into a screaming match yet again. “It’s harmless! And he needs friends too, Y/N. He is new in the city, and doesn't have many friends. I still have no idea how you can even hate the guy when he literally just entered his four months in town.”

You look up to Namjoon aloofly. Jungkook has no friends? What happened to the jerk you knew a few years back? He seemed to be doing well with his bunch of jerks he called as friends. “Pssh—I don’t really care about that. Just do whatever you want!” You childishly pout and continue in stabbing your steak. You know that with Namjoon you can always count on him being a brother that would gladly endure your annoying traits and childishness.

“Hey, I am sorry. Don’t be mad, okay? What if we get ice cream tomorrow, hmm?” He kindly persuades and then you are unable to prolong your fake burst. There is no way you can stay mad at him, as he is literally a heaven-sent angel to you. You don’t even know how you can stay sane if it weren’t for your kind roommate.

“M‘kay. But you’re paying and I am taking home a litre of shooting star ice cream.”

Namjoon sighs and you giggle at his easy forfeit. “You are neither easy on the eyes nor to my wallet. I hope you understand how generous I am to still want to participate in this friendship.”

“By the way, have you seen VoE email this afternoon?” Namjoon nonchalantly asks, smiling to the waitress that places his own steak. You meekly shake your head, cause ain’t nobody got time to read another email from the Voice of Employee team. You already arranged your inbox neatly and automated those emails to be placed inside the folder which named ‘emails i probably will never read ever in this lifetime’. “I shouldn’t have asked, of course you haven’t.” He continues, unimpressed and you grin devilishly at that.

“So, they announced the new employee engagement event. This year’s event is kind of a blind pen pal thingy that is arranged by Jimin.” Namjoon explains while cutting his steak in boxes. “Albeit lame, I thought it was kind of interesting. You should join, you know?”

“Pen pal?” You scrunch your eyebrow. The idea is not appalling even a little to you. “Really? What year does he think it is?”

“It could be fun! You know it must be nice meeting new people across the company. Funny that they also recommend the participant to hide their identities and stay anonymous while chatting at least for the first few weeks.”

“What? That’s so lame! Why do they have these kinds of things?!” You giggle and shake your head in.

“Actually, because people like you, Y/N. You said yourself that you had no friends and life outside work. It could be great to meet someone new and talk freely, even in the company. It’s also good that it’s anonymous in the first weeks so people won't be judgy and busy talking about work stuff and making friends instead.” Namjoon replies back and you pretend hurt at the truth shoved at your face.

“Ouch! That hurts.” You jokingly wince but nonetheless shrug. “I think it kinda made sense, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come on! It can't be that bad.” Namjoon groans at your stubbornness. “You know you have to pick an employee engagement event. If you choose to go with your boss for the fishing competition event when you know he’ll talk about work all the time, I’ll gladly say go for it. And you literally can’t even boil water, there’s no way you’ll be joining the ‘masterchef’ event. Or that singing competition! Are you kidding me? No way.”

You sigh at the reminder since Namjoon is indeed correct. There’s no way you’d be joining the other engagement events since you are talentless in nearly any other area, and whilst pretending you can cook might be interesting, the possibility of burning the whole kitchen is not since you are not risking the lives of others because of your carelessness. And singing is the one you already gave up on. You are not embarrassing yourself and be the joke of the year in front of your boss and colleagues.

“Gosh..I hate it when you are correct. I’ll think about it later, okay?” You frustratedly hiss, ruffling your hair in distress. “Let’s talk about something else, please.”

After another half an hour chatting while you finish your food, you and Namjoon quickly pay with another dramatic debate of which one of you will pay. After humorlessly swearing that you will twist his figurine if he still insists on paying, you easily win the debate and pay instead.

“So, are you going straight to the bar?” You inquire after walking out of the restaurant. Namjoon hums and swiftly picks the phone from his pocket, checking his friend’s current whereabouts.

“Nope, I think they should be here anytime soon, but—”

“Namjoon! Y/N!”

Both of your eyes quickly divert to three guys coming your way. It’s Jimin’s jovial voice calling your name, Hoseok beside him and… Jungkook. The huff instinctively comes out of your mouth after noticing the guy wearing a blue navy buttoned up shirt who irritatingly still looks too good for him. Noticing that Jungkook’s intense gaze is never diverted from you, you quickly shift your face somewhere else.

“You guys finished the dinner?” Jimin asks and you nod with a smile. “Ah, long time talking to you again, Y/N! I am sad we don’t get to work together again.”

You giggle, definitely sensing the irony in his sentence. The fact that he is assigned to another project in Finance was the biggest turning hill in your career, as it was also the point you were introduced to Jeon Jungkook, as the new hire who replaced him and whom you would be working closely with. You don’t even want to remember how stricken and betrayed you felt at that time.

“Yup, true.” You quickly smile and clearly avoid both Jungkook whom you detect is still staring at you and Hoseok who is literally glancing at Jungkook staring at you. This is getting ridiculous and you detest each awkward second spent with these men.

“Hey! You guys know that we are sending the last reminder for choosing an employee event!” Jimin suddenly chirps and you wince. “I noticed you guys haven’t been picking yours.”

“Last reminder? I thought it was just announced this afternoon.” Namjoon innocently asks while scratching his temple. Jimin instantly sighs in distress.

“I began sending it two weeks ago, Namjoon. Damn it!” He hisses and Namjoon immediately points at you.

“Y/N didn’t even read the email!” You slap his shoulder quickly in embarrassment. Jimin looks at you in disappointment and you smile, inevitably guilty for him.

“You guys are such a pain in the ass. I’ll be waiting for your emails monday morning. And please do pick the pen pal option arranged by me!” He singsongs proudly. You nod dubiously. “There’s a lot in store and I can guarantee you it would be very fun!”

You are still nodding, before looking to Namjoon. Freaking Jungkook is still reading you like you are a book, so you need to head out fast before anything unwanted happens. “So, I think I’ll head out first. You guys have fun—”

“Let’s go together! I parked in our usual.” Namjoon says and you briskly nod, your legs are desperate to put distance between you and Jungkook’s intense and unnecessary stare. You bite your tongue to hold yourself from snapping. Seriously, what is wrong with that guy?!

“Namjoon, Jungkook is going with you, he didn’t bring his car. Hoseok is pooling with me, we need to stop somewhere first.” Jimin nonchalantly mentions but you are immediately struck. Why?! Why would Jungkook pool with Namjoon? It means that you are going to spend another five minutes walking to your car parked in the basement where you’ll have to spend an elevator ride with him. Ugh, even the thought repulses you.

“Let’s go. Seokjin and Yoongi are already on the way to the bar and ten bucks say Yoongi is cranky as fuck now.” Hoseok wriggles his eyebrows at you. You reponds by mouthing him curse words as you know what he is implying. He is clearly having fun at your misery.

“Y/N, let’s go.” Namjoon quickly intercepts your clear avoidance for Jungkook by pulling you by the elbow. He gestures Jungkook to follow behind the two of you.

It was only uncomfortable silence even inside the lift that descends to the parking lot. You are this close to Jungkook, but you are still feeling his wary glances on your skin. It is too much of a burden and your last string snaps, unable to hold yourself.

“Is there something on my face?” You spit at him. Jungkook immediately looks away. Instead of answering with another trash reply, he decides to stay silent. Well, that’s new.

“So, tomorrow we need to choose an employee event. Can I sign you up for the pen pal one?” Namjoon asks suddenly, probably trying to take your minds off things, especially the fury you have for Jungkook.

“Namjoon, I don’t think so. At this rate I think I’ll just join that fishing one.”

Suddenly, an unexpected voice behind you is heard. “I don’t know, but they say fishing needs patience and you clearly are lacking that one, Y/N.”

You immediately throw your head back and glare at Jungkook. He nonchalantly looks back like he did not just diss you. “The fuck you say?!”

“I said what I said. I thought you’d know that by now.” He smiles civilly, and you just know he is the one begging you to snap and scratch your claws at him.

“Come here you little shit—“

Namjoon instantly holds you by the waist, stopping all your movement. “Y/N, don’t! Let’s go now.” He reliably holds you and leads you back to your car until Jungkook is safely out of your sight.

“Y/N, enough. It doesn’t matter. Just go home and take some rest.” He persuades and you have to take multiple breathes in and out to calm yourself. “I know you are angry but please don’t run him with your car.” He jokes, but you immediately form a chilling smirk with your lips.

“That’s a great idea, actually.” You vigorously pat your wheels.

“Y/N, I was joking, please—“

You giggle at his clear fright. “I’m joking too. I’m okay, Namjoon. He was just being a jerk again. I got used to it. That’s not even the most hurtful thing he said to me. I’m fine.”

Namjoon heaves a breath and moves to pat your head with a grin. “You gave me a fright, you fool. Drive save, okay? Let me know when you’re home.”

You hum and Namjoon moves to close your door. You move your car and catch Jungkook standing on the side. He was waving at you with a condescending smile, the one you answer by flipping him off.

*

It’s been nearly two in the morning. You are exhausted, but your body is still too much alive to be sleeping right now. At times, your body is still accustomed to your college routine when you’d only be sleepy when there’s still so much to do. Usually at these times, you would be watching movies with Namjoon, commenting on every single thing you can comment about the movie while he’d do anything to shut you up.

Already going to the sixth episode of your netflix series, you glance at your phone. Speaking of Namjoon, you notice that he hasn’t given you any signs of going back home. He always does, especially when drinking out with friends. The thought suddenly scares you that something might have happened to him, so you quickly dial his number.

Three beeps and finally someone picks up. “Hello? Namjoon? Where are you? Are you not coming home? If you’re not you should’ve told me sooner!”

An incoherent groan is heard along with a faint voice of someone you’d rather not mention. Another seconds of silence until an abrupt deafening, slurry voice is heard. It’s still him. Jeon Jungkook. “Y/N, can you help us? Namjoon passed out and I am not completely sober enough to drive. Come here and get us, please?”

“Ugh, get a taxi! It’s freaking two in the morning, I don’t want to go.” You groan, even if inside you are contemplating. Namjoon is drunk, and he brought his car with him. You’ll not be able to sleep if knowing he is out there drunk and in need of help. “Where are the others? Can’t they get you home?”

Five seconds of awkward whimpering of Jungkook babies himself, refusing to give Namjoon’s phone to someone else. It turns out to be Yoongi, also your workmate from IT. ”Y/N? Y/N! I am so happy you picked up. Can you get these guys? Everyone here beside me is drunk, and this petite body of mine can only take Hoseok and Jimin since they’re in my building as well. Can you please get your huge ass roommate home?”

You sigh, aloofly agreeing to help Yoongi. The place they are drinking is not far from your apartment, so not even bothering to change your peppa pig pajamas, you overlay it with a peach sweater and hitch a taxi right after.

Not even fifteen minutes on the way you finally arrive. The bar itself was rather vacant, the music has changed, and you can immediately detect a group of moron on the corner booth of the bar, looking severely drunk. Detecting your presence, Yoongi instantly lightens up.

“Y/N! Y/N thank god.” Yoongi exhales. “I really fucking desprate to go home. Can you bring Namjoon and Jungkook together? Jungkook lives near your apartment, and he is not that drunk. Just drop him off in front of his buildings, or whatever.”

You groan in distaste. “Really? I really have to bring this guy with me?” You peer your squinted eyes at Jungkook who is limping to stand beside you.

Jungkook rests his palm on your shoulder with an intoxicated smile, wiggling his eyebrows. “Yes. Let me come along, Y/N. I promise we’ll have fun, hmm?”

You instantly push him away in disgust, the empathy you surprisingly have for him has disappeared into thin air. “I’m not getting in any car with you, jackass. Have a great time sleeping on the street.”

Yoongi groans at your stubbornness. It is not an uncommon sight as he is already well informed of your bad blood with Jungkook. “Y/N, for the love of god please stop arguing with a drunk idiot and lets just go fucking home.”

Still scowling, you move to wake up Namjoon, circling his arms around your shoulder. Jungkook is somehow still sober enough to voluntarily help you carrying the giant to his car. After safely securing Namjoon on the back, you stride to the driver seat and Jungkook follows to sit on the passenger seat  beside you. Driving out, it was only cold silence inside the car that you have to glance to see if Jungkook is asleep. It turns out he is not sleeping, instead catching him stealing glances at you.

“What the hell are you looking at?” You frown at him. He shrugs, diverting his eyes to the window. Another three minutes of silence until he opens his voice.

“Are you dating Namjoon?”

You stare at him, befuddled. What the fuck is he prattling about? “I am quite certain it is none of your business. Why are you asking anyway?”

“Nothing, just a question. You don’t have to answer.” He somberly responds, not mimicking the edge in your tone the way you expect him to. It leaves a sour taste in your tongue, feeling guilty in such a strange way.

“Namjoon and the other asked me why we hate each other so much.”

At the sudden information, your body tense. Namjoon asked him? Did he possibly tell the guys about what happened between the two of you? Even the thought only scares your whole being. “And what did you say?”

He heaves a deep breath once again. “I said I don’t not hate you. You may hate me, but I never hate you.”

The answer and his tone is astoundingly civil, so you glance at him in confusion. Hard to believe it is him talking right now. “What are you saying?”

He massages his temple. “I never hate you, Y/N. I know. I know what happened between us. And even if it’s too late, I know I was wrong and you have all rights to be furious at me.”

The fingers you have on the wheel tightens. You don’t know why you feel this way. The moment Jungkook acknowledges the mistakes he has made, it seems like everything shifts into a different light. You bit your lips in irresolution. Is it actually you who is too irrational not to let go something that is clearly in the past?

As if not realizing your current distress, Jungkook continues. “I know there is no time we’re not at each other’s throat, but I always wanted to ask how you’ve been. Are you living okay? How is your family, is everything good now?”

At his questions, you find yourself snapped. You don’t need it. You don’t need his sympathy. All things he said are never going to change what he did, and frankly it is too hard to imagine he might have changed. You had enough of him and his bullshit and one thing you will never do is to repeat history again. You are not that much of an idiot.

“Save it, Jungkook. I don’t want to hear it.” You shakily say, the tears are already swarming at the corner of your eyes. “I’ve had it enough. I am not going back again to that phase again. You hurt me, bad. And I’m not an idiot whom you can fool around with and will be there at your doorstep the moment you want it.”

“Y/N, I—”

You immediately step on the break that jerks everyone inside the car including you. “This is your apartment, right?” If you’re explicit gesture for him to fuck off is not clear, you don’t know what is—but it seems like he understands well enough and reluctantly nods. Releasing his seatbelt, he gazes at you again, eyes swarming with anonymous emotion.

“Just so you know, I never told them anything—what happened between us, I mean. I’ll never say that to anybody. If you still hate me this much, I know it’s not my place to tell.”

You are still unmoving, only looking straight ahead as he dejectedly continues. “I know this is wistful thinking, but I wish we can sometime talk, Y/N. Just talk. Like two people who are not desperate to hurt each other, or to bicker, or anything.”

You shift your head, ironically smirk at him with tears already falling down your face. Talk? Now he wants to talk to you? Does he think you’re a joke? He is a bastard and you should’ve known better than to deal further with him again.

“Well, maybe you’ve lost your chance to talk when you told me to fuck off that time.”

*

After spending all weekend balled up inside your blanket while Namjoon constantly queried you about what happened, it is finally Monday morning. You woke up in a troubled mood, all because the first thing you do in the morning is to prepare for the 8.30 meeting you have with your boss and team, in which one person from finance is invited and it is freaking Jeon Jungkook. You literally have no idea what happened to your luck, since everything seems to be going downhill recently.

Arriving exactly in time, you can see two of your planning teammates, Hoseok and Jungkook are already seated. You greet them and directly take a seat beside Hoseok, silently opening your laptop to prepare the meeting, trying to be as nonchalant as ever. You notice that Jungkook is avoiding your eyes at all costs, and you are grateful for it. Your boss arrives directly in a minute, and then the meeting starts.

An hour into the meeting, your boss finally concludes. While you are arranging your belongings, your boss unexpectedly asks. “Y/N, for the employee engagement. Which one do you choose? If you’re still unsure, you should pick fishing. We can team up, and maybe talk about the project—”

The thoughts alone scares you and you abruptly answer in panic. Inside you are cursing Namjoon and his great predicting skills. “No, sir. I am picking the pen pal one. Might be great to meet and make new friends.”

He nods in understanding, and right after he walks out of the meeting room Hoseok chuckles. “Smart choice, Y/N. Otherwise you'll be stuck discussing work and faking laughs all the time.”

Smiling, you look up to Jungkook who stands near you. You feel the cold of nerves over his intimidating presence.

“Gotta go, talk to you another time.”

He quickly walks out, a tad bit surprising to both you and Hoseok. There is something different about Jungkook—he is not the confident, all-rounders man he used to be. There is a hint of rush in his voice and you might have an idea why.

*

“So, have you received your pen pal username?”

You look up to Namjoon, before re-reading the email Jimin sent to you yesterday about the person you are going to be anonymously chatting with. You’ve already downloaded the chatting applications, signing up yourself yesterday and now it’s you who should add and start the chat.

“Yes. I have, actually.” You breath out, before throwing it back on the sofa. “I don’t even know why I’m nervous! This doesn’t make sense. This is just talking, Y/N. Get your shit together.”

“I am now chatting with a certain person, username doofenshmirtz.” Namjoon mentions while typing on his phone. “I don’t know whether this is a good sign that she or he loves doctor doofenshmirtz or just another heartless jerk like anybody else.”

“Well if it's the preceding, he or she is indeed a keeper.” You hum in agreement, finally braving yourself to add. But now you have to begin the chat! God, this is indeed a struggle. “I am so awkward. What do people usually say to introduce themselves?”

“Well, most people usually go with a simple ‘hello’.”

You sigh at Namjoon’s useless advice, but when you are typing, sudden pop up chats arrive, shocking you altogether.

91snowball : wow, this really work [21:38]

91snowball : tell me if i’m correct or fuck it i’ll just delete this app now [21:39]

“Snowball is chatting with me right now!” You freak out, raise to your knees in tension. “Namjoon, what should I do! I don’t know what to say!”

Namjoon weirdly glances at you, then proceeds to continue whatever he is doing on his phone. “Just say something. Why are you thinking about it too much…”

blueberry_25 : yes i think we are pen pals😅 [21:40]

91snowball : ah, finally [21:40]

91snowball : so get this, blueberry_25. Which one travels faster? hot or cold [21:40]

Your eyebrows wrinkle at the unexpected riddle, but giggle otherwise. “My pen pal just asked me a riddle. Which one travels faster, hot or cold.”

Namjoon groans in disgust. “If the answer is hot because you can catch a cold you better block that person right now. That’s super fucking lame, what the hell.”

blueberry_25 : did you just search ice breaking riddles at google because i read the same one you asked me lol [21:42]

91snowball : wtf haha thats embarrassing but since you did too im fine 🥴 [21:43]

But soon enough, you find yourself chatting to snowball until nearly two in the morning. It is beyond you how easy it is to talk with him, about the recent movies, your unending love for how i met your mother, his addiction to brooklyn nine nine, and a little about each other. You know he is a male around your age (as you decide not to disclose age, just range) and he loves skiing. You tell him about your love of classical and grunge music—in which fascinates him due to the heavy contrast of the two—and ending it with a debate about which music defines puberty the most, my chemical romance or fall out boy. Both of you agree to end it with a draw.

In the end, snowball kindly reminds you you should be sleeping and have a good rest for tomorrow’s work. Reluctantly agreeing, you thank him and say you’re looking forward to the next chat. Even with the exhaustion you feel, you can only fall asleep after reading your exhilarating chat with him for one more time.

You forget how easy it is to talk to someone new. Or maybe you have been trying to forget you ever did.

*

Walking to your desk, you rest all your belongings and open your laptop. Hoseok beside you instantly slides his chair next to yours, eyes squinted and eyebrows scrunched.

“Why the fuck are you singing in nine in the morning, that’s so unlike you.”

You look at him in confusion. Are you singing? You did not even realize. “Oh, am I singing? Sorry if it bothers you, I didn’t know.”

The horrified look in Hoseok’s face is getting prominent. “You literally never apologize in the mornings. You always have a foul mood with an ugly frown on your face. Tell me who kidnapped you! Are you even Y/N?!”

You roll your eyes at his dramatic response. “Yes, I know I haven’t been in the best mood lately, but just let me live, okay? And why is this chocolate on my desk, this is yours.”

Hoseok looks at the ferrero rocher leaning on your desk with the small card on it. “It’s not mine. But let me check.” He swiftly takes the chocolate and pulls the card, his eyes scanning the words written on it. Five seconds passes before the mirth is detected on his face.

“This is not mine, this is for you.”

Flustered, you quickly take the card back from Hoseok’s grasp and read it. Someone is sending you chocolate, along with a hot pack glued on the back, and you don’t have any idea who or why.

It might be a little cold since it’s November soon, so here's a hot pack and also chocolate for you. Hope you’re having a great day today, Y/N!

“Wow, a secret admirer? The fuck, this is 2020–who does that anymore.” Hoseok cringes while getting back to his seat. Even so, he quickly opens his skype with a mischievous smile on his face. What an obvious moron, he giggles to himself.

*

“I told you a million times it is not me, Y/N.”

It is lunch at your office cafeteria, while Namjoon looks at you in distress at your accusation of him sending the chocolate you also bring with you to lunch. Hoseok is silently sitting in front of both of you, with Yoongi and Jimin on both his sides.

“But who else? There is no one supportive enough to send me a chocolate and a freaking hot pack beside you.” You huff while cutting your broccoli. Namjoon sighs, glancing at Hoseok discreetly.

“Even though I’m honored that I’m the only one who is strong enough to be your emotional support, it’s not me, and—“

“Enough about that! Hey, how’s it going with your pen pal?” Jimin suddenly asks, a wide smile on his face. You expect Jimin to ask the question to anyone, so when you notice the table is too silent you find everyone is peering at you.

“Why are you asking me?! Ask Hoseok.”

“It was so so. A man from HR.” Hoseok nonchalantly answers. “And we only introduced ourselves last night.”

“Mine was fine! She’s a girl from procurement.” Namjoon smiles. “But yeah, we just introduced ourselves last night. Maybe I should talk to her again today.”

“I just knew he is a guy. I didn’t really know where he’s from, but he’s around my age. It was great! He was very kind, and we had fun.” You nod silently.

“Fun? You literally were laughing like a hyena at 2 in the morning. I heard it through the wall.” Namjoon snorts and you side-glare him. Namjoon’s loose lips again, what’s new. “I figure it must be your pen pal, right? What ‘fun’ were you having, Y/N?”

“You’re literally disgusting, Namjoon.”

“Hey, Jungkook! Sit here!”

You instantly look up, finding Jungkook’s eyes peering at your desk, a tray of food in his grasp. You don’t really know why, you really thought he was heading to your table—but when his eyes find yours, he immediately pauses on his step. “Ah, sorry but I am here with someone.” He thinly smiles and excuses himself.

Unable to hold yourself, you look to your back and find him sitting with the tables of girls whom you recognize is also in finance. You are not certain if it is only you, but those girls really seem to be too amazed at his presence, instantly leeching themselves to him. Even if it’s not really a strange view to you, it is difficult to hold back your scoff.

Same old, same old.

*

You are waiting in the lobby of your office for Namjoon, since you are not bringing your car with you today. He said he’ll come down soon, so you are waiting patiently—but then a pair catches your attention from the corner of your eyes. It is Jungkook and Seojoo—the one you recognize also from Finance who was also at lunch with him.

You don’t even realize your eyes are squinted at those two, along with a scowl on your face. But at the possibility of being caught, you instinctively divert your eyes and duck your head to the other side. Even still Jungkook somehow is still able to capture you and head to your side. At that you internally curse.

“Y/N, why are you here? You’re not heading home?” He asks in concern, closing to you while your eyebrows wrinkle at his so-called familiarity. What is he doing talking so assertively—does he really think you are on that basis with him?

“I’m waiting for someone.” You curtly answer, not even a shift in your expression.

“Who?”

You look at him while scrunching your eyebrows. What the hell does he think he has a right to ask you that? “No one. It’s okay, I’m going home.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with us? Seojoo here is pooling with me—Ah, sorry I was impolite. Do you know each other?” Jungkook asks, like he is suddenly waking up that there is someone beside the two of you. Holding back your snort, you put a strict smile and offer your hand to the woman who is not even concerned to hide even a bit of her judgmental eyes at you.

“Seojoo.” She whispers which you mutter your name as a response and fuck is it awkward. You can obviously feel that Seojoo is marking his territory around Jungkook and you don’t fancy it one bit. Why does she have to feel that way towards you?

“Seojoo, you said you are going to the restroom. Aren’t you going?” Jungkook suddenly asks after your short and tense introduction. At that, Seojoo is bewildered, presumably bothered by the thought of leaving you alone with him, like you are going to eat him up right after she leaves. Fuck, what is wrong with her...

She hesitates, “I’m fine, though—”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be waiting here. You can go.” Jungkook amicably says with a wide smile, and the insecure chick had no other option than to comply. After she leaves, his prodding eyes are immediately focused on you.

“Can you just say to that fling of yours that I am just a nobody? I will not steal you, damn it. If looks can kill I’ll already bleed to death right now.” You scowl in irk. But just seeing your scowl somehow brings giggles to his smile. “Why are you laughing, you dumbass?”

“You know what, if I’m that presumptuous I’d think you are jealous right now.”

You scrunch your nose, severely abhorred by his annoying big head. “But you are that presumptuous.”

“Exactly.”

Irritated, you push him by the chest until he erupts in loud laughter. “Fuck, why should I be jealous? We are literally nothing and will never be more than that—Gosh, we’re not even friends.”

“Well that’s just saddening.” He frowns while clutching on his chest even though he cannot say it’s not expected. “What are you saying, Y/N? We are more than that, we go way back and you know it.”

You hum and fake a contemplating expression. “Hmm, you’re right but I’m drawing blanks here. How did it go again?”

The wide mischievous grin on his lips dims, shifts into a thin smile. “I could not change the past, I know. But you know regardless of what happened—”

“I’m done.” Seojoo suddenly says, clings on Jungkook’s arm that it stops whatever words he is about to say and you are kind of thankful for that. “We can go now.”

Finally detecting Namjoon tapping out to the lobby in such perfect timing, you send both of the morons a lofty grin. “I should go. You guys have fun, but don’t forget a condom, okay?” You turn your gaze to flabbergasted Seojoo. “Or you know what? Maybe you should prick on it too, so then he’ll stay forever. But if I were you, I wouldn’t count on it. Good luck!”

You can sense the jaw drops at such provocative statements coming out of you, but you don’t even give an ounce of care and leave the scene. After managing to humiliate or hurt both of them, you feel good. You feel strong. However, when Namjoon is at your side and glances at you, he shouts, utterly stupefied.

“Y/N, why—why are you crying?!”

*

It’s eleven pm, you are still settled inside your blanket. You are physically tired, but still your mind is too conflicted to sleep. Half is because of your work, and the other half is caused by that freaking jerk, Jeon Jungkook.

You despise the fact that you are still thinking about him. You suppose to be hating on that guy, but even the hatred is too difficult to maintain right now with his strangely devoted and warm self. Even if it’s a hard to swallow pill, you know you’re enjoying the banter with him. God, you are fucking weak for Jungkook and you hate it.

Rolling in your bed, you try to remember the bad things he has done for you. Forgetting you, abandoning you, playing with your heart like it did not matter—but it eventually ends with the treasured moments with him you wish will never resurface again. Like the moment he holds you all night after your parents fight. Or the moment he defends your honor like it matters the most. Or the moment he first kissed you that fateful, rainy night. Everything is coming back to you now like a trainwreck.

Suddenly among your wandering thoughts, your phone rings. Heaving deeply, you pick up to detect a new message on your anonymous chatting apps. It’s snowball.

91snowball : hi hi hi hi hi what are you doing [23:02]

91snowball : are you sleeping no you cant be sleeping dont sleep on me blue [23:02]

Chuckling, you proceed to type a response.

blueberry_25 : hahaha im not sleeping [23:03]

blueberry_25 : i can’t sleep. Too much thoughts [23:03]

91snowball : care to share? I swear im a good listener [23:05]

91snowball : someone bothering you at work? let me know and ill gass ‘em up for u blue [23:05]

blueberry_25 : really? you’d do that for me? ��[23:06]

91snowball : of course just tell me who it is they’ll be gone by tomorrow [23:06]

blueberry_25 : lol it’s nothing. Im just confused [23:07]

blueberry_25 : have u ever been confused about someone? Like u thought u hate them but… its hard to say you do [23:09]

You don’t even know why you just have the urge to tell a stranger about your current contemplation about Jungkook. You desperately need a third perspective on this, and maybe just telling it to someone that wouldn’t know and judge you might be a good change for once.

91snowball : why do u hate them? [23:09]

Blueberry_25 : he hurt and lied to me. when i thought there was something real, he was just in for fun and i should hate him. but why is it so hard to say so now? [23:10]

It’s true. Jungkook was someone you thought you’d love. You trust him so much that you opened up to him better than anyone else, and thought something was there. But all of it was just a lie—he was just in for the thrill. All because of his annoying male ego that made you realize he was just a patronizing jerk that used you for his own benefit and left when he’s done. He is the reason you are insecure about meeting someone new. He is the evil one.

91snowball : maybe because they changed? I know its hard to believe but people change too [23:12]

blueberry_25 : maybe… [23:14]

91snowball : what i’m saying, maybe you should give them a chance to explain? [23:15]

91snowball : but if they’re still the same, punch them and never see them again [23:16]

91snowball : you don’t want to be thinking about it forever, blue. just give the closure your heart deserves [23:17]

He is right, you desperately need closure with Jungkook so you can finally move on with your life—but even the thought scares you. A question arises inside your head that settles strangely in your chest—a question that answers why all your pain and resentment are still so vivid even after years have passed.

Closure with Jungkook scares you… Because you do not know if you’re ready to close it.

*

Another late night, but you are still sitting at your desk. All of your teams already went back, and Namjoon told you he went home an hour ago. He did offer to keep you company, but you quickly refuse, saying you’re doing alright on your own—but now you indeed start to regret your decision. You hate being alone, especially at night but you really need to finish the planning report asap for finance to check again. Seriously, these endless tasks are going to be the death of you.

“Why is this—” You furiously tap on backspace, anger rises inside your head. You have no idea why the recent planning process has too many hiccups like this. The data given to you is not tally, and you don’t even know why. There must be something wrong.

Among the stress inside your head, your eyes fall at the lilies resting on your desk and smiles. Your eyes linger on the notes stuck on it for already the nth time already today.

Here’s beautiful lilies for you. Hope you have a great day too today, Y/N!

“Hey, you are still here?”

Surprised, you abruptly look up, finding Jungkook’s concerned face at you. You release a deep breath of relief. “I thought you went home, it’s pretty late.” He continues apprehensively.

You clear your throat, suddenly finding it a bit hard to speak with the realization that it’s only the both of you on the whole level. “Yes, haven’t finished the report I need to submit. No worry, I’ll submit it soon.”

He carefully slides and sits on Hoseok’s seat beside you. “I’m okay if you submit this tomorrow. You should head back, you must be tired.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I just want to finish this tonight, head home and sleep.” You give him a short, civil smile before continuing your work. “You can go home if you want to. I’m okay.”

“I think I’d rather stay. My cousin is having ‘dinner’ with his girlfriend right now, god knows what I might go home to.” He lightly jokes, and it kinda works in entertaining you a little. You know based on your resentment to him you should curtly answer or ask him to leave, but you do know that you’d rather have someone as company right now, even though it has to be Jeon Jungkook.

“You got flowers?” He pensively asks after minutes of silence, raising his eyebrow.

You glance at him staring at the lilies at your desk. Suddenly, your throat dries and you don’t even know why. “Y-yes.”

“From who?”

“I.. I don’t know. Someone put this on my desk this morning.” You whisper, more to yourself. You hate yourself for explaining when you have the right not too, but deep down, this shameless part you are expecting Jungkook might be the one sending all these gifts. You know it makes no sense whatsoever—but involuntarily you are still foolishly hoping so. Yes, you are that delusional.

“A note too? Wow, a secret admirer. How poetic.” He sneers, then shifts his gaze back to his screen. At the obviously sarcastic tone, you scoff in irritation. What a jerk.

“You have a problem with that? What—jealous that you never have someone you truly care to give gifts to?”

He meaningfully stares at you, making it difficult to breathe. “It’s not true and you know it.”

At your befuddled expression, Jungkook sighs, not even wanting to prolong the debate. “But no. None whatsoever. I don’t care, it has nothing to do with me anyway.”

You bite your lips in evident shock and disappointment, and try your best to make the unpleasant thoughts disappear. Did he just implicitly address your past together? About the time he gave you a gift you could never forget for your whole lifetime? About the time when you foolishly thought he was someone you could give your heart to?

A few minutes passed in deep, tense silence and Jungkook is sitting beside you now, working on his own tasks. He is so focused on the screen, with his lean fingers stroking his chiseled jaw and he leans to the seat, eyebrows scrunching like something is bothering him so much. And the scar prominent on his upper left cheek is as palpable as ever, and you notice how much he has changed, but still hasn’t. Jungkook grew up really well from the last time you saw him a few years back. No wonder all the girls are flocking on him like he is a magnet or whatever.

“Hey, Y/N, get this.” Jungkook suddenly turns to you, and albeit surprised, you are trying to look as unfazed as ever—like you did not just spend minutes to admire his attractive features. Even if your face heats up at the possibility of Jungkook finding out your antics. “I see the reports from the planning and other supply chain teams are not tally. This has been going, since approximately two months ago. Do you have any idea why?”

You squint your eyes at the reports. Yes, it is the data you get from Junsu, the new-hire for your team. “I don’t really know why. I got this data from Junsu, he said he received it from the plant team.”

“I really think we should check this. I’m not sure.” Jungkook whispers, chewing on his lower lips. Another seconds of silence passes before he notices your intimidating stare on his face. “...everything okay, Y/N? Something’s bothering you? Are you tired?”

Fuck, you really spend those seconds staring at the way he chewed his lips. There must be something wrong in your head now. “No—no.. I’m just.. Yes! Yes, I’m tired. I think I need to go home.”

Jungkook nods in all seriousness while you are packing your belongings. You need to flee, fast. “Yes, you really should go home and rest. Let’s talk about this tomorrow again, hmm?”

“Yes, yes! Okay, see you tomorrow.” You hastily smile, quickly escape the room without minding his voice calling your name. Damn, you need to set your head straight. It is Jeon Jungkook you’re talking about here. You can’t be weak for him.

*

The night passess in a blink, and then the morning arrives a tad bit faster than you expect it to. Especially since you wake up to your boss' message, ordering you to come to his desk right after you arrive at the office—which means a disaster happened and you are not mentally prepared for that.

“Y/N, why the hell the sales director called and yelled at me?” Is your boss’ first sentence when you enter his room. You gulp instinctively, then move to proceed to sit because you know it won’t be over before it’s too long.

Another hour and you came out from the room looking as exhausted as ever. There is some mistake in either the planning and manufacturing side that creates untally numbers in reports between units which then escalates to the higher management. And now you have to manually check the numbers without the intervention of people and present it by tomorrow afternoon, which means you will have to go to the plant as of right now—it’s two and a half hours drive from your office.

Feeling terribly unfit to drive due to the pain in your head, you choose to get there by train—in which you spend by checking the numbers again for the first hour, but the pain in your head is getting unbearable and you decide to sleep it off. Few hours later, you finally arrive at the plant, weakly entering the office side of the plant. Upon finding a space to place your belongings, someone immediately catches your attention, finding him talking with a group of people and a stack of paper on his grasp. Are your eyes lying to you right now? Is he really here?

“...Jungkook?”

Hearing his name is called, Jungkook instinctively looks back to find your confused expression. The shock in his expression is palpable too. “Y/N? You’re here.”

“What are you doing here?”

He looks bewildered at your simple question. “I-I am talking to—to these people. Umm.. for my reports.”

Your eyebrows raised, as he should be coordinating with plant finance folks instead of your team. “But they are in supply chain.”

Jungkook is abashed, you sense it clearly. “Y-yes, I just—can we talk about this later? You can join us if you want, this might help you too.”

Decide to ignore the strange fact that he is here, you and Jungkook spend another hour talking to the manufacturing team, and then manage to get the in hand documentations of work orders. After settling inside the empty cubicle, you look at Jungkook who is already eagerly jumping into the documentations. “Hey. Are you here to help me?”

Jungkook looks at you, avoids your eyes and clears his throat. “No, of course not. Why would I? What’s in it for me? You’re talking nonsense now, Y/N.”

“But this shouldn’t be your job to go to the plant and check all the data.” You whisper, more to yourself while looking at the overwhelming stack of papers. “Why are you doing this?”

He suddenly stops, and looks at you with all seriousness painted on his eyes. “Don’t sweat on it, Y/N. Let’s just finish this and get to the bottom of it asap, okay? I am here to help.” Jungkook whispers and manages to silence your retaliation. Yes, you know you are seriously in need of help right now. Doing this alone will not be as helpful as having Jungkook with you, especially having to present the result by tomorrow afternoon—it makes no sense to do it alone.

Two months worth of documentation is a lot and overwhelming. And even after six hours working on it, you can only focus on the amount of work you still need to go through. The looming pain inside your head is not helping either.

“Hey, hey, you are pale, Y/N. What’s wrong?” Jungkook instantly stops when he detects you are unmoving, resting on your chair while closing your eyes. You yourself do not know why you are feeling so unwell today. “Hey, you haven’t eaten, right? Damn it, your blood pressure—wait here, I’ll grab you something to eat.”

Ah, that must be it. You just realized you haven’t eaten anything today beside one slice of bread in the morning. Especially with the low blood pressure, it must be taking a toll on you. But one thing that catches your attention is the fact Jungkook remembers your condition even after all these years—it settles strangely inside your chest.

In no time he is already back with a paper bag. “Here, I brought you this. Let’s eat in the pantry.” He immediately holds you by the shoulder, helping your weak legs to walk to the pantry. After ensuring you are sitting well, he opens the food box and juice and offers you the utensils. “I bought the first thing I saw, this should be good for your blood pressure. Eat.”

You nod thankfully and proceed to eat. After three spoons and a few minutes, you can finally breathe clearly. But as you see that Jungkook is just looking at you expectantly, you feel severely self-aware. “You’re not eating too?” You ask shyly.

Jungkook smiles and scratches his nape abashedly. “Sorry, ‘was so rushed that I forgot to buy one for me.”

He forgot to buy one for himself but buy this one for you? You instinctively offer him the food. “Eat this, then. We can share.”

Jungkook kindly rejects with a smile. “No, I’ll buy something else. Yours is too healthy for me.” He jokes and walks out of the pantry. Finally alone, you stare at the food in front of you, somehow frowning.  

*

“I really think we should go back.” Jungkook stubbornly says after the nth time debating whether you should stay in the office or go back to your two hours away apartment. The answer should be easy—you have to stay back since tomorrow you will be meeting another plant team. Especially since it’s already seven in the evening, and the plant is closing off soon. “But you need to rest! Stop forcing your body, you moron. You seriously can be sick because of your stubbornness, you know?”

“I’ve been through this! You should’ve seen me in college, I do this every single time. I’m good and alive now. See?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, folding his arms to his chest. “Really? And tell me how’d it go again?”

You wince at the remembrance that you were bedrested more than you’re proud of, all because of your bad habits of staying late and overworking yourself. A question arises inside your head, but you briskly push it away. “You know Jungkook, you’re worse than my aunt, you know that?”

He giggles, showing his bunny teeth that somehow knocks the air off your chest. That heartfelt smile, you remember it like it was yesterday. “If you want, we can stay near here somewhere and continue the work. You need to sleep, and in the morning we can go back to the plant.”

“I’ll check the nearest hotel. Get ready, after this we’ll leave, okay?” He says while walking further from your desk. You bite your lips, silently nodding.

Suddenly, your phone rings. It’s Namjoon. You gasp, remembering that you haven’t let him know you are going to be away for work. “Hello, Namjoon?”

“Hey, where are you? I went to your desk two times today, thinking you had a meeting or anything. You haven’t even returned my calls or messages.” He hisses with obvious worry lacing his voice. “When will you be home?”

“Ah, I don’t think I’m going home today. I’m at the plant, have urgent work to finish so I’ll stay in a nearby hotel.”

“Is it safe? Are you okay? Do you want me to pick you up?” The worry and hurry instantly doubles the moment he heard you’ll be staying far away. You giggle, noticing how Namjoon is already too accustomed in taking care and worrying about you.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to worry. By the way, Jungkook is also here—”

“Jungkook?” He immediately cuts you, clearly confused. “The Jeon Jungkook? Your archenemy?”

“Yup.”

Two seconds of silence. “And he’ll be staying with you? In the same hotel?”

“The same hotel, yes! But not the same room. I know what you’re thinking, Namjoon, but it’s nothing—”

Namjoon tauntingly laughs that makes you totally self-conscious of your own skin. “Ah, the beautiful, old devil’s tango you both play. I have nothing to worry about, then. Tell me how it goes, okay? Bye, Y/N, remember to use protection. I’m not ready to be an uncle.”

“The fuck—”

But Namjoon is already cut off, and now you are staring harshly at your phone, your grasp is sucking the life out of your phone. Fuck Namjoon! You know you should never trust a guy who literally ruined a good pair of sunglasses he just bought. Seriously.

“I got one.” Jungkook suddenly interrupts your busy thoughts, walking to your side with a large frown in his lips. “But can you believe it? He said there is a concert near here tomorrow so all the rooms are full beside one large suite, and the other nearest hotel is like eleven kilometers away. What do you think?”

At his statement, your sight is suddenly blurry—all you can think about is fucking Namjoon and what he just said to you.

Ugh, you hate how statistics shows that he is often right, like 95% of the time...

*

Thinking you have no other choice than to get the one room left, you accept your fate that you have to be in one room with Jeon Jungkook for the rest of the night. Even if the suite only has one king-size bed, you get a compensation of a large suite that the distance you have with him may be kept well—and Jungkook agreed that he will not make any funny business on you after you ultimately warn him that you’ll be submitting charges if he even tries to.

“Y/N, I am not a sexual offender or anything. I will not do anything against your consent.” Jungkook sighs for the nth time as a reply to your threat of stabbing him with a fork. Again. “But it’s a different case if you’re willing…” You instantly send a lethal punch to the guy’s shoulder until he whimpers of pain. “What the—that hurts! I was kidding!”

“I was not kidding.” You roll your eyes, folding your arms on your chest. “This is a bad idea. I don’t even know what I should wear. I don’t want to sleep in my work clothes—and I have to be in a room with a pervert. Can’t you just sleep outside?”

He smirks while stealing glances at you. “You can always sleep naked and I won’t be complaining.”

“Fuck you.”

Jungkook greasily winks at you. “With pleasure.”

You groan in disgust. “God, you’re still the same, annoying piece of shit you were a few years back. I can’t believe this.”

“Well, you dated this piece of shit years ago, so…”

You look at him weirdly. Dated? What is he saying now.. “We were not dating. It was just a fling, you know it.”

Jungkook stares at you, with undeciphered emotions painted on his eyes. “We.. we weren’t?”

“No.”

He clears his throat, his cheeks are suddenly turning red. Your eyebrows slant at the thick air between the both of you. “Y-yes. Yes, of course it wasn’t. I was joking.” He continues with a forced laughter.

You slowly nod, clearing your throat out of sheer awkwardness. What happened between the two of you that time—it was a mere fling. It took nearly months to admit it was just that and nothing more, and now why is he here saying that it’s something more? He probably is just messing with your head, so no need to overthink whatsoever. That’s what got you inside the mess in the first place anyway.

After safely parked in the hotel lobby, you are about to walk out when Jungkook stops you. “I have a change shirt here, you can wear that to sleep. I believe there is a boutique here, so you can buy it for work tomorrow.”

He gives you a pair of clean shirt and pants, while you are only able to look at him with an unknown feeling in your chest. All these things—it feels too familiar to be true. You are unable to resist reminiscing the past. “You remember when I ran away from my house that time? I forgot to bring anything—and you lent me your shirt that time.”

Jungkook looks at you in evident shock, until a smile is suddenly formed on his lips. “Of course I remember. You were crying at that time, I was so panicked. You were wearing my shirt for like.. A full week.”

You giggle, smiling to yourself. Your parents were fighting again at that time, it was because of you. Your mother wants to take you back to Seoul, while your father wants you to stay in the states with him. You were so angry at that time, the fact that they weren’t even thinking to discuss it with you first so you fled, begging Jungkook to accompany you. That’s how you spend a full week running away with him bringing nothing to change into.

“I still can’t believe I stayed in your parent’s house for a full week without them finding out. That’s like… super mind blown.” You giggle again, remembering the time you stayed in his family house. It is undoubtedly one of the best times of your life, sneaking inside Jungkook’s house, staying in and having to spend all your days with him.

“It was crazy.” Jungkook breathes at you, smiling so wide his bunny teeth are visible. “I was so happy that time.”

Suddenly realizing how real it all gets after the unexpected nostalgia, you clear your throat trying to manage your emotions in. You really need to get your head straight. “Wow, this got mushy real quick, right? Let’s—let’s just go in.”

After a good ten minutes, you are settling inside your shared room with Jungkook. It was definitely larger than you think, so it was comforting to say the least. All because you cannot trust yourself when he’s around, and the fact that you’re starting to tolerate the guy isn’t helping either.

“I’m starting on the documentation, you take a shower first.” Jungkook mutters while settling himself on the corner of the room. You nod, and whilst getting ready with the pair of clean clothes he lent you, you catch Jungkook staring.

“What are you staring so intently at, you freak.” You snort and Jungkook chuckles while shaking his head.

“Nah, just remembered the old times. ” He smiles and suddenly you forget how to breathe. “You were so… pretty.”

Your heart literally skips a beat at how unreal everything is, but then are reminded of something that immediately makes you feel like an idiot for thinking he might mean it. “Didn’t you think like that because we just had a shower sex that time?”

Jungkook immediately blushes at your upfront mention. He most definitely did not expect that. “No, I wasn’t thinking—damn, Y/N, how can you say that!”

Rolling your eyes, your hand moves to slide the bathroom door. “Whatever, I’m going to shower now. Don’t even think about moving even a muscle from there.”

Jungkook sighs at your non-stop cautiousness, but is still unable to get that one last kick in. “You sure you can do it alone? I can help you shower, you know. ” He teases mischievously which you instantly answer by flipping him off. But you know the smile is too wide—you are enjoying this light banter too much now.

After having a very delightful bath, you walk out while drying your hair with a towel. Staying true to his words, Jungkook is seated still on the sofa, eyes not even blinking—too focused on the work in front of him. You move to his side, carefully resting your hands on his shoulder that he instinctively jumps on his seat. “Sorry to interrupt, but you should take a shower first. It must be suffocating still wearing that.”

Jungkook seems flustered, and immediately rises. “Yes, okay. I’ll be a second, then we can start. You should...rest a bit.”

Sitting on the couch he sat on, you stare at nothing in particular when your ringtone is heard. You mindlessly open your phone and find it’s Hoseok on the other side, pinging you endlessly—of course about you spending the night with Jungkook. You hiss just thinking about Namjoon literally can't keep his mouth shut, so instead, you leave him a fuck off emotion and move to open another chatting app, strangely miss chatting with your anonymous friend. Maybe you should update him about another conflict you are having right now, having been forced to be around the one you had a huge crush a few years back.

blueberry_25 : hiiiiiiiiiiii are you there? [20:15]

Right after sending the message, suddenly a ringtone is heard—it must be Jungkook’s phone. Shrugging the fact, you send another message, and Jungkook’s phone is ringing again. What is this coincidence? Why is his phone ringing at the same time you send yours?! The possibility of Jungkook being paired as your anonymous friends literally makes you dizzy beyond words, and you quickly move to grab his phone from his office bag, trying to detect if your notification is there. Fuck, fuck! If he really is your anonymous friend, you’d literally run away and sink yourself in the nearest waters. You’d rather set yourself on fire than having to spend another second around him.

Picking up his phone with your heart beating unhealthily fast, but all you see in his notification is Hoseok’s messages. You scroll slowly on his notifications, but fortunately nothing about your message is seen. You sigh deeply in reassurance. God, that was close.

Realizing how improper it is to be preying on his privacy, you clear your throat and put the phone back on the desk. Fuck, you are really shameless. But in your defense, it’s really a matter of life or death, because you have no idea whether you’d rather spend another second breathing when knowing you’ve been talking to Jungkook about Jungkook all these times. But seeing that there’s no notification, you feel slightly assured. Slightly.

Yet to think about it, he is using the basketball keychain you gave him a few years back and it makes you feel incredibly unsettled. Why is he wearing this? He changed his phone and really went through the hard work to still keep something he hated the first time receiving? You even thought he threw the keychain away after receiving it.

“Hey, what are you looking at?”

At the sudden low minister you look up in surprise, seeing Jungkook walking out of the shower, still with wet hair, wearing a white shirt and a pair of shorts that looks really comfortable, but not really for you as a silent bystander. Fuck Jungkook and his incredible charm!

“Is it my phone?” Jungkook asks, eyebrows scrunched.

Suddenly realizing that you are cornered by his great smell, you are stuttering to even let out an answer. “I’m-i’m sorry! Your phone rang and I thought it was something important, and—”

“You shouldn’t check my phone, really.”

Remembering how Jungkook hated to have anyone messing with his privacy, you wince internally and prepare for his wrath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see anything, I swear.”

At your regretful gesture, Jungkook sighs and rests himself on the space beside you. “It’s okay. Just.. just don’t do it again. I don’t want you to be shocked to see what’s in there.”

Seeing an opportunity now that he has relaxed a bit, you push him by the shoulder with your own with a mischievous smile. “It’s okay, I’ve seen your porn collection. Nothing will really shock me at this point.”

Waiting for Jungkook to respond to your laughter, but instead you only find him gazes at you with indiciphered emotions. “Why? Is there anything wrong?”

“No, It’s.. it’s just weird. Actually the first time you acknowledge our past without wanting to rip my head off my body.”

At that, you find your gaze falling back to the basketball keychain on his phone. “You’re using that lame ass keychain you hated so much now?”

You remember that time you went to an old market with your friends the morning of your third date with Jungkook, seeing a cute basketball chain and you instantly remembered how much Jungkook always wanted to play basketball even if he was in a football team, so you bought that keychain for him. He begrudgingly received it with so much complaints, about how he didn’t like any accessories for his phone, or how he literally played football, or how it didn’t match his fashion concept, and you haven’t even seen him use it… until now.

“Yup. I have been using it since… you left actually.” Jungkook looks down to his phone, and you look at him with a contorted face.

“Why?”

Jungkook looks at you, staying silent for a good ten seconds while you bite your lips, wondering if you are ready to hear whatever he’ll say—cause any scenario playing in your head is just a trainwreck of mess after mess—until he answers with a heavy sigh of distress. “I’ll answer that later. Let’s just.. Work now.”

Silently thankful that he decides not to answer your pointless question, you agree and proceed with work. It is not exceptionally hard to focus on your work when the deadline is just around the corner, and you are thankful Jungkook is very helpful and kind with everything. But after a few hours spent working, from the corner of your eyes Jungkook is massaging his sore neck with contorted face. You know why—he severely strained his neck muscle during a practice a few years back, and will always feel pain whenever he is overworking himself, like he is right now.

“Hey, you should take a rest.” You tap his shoulders with worried gaze. “Your neck must be killing you right now. I can continue, there’s just a few of these left.”

Jungkook really wants to refuse your mindful offering, but the pain is disagreeing with him. So albeit half-heartedly, he moves to rest on the bed. “Laying on the bed would only worsen the pain, though..” You whisper to yourself, somehow still vividly remember everything.

“You want me to massage you?”

Jungkook looks at you in surprise. “Are you serious?”

You are fumbling with the hem of Jungkook’s shirt you wear and hesitantly nod. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself… Because… you’re my ride tomorrow to Seoul! We really need to get back right after, so—”

Jungkook nods with a thin smile, and you decide to shut up and just move closer to his side with a bottle of baby oil from your bag. After smearing a few drops on his neck, you proceed to move your fingers to give slight pressure around his neck—just the way you remember it.

“Now I know why you still smell like that. You’re still using that baby oil.” He hums in delight and you inevitably smile. The fact that he still remembers sends warmth to your chest.

After spending a good ten minutes massaging his upper neck, you notice that the neck area of his t-shirt is wet with the oil. “Ah, your shirt..”

“It’s okay. Are you done?”

You bit your lip. Not really, you know by the look of it the pain is still far from being off, but you don’t know what you should do. The convenient way is to have Jungkook out of his shirt, but then you’d literally be out of your mind. You most certainly do not have the capacity to do with a shirtless Jungkook, right on such a closed space, especially on a bed. Even thinking about it makes you feel rightfully ridiculous.

“You’re still in pain, though…”

“Ah, this is okay.” Jungkook gives you a comforting smile, trying to move his head, “I’m now as good as—Ow!”

Now you don’t even know how can that man survive another day being this careless. He is moving his head excessively only to prove his lies and end up with more pain. Really Jungkook-like. Sighing, you pull on his shirt. “Take off your shirt, you moron. I’ll massage you.”

At your bold statement, Jungkook literally shivers on your grasp. “No, It’s all well. You don’t need to—”

Greatly unimpressed, you warn him not to reason with your request and just by your stare, he begrudgingly complies. “But don’t laugh. I haven’t been working out recently, super swamped at work so if you just laugh, even a little, I’ll leave you here to take the bus alone to Seoul tomorrow.”

Giggling at his pouts, Jungkook moves to open his shirt and instantly lay on his stomach on the bed. “Don’t see it!”

“Why! Are you shy at me now? You literally used every chance to be shirtless back then.” You chuckle and mischievously poke him around the waist with your forefinger. “Why are you shy? You six pack no more?”

Jungkook buries his head on the pillow, while you still proceed to poke him repetitiously with your fingers. “Stop it!” He groans yet you disregard it without any further thoughts.

“You’re nooo fun! Don’t be shy Kookie, even if you’re bloated, I—Ah!”

Jungkook growls at your constant bother, and spends no other second to pull you around to secure you around his grasp, bare chest just a breath away from yours.

“Are you seriously going to do this now? Don’t you know how crazy I was just to be around you for the night?”

At his deep stare prodding at the depth of your minds, you feel terribly heated. “What-what are you saying..”

“Are you seriously not seeing this, Y/N?” He slowly breathes. “It’s hard. To be around you again, and trying to hold myself from thinking about what could have happened with us.” Is he seriously addressing what happened with your relationship before?

“What?”

“You asked why I still use that keychain you gave? You really wonder why?” He asks in unpredicted determination that it terrifies you. “It’s because what we had meant that much. You, me, us—we were so happy. Or at least, I was.”

Like it’s not surprising enough, he is apparently not done. “Being with you, I’d never trade that for anything. I was doubtful it even happened—you left so quickly and I need a reminder that it did happen. We happened.”

Realizing that he indeed is going to unveil anything that happened in your past, you weakly push him away, trying to create a safe distance in between. But of course it’s no match with his unbelievable strength. “Jungkook...”

“I know I was a jerk, Y/N. I was childish, foolish, I was an idiot and I did not think about your feelings. I did not consider that you must’ve had a reason to leave the country, we were fighting like crazy, but—I would’ve understood if I had known the reason, you know? And I start to wonder about the what ifs, will everything be different with you and me?”

You look up to him gloomily, the pain in your chest is unbearable now that he is opening up the past. You remember everything like it was yesterday—how infatuated you were with each other, how beautiful was the time of being in such love with him, how heartbroken you were to find out you had to follow your mother after the divorce and go back to Seoul, and how instead of clearly stating why, you and Jungkook had a huge fight that literally lasts for years and until now.

The sadness momentarily engulfs you, that you instinctively respond to the sentence you’ve been repeating to yourself these whole time. “Well then, maybe we are just not meant to be.”

Jungkook glares at you, not liking a bit that you had to pull that card with him. “Don’t you fucking say that. What we had meant that much to me, and I loved you so much, Y/N. Why can’t we just—” You know it was a past tense, he said he loved you. But why does that hurt? Unexpectedly a thought crosses your mind, and you speak faster than you think.

“Jungkook, what happened with that girl?”

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What girl?”

You look down, unable to see him right in his beautiful, doe eyes.“That finance girl—the one coming home with you when clearly taxi exists—what happened that night?”

Jungkook clears his throat, finally getting what you’re saying. “Ah, her. No, I had Jimin take her home that night.”

“Why?”

Jungkook bite his lips, it’s obvious that he is conflicted to answer. Ten seconds pass until he finally opens his voice to answer. “Because she was talking shit about you, and I don’t like it.”

“You what? Seriously?!” Are you hearing correctly? Jungkook seriously abandoned all his mighty ways with girls just because someone is talking shit about you? “It’s inevitable, and you know I don’t give a shit what she thinks about me. You don’t have to do that—I can’t believe this.”

“Y/N, don’t overthink it. Even if we are off to a rocky start and you might hate me, you’re still my friend. I won’t let anyone talk shit about my friends, especially you.”

The way he speaks, it is full of sincerity and succeeds in melting your whole being. The way he cares about you, you hate to admit that you still like it too much. You can’t believe that you are still this reactive for anything regarding him.

Another seconds of comfortable silence passes and somehow, you get comfortable just laying there with him. Even your heartbeat is too fast for your likings, yet the familiarity is what keeps you on spot. You start reminiscing those beautiful times when it’s just you and him, the feelings you get whenever he looks at you like this—it feels amazing.

“What happens to your mother? Is she okay now?” Jungkook carefully asks, like he is testing the water. His palms are soft on your back, featherly soothing it with his whole deliberation.

You hum with a faint nod. “Yup, she is recovering well. My aunt and grandma are also very helpful with the therapy, so...yes. How did you know, by the way?”

“Well, after you left I… I just got around with your friend. She actually explains your condition and.. then I try to dig around for you as well. I found your social media and really wanted to message you, but.. Yeah, I never got to.”

What Jungkook does not explain is how much time he spends on his phone, typing and retyping his words to send you, but never got the courage to. After knowing what happened to you and your family—especially about your mother’s illness, he felt overwhelmingly guilty beyond words. He took it on you, taking all his disappointment for the false information he made for himself, without thinking what you might have felt. He deserved it, he deserves everything that happened to him. Being miserable, chased with the guilt feeling rooting on his back, it might be just the right price he must pay for letting you down, disappointing you the way he did.

“I am sorry, Y/N. If I can take back what I said, I would. In a heartbeat.” He whispers and you understand how much he means it. At that time, it’s even difficult to think he is still the same Jungkook who hurted you back then. He changes so much, and hopefully for the better.

“What about you? Everything is good back in the states?” You ask, resting your palm on his bare arm and you can sense how Jungkook is tense, but instantly relaxes after your hand is safely settled. “Your family is still there?”

“Yup. Family is there, only me here.”

You hum, fidgeting your fingers resting on his arm. You really want to ask one question that has been running in your mind since four months ago.“If I ask why you moved to Seoul, would you answer honestly? Like.. I know what you said to your peer, about the great offer whatsoever, but… there must be something else, right? There’s literally no good reason why you should move to somewhere new and not even lots of people you know here..”

Jungkook gives you a thin smile. “I.. I just needed a fresh start. My life there, everything that’s been going on with my family, my friends were too… exhausting. I just—I wanted to see how far I could go on my own.”

“Something happened with your family?” You curiously asks, suddenly curious about his last statement. You know how ruthless his father was with his ambitions for his only son, directly lining him up for the best school in the states and already planning all his future for him, including entering one of the most sought up corporate as well.

“Yup. You know, I don’t hate his plans. What I dislike is the way he single-handedly does everything for me. It was so stressful.” Jungkook whispers, more to himself. “He wants me to go Investment Banking, but I don’t want that. He promises that he can make me in Forbes list, or whatever it was he said, but I don’t want that too.”

“So I planned on moving out of the city, but I don’t know where or how. Then the idea to go back to Seoul arised. Something happened—the decision time was quite short. What turns out to be a joke turns into a serious option. Having dual citizenship really eases my access back to Korea, and my grandparents and cousins are also here so.. Yeah. That’s about it.”

You nod in understanding, cause everything he said seems plausible. But one thing still doesn’t settle right. “But.. why my company? You know I’ve been working here for a while now, right? It’s like… too much of a coincidence it scares me.”

“If I say it’s all the grand plan of the universe, will you believe me?” He lightly jokes, eyes turning into crescent moons. You roll your eyes, but nevertheless giggle.

“I think that’s enough for now. You must be sleepy, Y/N. Go to sleep, in a few hours  we still need to head back to the plant and directly go back to Seoul. Okay?”

You are expecting Jungkook to move away and leave you to sleep on the bed, but he is still there, holding you close, and you are not complaining at all. You are conscious that he is waiting for you to shoo him away, but you’d not even dare to do it. Cause being with him again, his large palm caressing your back, his breath tickling your face, everything seems like a very vague, far dream.

Another twenty minutes and you are already far too deep in slumber, Jungkook smiles at your sleeping face. You seem so at peace, and he is loving every second just laying here with you.

But the rest of work ain’t gonna fix itself, so he is still groaning, and wakes up and moves back to the sofa. Getting a canned coffee from his duffle bag, Jungkook quickly gulps an adequate amount until he is sure he won’t be sleeping for a while now. Trying to relax his strained neck, his finger moves back to the laptop in front of him.

“Let’s finish this once and for all, shall we?”

*

Due to staying up until three in the morning, Jungkook wakes up around nine to a cup of coffee in the kettle, along with a thank you note for finishing the rest of the work and promises you’d do anything he asks in return. You also permit yourself for going to the plant first. At that, a slight disappointment arises inside his chest and he doesn’t even know why. Jungkook heaves a deep breath, waking up and directly going straight to the shower.

Not even thirty minutes later, Jungkook is already parked on the plant, walking inside to the office side where he expects you will be. But he is met with disappointment, because you’re not there—not even your belongings are in sight.

At once, he feels terribly anxious. What happened to you? Where could you be? He tries dialing your number, but is met with no answer. When one of the supply chain teams he was talking to yesterday is walking beside him, he stops her right away. “Hey… Did you see Y/N? Was she here?”

“Y-yes. She is currently meeting with the team leader.” She mutters nervously, especially with Jungkook’s hardened stare prodding at her.

“Team leader? Where?”

“They’re meeting downstairs, probably in the cafe? I don’t really know..”

Finally self-conscious about how freaky he has been, Jungkook quickly mutters his thank you and descends to the elevator. Team leader? He doesn’t know why he feels terribly on the edge with the fact she is meeting the team leader. Probably due to something he heard yesterday…

“Y/N, you’re disappointed, right? The team leader is in the plant right now since there's a production problem. Tell me, you actually wanted to see him, right?”

That was that a fellow supply chain team was whispering to you during the discussion yesterday, which you answered with a lousy no. It did not settle right with him and now he is proven right. Who is this team leader, actually?

While in the elevator, he swiftly reaches for his work phone, trying to find a certain supply chain team leader. He squints his name, finding a name that certainly is not too strange if he thinks about it...

Kim Taehyung.. When did he hear this name before?

*

“I told you I can pick you up from the hotel and then we can get a proper breakfast. Why are we even meeting at this lousy, overpriced office cafe.” Taehyung fizzles with a deep pout while cutting the maple syrup pancake he ordered. You thinly smile, stirring the cup of chamomile tea on your grasp. It’s certainly strange to be in the exact situation with him as it was during your college days.

“It’s okay, I can’t stay long anyway. I just got a few things clarified from your team and I’ll be on my way back to the headquarters.”

“Really? That fast?” The pout on his lips deepens. “If I know you are going to leave so soon, we should’ve done something last night. I don’t even understand why you checked in a hotel instead of staying with me. It’s way cheaper and easier, you know?”

“Taehyung, you know I can’t do that…” You warn him, feeling cautious of the overly familiar sense between the two of you. It is dangerous, and you don’t want to ruin everything with you and him. Again. You will not foolishly repeat history.

Noticing how tense the air has become after your last sentence, he suddenly leans his palm over yours, eyes filled with regret. “Y/N, please don’t be like this. We are friends before anything else. What happened, it was in the past. I don’t want to lose you like this.”

The irony of hearing that too many times now literally put a painful grin in your lips. Why the fuck men keeps on saying that to you these days? Fucking annoying.

“I get it. We are friends. So please keep the line, Taehyung. I don’t want to lose you as a friend like this too.”

Realizing that not even a hint of mirth on your face, he realizes that he indeed has crossed the line. Taehyung immediately pulls his hand away, clasping it on his lap. “I am sorry.”

“It’s okay. But can we talk about work, now?” You sigh in distress. You know by the look of it, Taehyung has millions of words he wants to say, but you don’t want to hear it. You just had enough with all the drama.

Taehyung was your friend. Your first friend in Seoul. Your first friend in university. Your best friend. At that time, he helped you a lot with adapting to the new environment. He helped you with every part of your life, your study, your family, everything. He was the son your mother never had—you were that close to him. At the beginning, regardless of what people said that the both of you would end up being in love with each other, it was easy to disregard it with a simple laugh. Because Taehyung had a girlfriend back in his hometown. Because you were busy with working part-time to make a living, and love was your last priority.

4 years being in a platonic relationship was easy when it’s with him. You graduated together, sealed with a picture of Taehyung kissing your cheek in front of your alma mater hanging on your living room’s wall, you never knew something indeed has changed with you and him. Not until one night he confesses he wants to try something more serious with you, for you to seriously consider him as a boyfriend. And as easy as it was, you agreed. Because in all sincereness, you knew you’d do anything for him, and even if you wanted to be with someone, it just had to be him.

Having the same dream, both of you applied for the same company, and were accepted in the same team. You were working alongside him, and seriously could not be happier. Day by day, you start to gain feelings for him, and it was as easy as expected—because he was a very great guy, everything you wished him to be. Until one day, an email arrives in your personal inbox, filled with cursive words accusing you were the one Taehyung was cheating with. From his ex-girlfriend.

At that time, you directly confronted Taehyung for an explanation. And you found out that before graduation, he measly broke up with the girl through a freaking message and blocked every contact with her right after. And when you thought everything couldn't go worse, more digging led you to find out that he broke up only after you agreed to try something serious with him.

You were heartbroken. Even if you knew that in his defense, he thought that nothing was going to work with his ex-girlfriend for way before they broke up, but it did not justify anything that he did for her, or for you. You expected more of him, and were excessively disappointed. And even when you tried to forget it and move on like what it was before, you can’t shake the feeling of betrayal. That’s why you decided to call it off.

Taehyung was disappointed in your easy choice of way out, it was as clear that both of you are not on the same page with everything. Knowing that both of you couldn’t just disregard everything and keep on being professional at work, Taehyung directly applied after an opening for a plant team was announced—and in no time he left. Just like that.

“Hey, are you okay? Y/N, don’t be like this. I won’t talk about it again—let’s just talk about work. Okay?” Taehyung asks in worry at your deep and long silence. You dubiously nod, realizing that you cannot keep on being like this. That’s why you reach out for your laptop, intending to start on questions for your report.

“So, is your mother okay now?” Taehyung asks, and you know he is sincerely curious instead of making small talks. You kind of understand though, since your mother saw him nearly everyday as he was practically glued to your side.

“She is doing much better now. And she asked about you too, you know.”

Taehyung immediately smiles at that. “Yeah, of course I know. I was literally the best child she could ever have, since her daughter was busier than the president himself.”

You roll your eyes but still chuckle at the remembrance. “Shut up. I was working! And you know, you are the weird one. You kept on hanging out in my house, even without me. My aunt and grandma were literally in love with you.”

“Yeah, they were so kind and lovely. How could I not miss them.” Taehyung smiles more to himself. You can detect how sincere he is, and the guilt is slightly eating you up. If you weren’t such a selfish person, maybe everything would be different. Maybe you and him would be different.

“Then come again to my house. I’m still in my apartment, but I come back to my house once or twice each month. You know my family house is closer to the plant than the headquarters. You should come with me.”

You know that Taehyung seems to be at shock at your unexpected invites—as you too were shocked—but he instantly forms his signature boxy smile and nods in agreement before you could change your mind. “I would love to.”

Suddenly, a ruckus was heard directed from the door. You instinctively turn to the source of the sound, and unexpectedly find Jungkook marching to your side. You immediately stand from your seat, somehow anxious over the fact that you left him in the hotel with only a lousy note to excuse yourself. And probably, the fact that Taehyung is here too.

“Jungkook? Why are you here?”

Jungkook looks at you, then at Taehyung, then at you again, implicitly showing how bewildered he is. “Ah, it’s nothing. I just.. I just want to check where you are. You left so quick from the hotel, so—”

Taehyung immediately stands up from his seat, staring at you while squinting his eyes. “Hotel? He is staying with you, Y/N?! That’s dangerous, why are you—don’t tell me.. You’re not staying in the same room, right?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows scrunched, disliking the fact that Taehyung looks really bothered at the fact that you are staying with him. “So what if we are? Do you have a problem with that?”

You bite your lower lips in distress at both of the guys who look like they are ready to have the showdown of their lives. Fuck, why does this have to happen now?!

*

If you had any thoughts that Taehyung and Jungkook will be fighting because of you, you were surely an idiot—because right now it’s like you literally don't even exist. Both of those idiots are too busy playing phone games as teams while laughing like maniacs, while you are busy trying to finish all your work before having to rush to Seoul in an hour. Yes, you don’t really have anything left for them to work on, but… it feels difficult when you don’t even understand what they are doing with their damn phones.

“Taehyung, what the hell… you can’t fucking shoot! He was literally in front of you!” Jungkook groans at his phone, then Taehyung kicks him on the shin until the younger guy hiss in pain. You roll your eyes, fucking child they were.

“Jungkook, let’s go. We need to head back to Seoul.”

“Why?! There’s another hour! There’s no need to rush, you know.” Jungkook pleads, yet not even looking at you. Since Taehyung steals a glance at you, he immediately notices you are not in a mood for a joke. At all.

“Five minutes. This will be finished, okay? You can get ready, Y/N.” Taehyung replies calmly and even with deep resentment, you still comply and pack up your belongings.

Just another thirty seconds and Taehyung is cursing before throwing his phone back at the table. “Fuck, I’m dead.”

“That’s because you suck.” Jungkook mocks playfully, and Taehyung rolls his eyes at the childish remarks. Taehyung turns to you scrolling on your phone, looking as unbothered as ever—even if he knows how irritated you are right now. That’s probably on how much he understands you.

“Hey, Y/N. When can we meet your mom?”

Jungkook suddenly chokes on air at that unforeseen statement. What the fuck did he just hear? Why is Taehyung meeting your mother?

Only sending Jungkook weirded out stares, you turn to Taehyung. “I’m planning on going back tomorrow, as I haven’t gone back for weeks. You want to come with me?”

“Sure, that’d be great.” Taehyung nods, literally insensitive to Jungkook’s hazy state as more information comes in.

“Okay, should we meet directly at my mother’s?”

“No, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. I’m going back to Seoul tonight for a drink with Jimin, Yoongi and Hobi.”

“Ah, drunkard night. Must be fun.” You sarcastically joke and Taehyung is unable to deny as he giggles. Meanwhile on the other side Jungkook’s sight is literally shaking, probably to the current state he is in. Fucking pathetic is what he is.

“So, did you receive my flowers this morning?”

Your mouth and eyes are forming a full circle, remembering the gifts resting on your desk nearly every morning from last week. “That was you?!”

“Yes.” He giggles with reddening cheeks which literally sends flutters inside your chest. Not even once you thought Taehyung would be the one behind those thoughtful gifts. “I just want to give it to you. I hope it’s not a bother.”

“It’s not, but you shouldn’t have…” You suddenly feel guilty for not realizing it any sooner. Of course it’s him, who would be? But by the fact how bad your vague relationship ended nearly a year ago, it’s hard to imagine him being the one sending those.

“I want to! Don’t be like that, you know I’d do anything for you.”

Abruptly the sound of chair feet against the floor is heard as Jungkook stands up. He looks at you with an undeciphered smile, yet you literally can’t even look him straight in the eyes. God, you don’t want everything to be like this in the first place. “Let’s go, Y/N. I’m done.”

“Good. You should go, the traffic can be bad.” Taehyung nods in understanding, insensitive to Jungkook’s killing aura that you literally are on the edge of. He quickly walks out of the room without even a goodbye, and you nervously look back at Taehyung again.

“Taehyung, I’ll go now.”

In a blink, you find Taehyung is now hugging you closely inside his arms. It doesn’t last long though—and you literally don’t know what to feel about that. Your feelings are too complicated.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Be safe.”

You hum and directly walk out, not even seeing Jungkook right on the door. Slightly panicked, You walk outside to the elevator and he is there, hands buried in his pocket, his jaw clenched and eyes that literally screams fire. Everything literally makes you dizzy.

God, you don’t really know how you’d make it a few hours being with him...

And fuck were you right, because after thirty minutes settling inside his car on the way to Seoul, there’s no sound beside the radio between the two of you. The air was so tense like you can slice it and choke it down your throat, and probably it would be better rather than having to face Jungkook’s expected silence at you.

“Jungkook, it’s been half an hour. Are you going to ignore me like this?”

Jungkook sighs, but still not sparing you even a glance. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to talk to me.”

“Then talk. No one is stopping you.” He irks.

“But I want to talk to you without that scary face you are having right now.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to be like this. Please let me be angry in peace.” He finally looks at you with a hint of sadness on his eyes. “I don’t want to say anything I’d regret.”

Another five minutes of silence until you decide to speak out your mind. “Do you want to know what happened with me and Taehyung?” You carefully ask, he looks at you and lets out a sarcastic laugh.

“Why do you think I want to know that?”

At the bluntness, you feel completely ashamed of yourself for thinking and assuming way beyond you should. You duck your head in shame. “Sorry.”

Jungkook then realizes he has been too far with his angry game, and instantly reaches out to you in regret. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean that.”

But it’s too late because you are already crying and you don’t even know why. You’re usually not this much of a crybaby. “Fuck, you are really that self centered, you know? How can you say that? Is it too wrong for me to assume that whatever the fuck you are angry about is because of me and Taehyung?”

Jungkook locks his hand with you, and even if you are struggling to let your hands go, you are still too weak compared to him. “I’m sorry. I was angry at myself, Y/N. I was angry because I know you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve my nonsensical wrath. I was too selfish, I’m sorry.”

“You are.”

“I am.”

“You fucking are.”

“I am. So please accept my apology, hmm?”

Another thirty minutes of sulking, while Jungkook doesn't even say another word and only moves to massage through your hands. You know how apologetic he was, and he probably doesn’t mean it as well. And since you know that your wrath is already dissipating, you proceed with your story, not even caring whether Jungkook wants to listen or not.

So you go through everything. Every single detail about what happened with you and Taehyung. And it would be a lie to say that it doesn’t affect Jungkook even a little bit, because seeing your gleaming eyes and your voice telling every word about your relationship with him, Jungkook knows how important he is to you, and how much of the past you have together with him written on the pages of your lives. The relationship you have with him, lasts a whole four years and even more. How can he even consider to compete with that?

And one question does bother his mind. Do you still love him?

But no. He is not taking that risk. He doesn’t want to break down now. So he lets out a statement that somehow, even with the huge consideration, still succeeds in killing all will inside his body.

“He was really special, right?” Jungkook asks as a past tense.

You look down to your lap.

“Yes, he really is.”

*

You are already settling inside your blanket, ready to drift off to sleep yet your mind is wide awake. Everything is so overwhelming lately, you don’t even know what to do with yourself. Everything about Taehyung and Jungkook is more than confusing, and you really don’t like yourself right now.

“Argh!” Just when you are kicking the blanket off your legs, suddenly a loud knock is head on your front door. Who could it be? Is it Namjoon? But you are a bit uncertain it is him, since Namjoon does not usually come home this early on a Friday night. Damn it, you really need another activity other than waiting for him to come home like a sad sexless innkeeper.

Another boom on your door and you rush to open it. “Wait!”

But instead of the face of drunk Namjoon on your door, you find Jungkook’s instead. And it could be the last person you expect to be standing in front of your door right now, with a bottle of wine and a pack of cheese.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?”

He shyly scratches his nape. “Ah, actually I was drinking with my cousin and his girlfriend so I steered clear to give them space and went to your apartment instead. Sorry to disturb you. Were you going to sleep?”

“Was going to, but I can’t sleep.” You answer truthfully, looking back at him. Jungkook is only wearing a black t-shirt with loose pants, his hair is messily tousled yet irritatingly still looks very breathtaking to you, his lips are eye-catchingly shimmering—a habit he adopted from you to deal with dry lips. You immediately feel self-conscious about what you were, an old night dress that doesn’t really do anything except making you feel comfy to sleep.

“Can I come in?” He vigilantly asks after a few minutes of odd silence. You instinctively scoot out of his way and let him walk inside your fortress.

“Your apartment is nice.” He compliments, resting the wine and cheese on the table to walk around the apartment, through the photos and embellishment. “Very cozy. And everything here screams you.”

“Thanks. High chance that’s the reason why Namjoon is very, very vigilant about bringing women back to this apartment, I think.” You joke and giggle, even though your head is filled with anxiety of the fact that Jungkook is visiting your apartment at ten pm. The last time he visited you around this time you couldn’t walk the next morning, so… yeah, you feel entitled to be nervous.

“Let me get the glasses and bottle opener.” You stutter, abruptly walking to your compartment. You let out a few deep breaths, trying to assemble your head straight once again. Fuck, why can’t you just speak like a normal person? It’s just Jungkook for god sake, and he’ll only be here for a drink—probably to celebrate the result of your presentation this evening to the boards. And then he’ll be gone, and you’ll go to sleep. Yet you somehow doubt it.

Walking back, you find Jungkook is settled on your couch, his eyes are looking at the bottle of wine on the table, yet you know those stares are too far and empty. It’s proven with how he is startled when you soundly occupy the seat beside him.

“You okay?”

He glances at you and his lips turn into a thin curve. “I am. Sorry, I was zooming out.”

“It’s fine, but sure you're okay?”

The smile widens until it shows his extraordinary bunny teeth, his palm hovering around your arm. “I am good, but can be better after a glass of this wine. Don’t worry about me now.”

In a short while, a glass of wine is already served on your grasp, while Jungkook is busy picking songs to play on your bluetooth speaker. Right when a smooth violin sound is heard, you reluctantly open up a conversation.

“Thank you.” You lower down your gaze to your fidgeting fingers. “For everything. You literally saved my ass from even getting denounced from my position. I still can’t believe everything could be so messed up.”

“I know it must have been difficult—with Junsu now investigated for supplier fraud.” He whispers slowly. You knew that all the untally reports and data are from Junsu, and now he is being investigated for fraud. It could have been worse, since in the beginning it was you whom the board suspected—since you are the one creating the report—but as what you and Jungkook has proved after going back to plant and going through all the documentation, the lead is now on Junsu.

“Hey. You don’t need to worry. If he’s not doing it, it would be proven.” Jungkook rests his palm over yours, squeezing it a little after seeing the contorts on your face. He is able to easily read how perturbed you are right now with the fact that your teammate is indeed in trouble.

“Yes, you’re right.” You nod after taking a few deep breaths, sipping the tasteful liquid down your throat to subside your anxiety. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

But even still, Jungkook knows it is not effectively working. You are still in possession of the habit he found whenever something deeply bothers your mind. He identified it during your presentation this evening, or the night you ran away after your parents quarreled, even the day both of you were pugnaciously fighting and ended with separation a few years ago.

“Hey.” Jungkook envelopes your quivering fingers and pulls you closer to him, hand buried in your hair. “Please don’t worry. I don’t—I feel terrible when you’re sad.”

And then it was silence. All you can feel is Jungkook’s warmth all over your body, his arm around your shoulder, your head leaning on his shoulder, while your mind is in haze, wandering far, far away. Then you broke off the silence with something that has indeed been bothering you a lot.

“I don’t know since when, but I’m getting weaker every time.”

Jungkook hum as a notion for you to continue. “They say.. They say we should be stronger as we’re getting old. But it’s not for me.” You whisper weakly, holding your fingers together to stop it from quivering. “I hate it. I hate everyday I have to wake up, walking purposelessly. I hate feeling insecure. I hate not knowing where I should go in the long run. I am living, only for the day to pass by. And it’s killing me, that whenever something comes up in my way, I feel.. I feel weak. I’d dry my tears, then spend all the time doubting why I should go through all this pain, but I don’t know any other way.”

You feel every word comes out, Jungkook’s hold around you is tighter. And you’d be crazy not to lean back your every worry to him. “Hey, I understand what you feel. And I think it is a phase in life when we need to rethink everything and start chasing things that make us happy, and let go of the things that are holding us back. Life is about the journey, not a mere destination. No need to rush in anything, hmm?”

You reluctantly nod, agreeing to what he said. What’s inside your head now is only to make lots of money that can sustain your mother’s treatment and family’s lives, and that’s about it. And you love them to death, but you know you don’t want to do this in the long run. Even the sense of accomplishment doesn’t exactly make you happy anymore, and it’s mentally tiring as fuck to be doing something you know that is extracting you from everything you used to love about life. You’re practically a zombie now, with no sense of directions.

“Have you ever felt this way before? Like.. Helpless. And no matter how you think that you should do something about it, you can’t because you’re fucking scared?”

At that, Jungkook smiles and pecks the top of your head. His heart clenched at what you just said, cause that's exactly what he felt before he did something about it. “Yes. I felt that when I was in the States. I was helpless, visionless, and… day goes by only with me taking it for granted, letting myself think that I will never change and I should just suck it in. What they say, I have a great, wealthy family and all—I should be thankful. And that’s also what my father said to me.”

“At one point, I knew I felt humiliated. All I had was given to me, I just had to the bare minimum, and boom—I got it. I knew if I just went with it yet again, I’d go crazy. My father will put me at a gunpoint for what I gained, but I was scared since I was too comfortable.”

You look up to him, feeling the urge to give him comfort somehow. You do realize how contorted Jungkook’s face is now, he is literally so upset that it makes you feel horrible. “I had a fight with my father, as he forced me to move from the small startup I built with my friends to join his partner’s company in Investment Banking. When I rejected, he took a different approach and convinced my friend to cut me off the team. I confronted my father, and it was literally the greatest fight I had with him. Then the plan I purposelessly created became true. I fled to Korea.”

“So..” You whisper, looking down and clear your throat. “Are you still in contact with them?”

“My mother, yes. My father, no.”

“You must be missing them.” You whisper low while caressing his side. “But.. is it worth it? Are you happy now?”

He grins. “It’s worth it, of course—but not yet. But I’m getting there, I think.”

“The more I think about it, being happy is non-negotiable.” You whisper, more to yourself. Before it was just a far dream, but when Jungkook is here beside you to listen, it’s already a true-hearted promise. “And when I get that chance, I will surely prioritize it. At all cost.”

Another twenty minutes of silence just enjoying each other’s warmth, Jungkook’s whine is heard. “Can’t you hug me?”

You mindlessly glance at Jungkook who is now intensely staring you back. But seeing your noticeable confusion, he rolls his eyes and puts your arm around his waist. The blush is inevitable, you are literally holding him with no distance whatsoever. If you just straighten your head, your lips will be locking into his and you’ll lose your breath that easily. Your heart is too fast for your liking, but truth to be told, you wouldn’t trade this moment with him for anything else.

“Did you remember, we literally did this.” Jungkook chuckles, stroking your hair in somehow a very affectionate way. “That time, during the party and you force me to take you in after your parent’s fight. We were back to my room, and then we just hugged it out and you told me everything that happened.”

You nod with a distant smile, remembering how you literally came crying when Jungkook was in the middle of a beer pong with his friends, but he didn’t even wait another minute in complying to your request, seeing how hysterical you were. “Yes. I remembered how after we watched Bruce Almighty. It’s freaking nuts.”

“Let’s watch it again.” He giggles after refilling the glass for wine. “For old time sakes.”

The next five minutes you are scrolling down your netflix, Jungkook is contemplating whether he should ask the question that has been bothering his mind. The alcohol on his spine did help though—it is easier to just go with what he wants to say regardless of the rationality his mind would stop him.

“So tomorrow, you’d be with Taehyung? To your mother’s house?”

Indifferently nodding, you click on the movie. “My mother has been asking a lot about him, and I just reasoned that he moved away and was busy. I don’t want to let her know we’re not… close anymore.”

“Taehyung is actually that important, huh?” Jungkook asks, staring down to his drinks. The fact predictably settles strangely inside his chest, and it is fucking suffocating that he knows he has nothing and no one to blame but himself for feeling this way. “Understandable, though. Four years—I wouldn’t say I am shocked.”

“It is a long time indeed.”  

“I hope I have someone like that too.” He stopped for a while, eyes faraway. “So at least I can tell you that I stopped thinking about you after you left.”

That statement literally freezes all your movement—to the point that you think it’s all just your drunk hallucination. “What are you talking about?”

“I never stopped… thinking about you.” He dubiously murmurs, eyes trailed down his lap. “After I broke up, I’m still thinking about us, what could have been, and… regret?”

“Regret?”

“I know this might sound creepy, but.. After you left, I tried finding your whereabouts and what you’re up to. And after knowing what you’ve been through, I felt tremendous regret for being such a jerk to us.”

Suddenly, just when you’re about to turn around as you’re desperate to see through his eyes, he clutches on you, latching on your back. “I lied when I said I loved you, because I am still in love with you, Y/N. I know it’s silly—we were only a month together, not even official—but I just can’t shake the feeling away. Especially after seeing you again, talking to you again now..”

“And if you asked my last night why I worked in your company—it’s because after arriving, I was in a phase where I don’t know what I should do. At least if I work with you, I can see you again, and apologize, but at first we were not in the best term. But even then, I was happy to see you and talk to you again.”

Then, at once, you feel the back of your shirt is soaked wet. Your heart clenched with pain and sadness at how pained Jungkook must have been all these times. “Y/N, I am very sorry…”

“You told me you’re staying! You said you’ll stay with your father, with me here.” Jungkook cried when you told him you needed to move back to Seoul with your mother after the divorce. “You said your mother is horrible, Y/N. You are not doing this for yourself. You can’t leave.”

“Fuck, don’t act like you care about me now, Jungkook. You know, I was always wondering why you suddenly introduced yourself that night, but it’s because of Alex, right? Because I rejected him—and you wanted to check for yourself!”

Jungkook slammed the table in front of him that made you flinch. “Don’t you dare to change the topic. You’ll leave your father, your life here and me, because of your horrible mother that always made you cry, feel alone and horrible. Why are you so naive, Y/N?!”

You were already crying by then, the frustration built up in your chest. You knew the reason was already on the tip of your tongue—your mother is terribly sick and needed you the most—but you couldn’t let it out. Jungkook didn’t deserve to know. “Don’t act like you know me. One month fucking and you already think you can read me like a book? Grow up.”

“One month.. Fucking?” Jungkook weakly whispered, the tears were building up on the corner of his eyes. “Fine. I don’t fucking care about you. Fuck off to wherever, I don’t care.”

“Sure. You only cared about me because of a fucking bet anyway, right?!” You cried, the grief and constant fear of the end approaching, when Jungkook walked away.

It was the end.

The memory of your separation with Jungkook flashes inside your mind like it was just yesterday. You remember every word, every feeling, every tear spent that day. You couldn’t even count how many times you wished everything was different.

Jungkook is crying on your back, and you force to turn and see him right through his eyes. “Apology accepted, Jungkook. I was at fault too. I should’ve been clearer. I should’ve said it better. I am sorry too..”

You wipe his tears with your two palms and hug him, your chest against his, your arm around his waist. “Please don’t cry, hmm?”

Another seconds of light sniffles until he opens his voice. “You know, this is better than what I expected. With how many years has passed in guilt, I could’ve been puking with tears.” He lightly jokes and you giggle. Fuck, how is he so cute now?

“By the way, just in case you forgot—I just said I love you. It still stands.” Jungkook thinly smiles, his fingers fixing the strands of your hair falling in front of your eyes. Your heart is beating unhealthily fast now. “I don’t need you to answer now, of course. I just… I just want you to know.”

“I know.” You whisper softly, leaning into your will to tiptoe and press your lips against his. Jungkook instinctively closes his eyes, feeling the wondrous taste of cherry chapstick and wine from your lips. The feeling is addictive and wondrous that he seriously thinks he is hallucinating right now.

You are about to release the kiss, when his firm palm secures on your back, pressing your waist against his, his lips are chasing yours to engage in another breath-taking kiss. You welcome it at once, arms settling around his neck. “Tell me if you want to stop.” He murmurs into the kiss, but you’re way into cloud nine to stop. You’d be insane to let him go now.

His palm travels south to grab the flesh off your ass and pushes his hips closer to yours—if it’s even possible. You can make out the hard-on he has nurtured for a while now, and instantly suck your breath. “You can feel it, babe? It’s because of you—being such a minx tonight. Are you really going to keep on teasing me like this?”

You grin, feeling the adrenaline rush with the realization that you have Jungkook here, beside you, whispering you all these dirty words to your ear. You shift to press butterfly kisses to his neck all the way to his collarbones—encouraged by the bemoan he is letting out, intending to suck marks on his sun kissed skin until he gruffly pushes you away.

“Who gave you rights to mark me now, huh kitten?” He throatily purrs, swiftly scooping you into his arms, both your legs are crutched around his waist with his painful erection knocking on your clothed entrance. You spend no more second to entangle your lips with his again, his tongue gladly seeking warmth from yours—and god, he feels amazingly sweet, the taste of wine vivid on your taste bud. Fuck, he seriously can’t drive you crazier than this.

“Don’t want Namjoon to see my dry cum on your sofa, right babe?” Jungkook hoarsely wheezes, and those words literally screws all leftover sanity inside of you. Fuck, you missed this so much. Drowned in lust and desperate for friction, you find yourself continuously rubbing your core to his erection, until he paces you for himself. “Stop. I didn’t bring extra pants with me, babe—don’t wanna go home with pants wet with cum now.”

Jungkook hurriedly pushes your bedroom doors and throws you away on bed. “Y/N. Tell me to stop now, or I’ll never get a grip until I can finally have you.”

Instead of giving an answer, you inch closer until your fingers are in contact with his pants’ band. “You need help with that?” You brave yourself to whisper, gazing innocently right to his lust-darken eyes.

“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me.” He gratefully bemoans, as your finger moves to detached his pants and boxer to the ground—his erection immediately springs like never before. It is such a pretty, thick and long dick that your saliva literally pools. You instantly get on your knees, closing with eagerness to have a taste until he stops your advancement by pushing you to the bed.

“Not today, kitten. Maybe tomorrow—I need to have you now or I’ll go nuts.”

You pout, stubbornly moving to give a good caress on the length, satisfied with how Jungkook’s pupil immediately dilates at your ministry. “Are you sure, baby? I can do anything for you, though. My throat is ready for you to choke on.”

“Stop it. I want to be inside you now.” He hastily howls, so close to creaming your palm now that he needs to stop you. Jungkook’s mind is on cloud nine with your warm fingers around his girth, but he realizes he needs to have his dick pushed inside your cunt now, not even your hand or mouth can make it up. “Take off that fucking dress.” He orders.

“Yes, anything for you, sir.” You literally do not know what kind of courage is seeping through your vein, but seeing how affected he is literally made you ecstatic to tease him more. You briskly moves the satin night dress to your head and throws it across the room, baring all your lower body area.

“No underwear? Fuck, kitten, you better not act this carelessly when your roommate is here.” Jungkook breathily irks, enjoying the view of your almost naked body against him, yet spends no more second to detach your bra until your breasts are dangling freely. He immediately sucks a breath at the amazing sight.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” Jungkook throatily whispers, more to himself before he engulfs both your breasts with his palm. He moves to pinch your hardened pebbles, feeling high with your moans that is literally a green light inside his mind that you are indeed enjoying his act. He swiftly buries your right nipple inside his mouth, giving it a light suck, flicking it with his skillful tongue which turns you to a moaning mess. You close your eyes, feeling the tension inside your body build up while cradling his face closer to you, your fingers pulling the hair on his scalp. You do not even realize his left hand has left your breast, now moving to circle your bare clit, and you instantly mewl in pleasure.

“What are you so wet for, kitten? Tell me.” He breathily hisses, moving to coat his two fingers with your remnants, dips it inside his mouth and licks it dry. Your pupil dilates at such a dirty act, but still Jungkook is unhappy with your lack of response, he hits your throbbing cunt. “Use your fucking tongue to answer.”

You instantly mewl to reply, albeit stuttering when you feel his forefinger finally buries inside of you. “Of course you, sir. I am wet because of you.”

Jungkook grins in satisfaction, before he wastes no mercy and buries three fingers inside you, stretching you deliciously until you whimper in satisfaction. “So freaking wet, I bet I can slide right in. Are you going to let anyone do this to you, kitten? Hmm?”

“No, sir...” You groggily answer, your head is soaked in all kinds of lust.

“Louder! Let your fucking neighbors hear it.” Jungkook growls, pushing his digits further inside until you claw on his clothed shoulder. Fuck him for still being in his shirt—you’d do anything to mark him now.

“No, sir. Only you can make me like this…”

He sinisterly laughs, pleased with your easy compliance. “You better not be lying, kitten. Don’t you let anyone do this to you, especially fucking Kim Taehyung.”

Your eyebrows immediately scrunched at the name, but it could probably be the last thing you can contemplate now that his fingers are still beautifully moving in and out of your wet cunt. “I will, I fucking will. But get this fucking shirt off and fuck me, sir—I need to feel you bare against me.”

As he is about to enter you, he suddenly freezes. “Do you have a condom here?” He breathily asks, realize that he did not take even one with him—as fucking you was literally the last possibility he could think of before. God, does he really need to stop now?

“I don’t have a condom—but I am on the pill and safe, I swear.” You whisper, the ache on your core starting to cloud your head and better judgement. Fuck, Jungkook better be fast or you’ll be dead by then.

“Me too. I tested myself back in the States, and haven’t been sleeping with anyone since.”

“Really? How can?” You unconsciously ask, seriously flabbergasted with the fact that Jungkook hasn't fucked anyone after he moved into the city. The Jungkook you knew was so much of a god of stamina—he literally lasted five rounds with you before and still managed to have an erection after, when you can’t even feel your legs. He is that crazy for sex.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’ll tell you all about it later, but I need to fuck you raw now or I’ll go insane.” He hurriedly answers, instantly throws his shirt away as his whole body is bare against yours. Jungkook reaches for his dick, as his fingers move to give it a few strokes. He is now coating it with your remnants by hitting your entrance lightly with his dick. Even with such action you are already a moaning mess, as you bit your lips in anticipation.

Yet when the head is about to dip inside you, you reach for the bed sheet, clenching the fabric harshly. You haven’t been sleeping around for months now, you’re sure it’s going to hurt a bit—especially with that excessive size of his.

“How are you so freaking big? Fuck, don’t go too rough on me, Jungkook..” You softly  whisper, and Jungkook instantly nods. No matter how crazy and a true dom he is, he would not hurt or go against your consent—that’s just how much he loves and respects you.

Even with the heavy urge to fuck you senseless like he wants to, he surely takes his whole joyful time in making love. His length pushing inside you, stretching you wondrously that the pain turns into pleasure in no time. You let out a breathy moan when he flicks your nipple to keep you on the edge. “Damn, you are wonderful. I can’t believe I was able to live those years without this taste.”

“Fuck, Jungkook.” You moan, biting your lips as you nearly can’t hold yourself from screaming. How can sex with Jungkook be this mindblowing? You had one night stands previously with other person, but sex with him is like on another level—that’s probably what feelings can do to sex. “Faster, now. Don’t hesitate.”

At the invitation, the worries that he’s going to hurt you dissolve as he fastens and follow his own pace, his dick fucking you senseless with ragged breath. God, how he wishes he can do this every second of the day, buried inside you, looking at your pleasured face drowned in lust and pleasure, your beautiful moans and fingers scratching his back. He’d trade anything to have you like this again.

“Fuck, kitten, how are you so tight? I am fucking close.” Jungkook groans as he chases his high, sensing your walls are now clenching him tightly. He inches closer to engage you in another kiss, his tongue pushing inside you while his digits are circling your clit. You claw his back, letting out all sound with no holds back as the pleasures are too much now—the orgasm building up inside you, and Jungkook definitely can sense it coming. “Cum now, kitten.”

While Jungkook and you are still engaged in another heated kiss, your high finally comes as you cum on his dick. “Good girl.” He whispers with one last kiss before he chases his own, and not even another second he pulls out, squirting his cum all over your stomach.

You frown, looking at the liquid on your stomach. “Damn it, you should’ve cum inside me. I’m on the pill anyway.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at your remarks, yet he is grinning from ear to ear. He lays beside you, engaging you in another soft, slow kiss as you close your eyes, your palms settled on the side of his face. “I love you.” He whispers after letting go, his beautiful doe eyes literally shining with the creases that is apparent whenever he is smiling wide. It seeps warmth to your heart.

The reply for his confession is already at your tongue, but Jungkook quickly scoots away to stand on the floor. You bit your lips, disliking the fact that he is too far from your reach, no matter how fast he’ll be back. You need him here, to ensure that everything is not just a wet dream of yours. “Come back, don’t leave me.” You whine, and Jungkook giggles breathily.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up, clingy McGee. I’ll get you a wet towel.”

Another minute and Jungkook is back with what he promised, as he closes beside you and wipes his own cum off your stomach.

“What a waste. You should’ve cum in my tongue and let me swallow it all.” You mutter half joking half seriously while yawning, as your eyes follow his every movement. He sends you a warning glare, unhappy with your constant teasing.

“If you don’t want me to pin you against the matters now and fuck you against the wall until you’re screaming for mercy, stop it.”

“Geez, sooo grumpy.” You giggle, scooting closer to him as in chase of heat after he settles beside you, draping the blanket to cover both your bodies.

“I’ll take you up on that tomorrow, though.” He lightly giggles, and you’re the one now rolling your eyes on him. He envelopes you around his arm, pressing another kiss on your forehead before caressing your head to sleep—just the way he remembers would instantly send you to slumber.

But no matter how tired you already are, your body are still high on adrenaline due to the great sex you just had—you just cant seems to sleep. Not when Jungkook is here holding you close, looking at you like that with evident love in his eyes. And suddenly an idea pops inside your head, until you smirk in mischief.

“Why are you smiling like that? I told you to sleep.” He asks cautiously. You shrug to pretend innocence, before scooting closer until your bare waist is glued on his own, slightly rubbing it against his semi-hard dick. Wow, the self control on this guy is impressive for not initiating a second round.

Jungkook immediately curses at your teasing, yet the pleasure in his face is unmissed. “Fuck, what are you—“

“I’m sweating, Jungkook. I want to take a shower.” You whine seductively, your fingers stray to the lower parts of his body now, caressing his semi. Jungkook’s eyes are now unmistakably dark, as you realize that you might just awaken the true dom in Jungkook.

“I was literally being civil since you got to go back home with fucking Taehyung tomorrow, but damn—I’ll fuck you so bad anyone know who fucked you tonight, huh? I’ll make sure you can’t walk straight tomorrow, kitten.” He smirks, and that literally sends jitters right to your core in deep anticipation. You missed it—the feeling of Jungkook mercilessly fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

Jungkook instantly scoops you out of bed in one movement, the blanket falls on the floor.   Your legs are linked around his waist, your throbbing entrance pressed against his erection as you rub it for relief. His mouth aggressively attacking yours for domination, as his firm legs walk towards your shower.

“Let’s get my kitten thoroughly cleaned, okay?” Jungkook teasingly moans to your ear, his thumbs are now pinching your hardened nipples. Your whole body shivers.

Thus begin the best sex you ever have in your whole life.

*

You wake up groggily with the sunshine seeping through your window. What happened with you, why are you feeling the biting pain all over your body? The memory of last night instantly hits you like an explosion.

You had sex with Jungkook—which lasted three freaking rounds.

And fuck wasn’t he holding back. He literally was just like you remembered, a true dom that sent your knees weak, pleasuring you like nobody could. He took care of your body like it's the only thing on his mind—and you would be lying if you say you didn’t enjoy his true dom self released, marking you all over your body with love bites, forcing you to plead for his mercy and leaving you breathless nearly all the time.

But he is not here now.

You gaze to the cold side of your bed where Jungkook slept last night. It must be long since he left, only with a small note on your bedside that ensures you that what happened last night isn’t just a mere dream.

Hi, thanks for last night. I had to leave, something urgent came up. See you around.

Fuck, if that wasn’t such a lousy note to start the day with. Such a fool you are to expect the sex matters to you as much as it is to him.

Regardless of the ticked off feeling you had for Jungkook, you scoot off your bed, trying to use both your throbbing legs to stand up. The pain instantly shoots up that you instantly bite your lips, limping your way out of the door. Fuck Jungkook, you loathe that fucker so much now.

“Whoa whoa—slow down babe.” Namjoon instantly shouts after you’re carelessly limping out of the door closer to him. “Someone got a good dicked down yesterday.” He teases, and you sent him an annoyed expression.

“Why are you so grumpy? You finally had sex after months, you should be glowing.” Namjoon giggles while stirring his coffee. You flip him off, settling to sit on the sofa. “You want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.” You mutter. “What time did you come back home?”

“Around two, maybe? Wasn’t really in my best state of mind, so that could be wrong too. What’s up?”

He walks closer to you, offering a cup of coffee with scent that succeeds in relaxing your mind a bit. “I did not meet the guy, you don’t have to worry. Who was it anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Around two? He left before two? “Did you check up on me when you come?” You ask dubiously, knowing Namjoon has always checked up on you when he arrives in the apartment.

“Yes, there was no one. I saw you sleeping, and went to my room right after.”

“Fuck—he really left that early?!” You hiss, not liking the fact that he left you just later after you sleep with such a lousy note that clearly indicates nothing—he probably uses the same note for all his previous one night stands.

“But.. You know, it could be weird for strangers to stay the night after sex—“

“But he’s not a stranger.” You vengefully replied, the hurt evident in your tone. “It’s Jungkook. Jungkook slept with me yesterday and fled right after with a fucking lousy ‘thanks for last night’ note.”

“Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook?” He asks with goggling eyes. He seriously thought he misheard your words. “But you hated him.”

“It was complicated. We.. We had a past together. And these few days just rekindled those feelings, and.. I thought he was really serious about it.” You whispers, the tears are welling in the corner of your eyes. “I tried thinking positively, that he really had something to do, but he left so quickly and also with this note.. got me thinking. Was it too fast? What if everything is just in my head, and he’s only after sex?”

Namjoon looks at the yellow note on your grasp, taking it to read the messy handwriting for himself. Yet no matter how hard he thinks about it, he understands your doubt. It was indeed a messy, hurried note that he indeed heard people often leave their one night stand.

“It’s still uncertain. Just talk to him, okay?” Namjoon asks, his palm resting on your knees and giving it a light squeeze. “There might be something you don’t know yet.”

You sigh, crumpling the note and throwing it carelessly. “I fucking hate him.”

“Hey, by the way you left your phone here, and Taehyung called this morning.” He informs, but you know that expression he wears—something is troubling his mind.

“What is that face?” You instantly point. “You always use that expression when you have something to say.”

“You know me so well.” Namjoon grins, eyes trained on the coffee on his grasp. “I had a drink with Taehyung and others yesterday. And yeah, after the drink, I just think that he.. He might be still in love with you.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows scrunched, severely confused.

“That’s all I can say. If you want to know, better ask the man himself. You’re meeting him soon, right?” Namjoon reminds you, and you abruptly stand up—still holding back the pain, after being reminded that Taehyung shall be here in no time.

“And, Y/N?”

You halt your steps, looking back to the guy. “What?”

“Just.. don’t hesitate. Go with your heart.” Namjoon advises. Your throat constricts. Follow your heart? You don’t even understand what that idiot wants. Your heart is a drunk fool, doesn’t really know what’s good for itself, and always foolishly seeks something that is not going to happen. Why should you go with it?

He is apparently not done, and clears his throat and points to his own neck. “And maybe, put some concealer on? Don’t want your mother to have a heart attack seeing those marks on your neck.”

And that’s how in forty minutes, you ended up wearing navy green turtleneck and long skinny jeans—thankfully the chilly weather does support your outfits—descending your apartment building after Taehyung said he’s already parked in front. You were distinctly nervous, going back to your family home with Taehyung after the longest time. Just being around him sends you on your edge, and you could only wish nothing is going to mess everything up.

The first thing you see when the elevator is opened is Taehyung’s face that you abruptly take a step back in shock. His face immediately lightens up. “Good morning. You’re here.”

“Yes. I thought I’ll see you in your car?”

“Sure, I just thought it would be great to see your apartment.” Taehyung answers, a soft smile appearing on his lips. Namjoon’s sentences instantly pass through your head as a warning. You clear your throat.

“Namjoon is upstairs, though...”

“So? Is that a problem for me to see your apartment?” He mischievously teases, pulling you to exit the apartment. “What were you thinking, huh?”

“Nothing!” You abruptly answer, silently letting Taehyung hold your palm against his, no matter how conflicted it makes you feel.

“By the way, are you okay, babe?” Taehyung asks in concern after arriving at the car, reminding you to put on your seatbelt. Your eyebrow raises.

“I think so. Why?”

“Did you fall or anything? You are..  Kind of limping.” He questions in deep concern, looking straight to your eyes. At once, your breath hastens with anxiety. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes! Of course—I fell in the shower yesterday, and got hurt a bit, yeah..” You tightly mutter. At least it was not a hundred person lie.

Gosh, how you wish you can punch that annoying motherfucker now…

*

“Taehyung! You’re here!”

You glare at your beaming mother slightly skipping to welcome both of you from her tended yard, crushing Taehyung in a big hug. “Mom, I’m right here too. And last time I checked, I’m the one who is related by blood to you.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper, Y/N.” Taehyung giggles, affectionately hugging back your mother. “I’m sorry mom, Y/N is soooo grumpy this morning. She may have woken up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“It’s just I haven’t seen you in so long. How is my precious son doing?!” Your mother beams, instantly welcoming Taehyung inside the house, leaving you alone to pick up the fruits and cake you brought from Seoul. But not even long, the scowl changes into a contented smile on your lips.

You are grateful that nothing really changes, especially with Taehyung. He is still the one person you can depend the most in this whole world.

Suddenly, among your wandering thoughts your phone rings. You hurriedly pick up, not even checking the caller. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Y/N?” You notice the change of language, and silently checks the number. Abroad numbers? Suspicious.

“Yes, this is she.” You doubtfully answer.

“Hello, This is Jess. I’m here in Seoul today, can we meet?”

Jess? Who is Jess? You can’t literally remember anyone called Jess beside… your friend back in the States. You were not even remotely close, so there’s no way it could be her.

“Sorry, but which Jess?”

She instantly clears her throat, probably embarrassed at the possibility of you not remembering. “We went to the same high school back in the States, before your parents divorced and you moved to Korea.”

So that’s the correct Jess then. But that still doesn’t explain why she is calling you right now, especially with that unnecessary mention of your parent’s divorce. “Ah, I remember now. But why? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, I am in Seoul now. I have to talk to you about something, I promise it won’t take a while.”

“But why? We haven’t talked in years, what could possibly be the reason why we should meet?” You annoyedly point out, not even caring that you have turned hostile to her. You really don’t want to waste any time, especially with Taehyung now at the door, signing you to come in.

“It’s about Jungkook.” She curtly answers, and your heart literally skips a beat at the name. What’s with Jungkook? Your heart clenches with the fear rising in your chest.

“His family and I are here now to take him back to the States, so I have to let you know something. Let’s meet.”

*

It is not long until you and Jess are already sitting in front of each other inside a cafe near your family home. You left Taehyung at home with your family, and promised them you’ll be back in no time.

“You want to order something? My treat.” The girl says after ordering her drinks. You shake your head, not even enjoying the seconds uselessy passed with her. You are just desperate to get it over with and head home.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t remember you being this uptight, Y/N. Loosen up, will you?”

“Well, you don’t know, probably because we weren’t even that close?” You shoot and sigh. “Can we just go straight to the point? My mother is waiting at home.”

Jess hums. “And Kim Taehyung too?”

You glare at her, the uneasiness rising in your head. You have no idea why she should know anything about Taehyung. “What the—”

“I’ll cut to the chase. Jungkook is his family’s only son. His father already had his future all planned out, but then one day he ran away to work in a country far away, with a job that probably pays a quarter from what he could have back home.” She halts after the waitress serves her drinks. “And then we finds out that he is here because of you, a fucking ex—who was just a mere fuck buddies. So we need you to think straight and stop seeing him.”

You stare at her for a full minute until you break in laughter. “What’s funny?” She irks.

“Fuck, this is all just like a midday telenovela, that’s what.” You giggle, still finding mirth in her previous statement. You clear your throat, and send her an not amused look. “Let me fill you in. I don’t fucking care. He’s here because himself, you’re thinking too highly of that one month we fucked. And who are you to say that anyway? You’re his mother or what?”

Jess condescendingly smirks in triumph. “I am his girlfriend. We have been dating all through college before he moved here. I have all right to tell cockroaches like you to scoot off. Besides, you already have Kim, no? Are you really that thirsty for lots of men?”

That statement literally catches you off guard. Girlfriend? Jungkook never mentions anything about a girlfriend. He literally said that he hadn’t been with anyone and that he thought about you most of the time. Was it all… just a lie?

It was like a knock to your chest, but you won’t let it show. “Then you should know better that if you dated all through college, there is no way he could move here because of me.” You calmly explain, the anger and sadness of betrayal building up in your chest. It feels hard to even breathe, and you feel so stupid for believing his words could be true—now that you rewind literally made no sense whatsoever. Jungkook is not with anyone for years, only because of you? Fuck, that’s literally nonsensical.

“And if you’re his girlfriend, you should know he’s here because he is depressed—feeling the inadequacy and constant restriction in doing whatever he wants to do. If you’re his girlfriend, you should support whatever he wants to do for his happiness, instead of teaming up with his father that literally treated him like a fucking robot.” You spit out in dismay, the tears are welling up in your eyes. You hated the fact that you’ve foolishly put your trust on someone undeserving, yet again.

It’s clear now that you have left the girl speechless, and you quickly stomp out of the cafe inside of Taehyung’s car you borrowed. You quickly drive out, with tears freely running on your cheeks, your heart turns hollow and vacant now that you know.

You are a fucking idiot, that’s what.

*

It’s already eleven pm, you are now resting in your room in the family home. Your mother successfully tricked you into staying the night, but Taehyung said he needed to go back to his apartment because he doesn’t have any shirt to change to—denying your mother’s forward offer to let him stay the night with you in your room. The level of trust your mother has in Taehyung is seriously ridiculous—but still he said he’ll be back tomorrow morning to pick you up, as he needed to work in the headquarters for a full week next week.

‘Are you okay?’ Taehyung queried when he was about to drive back, hand clasped against yours. ‘You seemed a little bit upset after that meeting.’

Even then, you could only answer him with a vague shrug, a hug and you cried. Taehyung didn’t ask any further, patting your back calmly while whispering calming words to your ear. He understood you need your space more than anything, and you were thankful.

But now, flipping on your bed for hours hasn’t drifted you to dreamland yet, especially with a head filled with Jungkook and overwhelming queries on how he’s doing right now. And you hate yourself for still caring—it’s freaking Jungkook, who left you after he had enough, who easily lied to you just to sleep with you. Why can’t you just ditch him like that?

Maybe you’re really in love. A total dumbass.

Suddenly, your phone rings. Unknown numbers. Call with Jess did traumatize you, but not taking it will leave you close to no wink of sleep, so you do.

“Hello?” You warily questions. There are around ten seconds before the familiar sigh is heard on the other side of the call.

“Y/N, this is Jungkook.” The familiar voice is close to whispers, and all you can hear is how tired he sounds. Something definitely stirs inside of you. “Are you in your mother’s home? I’ll be there in ten. Can we talk?”

You know it. You know it very, very well. He might as well done it over the phone—it may hurt less. “Is it urgent? Can’t.. can’t we just do it over the phone?”

“No, we need to talk directly. It doesn’t feel right doing it on the phone.”

Fuck, it’s really is. Jungkook is breaking up with you—with no relationships to begin with. The tears are clamming up on your eyes, and you can only hope you’re strong enough to pretend everything’s okay. Cause you hate to show him how weak you are for him.

And not even ten minutes, Jungkook messages you he’s already waiting outside. You walk outside your room to see that your whole house is already dark—your family must have gone to sleep. Good, so they don’t have to see you bawling your eyes out.

When you are at your porch, you can already make out his silhouette from the car. His hand is on the wheel, other hands are resting on his temples—the lines of his face are harsh and cold. Taking a deep breath, you give yourself one last warning and enter his car.

“What is it?” You curtly ask, and Jungkook looks at you with a weirded out stare.

“Why are you angry?”

You roll your eyes, arms folded on your chest. “Because I know clearly why you are here. Jess explicitly told me about everything—you don’t need to waste both of our times, going all the way here just because you want to break up with me. That too if anything of what we did was more than something to you.”

Jungkook stares at you like you’re spluttering nonsense, which you actually are and it leaves you disconcerted. “What—what the fuck are you saying now?”

You scowl. “No need to lie. I know exactly what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna need to move back, right? And you’ll leave your whole life here—” The tears choke you up. “You’ll leave me here. But let me say it, do whatever, Jungkook. It will be just like before, right? It’s not like we've never done this before.”

If you’re really doing it to hurt him, you succeed. Because the pain is literally insufferable.  “Is that what we mean to you? Are you going to just let everything like this like not a shit happened to us?”

“You’re funny, Jungkook. There’s never been an ‘us’, you know it.” You vex with a sarcastic grin. “There’s never been us. Because you lied to me, fuck me and stood me up like nothing happened, right?”

“That’s not true.” He firmly said. “I left first because of my father, Y/N. He told me he’s in town. I need to meet him, why can’t you understand?!”

“I know that! But you expected me to believe all you said when Jess literally came all the way from the States to tell me to fuck off and that you’re in a relationship with her all through college.” Jungkook freezes on his spot, but you’re not done. “Is that wrong, Jungkook? Tell me she lied and I’ll grovel at your feet for forgiveness.”

At Jungkook’s silence, you can feel a stingy pang inside your chest. It was true, he lied. “So she was right? You lied to me—telling me there was no one, only to sleep with me?”

“It’s not true, Y/N. Jess was just… someone I affiliated with. We were not in a relationship.” He hurriedly tries to explain, hand scratching his hair in frustration. “And why does it matter anyway? It’s all in the past, it doesn’t matter now. I only care about you, you know it.”

“It matters! Because you told me there was no one. Because you lied to me, Jungkook. Why can’t you see how wrong it is?”

“She was just someone I fucked with all through college. Even if she thought there was something else, there was none. I set it straight to her, but she never understands.” He softly whispers now. “I regretted it, Y/N. But you can’t hold it against me. I had no feelings for her.”

You know his words should’ve brought reassurance, but the words clearly strike something inside you—a remembrance of pain. You croak. “You know what, that’s exactly what Taehyung told me that time.”

“What-what’s that fucker doing here in our talk?” His voice raises in displease at your mention of another man during your serious talk. “So was everything about Taehyung? All of this—even when we’re fighting, you’re thinking about him. It was all about him all along.”

“No, but the exact thing happened again. You were being dishonest to me. You hurt me, Jungkook.” You whisper softly, cheeks already flowing with tears that it literally throws him off at how fragile you look. “I can’t… I can’t shake that feeling. How I felt when she said everything, like she owned you, like… like she has rights for you. Like I was someone you played with behind her. It was exactly.. that.”

“Hey, I’m sorry you had to feel that way.” Jungkook whispers and pulls you closer inside his arm, heart clenched in guilt at your weak sob. He hates himself for doing that to you—to let you enter the maze of problems he has tried to escape from a while now. You don’t deserve that. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk. I know I should’ve been clearer about everything.”

Ten minutes of crying your concern and heart out inside his arms before you open your voice. “So, she was right? Are you leaving, then?”

He dubiously hums. “I have to, otherwise my father will never stop trying to get me back. I’ll try finishing whatever I can there, and come back right after.” He whispers, palms buried on your hair. “I promise it won’t take long. Can you wait for me?”

You look at Jungkook's hopeful eyes and the ‘yes’ is already at your tongue—when something awakens you. You cannot do that to yourself. You cannot let yourself be miserable, waiting for him again like a broken clock. You cannot gamble your way to mend everything when he leaves, not when there’s any possibility like he’ll leave you again like he did. You’re not that strong.

“I can’t.” You shortly reply, and at the unexpected answer, Jungkook is visibly aggrieved.

“Why? Why can’t you? I’ll be back soon, Y/N—Why do you give up on us that easily?” Jungkook is peeved at your easy surrender. He loves you, he is willing to work it out for you, and it weakens him to see you’re not on board to fight for any feelings you both have for each other. “I know you, Y/N. I know me. We had something together. Please, don’t give up on us.”

“I can’t, because I don’t want to let you hurt me again, Jungkook. Happy?” You shouts, carrying the long pain you have carried throughout your days. “I hate myself for letting myself trust and ending up getting hurt. If I wait for you, I’ll always feel insecure, Jungkook. I’ll always wonder if you’re going back, if you have found someone else, if we’re just going to hurt each other. Because that's what people did to me—to my mother, to us… I can’t.”

Jungkook shudders at the mention of your family. Did he hear it wrong? “Did you mean… your father? But I thought… I thought—”

“Yes.” The hurt multiplies, palpable on your face. “My father lied to me. He is a manipulative jerk who never gave a shit about his family, and made my mother the bad guy in front of me. He didn’t care at all—my mother was struggling with cancer and he didn’t give a shit and still went with the divorce. I just knew after my mother went to find me, beg me to come with her after the divorce.”

The regret at his old self, patronizing you without knowing the truth hits him like a brick. “God, Y/N, I’m sorry. I was—”

“I know. It was such a stressful time, and the pain my mother had to endure because of him—I hated him so much I could die, Jungkook. He hurt me, he hurt us. And he is now living well with his new family, the one he cheated with before. It is not fucking fair.”

Jungkook moves forward to hold you close, his heart wrenching in pain to imagine how agonizing it must have been for you and your mother. “I’m sorry for everything. I was a stupid jerk who thought I knew everything, you had every rights to hate me. I am very, very sorry, Y/N.”

“That’s why I have trust issues. I know very well that one bad apple doesn’t define everything, but it made me more cautious above anything. I can’t afford being weak now, I can’t gamble on the future whether what we had now is gonna last. I don’t want to be naive.”

No matter how he wants to refute your words, he can’t. Because Jungkook understands where you’re coming from, and how traumatizing it must have been. He’d be insensitive to shrug your concern away. “I understand. But I won’t ask for more, Y/N..”

“I’ll be back before December ends.” Jungkook determinedly claims, holding you closer that his nose point is touching yours, warm palms against the side of your face which sends your whole being to instant chaos. His eyes are like a deep sea, that you’re willing to fall in and never out, and all you want to do is hold him close, kiss him and never let go.

“And when we finally meet, I’ll let you know that I will still be loving you then and I’m going to fight for us. No matter what happened.”

*

After having breakfast with both your mother, grandma and Taehyung, you hug the goodbyes. You regret it though, the days passed so quickly and you don’t really have much time to completely be in the moment with your family since your mind is wandering far. If your mother knows, she doesn’t comment—but you know that soft gaze she endows, she is worried for you.

“Goodbye, son! Do visit us regularly, okay?” Your mother beams, hugging Taehyung. She glances at you walking to your room to grab your purse and continues. “I’m very worried for her. Can you please make sure she’s okay?”

“What happened?” Taehyung asks in concern. He did notice something changed after you met your friend yesterday, but it’s definitely getting prominent this morning. 

“Someone came to our house yesterday, and spent some time in the car. After, she walks out crying.” Your mother frets, squeezing Taehyung’s palm. “I’m worried. Can you keep an eye on her?”

“Of course I will.” Taehyung smiles in a comforting manner, tapping on your mother’s palm. “You can count on me, mom.”

Your mother instantly smiles, as she understands by heart she really can count on Taehyung for you. “Thank you. Get going now!” She gestures to walk you out to Taehyung’s car.

Sitting inside the car, your eyes are trained out the window, minds wandering far to last night’s encounter with Jungkook. He said he’ll be back, and you shouldn’t believe him—you told him you won’t, but deep inside you never stopped wishing his words are true. You foolishly believe him with all your heart.

“Hey.”

Taehyung’s call abruptly takes you off your wandering thoughts, shifting your gaze at him. You clear your throat. “Yes? Sorry, I was daydreaming for a while there.”

“I think you’ve been daydreaming all the time we’re here.”

He said the words softly and didn’t mean anything, yet it instantly hits you with guilt. “I’m sorry, I was—”

“Was it about Jungkook?”

“What?” Your eyes widened, heart literally skips a beat. Are you really that obvious?

Taehyung stares at you for a few seconds, then focusing back on the street. “It’s just a lucky guess. And seeing how shocked you were just now, it must be true.”

“It is.” You look down to your lap. “I’m sorry for concerning you.”

“What are you sorry about.” Taehyung chuckles, tapping the top of your head. “He is finally here. The one you’ve been thinking about all through college, your first love, your first heartbreak is here. You should be happy.”

It’s true though. You can’t even count how many people you have pushed away only because you’re thinking about Jungkook. In the period where everyone is just desperate to find love or mere sex, you are not even remotely close to it. You weren’t with anyone all through college. All because you’re thinking about how it feels right to be with Jungkook, how in love you actually were and how foolish it could be to let go of one thing that could have been true just because you were too deep in emotion.

And Taehyung was one of the people that lived through that phase of shutting any possibility of love. He couldn’t even forget how his college friends, or even strangers asking him why are you so closed off, refusing any advancement anyone did. But Taehyung shrugged it away, because he knew how you still couldn’t forget your first love. He didn’t even know how or why you are still able to hold into that love for such a long time—not until he fell for you himself.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend a year ago and you said yes, he really thought you were ready to move on. Finally. And maybe you were, before he messed up everything and it’s already too late. Because Jungkook is back, and how can he compare to the first love, which vaguely ended and still left a sour taste of regret in your heart.

When he saw Jungkook that morning, he knew. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance. Because it’s apparent how head over heels he is still with you, like you are with him. And he just needs to accept it.

“Go with your heart, Y/N.” Taehyung croaks, holding the deep urge inside him forcing him to stop being such goody two shoes. Taehyung is still in love with you. Madly. He loves you for quite a long time now, and he wanted to be yours. But how can he be selfish when you are clearly struggling like this?

“Do you know? The biggest regret I have is to let you go.” 

You glance at Taehyung, as something stirs inside your heart with him addressing your past. “I regret not making everything clear. I regret not fighting for us. I regret not being honest with you, because I was selfish and too much of a coward.”

“I still love you.” Taehyung whispers, the grip on the wheel tightened. You stare at him, speechless while Namjoon’s past words suddenly run through your mind. “But it’s okay. Because above anything, I want you to be happy. Seeing you being miserable makes me extremely sad, Y/N. Please, just go with your heart and be happy.”

Another minute passed in silence, before you mutter gloomily. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say..”

“Let me guide you, then.” Taehyung smiles, his palm resting over yours and gives it a light squeeze. “Thank you for loving me, Taehyung. I know we’ll get through this, as best friends. And you are right, I’ll go with my heart and try to take risk in love, because even though it might hurt me, at the very least I followed my heart instead of my fear.”

His words literally punch you in the gut, because now that he’s the one saying it to you, it never felt clearer. You indeed have been following your fear, discarding how you truly feel for anything or anyone. You love Jungkook, but being afraid has shielded you from following what you really want to do.

Another ten minutes before you give his hand a light squeeze. “You know, I never thought you'd be that much of a bigger person.” You lightly joke, in which Taehyung responds with a snort. “You were not usually like this. Where’s my selfish and self-righteous bestie at?!”

“Well, don’t consider I’m letting you go just yet.” He shrugs jokingly, rolling his eyes. You heartily laugh at that. “Besides, life is still long, right? Don’t count it on me giving up just yet, Y/N. I might just steal your heart away, and that lucky bastard Jungkook should be nervous.” You gaze at Taehyung who is looking back at you with his signature boxy smile, and your heart lightens. God, how lucky you are to have such a great companion like him.

“You know what? He really should.”

*

7 Weeks Later…

Jungkook is looking at the watch on his wrist. It’s already 4PM in his time and 8AM in Seoul. You must be preparing for work, he thinks to himself, unconsciously smiling. That’s what he does whenever it concerns you. He’ll be adored at the thoughts of you walking hastily inside the office, throwing all your belongings on your desk before you begin working. He always finds it endearing. And then, he’ll miss you. He will miss looking at you, talking and bantering with you again.

But not today, since he’ll be over in Seoul in no time.

All seven weeks back in the States were dreadful, but he managed. He knew that it was longer than expected, but he managed to steal the time to find you again. Because in all sincereness, all that he can think of is you.

blueberry_25 : good thursday morning! Soo happy gonna end the week soon! [16:05]

blueberry_25 : what are you doing this weekend? Do you wanna meet? :) [16:06]

It’s funny how he gives you the space you deserve, yet still manages to talk to you again nearly everyday. All because of the pen pal event held by the company which he has resigned from. He needed to take a long break, and had to resign after. The company did give him an option if he wanted to return back, but with the current condition, he is not really sure whether he can return for good.

But at least he got some time to see you again. Which is good.

91snowball : hi, blue, hope you have a great day today too! :) [16:07]

91snowball : we’re going to meet tomorrow. The christmas event, remember? [16:07]

blueberry_25 : I nearly forgot! So hectic today since that finance guy resigned and caused such chaos again. Thanks for the reminder though lol [16:08]

Jungkook literally winces, as you haven’t stopped complaining about the sudden resignation of the finance guy that is literally him regarding your overwhelming work caused by a certain prematurely resigning self-centered jerk. Even one time he mistakenly apologized for it. Nevertheless, it was all fun and games before he thought about how to break it up to you. That he is a snowball, the person you’ve been chatting with anonymously for months, and nearly everyday now. Talking to you were the highlights of his days, and he couldn’t stop. Even for a day.

And he is in the dark on how to break the truth to you. 

The soft chimes of his phone takes him away from the busy thoughts. Jungkook looks down and finds another message from you. The heartfelt smile instinctively appears on his lips.

blueberry_25 : did you get me anything? ;) Can I set my expectations high? [16:10]

91snowball : haha hope so. See you tomorrow, okay? [16:10]

The announcement for passengers to onboard is heard, so Jungkook raises from his seat to join the queue. An anonymous feeling shot through his chest, a heartfelt smile formed on his lips. He is going back. Finally. He finally is going to see you again and it feels terribly unreal. 

Right when another message arrives, and at once the corners of his mouth instantly flattens.

Mom : Son,don’t forget. I’ll pick you up next week. [16:12]

*

“Bye, Y/N, Hoseok!” 

Another person from your team has escaped the dreaded office, yet you and Hoseok are still not showing any sign of moving from your respective places. There are still a few action items on your list that need to be checked off by the night if you want to have a peaceful weekend, and you are determined to have them finished asap.

Because you are going to meet Snowball tomorrow. And you’re going to spend your whole weekend with him too.

“Y/N, why are you not going home?” Hoseok asks in worry while glancing at your screen. “This report needs to be submitted on Monday. You can finish it tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow we are having that Christmas event. I want to finish this before then.” You answer nonchalantly, still typing agilely on your keyboard. Seeing how befuddled Hoseok looks, you roll your eyes. “That pen pal secret santa event. Remember?”

Hoseok instantly turns silent at the mention of the event. God, how could he forget? Tomorrow the office’s Christmas party will be held, along with the first meeting of the anonymous pen pal buddies. Jimin and his team have everything planned out, in which the pair would give a gift inside a box which includes a card to describe and help find who is their pen pal.

It was indeed a brilliant idea. But maybe not to the fact that Jungkook is literally your pen pal, and the fact that you are unaware of how close he has been even after he left.

It doesn’t even need an exquisite skill to guess that something happened with Jungkook and you, especially discernible after he left. You turn greatly silent, and he found you zooming out more than you’d like to admit, and you’re shine dimmed. It was incredibly saddening for nearly everyone, but it’s not for long since you found someone to take your minds off things—who turns out to be your pen pal, or ironically, Jungkook.

And Hoseok has multiple times warned Jungkook that it’s not going to work. You would be furious to find out—who would adore the fact that someone is indeed lying?

“So… your partner will be coming?” Hoseok hesitatingly asks, looking down his lap. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I know he’ll be coming.” You shift your gaze to Hoseok and beam. “He’ll give me a present and I’ll finally meet him.”

Hoseok nods, but something urges him to continue. “But… what if he won’t come?”

Your eyebrows scrunched. “What do you mean?”

He clears his throat. “Maybe? You know, he might have something to do tomorrow, urgently. Or maybe he is not that invested in this like you are? Because let’s be real here, Y/N, you are too deep into this.”

You send a thriving punch to his shoulder that Hoseok immediately winces and. “What is that for?!”

“For being such a source of negativity. Seriously, Hoseok, you used to be sooo positive. Stop hanging out too much with Yoongi.”

“I’m not kidding, Y/N.” Hoseok sternly gazes at you. “Don’t put your hopes too high. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

You smile at him, not even an ounce of doubt seen on your face. “Snowball won’t disappoint me, Hoseok. He’s not like Jungkook.”

At such ironic statements, Hoseok immediately turns speechless—something inside him literally withers. God, how he wishes he could cease you from hurting...

*

It’s already eight pm, and Jungkook is still settling inside his car in front of the building where the Christmas Event is held. His right hand is tapping lightly on the wheel, inside his left grasp is a midnight green colored box in which is the present he prepared for you.

The event will be starting soon, but he’s still waiting for a cue from Yoongi—the only person who knew about his arrival in Korea—when he should be entering. Attract attention is the last he would want, especially when too many people or the bosses are around, as he is obviously not invited now that he has resigned.

Yet needless to say, it is not the main issue concerning his mind. He couldn’t even care less if he is going to be kicked out of the event, as long as he can see you and be with you again. But how can he hope so? All kinds of scenarios are running through his mind about how you would react to him being Snowball, your anonymous pen pal in which you have told him about nearly everything. And it's foolish to even think that you would be fine about him catfishing you—hopefully it’s not the correct term for that.

At first, it was just a mere idea during work, Jimin was joking about how he would make you as his anonymous pen pal after he was informed of a small piece about your past with Jungkook. And Jungkook was not going to think about it more, but he was desperate. He wanted to talk to you again without any resentment—but it could probably be the least thing you want to do in this lifetime, so he begged Jimin to arrange it for him. Even if it was merely anonymous.

But now it could probably be the best yet the worst thing that he had done to you. You are the thing that keeps him sane after being locked again in his hometown, but he is now gambling with the relationship you both have. He is literally lying to you again—just like the worst fight happened in front of your house porch. God, everything is literally a mess.

Suddenly, the sound of an incoming call disrupts his trainwreck thoughts. Min Yoongi.

“Jungkook, the event will be conducted in half an hour, you need to submit your present. The bosses are gone. Come.” Yoongi calmly informs, conflicting to the thoughts on Jungkook’s mind. The fear and insecurity instantly strikes him.

“I don’t know whether I should do this, I mean—”

“Look at your chat.”

Yoongi has an authority tone on his voice that Jungkook immediately obeys, opening his chat. Yoongi has sent a picture of you, lively talking with your friends. You look exquisite, wearing a red ball gown dress that falls on your knee, the blush is apparent on your cheek. You simply look.. stunning.

“She has waited and prepared all this shit because she believed her idiot, fucking selfish so-called pen pal is here. Seriously, you’re not doing any good by pretending again. Just come, Jungkook.”

At once, it was like a knock to his heart at how selfish and undeserving he is to you. It’s okay if you’re angry, he’ll grovel at your feet. And if you don’t want to see him again? Well, he just needs to wait again. He waited for five years to see you again—what is another waiting, right?

Heaving a deep breath, Jungkook finally steps out of his car. He cannot lie that he is excessively frightened, the image of you crying and pushing him away is vivid and it stings. But he promised you he’ll be back before the year ends, and he’ll live up to that promise.

Walking out of the lift, the first person he sees is Jimin, sitting behind the front table from the ballroom. He is now receiving gifts from various people, which Jungkook assumes must be for the pen pal event. He walks closer, until Jimin can finally see him, and somehow, upon meeting your face, he literally falls a few steps back, face bleached like he just saw a ghost.

“J-jungkook?”

Jungkook smiles and rests the gift on the table. “Hi, Jimin. This is my gift for her.”

“B-b-but how—why? How can you’re here? I thought—I thought you’re moving and—”

“Yes. But I’m here now.” Jungkook thinly smiles. “May I know what I should do next?”

“Y-yes. So, the pair will be divided into two rooms, and when we cue, we will let you find each other, with the stuff and card inside the gift.” The panic is still evident on his face, but Jungkook just shrugs it away. Jimin can be overreacting at times.

“May I enter my room now?”

Jimin instantly nods as an answer, and points to the room on his right. “You can enter the room on the right. But Jungkook?”

Jungkook stares at Jimin, waiting for the continuation. “Good luck there. And I’m sorry.” He clears his throat, and points to the room. “You go now.”

Jungkook doesn’t even know if that’s really something for Jimin to be sorry about, but he literally couldn’t care less when he’s just minutes away from meeting you. “Thanks.”

Inside the room, there are a few people who are high chance waiting for the pen pal committee as well. The moment he enters, he can see a few confused eyes staring at him, but the moment he finds Namjoon, he can finally breathe. Namjoon is not too different though, staring at him with weirded out eyes.

“Jungkook, you’re here?” He blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes. “Am I drinking too much champagne or are you really here?”

“I am.” He chuckles. “I came back to fulfill a promise, I guess.”

“Y/N? Because she’s your pen pal, right?” Jungkook nods slowly. “God, do you know there’s a very high chance that she’ll kick your ass for all this bamboozling shit?”

“Affirmatively.” Jungkook grins, yet his fingers are nervously fidgeting, a habit he inhibited since a month ago. “But, I just… I am trying, you know?”

Namjoon nods and taps on Jungkook’s back to relay comfort. “She loves you too. Even if she’s furious, she’ll come around.” Jungkook can only hope so.

At that time, the committees enter with a trolly of boxes that must be the pen pal gift. One of them hands Namjoon and Jungkook’s respective gifts. “You can start finding your pen pal now.”

Jungkook looks down on the blue box on his grasp, and he flinches with palms turning clammy from cold sweat, heartbeat too fast he could even hear it with his ear. Step by step, he enters the other room. Scanning the room, his sight instantly falls to you, smiling while looking down to the familiar box on your grasp. Your wavy hair settles perfectly on your shoulder, a serene smile formed on your lips.

‘I can’t, because I don’t want to let you hurt me again, Jungkook. Happy? I hate myself for letting myself trust and ending up getting hurt.’

Just when he is about to take another step closer to you, the remembrance of that night hits him straight in the gut. He is hurting you. Again. And you’ll leave. You’ll never want to see him again.

The weight on his shoulders triple at the petrifying scenario running through his mind, and Jungkook instinctively takes a step back and runs outside the room. No, he can’t do this. He is too scared. He thought he is ready to take every chance, but it turns out not much has changed, because he’s still the coward he was nearly five years ago.

Jungkook walks to the hotel balcony, heaving several deep breaths. The sky is exceptionally beautiful, the full moon is wandering in the sky and it invokes a memory within his mind.

About the night you cried in front of him for the first time.

“Are you afraid?” Jungkook whispered that night, gazing down at you. The loud blazing sound of bass was faintly heard, but both of you are sitting near the gate, looking out to the sky. You stare at him and shift back your empty gaze to the full moon. You despise that no matter how strenuous you tried to suppress the pain, it kept on rising back and numbs all your feelings.

“I am not afraid of you.” You weakly replied, the exhaustion vivid on your tone.

“I know.” Jungkook followed your gaze. “Are you afraid you’ll cry in front of me?”

You gazed at him, eyes filled with sadness and animosity. “What?”

“It’s literally a party inside. And you’ve been looking like you’re in a freaking funeral—well, beside the drinking part.” You were surprised with how susceptible he was. The day had indeed been counted as one of the worst days of your life, and it’s not even over yet. And you were fucking tired of crying, hence you decided to numb everything and wasted all your energy to alcohol instead. So at least you won’t remember again.

“Just cry.” He tranquilly whispers, his palm settles on the side of your face. “Those tears—I’ll catch them for you.”

And you just did.

Looking down to his lap, he is looking at the box on his grasp from you. Huffing a deep breath, he moves to open the box with not much thoughts—yet his mind abruptly turns blank after seeing the items resting in the box. 

What… are these?

“Are you afraid?”

Turning on his heel, Jungkook’s strained gaze fell on the eyes he thought would never see this up close again. It’s you. You are literally just a distance away in front of him right now, that he might need to pinch himself to ensure everything is not a piece of his hallucination. 

“What?” 

“Because you look like you’re about to cry.” You whisper calmly, arms folded on your chest. “Are you that afraid to meet me again?”

Jungkook is now staring at you, face conflicted. He is at haze on everything that just unfolded. “How did you—how did you know?”

“You think I won’t find out that you’re snowball?” You took a step closer, glancing at the items on the box. A basketball keychain and a frame of photo taken five years ago, the two of you side by side with a shy smile on both your faces. It was something he never thought would receive from his pen pal, even in his wildest dream.

“You think I won’t recognize you?”

Jungkook stutters. “What do you—”

“I know everything.” You cut him right away, face still expressionless. “I know it. You are snowball, I know you bribed Jimin into arranging, I know you are hiding by talking to me anonymously with snowball as an identity—everything. I know it’s you who I’m talking to these past seven weeks.”

A good five minutes passed before Jungkook could even let out a sound, let alone a coherent statement. 

“Are you… angry at me?”

“Yes.” You respond, not even missing a hint of hesitation in your tone. The physical pain is even more evident now. “I hate you. I hate you for fabricating lies about us. When I found out for the first time that it was you, I was furious. I felt played, like an idiot. I told you, I hate when someone lies to me. Do you remember?”

“I know.”

Another minutes spent staring each other, then you sigh in tiredness. “But more than anything, I missed you.” You continue, your tone falters as your eyes are far away, the sudden weakness stirs something inside his chest. “I miss you like crazy, and I took it. I took the lies, if it means I can talk to you again. Like an idiot, I didn’t think straight.”

Jungkook stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “I know I decided not to wait for you, but it was foolish. Waiting for you—that’s not an option I could make. And no matter how much I decided I need to stop thinking about you, I can’t. I am an idiot, who—”

At once, Jungkook is now hugging you close, not even a breath between the two of you. The feelings are familiar, yet so strange since the butterflies are knocking your stomach with nerves now. Jungkook is here. He is finally here, hugging you close. It’s literally the dream you’ve been having for a while now.

“I came back.”

You hum.

“For you. For the promise I made us.”

You hum.

“I am sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have bribed Jimin.”

You hum.

Jungkook lets you go, anxious at the possibility of you lying and suppress all your feelings just for the sake of him. “Can you say something? Anything. Please be mad at me, or anything, because you have the rights to. But please don’t be silent, I beg you.”

“I love you.”

Those three words are most absolutely not the word he is expecting. He confusedly searches your eyes. “If you said I can say anything, I want to say that for the first time. I love you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stares at you, still in disbelief of the possibility of his hearing deceiving him. “What?”

“I love you. And I want to fight for us.” You whisper, squeezing his palm against yours. “ I am sorry too. I let my emotion and fear take over, and I hurt you. I am in this just like you are, so don’t blame yourself alone, hmm?”

“I love you too.” Jungkook responds, as he pulls you close by the nape, crashing his lips on yours and taking your breath away. “I love you more than anything. I love you more than anyone. I am sorry, I am very sorry.”

You hold him closer by the waist, minutes passed just to feel how warm he is against you, the familiar scent seeps inside your brain that disoriented your whole being. As he lightly bites your lower lips and instinctively forces a moan out of you,  you shivers. Jungkook swiftly takes the chance to push through and leaves a beautiful taste on your tongue. Your fingers run through his hair, feeling the soft hair falls between your fingers. Giving it a light tug, you are more than satisfied to find Jungkook is just as affected as you by the way he bemoans.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jungkook creakily whispers, not even hiding the lust and desire lacing his tone and not even a second thought is spent, you nod. You are desperate to have him again like the way it was before, to leave nothing between the two of you, to feel him close and beg for him to take you again, pleasuring you like no one could. 

“By the way, you look beautiful tonight.” He smiles, squeezing your waist with his palm. “You always do, but maybe the fact that I haven’t seen you for seven weeks, now that you are wearing this beautiful dress—It’s just.. breathtaking.”

You roll your eyes, but are unable to suppress the beam on your lips. “You better keep that mindset, okay? Don’t you fucking dare say I look better naked later.”

Jungkook grins at that. “You know what? You just get me.”

“You know, I need to tell you this, but… I actually threatened Jimin to confirm that you are indeed snowball. And I have to say that it wasn’t pretty, and I wasn’t proud of it. We haven’t really been talking with each other after that..”

“What?!” Jungkook literally shouts, the imagination of you threatening Jimin with a knife forms on his head. No wonder he looks like a ghost after seeing him attend the event. “What did you do to the poor guy?!”

“Well, I may or may not… have caught him getting a blowjob from his teammate in the office one time.. And yup, you know the rest.” You wince, and hold out your palm together. “I swear, I have no intention to let anyone know, it was just a self defense method—”

“You just told me, you know.”

You pout, tugging on his blazer. “But you’re my Jungkook! It’s different.”

Jungkook sighs, but it’s foolish to lie that the possession terms you used before his name literally sends him into a blushing mess. He is unable to resist to steal a kiss from you once again. The moment your lips touching, you are left speechless—and wanting more that you still chase for his lips even after he pulls himself. You frown, folding your arms in indignation that you caught him grinning after. “Looks like someone is missing me too much, huh?”

“I hate you.” You obnoxiously spit.

“No, you love me.” 

“Yes, but I’m starting to regret it now.” 

Jungkook giggles, caressing the side of your pouty face. God, how is it possible to be luring and cute at the same time? Being with you is all kinds of emotions lured into one, and it left him wanting for more and more.

“I feel like I didn’t say this enough, but I love you, Y/N. I really, really do.” Jungkook whispers, as his finger pushes strands of hair to behind your ear, and you give him a smile which brightens his whole world. The moment he looks at you like this, he know he is sold. You’re his only sole chance, nothing and no one else.

“We’ll fight for each other, right?” Jungkook whispers and you stare at him back with a smile, and unlike before, this time you reply with a determined nod. One thing you know is that you’ll do anything to make the best out of each other—you’ll finally fight for what you feel instead of following your fear. Because you love Jungkook, and he feels the same way.

Oh, how he would trade everything to have this moment last forever...

===========================

I should have write this better lol was too distracted with life and kim soo hyun that its 🅱razy. I wish I have will to edit this too, tho

If you wonder if there’s an epilogue, there is! kindly follow me and slide into my ask box! stay safe, all!  💜💌

UPDATE : Find the Epilogue HERE !

[sassyhobbits]

hi julia 💙 tinder au? i have just fallen in love with it

ok yall. here it is. the highly requested and long awaited tinder au. i probably have like 20 messages on my inbox rn asking for this.

anyway, here's day 3 for yall!! enjoy!!

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was the mastermind behind his own misery.

He had been kicking himself for his stupidity for the past week, ever since that godsdamned wedding he had gone to with Aelin. The event had confirmed his suspicions: he liked Aelin Galathynius. A lot.

And it was his own fault that he hadn’t asked her out.

He had been the one to say that they should remain coworkers and nothing more. He had just been so shocked to see the woman he had matched with on Tinder at his place of employment he hadn’t really known what to do. So, he said something foolish.

For a while now, Rowan’s attraction towards Aelin had been growing. It had been easy to ignore at first, brushing it off and contributing it to the fact that she was a pretty woman. But, even in those months where Aelin had enraged him, she still managed to enthrall him. He thought about her smile far too often. About the dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the sound of her laugh, the smell of her perfume. Mostly, he thought about the dances that they had shared at that wedding. A small taste of what could have been if Rowan hadn’t been such a rutting idiot.

If he could take back that foolish decision, he would.

Now, his choice haunted him everyday. He would watch Aelin at work, see other men and women give her appreciative looks and flirty smiles, leaving Rowan in a constant state of morbid anticipation, waiting for the day she reciprocated some of that attention and he would be left behind.

Rowan lingered by the personal training desk, knowing he should be planning the workouts for his clients for the week, but his attention was pinned across the gym. Aelin was working today with a new client that he had never seen. He was in his mid-twenties, tall, blonde. Good looking, and obviously very smitten with his trainer. Rowan ground his jaw as the man sent a charming smile to Aelin. He wished her back wasn’t turned towards him so he could have seen how she responded.

“Keep on clenching your jaw like that and you’re going to break a tooth,” a feminine voice said teasingly.

Rowan tore his gaze away from Aelin, finding Lysandra leaning against the desk, ivory cheeks flushed pink from her own workout.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lysandra scoffed and rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. “You may be fooling yourself, Rowan Whitethorn, but you’re sure as hell not fooling me.”

Rowan pressed his lips together tightly, looking back at his clipboard and trying to ignore the woman beside him. However, that wasn’t suitable for Lysandra.

“If you ask her out she’ll say yes,” she said casually.

Rowan scoffed. “She seems perfectly happy with that pretty-boy over there.”

“She’s settling for that pretty boy over there because you aren’t giving her the attention she deserves.”

Rowan sighed and looked back at the woman beside him dryly. Her dark brows were narrowed, lips pinched in annoyance. It was clear she wasn’t happy with him.

“Listen, Rowan,” she continued, “I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I will tell you that if you don’t get your shit together and finally ask Aelin out, she’s going to move on. And you’re going to make yourself extra miserable.”

Rowan didn’t have a response for that, simply holding Lysandra’s gaze more a moment longer before she stomped away towards the locker rooms, leaving him alone at the desk.

Deep down, he knew that she was right. Just watching Aelin conversing and mildly flirting with another man was driving him crazy. He didn’t know how he’d feel if she actually returned one of her many admirers' sentiments. Pissed off, most likely, that he had missed his chance. And that he had no one to blame but himself.

That was likely the thing that had been holding him back for so long. Admitting that he had been wrong. Gods, there was nothing worse. Absolutely nothing.

Rowan didn’t want to admit that he was biding his time, but he was. Waiting for Aelin to be finished with her client so that he could make his move. And potentially suffer a thorough tongue-lashing from the object of his desire. He couldn’t imagine that she would find it amusing that he was coming crawling back after being the one to request the space between them in the first place.

After what felt like an eternity, Aelin and her client finally made their way off the gym floor. They stood not too far away from him, but with the music and the sound of others chatting, he couldn’t really hear what they were saying. He pretended he didn’t notice them, anyway.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes, the man sending Aelin one last flirty smile until he swaggered off in the direction of the locker rooms.

Luckily for him, Rowan didn’t even have to muster up the courage to go up to Aelin. She instead came over to him, leaning over the desk and grabbing her own clipboard. What pissed him off was that she barely even seemed to notice him.

“Hey,” she breathed casually, jotting something down.

“Hello, Galathynius.” Good gods, why did he sound so stiff?

He waited a few more heartbeats, hoping that she would strike up a conversation, but she was terribly focused on whatever it was that she was writing.

Rowan quickly grew tired of waiting.

“Are you going out with that guy?”

Aelin’s pen froze mid stroke, and Rowan’s instincts told him that he had said something wrong, and danger was lurking near. She looked up to him, a wicked tilt to her golden head.

“Would it be a problem if I was?” she drawled.

Rowan ground his jaw, refusing to back down at the fire in her eyes. “Don’t go out with him.”

Aelin blinked once before scoffing. She tossed her clipboard to the side, spreading in legs in what Rowan could only describe as a fighting stance and crossing her arms over her chest. “You cannot be serious right now.”

Rowan stood straighter. “I’m completely serious. Don’t go out with him.”

“You must be smoking something if you think you have any say over who I do or do not go out with.” She pointed a well-manicured finger at him. “Let me remind you that you were the one who said we should just be coworkers.”

“Believe me, I remember.”

“Then what changed your mind so suddenly? Huh?”

“You did, Aelin.”

For once, it didn’t seem that Aelin had a snappy response up her sleeve for this one. Rowan seized the rare moment of silence, taking a deep breath to steel himself before moving closer and continuing.

“Aelin… I really like you,” he began. “I have since we met. Before that, even. I had been so excited to meet you in person after talking that night and then you were here and you were my coworker and I… I reacted stupidly.”

Aelin’s lips were pressed together tightly, a sign that she wouldn’t interrupt until he said what he had to say.

“I was afraid of what might happen if something went wrong,” Rowan admitted. “If we went out and you realized you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, and I had to see you every day at work and be reminded of that. I was a coward because I didn’t want to face that particular torture. But… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And I know that if I never admitted it, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

There were a few moments of painful silence as Aelin considered his words.

“So, what?” Aelin said. “You just expect me to jump into your arms now that you decided you were finally ready to grow a pair and ask me out? You think I was just going to wait for you?”

“No. I know you’d never wait for a man. I know that you’re strong and independent. I’d never expect that from you but…” Rowan reached out slowly, taking her hand into his and giving her fingers a firm squeeze. “I hope that you’ll be able to forgive my stupidity and let me take you out on a real date soon.”

For a few, too long heartbeats, Aelin stared down at where he held her hand. Rowan had never felt more nervous than he had in that moment. It was maddening.

But, she eventually tilted her head up, and her face had softened, a smile on those full lips of hers. She gave his hand a squeeze.

“Gods, I thought you would never ask.”

It was Rowan’s turn to smile, beaming at the woman before him. “So, that’s a yes?”

She nodded once. “It is. You can pick me up at eight tonight. I expect something nice, I want to dress up.”

“I look forward to it.”

Aelin laughed, a beautiful sound, before she closed the distance between them and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek, thoroughly stunning him as she slipped away, smiling at him the entire time.

“And don’t forget the flowers,” she called, striding across the gym. “Kingsflame are my favorite.”

“Noted.”

Aelin held his gaze for another wonderful moment before she turned, striding over to meet with a woman he recognized as one of her regular clients. Once he was sure she was no longer watching, he brushed his fingers over the spot where she had kissed him which still burned pleasantly.

He would make sure everything went perfectly tonight. There was no way in hell that he would mess it up and ruin his chance with this amazing woman. Aelin was unlike anyone he had ever met before.

He knew one thing for sure. Aelin Galathynius was the one for him.

[tiesthatbind-tf]

Question for Optimus and Megatron! Do you ever see yourselves reconciling in the future? At this point do you even want to?

The jagged edges of badly-healed scars and lines of age on the man’s face were thrown into clear relief by the soft blue glow of tablet in his hands as he studied the question proposed to him carefully. Unblinkingly.

It was two in the morning on a sleepless night amid a quiet week, and after a short prayer session and paperwork, an odd sense of melancholy had begun to creep in.

The rare moments of peace brought with them clarity to his thoughts that weren’t focused on missions, briefings and strategic discussions, and that clarity was, at times, a double-edged sword.

“Back when we used to meet each other at Maccadam’s every weekend, he would bring along this notebook filled with poetry and paragraphs of his thoughts about the state of the world. It wasn’t something he openly shared—miners wrote books yes, but mostly concerning their line of work,” Optimus finally spoke up after almost ten minutes of deliberating what he was going to say, and whether he should say it.

“On the day he left the Newham police station after being arrested for suspicion of inciting a riot, after he was brutalized by a rogue guard I had hired a few months ago... I found it.”

He had left the oak desk that was groaning under a stack of files, folders and documents that only increased as the days passed, long strides taking him to the bookshelf at the end of the room where the works of Thomas Aquinas were nestled carefully next to Imam Al-Bukhari’s. One book, much smaller than the rest, seemed out of place there however, and this was the one he pulled out.

“On the sidewalk.”

It was a woebegone-looking notebook, weathered by time with the edges of some pages crimped up by water damage, though it was clear that care had been taken to preserve it: The covers were wrapped in plastic, and not a single silverfish was to be seen scuttling away as Optimus opened it only to show the initials ‘M.T’ scribbled at the lower right corner of the first page.

“I thought he had dropped it and wanted to give it back to him. And with it, I wanted to apologize for everything—for not being there when it happened, for it happening in my station under my jurisdiction, for failing the promise I made to him twenty-eight years ago that I wanted to join law enforcement to protect everyone, not just those the system decided deserved protection—-but by the time I arrived at the mining community he worked at… they told me he’d been sent to Messatine.”

He closed the book before any demand for more of its contents could arise. They weren’t his to divulge.

“So I held on to this notebook for the better part of a decade. I memorized the words——some of them, I recited in front of the Senate the day I decided I was done being a part of their system. I hoped he would come home one day so I could return it to him in person. And he did!”

There was the ghost of a smile that crossed his features, which quickly shifted to a perplexed frown.

“But when I tried to give him back what was his, he told me to keep it or burn it—-he didn’t care for it any more. No point dwelling in the past, especially one he had grown beyond, was what he said. I took his words at face value back then… but when I think about it now? I wonder if it wasn’t him trying to bury what remained of the person he was before the Pits, before Messatine, before the night at my station. Before everything.”

The guilt was heavy in his tone as he sank down to the floor and leaned against the bookshelf; broad shoulders sagging under the weight of an invisible mantle and eyes glazed over in a thousand-yard stare for a moment.

“Do I want to reconcile our differences? Yes. More than anything. Because the boy I traded books with, the friend I shared a table with, and the man who wrote these words that opened my eyes ? I believe that man is still alive and that man is worth saving.”

He closed his own eyes for a moment and when they opened once more, the focus in his gaze seemed to have returned.

“Do I think it will happen? InsyaAllah, perhaps, but I would not stake the world on that reconciliation.”

___________________________________________________

The temperature in the empty war room felt like it had dropped several degrees as the Decepticon leader glared at the seeming-innocuous question as though it had come for his neck personally. Adam’s apple bobbing in a rare show of uncertainty and trepidation, he closed his eyes, steepled his fingers and exhaled harshly.

“I don’t… hate the man, if that is where the trajectory of your question is heading. He was my best friend, one of the few I would have trusted with my life. More heart than sense, foolish and naive and stubborn, but kind. To a fault,” Megatron uttered after a few minutes, his lips a thin and terse line as he thought about the matter a little deeper.

Another spell of silence fell upon the hall as he stood up and muttered an annoyed ‘tch’ at the part of him that saw it fit to indulge the inquiry at all before picking out a book from the glass-cased shelf in the back of the room.

“That is not to say the urge doesn’t arise from time to time. But every time that voice whispers venom and spite whenever I hear his name? I remember this.”

It landed on his paperwork with a dull thump; a hard-cover edition of ‘Umar Ibn Al-Khattab: His life and times’ which was, from first glance, well-kept save some light tatters on the book jacket.

A closer look at the book jacket however would reveal several brown specks which resembled dried blood.

“Thirty-two years ago, the sheltered child of a professor and a journalist threw this book over the fence dividing redlined districts to a nobody who simply voiced a fascination for what he was reading. Without prompt. ‘It’s a gift’ he said. A gift for someone he had spoken to for all of ten minutes. A gift for a new friend.”

The warlord who was greying earlier than most sank back into his seat with his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling overhead. 

“The nobody cherished it for approximately two days before the census team came by for an unannounced inspection, and lo behold they did find it, and the nobody was beaten within an inch of his life for the crime of possessing a book which wasn’t ‘approved’ for his class, and therefore could not belong to him.”

The scoffing disdain in his voice as he spoke of the abuse was replaced with a fierceness that would have made anyone listening take a step back, more so that his glare felt like it could burn right through the screen as he returned his attention to the person on the other end.

“But it did. Because it was a gift from a friend. And when that nobody became a rebel, and eventually a warlord who tore down the doors to the government’s archives for ‘Persons Of Interest’? He bled everybody in that basement like the stuck pigs  they were until he found that little box with his name written on it, found this inside it, and then burned everything else to the ground.”

That would explain the drying blood on the cover of the book that he was now holding up, at the very least.

“This, and the books that were to come which that kind and foolish boy would toss over the fence, was when I realized how broken the system truly was, that I had to rely on this subterfuge for want of a better education. This was when I realized I wanted more than to live and die in the mines as my barcode dictated.”

The mounting anger in his tone seemed to suddenly cut off he opened his mouth only to close it swiftly, and when his tongue could finally form words again, they were noticeably softer than before.

“This was also when I realized that perhaps, I wasn’t alone in my outrage, in my boyhood fantasies for a better world. No one told that meddling idiot to make my fight his as well, but at eight-years-old, he decided he was going to do something about it to help me because he wanted to. And it’s hard to hate that earnestness.”

He closed his eyes for a moment before standing up with his hands clasped behind him, features obscured as he faced the wall with shoulders squared.

“Reconciliations are not out of the question. Truth be told, I do desire it. Whatever my past as a gladiator might have impressed upon you, believe me, I don’t enjoy the prospects of senselessy killing Autobots I have fought alongside for many years, back when we worked side by side against our common enemy. Terrible waste of genuinely good if not exceedingly foolish people, I would think.”

A curt professionalism had crept in now as he turned around and stroked his beard thoughtfully at the notion.

“However the matter should only be discussed after our movement’s primary objective has been achieved, and not a moment before. And if he and his merry men keep being an obstacle in my path?”

He smirked coldly.

“I can’t promise that the consequences won’t be dire.”

[mortimer-writes-sometimes]

Sorry if this is indecent but, do you only write fluffy or do you also write spice stuff? Because I have a Sansby request of "making dinner becames a fun night"

I have mixed feelings about this, actually, but not for the reasons you may think!

See, I am asexual. I’m not sex-repulsed, but I don’t understand the appeal of being with another person in that way. However! When it comes to writing, I appreciate its potential as a plot device and I know it is something people like to read for a variety of reasons. I have read sex scenes before just so I don’t miss anything reading through interesting fanfiction and I know how to build up to and imply arousal. However, I have a feeling that I would be really bad at writing the actual sex part, because again... I don’t get it. I pride myself on my ability to portray emotion, but I don’t think I have that level of skill.

Also, just in case I can do it, I don’t want to accidentally end up known for smut fics. I like stories better. So, y’know. Not gonna attempt it, just in case.

That being said, I would loath to leave a reader entirely disappointed, so I have elected to write another take on the prompt you’ve given me! I know you were looking for spice and not fluff, but I hope you enjoy this anyway.

Cooking 101

Word count: 1109

“Cut the stalk into strips, but don’t cut all the way down to the joint. That will help keep the celery stable as you cut.”

Grillby smiled gently as he stood behind Sans, reaching around him to guide his hands. He’d been surprised when the skeleton insisted on helping him cook dinner. As far as he was aware, Sans wasn’t much of a cook. The fire monster had a sneaking suspicion that the sudden desire to learn had something to do with that morning’s little accident. Grillby wore gloves when working with wet ingredients, but while he’d been making breakfast he dropped the bottle of vanilla into the pancake batter. It splattered everywhere, and seeing as it had yet to be infused with magic, it left several dark marks on Grillby’s arms where the flames were partially put out. Sans had been quick to heal him, but it left the skeleton ‘rattled’. When the fire monster had suggested chicken and dumplings for dinner Sans had been quick to suggest that he handle the wet ingredients until they’d been properly treated with magic that would protect Grillby from any ill effects.

That’s how Grillby found himself leaning gently against Sans, wrapping his arms around the skeleton’s waist as he let him finish the dicing on his own. “That’s perfect. We can set that aside for now.”

Sans grinned at the praise, leaning back into Grillby’s arms. Between the warmth at his back and the warmth in his soul, he was once again reminded that marrying this man was the best decision he’d ever made. “Hey, firefly? This is really nice,” he mumbled.

“I agree,” Grillby chuckled, kissing Sans’s cheekbone, “But I’m afraid I can’t hold you up and get a bowl from the cabinet at the same time. Sit up for just a moment.”

Sans whined, but complied, shifting his weight back on his own two feet. “So, what’s next?”

“Dry ingredients.” Grillby set a bowl and an assortment of measuring cups in front of Sans as he moved things around with organized ease. “That’s strange… I could have sworn I laid out the thyme.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.” Sans glanced at the microwave display. “Clock says it’s six thirty-eight. Lemme guess, we gotta wait until the moon is high to start our witch’s brew?”

Grillby rolled his eyes, setting a container of flour in front of Sans. “Haha, very funny. Go ahead and measure out two cups of flour while I find it.”

Simple enough task, right? At least, if you’re familiar with cooking. Sans wasn’t working with a very large bowl, so it would make sense to add a leveled half-cup of flour to the bowl at a time. Unfortunately, Sans was not familiar with cooking.

Poof!

Grillby turned around to find both Sans and his workstation dusted in a light coating of flour. The skeleton had taken a heaping cup of flour and dumped it all in the bowl at once, sending a cloud of white powder everywhere. He coughed and shook his head, trying to get the flour out of his eye sockets. When he looked up at Grillby, his expression was so bemused that the fire monster couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh my god, Sans,” Grillby managed through his laughter, “You’re an absolute mess.”

Sans gave him a mischievous grin. “Oh yeah?” He picked up the measuring cup again with clear intent.

Grillby realized what was happening a moment too late. He barely had time to shield his face with his arms before Sans had thrown a cup of flour at him, the nutty scent of lightly cooked flour filling the kitchen as it covered him. “Sans-!” He gave his husband a playful smile. “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”

Sans knew that look. He took off running, getting a few seconds head start while Grillby grabbed the flour container. The fire monster gave chase, jumping over the couch in his pursuit. He managed to nearly catch up, throwing a handful of flour at Sans. Sans changed direction and caught him off guard, grabbing a handful of flour from the container in Grillby’s hand and throwing it over the fire monster’s head before taking off again.

Sans made a mistake when he let Grillby chase him up the stairs. Grillby intentionally let Sans run past him into the living room. When he was in just the right spot, the fire monster dumped the entire container of flour over the banister, engulfing half the room in a white cloud. Sans took the brunt of the impact, playfully crying out as he was practically drowned in flour. Grillby laughed, leaning over the banister. “I believe I win.”

“Yeah, yeah, I surrender,” Sans conceded, taking off his hoodie and trying to shake out some of the flour that had accumulated there. “So, pizza tonight?”

“That sounds perfect.” Grillby came down the stairs, giving Sans a fond smile. “Perhaps we should clean up a bit, first.”

“I’ll sweep, you vacuum?” Sans proposed. “And of course, the first shower goes to the victor.”

Grillby arched an eyebrow at him. “Sans, we use separate showers. Unless you’re implying that you want to try bathing in fire, in which case I must strongly discourage it.”

Sans chuckled. “Nah, I’m just looking for an excuse to be the one to order the pizza so I can annoy the delivery guy.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Grillby mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Sans looked up at him with a cheeky grin. “Aww, you know you love me.”

Grillby’s smile softened at that. If someone had told him three years ago that he would be chasing his favorite customer around the house with a container of flour, laughing and leaping over furniture, he would have just rolled his eyes. It had seemed like an impossible, silly fantasy. Yet, there he was, clothing white with powder as he gazed lovingly into his husband’s eyes. The fire monster leaned down and kissed the top of Sans’s skull, unable to wipe the smile from his face even if he tried. “I do love you, Sans,” he said softly. “I really do. I wouldn’t trade evenings like this for anything.”

Sans flustered a bit. “Yeah. I know how you feel.” A warmth settled in Sans’s chest as the mirth faded. He smiled up at his husband, putting his hands on his shoulders. “By the way, Grillbz?”

“Yes?”

“I cannot take you seriously with that much flour on your glasses.”

The monsters’ combined laughter filled the house as Grillby wrapped his arms around Sans, letting the skeleton lean against him once more. 

Yeah. Neither of them would trade that moment for the world.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little bit of domestic fluff. If you liked it, consider reblogging and/or leaving me a comment telling me your favorite part! Also, if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know!

[razrbladekiss]

TYRANTS | Chapter Eight - Angels Or Devils

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, tig, usual SOA shit

MASTERLIST

Irked, Chibs stuffed his cellphone into the pocket of his cut with a prolonged fuck to accompany the squelch of glass against leather.

He couldn’t get a firm grip on anything this morning.

Jax was at large, Isla and Tig had rolled onto the lot together looking much, much too comfortable, and Gemma was chewing every goddamn soul’s ear off about her son.

To say that he wanted the day to be over—before it had even commenced—was the understatement of the fucking year.

“Where the hell is he?” Clay barked from the front of the garage, turning to eye Isla directly. “You sure you haven’t seen him?”

“If I knew where he was, I would’ve told you by now.” Her retort was just as curt, prompting Tig to tense in his spot beside her.

He twined his hand around her bicep in order to calm her, but it was no use.

“Well somebody must know where he is—“

“You tried callin’ Tara?” Chibs cut the president off, hoping he’d be able to take some of the heat off of his daughter—the one that seemed to get all of Clay’s Jax-fueled frustrations launched atop her these days.

He just glared at the Scot.

“I can swing by his place? Make sure he ain’t there?” Tig offered.

“He isn’t. Wendy would’ve said.”

“Alright,” the sergeant smacked his lips together. “We’re gonna have to go without him, then.”

Isla hummed, agreeing with Tig.

That forced a vexed snarl from Clay, and she wanted to throttle him for being so fucking haughty today.

“What? He has a point. If we wait around for him, then we’re gonna be late and the other Sons will get to the cemetery before us. Jax knows where we’re going, and what time this fucking funeral starts, so just trust that he’ll be there!”

Her outburst was completely uncharacteristic. It was brash and loud, and Clay realized that her emotions were running a hell of a lot higher today than what they usually would have, so he allowed it to pass.

He cut her some slack because that was what she needed. Isla needed to blow off some steam, to raise her voice and yell out her frustrations because she would’ve let them bubble over, otherwise.

Plus, unbeknownst to him, she had started to take the Mirtazapine that had been prescribed to her, and she still didn’t know how to feel about it.

It was odd. Everything about today, was just fucking odd.

“Kids right.” The rasped acknowledgment came from Happy this time, nodding in her direction with that signature stoic expression he was known to host. “Jax wouldn’t miss this.”

“Alright.” Clay waved a hand tersely before gesturing to the sea of Harley-Davidsons parked side-by-side. “You heard ‘em. Let’s go.”

Tig grabbed at her hand as she went to slip away—exactly like she did to him last night—and pulled her toward him.

The moment didn’t go unnoticed by Clay and her father as they mounted their bikes, sharing the same look that’d been meshed with confusion and concern.

“You good now?”

She nodded, using her pointer finger to twist the crucifix that was sat against her neck, feeling a foreign heat prickle against her cheeks because all eyes were on them.

After turning up together today, people had their suspicions, too.

And those suspicions were mostly held by Chibs and the pres, but it was partly unrest because they both knew what Tig had done—though, Chibs wasn’t officially privy to Clay pulling the strings.

He would be, though. In time, he would find out for himself.

“Gemma and Wendy are heading out in the SUV. Are you going too?” He squinted underneath the sun, pulling his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt.

“I am.” Isla smiled, squeezing Tig’s hand. “Ride safe.”

She stood straight—not having to shift onto her toes because her heels provided some more height—and pressed a dulcet kiss to his cheek.

“Please don’t get into another fight today.” She expressed sadly, lightly ghosting her fingertips over the bruise sitting uncomfortably against his cheekbone. “I don’t think I have it in me to take care of you again.”

“I can’t make any promises.” Her lips curled upward, expressing some sort of smile—though, what with the forthcoming event, she didn’t feel too good about it.

But she remained silent, after that.

Isla got into the car without saying a single word.

The lull was of course grim, but stillness was what the three women needed. It was good for them to sit in complete silence—the only sound coming from the din of the car engine and outside of the vehicle—because it allowed them space to think.

She needed to collect her thoughts this morning, especially after what she had learned last night. Isla didn’t want to think that Jax would have flipped on Tig like that, but it was Jax.

He was unpredictable.

Never once had she felt a sense of outrage that she wasn’t sure how to quell whenever thinking of her best friend, but she was beginning to understand just why Clay was so pissed at his rashness lately.

Even if he was acting on instinct—using his conscience to rule his decisions—Jax was still acting recklessly. His desire to do the morally sound thing outweighed the need that his club had for him to carry out the act that would result in the greater good.

And he was right to stop Tig from pulling the trigger on that girl, but Isla was wary of how he had decided to handle it.

“You didn’t call me last night.” Gemma whispered as the car pulled up to the cemetery gates. “You said that you’d call me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Genuinely, she told her. “When I got in I just went straight to bed, but then Tig turned up at my place and he needed my help, and then—“

“You let him stay.” She finished Isla’s sentence with a hum, providing her with an unusually somber glance. “If there’s anything going on between the two of you, then it’s okay—“

“There isn’t.” Isla shot her down, impatiently waiting for the all-clear to leave the vehicle. “He got hurt last night, needed patching up and didn’t wanna go to the clubhouse in case he saw Jax again, and so he came to me. And, because I’m nice, I let him stay the night.”

“Why wouldn’t he wanna see Jax?”

Wendy’s qualm came unexpectedly. She hadn’t thought that the blonde was listening to the little back and forth.

“Because he was the reason that Tig needed his face fixed.” She spat bitterly when Wendy just blinked at her, hoping to God that they’d be able to get outside soon.

Her irritation with the VP was palpable, and Gemma couldn’t help wondering whether Jax’s stunt had a part to play in why she was so galled when his name was brought up before they left the garage.

Regardless, Isla was getting along with it today. For the sake of Opie and his kids, she was putting her hostility aside and paying her respects to Donna the way that she had always been taught to.

“Woah, what a turn out.” Her admiration for the Sons grew with every single member—every Nomad—that she saw riding along the winding road.

Isla moved between Chibs and Tig, holding tightly onto her father’s hand as they walked toward Donna’s casket.

“Still no Jax.” Almost relieved, Tig noted. “Wonder if he’s gonna ride over with Tacoma.”

“Doubt it.” The Scot added. “He woulda followed us. Dunno where the fuck he’s gotten to.”

“He’ll be here.” She promised hopefully, breaking away from the two men—shaking Chibs off when he held on a little bit tighter, not wanting to let her go.

The black dress she’d thrown on was hardly funeral attire, but the tights hugging her legs underneath the cotton made it a bit better.

Tig watched her pad across the grass and toward Opie, trying to sniff back his own tears at the sight of her taking a long-stemmed blue flower, kissing the petals, and placing it atop the coffin.

It was horrible.

“I’m sorry, Ope.” Isla pressed a kiss to her fingers and ghosted it over the wood, feeling her eyes dampen. “Anything you need—anything at all that you can think of for yourself or your mom or the kids—I’m here. Always.”

He couldn’t quite find the words to thank her, but she knew that he was grateful. Opie didn’t have to say anything for Isla to recognize his appreciation for her, for his family, and for everybody that turned out today.

Jax wasn’t there, though. Not yet.

And, perhaps, Isla being at his side during a time of such harrowing distress was her way of trying to comfort him because his best friend was nowhere to be seen. But she would’ve done it for anybody.

She just wished that it wasn’t Opie.

“I love you…So much.” She whispered through a smile when more people began to filter in, backing away to sit beside Gemma and in front of Tig.

The cool metal of his rings were against her shoulder in an instant, anchoring her back to earth after floating much, much too high above the ground.

She was in a distorted haze, so to speak. Isla’s head wasn’t particularly in the right place today, and it could’ve been down to a multitude of things—but she wanted to simply pin it on her grief.

Chibs saw the way she gnawed into her bottom lip, the way she continually pulled Diane’s crucifix across the golden chain as means of comfort—or, maybe, it was just out of remorse.

He noticed that his daughter—his little girl—peered at Opie’s children sitting beside their grandmother as they said goodbye to the woman that brought them into the world.

He wondered if they understood the weight of it all. They were so young, so impressionable, so innocent, and he saw a lot of Isla in those two kids.

The dull throb of Isla’s heart almost slowed to a halt when the funeral commenced, and Jax was still completely out of sight. Juice held his cut while he stood beside Tara, feeling his chest tighten.

It was difficult to understand just why Jackson Teller didn’t show for such an important moment in Opie’s life.

“I can’t believe him.” Tig hissed out in a whisper, completely ruffled. Isla looked up at the man behind her, holding a dainty hand on top of his. “I can’t fucking believe him.”

He didn’t know what to say. Clay didn’t, either. As he stood beside his Sgt. At Arms and peered down at the disheveled blonde, Clay Morrow struggled to find the words to elucidate his disdain for the lack of action from his step-son.

Donna was family. Opie was family. Family was meant to be there for one another, not purposely ignoring such a pivotal event.

“He’ll be here.” Isla repeated her promise, melting into her space as Tig leant over to kiss the top of her head.

Her eyes glazed over instantaneously, coercing her to turn away before she broke down.

But she leaned backward into his embrace, and watched the ceremony commence.

And it only took a handful of moments for her mood to perk up—as much as it could have under the circumstances—but she was conceivably happier at the sight before her.

“I told you.” She mumbled. She refused to let up her grip on Tig, though, holding onto him firmer now.

It was comfortable. He was comfortable.

“What the fuck…”

Jax looked like hell. Still wearing last night’s clothes—still bloodied and bruised from his scuffle—he sauntered over the grass and made a beeline for Tara.

Isla’s throat hitched.

“Did you do that to him?” She mumbled in reference to the slit in his lip, craning her neck to eye the blue-eyed man.

“Yeah, probably.”

She just shook her head with a tiny smirk, shifting her focus back to the asshole that was taking his sweet fucking time.

It didn’t upset her as much as she thought that it would’ve, watching him go back to her like that. If anything, she was glad that they had managed to reconcile because she made him happy.

But, for a reason unbeknownst to herself, she felt bad for Wendy.

To watch the father of her newborn take his cut from a woman that’d only been back in his life for five minutes, to hold and kiss her in front of everyone, was something she shouldn’t have had to witness today.

They weren’t together, but she knew how that was bound to hurt—to sting and incapacitate her because it was all still so fucking raw.

Poor Wendy.

He took one of the flowers away from the sparse pile, holding it to his lips, and placed it atop Donna’s casket.

Jax glared over his shoulder, shooting the two guilt-ridden men a look that read fury. He made sure that Isla wasn’t looking at him when he did that, though.

He refused to look at her.

And he didn’t stay, either. He paid his respects for all of thirty seconds before stalking away, and leaving the most egregious of tastes on the tip of each tongue.

The funeral flew by, after that.

Before Isla knew it, she was dismounting Tig’s bike outside of T M—again—and stumbling over her heels when she couldn’t quite find her footing. She’d been in a world of her own for the last fifteen minutes.

“You want me to get you a beer?” She asked, handing him her helmet. “Or did you want some of that wine you like?”

He snorted at her taunt, taking it from her. “Beer—but none of that shit Bobby drinks.”

Isla chuckled, backing away from the bike and Tig.

“You want a drink, too?” She asked Clay when he strode over, hands in his pockets.

He nodded, waiting for her to slip out of sight before turning his attention to his Sergeant.

“What’s going on with you two?” Clay asked him accusingly, snatching Tig’s attention from the blonde who was ambling into the clubhouse.

He waved the pres off, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing, man. She’s just been helpin’ me out—“

“That’s what you’re calling it now, huh?”

“That’s what it is.” Tig shrugged, exhaling the smoke from his nostrils. “Y’know what she’s like. She sees someone that needs patchin’ up, and she does it. That’s all.”

Unconvinced, Clay leaned closer to him—striving for the little moment to go unnoticed by those that shrouded the lot. Jax and Tara, for one.

“That’s Chibs’s kid. You be careful.”

“Ain’t nothing to be careful about, brother.” Tig ground his lips together, squinting upward as he rested against his bike. “We’re just friends.”

“You stayed the night with her.”

“Yeah—“

“Twice.”

“Clay—“

“In the same fucking bed!” He snapped, running a hand over his face.

His desire to protect the women in his life—to assert the dominance he had, or his authority—was remarkably overbearing at the best of times.

Isla and Gemma didn’t particularly need to be coddled the way that they’d always been at the hands of Clay Morrow and his club, but they were.

And the thought of his sleaziest, loathsome, savage brother getting closer and closer to that woman churned his stomach. Because he knew what Tig was capable of—what he did—and would be damned if anything were to happen to her at the hands of Tig fucking Trager.

Chibs would kill him, too.

“Nothing happened, nothing’s currently happening, and nothing will happen.” He guaranteed. “Clay, I swear.”

“Alright.” Dubious, the older man responded. “But, if there is, then you be careful. Jax is onto us, and it’s only a matter of time before Isla puts two and two together—‘cuz she ain’t stupid.”

Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

How about you shut the fuck up?

“I know she isn’t.” Almost irked that Clay would assume he thought that, he retorted. “But she’s got shit going on too, man, I don’t think she’s gonna be focusing on this right now so you don’t gotta worry.”

“Alright.” Clay repeated himself.

He didn’t think that his right-hand was telling him the truth, but he couldn’t exactly do anything about that until an issue arose.

What he did know, though, was that Tig Trager would’ve had some serious hell to pay if he had ignited something with Isla right now.

Or ever, really.

“Keep Jax away from her.” He told Clay, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “She’s pissed at him for what he did to me last night.”

“What’d he do?”

Tig pointed at the cuts on his cheek, grimacing. “She’s fucked off, and if they talk she’s probably gonna throw something at him.”

“Eh. Let her.” Clay waved him off, hastily shutting himself up when he heeded her heels clicking across the gravel toward them. “He needs to be humbled sometimes.”

The rivalry between the two had only intensified since Abel was born and Jax’s priorities shifted from the club.

His family came first. His biological family came first.

And maybe Clay didn’t understand the implications and responsibilities that came along with fatherhood because he’d never had that bestowed upon him, but Jax did.

He knew that he had to provide for his kid, for the one being that was solely dependent on him, and he would never compromise or jeopardize that.

Things weren’t going to be made easy for the man, however.

“Budweiser for you.” Isla smiled, handing a bottle to Tig. She passed one to Clay, holding onto it a little firmer as she offered it to him. “And one for you—but you need to take this, and go see your wife.”

“Why?” Hesitantly, he accepted the alcohol.

Isla shrugged. “She just wants to see you. Seems important.”

“Shit.” Clay hissed, taking a long swig before striding away.

She watched him stamp toward the clubhouse, heeding the change in his mood, and wondered why Gemma was so determined to talk to him at that specific moment.

It could’ve been anything with that woman, really. It could’ve been something so minor, completely insignificant, that Gemma had to get off her chest.

Or it could’ve been something along the lines of elucidating the bone-crushing lament that she held for both her husband and Tig.

Whatever it was, however, Clay wasn’t excited to face her.

“What’d he chew your ear off about?” Isla asked, struggling to open her beer. She sighed, suddenly remembering why she loved her screw-top bottles of wine so much.

“Pass it to me.” Tig took it from her, using his own bottle cap to pop hers off. He chuckled at her grimace, handing it back.

“Thanks.” She groaned, lifting it upward. “So…What did Clay want?”

Budweiser blanketed Tig’s tongue and lips as he pulled the drink away from his mouth, using the back of his hand to rub at the excess.

Quickly, he wondered whether lying to Isla—fabricating the truth and downplaying his superior’s concern—was in his best interest.

But she was perceptive. There was no doubt that she’d realize he was lying to her.

“He thinks that something is going on between us.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a pull.

“What?” A little nervous—on edge, perhaps—Tig asked her. “Did you already know that he felt that way?”

“No.” Instantly, she retorted. “I didn’t know about Clay, but Gemma feels the same. D’ya think they’ve talked?”

“Oh, definitely.” With a small glower, he told her.

They absolutely talked about the two, and that was what worried Tig.

There was nothing wrong with them colluding against the pair, as a rule. He wasn’t offended at the thought, he felt quite honored actually.

But it was the connotation that came alongside those conspiracies. The idea that Tig was only so friendly—so supportive and loving—toward Isla because he wanted one thing from her.

And, really, Tig hadn’t pondered that thought before. Well, not before last night, anyway.

For the first time—possibly ever—sex wasn’t on Tig’s agenda with Isla. Enticing her, breaking her heart, and sending her on her way was not something he wanted.

But Tig was renowned for that, wasn’t he? He was known for being a hapless bachelor. A man whose priorities were neither here nor there.

Everyone just expected that. They saw him with her, and came to that one conclusion.

Maybe Isla expected it a little bit, too. Because she’d known him long enough to understand the kind of man that he was—or had the propensity to be—and she could hardly lie and say that this version of Tig didn’t confuse her.

He’d always been the same with her, though. Perhaps that’d been the difference between every woman that entered and left his life, and Isla Telford.

He wasn’t interested in her. Like that.

“Does that bother you?” With an almost undetectable twinge of hurt, Isla asked.

As if it was a basic instinct, Tig shook his head. “Nah. They talk shit all the time. Stuff like that don’t bother me.”

She nodded, refusing to add anything else. Isla sipped her beer, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow her fucking whole.

There wasn’t a single word in the English language that’d ascribe her feeling at that precise time, but ashamed was possibly the closest she could’ve gotten.

And, still, that was a little bit further off the mark than what she would’ve liked. Because she wasn’t entirely ashamed for reacting the way that she had, more so the way that she fucking felt.

Isla’s heart took a blow when Tig told her that.

For why, though? She wasn’t sure.

It might’ve been the nonchalant expression. The complete colorless response that stirred a foreign emotion within her—striking hard against her chest.

Or, it might’ve been what he had said. It was such a casual proclamation. Something that didn’t mean anything, but everything simultaneously.

She didn’t feel anything for Tig. She didn’t particularly want to feel anything for him, either, but that hurt. A lot.

“Same, to be honest.” She lied, forcing her lips upward in a smile. “Gemma is always on my case about this sorta thing. But I just let it go over my head.”

“Always?”

“Yup. Always.” Isla mentioned around the protruding lump in her throat. “If she’s not talking about me and you—like there is a me and you—she’s talking about me and Jax. And if it isn’t that, she’s bitching about Wendy, or Tara, or just anything she can think of.”

Like there is a me and you.

Tig sniffed a little, nodding. He didn’t want Isla to think that bothered him, but it did. A bit, anyway.

“She’s so overbearing, sometimes.” Genuinely slumped, she stated. Isla leaned against the railing beside Tig’s bike, finally looking at him. “Don’t tell her I said that?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckled, taking another swig. “I’d never purposely get you into shit with your mother—“

“She’s not my mother.” Her eyes rolled. “She acts like it, and I love her like one, but she is not my mother.”

Tig knew. He knew all too well just how Isla felt about that, and he wasn’t exactly sure why he said that to her, today.

Gemma was the best woman she knew and the one that, strangely, brought her all of the comfort and prosperity that she’d craved.

But she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t close to being Diane, and maybe the comparison between the pair hurt a little. Because Gemma Teller-Morrow was nothing like Diane Telford—and the sooner everybody knew that, the sooner Isla could rest.

“I feel bad talking shit about her. All she’s done is help me.”

“And parent you.” He reminded her, tipping his bottle upward. “She parents all of us, but what I mean is she treats you like a kid sometimes. Jax, too.”

“Yeah. I know.” Peeved, she conceded. “But, what can I do? if I wanna keep her around—keep having her so close to me—then, I guess I’ve gotta make a few sacrifices. And, I mean, it’s not all bad.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. I’m glad that she’s the woman that took a shine to me. If Luann ended up being the one…”

Tig smirked, sizing her up. “You’d probably be doing porn right now.”

“Exactly.” Without shame—not even feeling slightly bashful at the glance she was receiving—she said. “I don’t think I’d hate doing porn, but I don’t think SAMCRO would be thrilled.”

“Absolutely not. Chibs would kill you, for one.”

“And Gemma.”

“Clay, too.” Tig added, withering at the thought.

“What about you?” A little too bold, she asked.

Though their relationship was of the lighthearted nature, Isla wasn’t certain that the habitual riposte was a thing as of late. His response would probably jar her, she thought.

“I wouldn’t hate it.”

She halted, blushing at his words. Her ears prickled with heat, too.

“It’d be hot.” He shrugged, putting his empty bottle against the ground. “I’m sure Juice would love it, too—“

“Oh, get fucked.” She snorted a laugh, throwing the red cap at his chest as he got to his feet. It bounced off the fabric of his shirt, coercing a chuckle from Tig.

“It was only one time.” He taunted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “That’s still one more time than most chicks ‘round here.”

“He wasn’t awful.” Isla shrugged. “He knew what he was doing, and I had fun. But, like, he hasn’t got any hair…”

“Hair?” Tig began to gesture downward, chuckling when she grabbed his hands to stop him.

“I don’t mean that. I mean hair on his head, Tig.” She calmed her laughter, letting go of him. “I like to tug on it, I guess.”

It felt somewhat illegal, obtaining this information from her.

He already knew that she was a sex fiend, that she liked it rough, and now that she had some kind of hair-pulling kink.

Tig’s chest tightened. So did his pants.

“Duly noted.” Like usual, he quipped. Tig motioned for Isla to head inside with him when he heeded things heating up between Jax and Tara.

She, as always, made a mental note to grill her friend later. Or, maybe, her friends. Because she and Tara were on that level, now, and she felt that things could’ve sailed smoothly between herself and the doctor.

Isla just hoped that she’d open up to her.

“Are you gonna talk to him?” He asked, reading her fucking mind. “I know that you two talk a lot.”

“Probably.” Her shrug was insouciant. “But I’ll leave it a while, I think. Leave the dust to settle over before I approach either one of them.”

Tig’s heart began to thrash. It battered viciously within the constraints of his chest, thumping at an unsteady rhythm the more Isla babbled on as they neared the clubhouse.

It was maiming him, having to keep this to himself.

He knew that concealing it—the weight of it all—was for the best. It’d guarantee peace and conformity within the club and Isla’s life, but it was also a crippling guilt that not even Tig was sure he’d be able to hold forever.

Clay was heartless, though. The nefarious leader hadn’t a single problem with lying through his fucking teeth, and Tig was more than aware that Clay would continue the charade if and when he decided that he could no longer.

He supposed he could thank him for that.

But, then again, he was also the reason that Tig Trager had found himself tangled within yet another web of lethal falsehoods. Thanking Clay was the very last thing that he wanted to do.

“Oh, shit.” Isla stated through partially gritted teeth. She gestured to her father and Happy’s scorned glares. “Why do I keep getting this fucking look from everyone?”

“It’s not you. It’s me.” He snorted another laugh, taking her hand and walking her further into the room after she stopped completely dead.

Really, Donna’s wake was as vibrant as it could’ve been and nobody—aside from Isla’s old man and the Tacoma Nomad—had their sights set on the Sergeant and Chibs’s daughter.

The atmosphere was strangely spirited, hearty and animated as everybody came together to celebrate the life of Opie’s wife…The way that they always had.

But Isla was still on tenterhooks. She loathed the thought of her dad disapproving of her, today, but she didn’t desire the castigation that would’ve come hand in hand with her need to talk to him.

“Tequila?”

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” She smiled at Tig, making a beeline for the bar when she saw Kip. He followed her.

“You’re turning down free alcohol?”

Isla scoffed. “It might be free, but the effects of it would cost me my fucking reputation here.”

Tig’s eyebrows raised. “How so? You don’t not drink, Isla.”

“I know.” Her lips pursed, watching Kip pop the caps off of six beers. “But I never drink tequila. It makes me…uh…it makes me feel a little hot—“

“Tequila turns you on, is what you’re saying.”

“Well, yeah.” A crimson blush bled over her cheeks, her nose, and even across her forehead as her entire face burned red. “It’s no big deal. Just something I discovered after getting black-out drunk when I’d barely turned twenty-one.”

If Tig wasn’t feeling aroused before, then he definitely was at her admission. He had to think of anything to throw his brain off of that mental image.

“I don’t tend to drink the strong stuff.”

“Unless it’s whiskey.”

She pointed with a smile, nodding her head. “That’s right—“

“Hey, what did you want?” Kip interrupted sheepishly, gesturing to the half-empty bottle she had between her fingertips. “Another Bud?”

“Yes, please.” Again, she smiled.

“Same for you?”

Tig nodded.

“Kip,” she began, “and you take something, too. You’ve dealt with these assholes for long enough, now. Take a break. I’ll man the bar if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that—Gemma’ll kill me—“

“With all due respect, fuck Gemma.” She heard Tig chuckle beside her, shrugging when the prospect glanced at the pair nervously. “She won’t say anything if I tell her that I’m the one that told you to take ten minutes away from the bar.”

“Yeah.” He backed her up, grinning. “She never gets mad at Isla.”

It was completely uncharacteristic of him. But she brought something out from the very chasms of Tig Trager’s cold, black heart, and he lauded that.

Not many people had managed to scrape beneath the surface that way, not even Colleen.

God.

Tig shook himself out of the daze he’d slipped into, watching Isla and Kip trade places as she stepped behind the bar, and he made a beeline for a stool.

He’d been standing for a while, now.

“Are you gonna join me behind here?” She asked, drawing Tig’s attention back to her. Isla held up another bottle for him, twinkling underneath the yellowed light above the liquor shelves.

She looked, almost, angelic.

“Sack—“ Tig grabbed at his arm when he tried to leave his seat, feeling the prospect go rigid under his grip.

Isla’s eyebrows bunched together.

“Take two beers for Hap and Chibs.” He released the grey shirt, grinning as he saw the man sweat—clearly anticipating something more than just doing a simple favor.

“Oh, sure.” Kip breathed a sigh of relief, taking the two bottles that Isla had slid toward him. “That all?”

“Yep.” She added, gesturing for him to get on his way and enjoy the break that he’d been appointed.

He headed toward the two men beside the pool table, handing them their beers and pointing toward Tig. He waved with a small smile—hoping to come off as genuine, rather than scheming.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Giving the two men a couple of beers to throw them off the scent—or, at least, to distract them from making a fuss—was just a ploy to defer attention from the two nestled amongst the alcohol.

And it seemed to work, too.

As Tig walked around the bar to join her on the other side, Isla popped a few bottle caps, mixed a few drinks, and talked to every person that stopped off in front of the oak, without being so much as glanced at by her father.

Gemma hadn’t noticed the change, either.

“You want anything?” She asked Tig, mindlessly pouring a glass of whiskey for one of the Tacoma guys. “Some tequila?”

Indifferently, he shrugged.

“Okay, well that was helpful.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, grabbing two shot glasses, “I’ll take one, if you do, too.”

“Tig.”

“Isla.” His tone was deriding, though she couldn’t help but smile.

She pushed the whiskey toward the unfamiliar Son, thanking him for showing his face today, and turned her attention back to Tig.

In the thirty seconds in which her focus had been diverted, he’d poured two shots, grabbed some salt, and two lime wedges from underneath the counter.

She swallowed thickly, hoping to god she’d be able to play off the effects of that liquor.

Because it was only the one, wasn’t it? She was only going to have one single shot of tequila and, surely, that wasn’t enough to intoxicate her…

Right?

“Aw, fuck.” She slurred, pushing the empty bottle aside. “I really—“ she hiccuped. “I really need to stop drinking.”

“Why?” Just as garbled, he responded.

“‘Cuz I feel like I’m gonna puke.” She snorted a laugh, pushing all of the limes strewn across the redwood into the bin. “And my breath stinks of tequila.”

He waved her off, looking at his chest as he wiped the alcohol from his leathers. “Tequila don’t smell that bad.”

Isla blushed, though she fished around her purse for some gum, regardless.

And her heart fucking plummeted to the pit of her stomach when she noticed the bottle of antidepressants in the smaller compartment, suddenly realizing that her excessive alcohol consumption tonight was for sure going to mess with her.

Shit.

“Water?” He asked, holding two empty glasses. He heeded the dread in her expression, how she looked like she’d seen a fucking ghost.

“Please.”

Tig handed her one of the glasses, slinging his free arm over her shoulder—mainly in an attempt to stabilize her—and padded over to the kitchen.

The clubhouse was a little more sparse, now. Jax and Tara sat alongside Juice, Chibs, and Happy, meanwhile Gemma and Clay were meters apart from one another.

But nobody seemed to notice the lack of manpower behind that bar, which was a wonderful thing. Because Isla feared that she might’ve collapsed had she not hydrated herself.

She feared that she might’ve said, or done, something that she might’ve regretted, too.

Tequila did make her feel “hot”, after all.

“God, I need this so bad.” She practically moaned, twisting the cold water tap, haphazardly holding her glass underneath it.

Isla didn’t even shut the water off, she just chugged that slightly lukewarm—strangely beautiful—liquid like her life depended on it.

“Fuck.” She gasped for air, putting her glass atop the draining board. “Oh my god, that was so fucking good.”

Tig watched in awe.

As droplets of water trickled from her lips, and chin, to her chest, Tig subtly groaned to himself. He stifled a reaction, however.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” She nodded.

Tig held her glass underneath the tap again, filling it half way. “You want some more?”

Isla took it from him, cocking her head a little when he didn’t let go of the glass. “What?”

“How’d that tequila make you feel?”

“What?” She repeated herself, forgetting about what she told him earlier. “Oh…”

“How’d it make you feel?” He pressed, releasing his grip though lifting his hand to brush his thumb underneath her glossy lips.

“Good.” Isla stumbled over her words, watching his eyes flick over her features. She gulped, though she put the glass straight back down. “Really, really good.”

Tig jolted, though relaxed when she let her hands rest against his shoulders. He hadn’t expected this today. Or ever, really.

“How good is really really good?” He asked, twisting a couple of ringed fingers through long, loose curls.

Her heart was no longer sinking to the pit of her stomach, but fluttering wildly within her palpitating chest.

“Pretty good.”

“Right.” He caught her bluff, nodding. “I could think of something that’d make you feel really, really, really good, y’know?”

“You think?” Isla leaned into him when a hand pressed into the small of her back, and the other holding onto the nape of her neck. She shivered. “Because I think you could.”

Confidently, he bobbed his head. “Oh, I could.”

She was a bundle of nerves, frankly. Tig was so nonchalant, so breezy, and she was just so fucking fraught.

But he didn’t seem to notice—or care—while he surveyed her face, grinding his lips together in anticipation. He lowered his head a little to meet her height, though she still stood on her toes.

“Make me feel really good, Tig.” She whispered, the citrusy scent of tequila permeating his senses, quickening the rate of his pulse.

Isla’s sweet, soft lips ghosted over his own as she exuded a satisfied sigh, loosening up at the feeling of their noses brushing over one another.

It was so gentle. She hasn’t expected a man of such stature, such hunger and animosity, to be capable of something so soothing.

An unmistakable burst of desire started to seep through her, humming against his lips as she opted to wrap both arms around his neck while he backed her up against the sink.

With the support against her lower back, Isla wound a leg around his waist as the kiss amplified and Tig began to grind his hips into her whilst simultaneously moaning.

She didn’t know how badly she needed this tonight.

Pink nails wound into his unruly curls, mindlessly nudging through the hair—pushing him to hasten. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, then. Lauding the flavor of tequila and cigarettes.

But Isla promptly froze at the sound of footsteps—heels, precisely—clicking across the tile.

“Tig, wait.” She jerked her head a little, urging him to stop. “I can hear Gemma—“

“You can see her, too.” The matriarch stated, rounding the corner and immediately coming into Isla’s line of sight.

Both Tig and the blonde shifted to look at her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

[ace-oreos]

Alpha being a dad

That's it that's the prompt

Someone give this poor man a break he has no idea what he’s doing - 

I may have drawn on my experiences babysitting my three little cousins, who were (at the time) 8, 6, and 4. All boys. 16 year old me was not prepared for the chaos.

(Feat. Cody being the embodiment of chaos, Bly being his partner in crime, Wolffe being done with his brothers and Gree and Neyo causing trouble in the background.) 

“Ouch - quit hanging on like that, you little - ”

Alpha remembers far too late that he is dealing with highly impressionable children who will no doubt soak up every word he says and spew it back at him at an inopportune moment. Osik, if he isn’t about ready to call the whole farce once and for all -

The cadets can’t be much older than eight standard years, smart enough to know exactly where they’re not wanted and cheeky enough to poke their noses in the minute his back is turned. They’re nothing short of utter chaos, Alpha is starting to realize, thoroughly dismayed. 

By now he knows better than to carry any weapons when they’re in range. It’s not that he’s worried they’ll hurt themselves; quite the opposite, in fact. They’re entirely too clever for their own good and could easily hit a target at fifty meters, and with his luck he’ll be down range at the precise moment they discover it isn’t very difficult to turn the safety off. 

Of course 24 is the ringleader, the little brat. He’s the strategist of the lot, and Alpha doesn’t doubt he’s the mastermind behind it all. It would be funny if it weren’t downright alarming how quickly the boys get into trouble - or cause their own, if there’s none to be found.

“Would you let go,” Alpha repeats irritably. 36 releases his leg, sullen-faced. 

24 places himself in front of Alpha, hands linked behind his back and a look of harmless innocence pasted on his face. “We’ve finished our lessons, sir.”

Alpha isn’t fooled for an instant. “And I’m sure I won’t find out you bullied one of your vode into doing everything himself. Speaking of, where’s - ”

“He’s fine,” 24 answers before Alpha can finish his sentence. His unconvincing smile grows. “We’re all fine, sir.”

“I don’t suppose I would find Oh-Four in the armory right around now, would I?” Alpha asks with a stab at nonchalance. 

Unfortunately, he’s never quite gotten the hang of it. 24 now appears faintly bored, as if he couldn’t be bothered to remember his brother’s whereabouts. “Oh-Four said he couldn’t be bothered with our pran - practice.”

“Practice.”

“Yessir. You see, we thought, we ought to review some of the forms you showed us the other day.” Alpha knows the look on 24’s face all too well. He’s Fordo, some years younger, crafting his most baldfaced lies to Fett himself. Far more disconcerting is Alpha’s desire to laugh. 

He quickly stifles the urge. He’d lose whatever authority he has left if the cadets see him lose his bearing now. Not to mention he’s sure Fordo would manage to be even more insufferable than he already is if he caught wind of it. 

“Odd that only the three of you thought you should practice,” Alpha remarks, pinning 52 with a look. “Ka’ra knows you could use it.”

“We’re doing fine,” 36 protests.

As this isn’t part of 24’s script, 24 glares at 36 until he scowls and looks away. Alpha hasn’t the faintest clue where the kid learned to be so obstinate - he’s certainly never taught them as much. 

“It’s not like we can get into the armory anyways,” 52 ventures. “You and Captain Fordo are the only ones who have the access codes.”

“And my brother isn’t above pulling some di’kutla prank.” Alpha folds his arms. “You’re not exactly reassuring me.”

“Fordo told us himself he’s too busy,” 24 rushes to say, agreeable as anything. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, sir.” 

Which just about confirms his suspicions that the other little terrors are up to something. Alpha would rather stay out of it, but no matter how he frames it, he’s pretty sure this one falls to him. And here I thought this might be an easier assignment for a change…

“They’re in the armory, sir,” 36 announces. 52 and 24’s objections are immediate and loud. 36 looks rather disinterested as he continues, “Fordo let them in. Oh-Four and Two-Six are there now. Fordo said something about testing some of the new ordnance - ”

Ka’ra help us. Alpha doesn’t spend too long wondering what could happen if 04 or 86 got their hands on some of the higher grade explosives. Or Fordo, come to think of it - his brother’s always had a penchant for what he terms the finer things in life. 

Fordo, predictably, is unrepentant when Alpha storms into the armory. 04 and 86 are curiously absent. He’ll have to check the vents later; the gremlins are still small enough to squeeze their way through. With any luck they’ll hit a growth spurt soon and outgrow their days of running rampant through the network of vents in Tipoca City. 

“They’re going to be the death of me,” Alpha grumbles. He hasn’t decided just what to do with Fordo yet, so he lets his brother think he got off easy. “I turn my back on them for two seconds…”

“It’ll do you good,” Fordo retorts. “Maybe you’ll lighten up.”

Alpha scoffs. “Not a chance. I’m supposed to be training commanders.”

“And there it is,” Fordo mutters with an aggrieved sigh. “You know, you haven’t changed much.”

“I could say the same for you. I seem to remember you trying to sneak around after hours.”

“Difference is I never got caught,” his brother says with a grin. “I don’t think you ever sold me out, either.”

“I considered it, believe me.”

“Yeah, but you like me too much for that.” Fordo tilts his head, considering. “You might want to get eyes on Two-Four’s squad, by the way.”

“Why?” Alpha demands.

“I happened to overhear that they’re planning something.” Fordo holds up a hand to stall any interruption. “I don’t know what exactly, but I’m pretty sure Oh-Four said something about paint. Or maybe it was glue. Your armor? Or - ”

With no shortage of disasters in sight, Alpha is long gone before Fordo can finish. They’ll run him ragged and then some, these cadets. He can only hope he’ll have enough time to catch up on his sleep someday soon.

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter eight: starting to rust

a/n: Just barely coming in at under a month, oops. I think I’m going to take a break from this one for now, it seems to be a little too much while my thoughts are occupied with school things. When I planned this all out originally, this chapter was a possible ending point but then I got ambitious and there’s quite a bit more plotted out after this. But it might be a while before I come back to it, we’ll see. Anyway, thanks for coming along for all the torture, I know it wasn’t a pleasant time but the hurt can be nice occasionally? I’ll try to write something a little kinder in the future. Warnings for all the same things —substances, abuse, some very dark thoughts and themes. ~5.7k

Aaron tries to keep it all together but the world is indifferent.

He tried to stay away, he really did. As if he could see into the future, he could imagine how quickly he would tarnish her smile, could picture it fading right in front of him. He had nightmares where Haley sat, unresponsive and slowly dissolving. But she was insistent, seeking him out, towing him along with her through her day. She’d find him at lunch and push half a sandwich at him once she realized he hadn’t brought anything to eat. Brought him along after school to loiter in the sun with the other theater kids killing time between the end of class and the start of rehearsals, loudly asserting their presence on the world. Aaron hung back, uncomfortable around such casual chaos, everyone moving too fast, speaking too loudly. Compared to his world, Haley’s life was bright, unrestrained, and viscerally present. He didn’t fit there. He stuck out in his silence, dressed in his dark clothes, still too big on him though he was finally starting to grow.

The other kids eyed him suspiciously, muttering quietly about him when they thought he couldn’t hear. Only Haley’s position at the top of whatever social apparatus they operated by kept them from outright excluding him. He didn’t mind too much, he’d heard worse, what did he care what these kids thought of him anyway? What did they know with their golden lives, their excitement, their expectations for the future? Haley’s people believed that the world was for them, would provide what they wanted when they wanted. He found it odd, watching them as they screeched and tackled each other, a blur of color so jarring he had to squint.

He could feel how his difference was noted, their eyes making the back of his neck itch. More than once he tried to disappear but every time Haley slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently, pulling him back toward the group. She’d smile, encouraging, her belief that it would all work out, that he could assimilate given enough time, was unwavering. Her optimism baffled him, sometimes even irritated him. He would inevitably feel guilty about that. Surely it was ungrateful for him to find fault in this girl who had welcomed him when there was absolutely no need for her to do so.

Not everyone was tolerant of Aaron’s presence. The drama teacher regarded him with suspicion, allowing him to stay but making it clear that she was doing him a favor. It helped that he was able to sing, shoring up the weak lower register of the female dominated cast. He was given a minor role, nothing too complicated, nothing that would embarrass them if he failed, as she assumed he would. Some of the other kids caught on to this disapproval, emboldened by it they became less subtle in the ways that they mocked him. Aaron tried to mind his own business, even skipping out on rehearsals when the attention became too much. But Haley inevitably found him, running to catch him after school as he tried to escape out a side door. She dragged him back again and again, refusing to give up on him. Insisting she had seen something special, something she thought she could coax out if given enough time—like a stray dog, so used to mistreatment that he bristled when people came near but still craved affection.

He followed reluctantly, acutely conscious of the growing dislike, mutiny thickening the air. Everything was too sharp these days, he’d lost his sources for getting high. All he had were his cigarettes, too afraid to steal alcohol from his father. He desperately wanted to go back into the woods, to fall back under the quiet spell of muffled words about nothing, watching the light filter through the branches, sparkling as the leaves moved with the breeze. He hated it here, in the building, surrounded by these people with their constant need to be heard, each louder than the last. The smells of the theater, new paint and old fabrics and so much dust made it hard to breath. The too bright lights, unnaturally hot against his skin, and the way every sound echoed made his head ache. He’d be long gone if it wasn’t for the way Haley’s touch made his heart skip, her fingers lightly brushing across his arm to get his attention. Or the way she looped her arm through his as she caught him in the hallway and insisted on walking with him to class, leading him along her sheltered path.

Aaron wondered at the lightness of her head rested against his shoulder as they sat in the grass, sticking her tongue out at something stupid another kid said, then smiling when she heard his smothered laughter. He let his attention drift, eyes wandering until he saw a group in the distance. He watched as they moved away from school, easily guessing where they were headed. He felt a pang of longing as he watched them leave, wishing he could still be part of that. He wasn’t sure he had been happy with Cole but he had at least felt like he was in the right place, like he had found someone who understood him. No one here was like him, no one less so than Haley. He was attracted to her in a different way, fascinated at how she viewed the world and how the world viewed her. He’d never known anyone who moved so easily through life, who was loved and desired by everyone she met. He couldn’t begin to imagine what that felt like though he agreed with the rest of them, she was something special. He didn’t understand why she wanted him around but he wasn’t going to contradict her. Still, he wished to be gone with the group as they sought out unobserved spaces.

“Aaron?” Haley squeezed his knee, drawing his attention back.

“Hmm?” He had no idea what she had been saying.

“Do you want to come to Mike’s house after rehearsal tonight? His parents are out of town.”

Aaron looked dubiously across the group at Mike, someone who was clear in his dislike of Aaron.

“Please?”

Aaron shrugged a shoulder, shifting uncomfortably and causing Haley to sit up.

“It’ll be fun. And it’ll be good for you to get to know everyone a little better. You’re so quiet all the time.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Aaron murmured, watching as Mike narrowed his eyes in their direction.

“Don’t be silly,” she said as she hopped up. “C’mon, let’s go inside, it’s almost time.”

He looked up at her, now standing above him. Their eyes met and she smiled. She was pleased with how much he’d been softening. It had only been a few weeks and already he seemed more comfortable, at least with her. She congratulated herself a little, privately, on her success. People had gone out of their way to warn her when she started hanging out with him, bringing him places with her. He was bad, he was dangerous, he would hurt her. But she knew, had known from that first time she saw him looking at her, he wouldn’t hurt her, not ever. He wasn’t so complicated, she reasoned, they were all just scared away by his dark features, his perpetual scowl, the whispered rumors about his family. She, Haley Brooks, was better than that, deeper and more sympathetic. He wouldn’t be the first broken creature she’d healed, but he would be her biggest project yet. She didn’t imagine it could be that hard. Everyone was always happier around her, she could fix this.

He sighed, shaking his head and stood up. Sometimes he could see her watching him and he wasn’t sure he liked the look on her face. Like she was assessing him, marking his progress along some scale she had in her mind. Noting when he ate, when he was rested, when he laughed. He felt a little bit like an animal in a laboratory. But then she would smile at him and he forgot all his hesitation, forgot how he disliked being watched, how much he hated people thinking they knew what he needed. No one had ever cared like her before and he wasn’t sure what she expected in return. But he let himself forget all that and follow her where she led for another chance at that smile, another chance to hear her say his name, sounding so different coming from her lips that it might be a different name entirely.

One of her friends, already halfway back to the building, called Haley’s name and she skipped over to her, confident that Aaron would follow. He watched her go before turning back to pick up his backpack. When he straightened up, Mike was standing very close to him. Aaron wondered at how he’d moved so quickly.

“I hope you don’t think you’re coming to my house, loser.”

Aaron stared at him, debating what to do. He didn’t particularly want to go to this party, he’d really prefer not to go. But Haley had invited him and he didn’t like the way this guy was always looking at her possessively, then looking at Aaron like he’d like to strangle him. Not exactly subtle.

Mike stepped in closer. “Did you hear me? Or are you too high?” He turned to his friends and forced a laugh, “Maybe you shouldn’t have fried your brain with your little homo boyfriend.”

Aaron didn’t think, he just reacted, fist swinging up and punching the other boy in the jaw. He stumbled back, holding a hand to his face, eyes frozen wide in shock. Aaron didn’t pause, only advanced on him, swinging again. It felt good, the anger that was always simmering in his chest, the anger he only barely distracted himself from, finally had an outlet. It probably wasn’t a fair fight, Mike had been expecting Aaron to quietly take the insults as he’d been doing, pretending to ignore them as they needled him whenever Haley was out of earshot. But this insult was too far. More of a mean jab in the dark than an actual accusation, his words had hit a nerve and unlocked a force within Aaron.

Once he landed the first punch, his vision clouded over with anger and he continued to swing at the other kid. The other boys quickly jumped in, once the surprise of seeing Aaron actually fight back wore off, once they realized he meant to do real harm to their friend. He already had Mike pinned on the ground, lip bleeding, hands covering his face, before two more of his friends managed to drag Aaron off. He swung at them too, no technique but plenty of experience on the receiving end. He knew what would hurt and he had enough rage to power him through a dozen opponents. One of the others pulled him off balance, using his grip on Aaron’s wrist to fling him to the side. They blocked his path to Mike, who was scrambling backward on the grass, putting more distance between himself and this suddenly rabid opponent. Breathing hard, Aaron glared at the group, realizing he didn’t have enough strength to overpower them all, despite his murderous desire. He spit in their direction, then grabbed his bag and stalked away.

He didn’t have to think about where he was going. There was only one place to go. He’d tried to be a part of the regular world, a part of a world where time continued evenly, where lights turned on when it was dark and spotlights burned brightest on those with merit. He’d tried to fit himself into that space for Haley’s sake but he had only been fooling himself. They’d known he didn’t belong and he’d finally overstayed his welcome. It was time for him to retreat to the unlit corners of the world, return to the margins of society where people could avert their eyes, where it was easier for them to pretend they didn’t see the wrongness of the boy in front of them. He’d go back to the place in the woods and hope there was someone there that could give him what he wanted, could help him disconnect from this too bright reality. He was as sick of it as they were of him. He allowed himself a brief flicker of hope that he might find Cole out there, with his understanding and their shared history he didn’t have to think about his walls so much. But he stomped down hard on that desire, reminding himself how he had still ended up alone. No, it didn’t need to be Cole, it didn’t need to be anyone in particular, as long as they had something to get him high he didn’t care. It wouldn’t matter for very long anyway.

He crashed across the grass, his anger making his steps heavier, his thoughts louder. He didn’t realize he was being followed, that someone was calling his name. He didn’t notice until there was a hand tugging at the elbow of his jacket. He spun around fast, ready to fight. Haley shrank back at the anger in his face, the wildness in his eyes. He clenched his fists when he recognized her, trying and failing to pull back the storm of emotion that had been knocked loose. He never wanted to scare her but she was following where she didn’t belong. He only had so much control.

“Go away.”

“Are you hurt? Where are you going? Why’d you attack—”

She didn’t even have the question fully formed before he turned and started walking again, unwilling to be accused of something that wasn’t remotely his fault. He didn’t like the way it stung him, hearing that she assumed his guilt. He didn’t like that he’d let her get so close, let her have such influence over him. She ran a little to get ahead of him, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She was frightened by his fury, but she wouldn’t let him go this easily. Not after she’d spent so many hours persuading him to join her world.

“Aaron.”

He stopped short when he heard his name, looked at her with some of his anger melting into sadness, feeling betrayed even though he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

“I didn’t start it,” he could barely get the words out, hated how much he wanted her to believe him, hated that he had to explain himself.

She rubbed her face, trying to think as she pressed her palm against her lips. She found she was more frightened of this new emotion than she was of the anger. He looked so hopeless.

“I’m sorry, I just…” she didn’t know what to say now that she’d gotten him to stop, now that she could see past the heated front of anger and could see some of the broken edges he did so much to hide. Wasn’t this what she’d been asking for?

He watched her struggle with what to say, saw the moment the pity started to creep into her eyes. Before she could say anything else, before she could make him feel worse, he started walking again, pushing past her. “Just leave me alone,” he muttered. He didn’t bother to check if she followed.

When he reached the clearing it was empty except for one person stretched out on a broken down couch. At first all he could see was the back of their head, the dirty blond hair sticking up in places. The recognition was a visceral feeling, clawing through his chest. He almost couldn’t believe it was real, that he was getting exactly what he hoped for. Cole sat up when he heard Aaron’s heavy footsteps cracking through the dead leaves and sticks littering the ground. He remained seated, looking at Aaron idly, as if no time had passed, as if he’d only been waiting for Aaron to turn up after class. Aaron felt so many conflicting emotions, had so many things he wanted to say that he could only stand with his jaw clenched against the flood of words he knew he would regret. Cole twitched the corner of his mouth in a slightly mocking smile and Aaron snapped. He grabbed Cole by the collar, pulling him to his feet, unsure whether he meant to strangle him or kiss him. Cole’s gaze shifted to look behind him.

“Why’d you bring your girlfriend with you?”

Too caught up in the charge of the moment, Aaron didn’t understand what he was talking about. Cole pulled away and lifted his chin in the direction he was facing. Aaron turned and saw Haley. She’d continued to follow him, concerned about what he was planning on doing, haunted by the hollowed out look in his eyes. She stood, apprehensive, eyes darting between the two.

He scowled. “Go back to school Haley.”

“But—are you okay?” She stumbled over her words, staring openly at Cole. She’d seen him in the distance, even noticed how Aaron sometimes watched him when their paths crossed. He looked even more menacing up close.

“I’m fine.” His mouth pressed together, biting his lower lip to keep his composure. He didn’t understand why she was being so persistent, why she wouldn’t just go away like everyone else. When she still hesitated he got impatient. There were things he needed to handle and he didn’t need her here getting in the way. He waved his hand at her, brushing away her attention. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

From behind him Cole fluttered his fingers at her with false sweetness. She hated the way he was grinning at her, his obvious confidence that he was the one in charge of the situation. She glared at him and he laughed.

She looked one more time at Aaron, who was no longer paying attention to her, had turned back to Cole entirely. She shook her head. Fine, if he wanted this it was hardly her problem.  What did she even know of his life anyway? Trying not to feel like she’d lost, she retraced the path back to school.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Aaron started in on Cole. His thoughts were disorganized and barely coherent but he’d spent weeks trying to understand the sudden distance. He needed Cole to explain, to know his reasons for turning on him so quickly after all that they’d shared.

“What the fuck—” He hadn’t finished his question before Cole clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Their eyes met and there was a mental struggle for the upper hand. One thing that had changed in the past few weeks was Aaron’s strength. No longer constantly submerged in a haze of intoxication, he felt everything more pointedly and he was ready to direct that pain elsewhere. He wanted to bite Cole, to scratch at his face, to scream at him for way he’d been abandoned, the sickness and shame he’d had to endure on his own. But the warmth of Cole’s palm, the familiar smell of his skin, the muscle memory of being in this exact position was too much. He relented almost instantly, sinking into the couch, pulling his knees up against his chest and waiting to see what Cole would do next.

Cole watched him thoughtfully, interested by this new spark of resistance but also pleased that he hadn’t made it too far on his own. A little fight kept things interesting, staved off the boredom Cole so often felt. It was probably that girl he’d been with, giving him ideas. He could see he’d have to do some damage control to bring Aaron back completely.

“I’m sorry,” he looked down, measuring drops of sincerity. “My grandma, she saw…she said she was going to report you.”

Aaron was confused, he didn’t know exactly what she could report about him but he heard the edge in Cole’s voice, knew better than to dig deeper. Cole sat down beside him, pulling one of his hands loose from where he’d wrapped it tightly around his legs. He traced Aaron’s palm with his thumb, looking into his face again.

“You know I didn’t mean it right? I didn’t have a choice.”

Aaron recoiled, sickened by the number of times those words had echoed through his life. Worse though was how easily he was willing to give into them if it only meant he could have back a little of that warmth he had found. He ducked his head and shrugged.

Cole squeezed his hand. “Good, cause I think I’ve got something you’ll like.” He let go and dug around in the couch cushions, pulling out a crumpled paper bag. When he smiled at Aaron, that familiar greedy smile, Aaron admitted to himself that he wasn’t here to fight with Cole, that he had never been coming for that. This was all he wanted, was all he was good for: to be lied to and to be led astray. He didn’t mind as long as he didn’t have to be fully present for it. He sat up a little straighter.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

They fell back in with one another but it remained uneasy. Aaron was still not allowed back at Cole’s house and he was afraid to miss too much class. Lately his father had been grumbling about sending him away and he wasn’t entirely sure he meant away to live somewhere else or away from life entirely. There were no peaceful interactions between them, only lucky days where Aaron successfully avoided being seen. A sudden increase in truancy calls would not work out well for him. If he had been a little more mature, a little less caught up in his own teenage drama, he might have noticed the changes in his father’s face, the way the lines grew deeper as his frame grew thinner. As it was he only noticed as much as he needed to know to keep himself out of the direct path of destruction. He once might have cared to notice his mother crying more, even when his father wasn’t there to be the cause of it but he was long past feeling any sort of connection to her. If she was troubled, she could find someone else to support her. She certainly hadn’t done anything to help him all these years. Nothing that he could see.

At school Haley continued to pester him. She stood up for him against the accusations that he had attacked Matt for no reason so he was still allowed at play rehearsals. He went grudgingly, only because he couldn’t shake the way he felt bewitched by Haley. Now he tried even harder to stay out of any social situations, to keep things strictly professional with the group of theater kids. However, he couldn’t help but enjoy Haley’s company at lunch and in between classes. Much as Aaron had disliked her friends, he couldn’t resist the brilliance of her personality. She made him feel like being a whole person was possible, made him forget for a few moments what he really was. She may have made him a little uncomfortable but she was relentlessly kind, and he was more than expert at keeping things hidden so he let her think she was doing some good as she badgered him into eating more and forced him to study. Even if it was only pretend, they were both getting something from it.

Only after the school day was over would he would slink away to the woods where he’d meet Cole. Cole still wasn’t speaking to him on campus, too aware of how their obvious closeness before had been risky. He hadn’t changed in their time apart either, his mood still swinging wildly from affection to disgust. It didn’t feel great but Aaron needed him, needed what Cole could give him. Attention and a steady supply of drugs. He didn’t have to worry about his insufficiencies around Cole, they were too similar for him to care about hiding the difficult parts of his life, didn’t have to worry about being pitied, about someone trying to fix him. They’d dragged more furniture into the abandoned shed, found an old metal trashcan they could burn things in to warm the place as the months crept deeper into the dark end of the year.

By the time Aaron’s sixteenth birthday came and went he felt like he was leading a completely fractured life. At home he was a ghost at best, a target when not; with Haley a treasured curiosity, constantly examined and prodded into a more acceptable shape; and with Cole, he was himself, angry and violent but self-medicated to the point where none of it mattered. Any gentleness that had existed between them over the summer was gone, every interaction was rough and scrambling, followed by a shame that only dissipated once the high kicked in.

It became harder to hold all the pieces together. He would look at himself in the mirror and struggle to remember his own name. He started smoking pot during the day again, just to ease some of the jarring transitions. At lunch, Haley talked and talked and he wouldn’t notice when she asked him a question until she poked him in the bicep and he jumped like a startled cat. When she tried to ask him about it he got annoyed, snapping at her and walking away from school, not caring that it was the middle of the day and that this bad choice was sure to come back to him that evening.

The show opening got closer as he missed more rehearsals. He missed so many that he didn’t know what he should be doing when he was there, very obviously sticking out when he went one way while the rest of the corps moved in the other direction. The drama teacher pulled him aside, giving him an ultimatum that he needed to be present at every subsequent rehearsal or he would be cut. Not so secretly hoping this would be enough to get him to leave. He started to say he didn’t give a shit about her stupid play when he saw Haley anxiously watching their conversation and swallowed his insults, only nodding, looking away so the teacher wouldn’t see his contempt for someone who could think something like a high school play mattered at all.

He made it to all the rehearsals but he was sure to be high, not enough that he would be caught but enough to be clear that it didn’t matter to him if he did. He wasn’t sure why he continued to come, why Haley had such a pull on him. It didn’t make sense that he wanted so badly to make her happy when she was so different, so far removed from everything else in his life. Maybe it was that he knew that without her, there was nothing tying him to the regular world, the place of school and society and jobs and futures. She was the only person that seemed to care if he was around, an emotion he was long past feeling for himself. She was the last reminder that he was a human being, that he mattered to someone. It was the only thing standing between him and completely giving in to the destructive force that had been whispering promises of an easy solution to his problems.

It was just enough to keep him behaved around these people who hated him without knowing anything about him. They hated what he represented, hated the way he forced them to see that the world could be ugly and painful. They were offended that he dared to show himself among the normal people when he so clearly belonged to the underside. He kept quiet and kept close to Haley when he was at school, when he was in the theater. He wore the stupid costume, the silly hat, followed the directions barked at him, sang just loud enough to carry the rest. Then he slipped away as soon as he was able.

The week of the opening performance was a bad one. Cole, having recently gotten his hands on some speed, was off on a manic high. Aaron had tried it once but hated the way the uppers spiked his anxiety, the way he felt every eye on him like his skin had turned inside out. After that first time he had declined, preferring to find oblivion in whatever downers were available. But Cole liked it quite a bit. It made his already unpredictable nature even worse, even more dangerous. He’d spend these highs running all over town, breaking car windows for fun, stealing anything worth a couple dollars. Aaron hated it and did his best to hide from him while he was strung out like that.

The afternoon of the show’s opening he’d gone to an old, private hiding spot after school with the intention of getting so stoned he couldn’t feel anything that might come his way later. He succeeded only to remember belatedly what day it was. Haley had tried to remind him several times during the day but he’d been too high, too distracted to listen. Swearing, he ran back to school, not sure what time it was or what time he was supposed to have been there.

The house lights were already off, the audience quiet as the opening bars played. He raced to get into his costume, having to re-button his shirt more than once as the tiny objects refused to line up properly. He gripped his hat as he stumbled into the wings to the sound of the chorus coming in—the chorus he was supposed to be a part of. He thought he could probably just slide onto the end of the line without attracting too much attention. Unfortunately, he found his path blocked by the drama teacher, her face dark and angry, completely out of patience for this mess of a teenager. She stared at him, his eyes red and glassy, skin pale, insultingly obvious in his intoxication.

“No.”

He looked at her unfazed, barely registering her as more than an object to move around. When he tried to step past her, she blocked him again.

“Go home Aaron,” her voice was quiet but unfriendly.

He shook his head, “I’m going to miss my cue.”

She frowned, surprised that he was aware enough to even know when his part was. “You’re high, you can’t be on school property.”

Aaron glanced into her face now, paying attention. No teacher had ever mentioned being able to tell he was not sober before.

“If you don’t leave now, I will call the police.”

He stepped back, narrowing his eyes, gauging how serious she was, if she would really draw that much attention to the situation. Her expression didn’t change and he could tell she meant it. He looked past her once more, seeing Haley step forward into the spotlight to begin her solo. His heart twisted, thinking about how disappointed she’d be that he couldn’t make this happen for her. He’d tried, tried so hard to keep it together for this. She’d been so excited and even though he couldn’t feel any of that, he liked the way it lit up her face when she talked about the performance, about how her parents and her sister would be in the audience, about how she wanted them to meet him. He’d never planned on staying for that but he’d wanted to at least be part of the show, to at least give her that.

“Now, Hotchner,” she insisted, voice cold and unsympathetic. He shrugged and tossed the hat on the ground by her feet before turning and walking out.

He headed straight for the shed, knowing there were supplies there that he had slowly siphoned away when Cole was too high to notice. He’d been saving them, watching his little stockpile grow larger. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saving it for, exactly what his intention was but now seemed as good a time as any to find out. He hoped Cole wasn’t there, at least not until he could get his fix. Nothing would matter then.

Once inside he turned on the camp lantern he’d stolen and climbed onto a rickety chair to reach the seam between the roof and the wall. He pulled out his supplies, examining them as he settled back down on the dirty old cushions on the floor and wrapped a blanket around himself. It was an old army surplus thing, scratchy and smelling of smoke but effective against the chill. He considered his options. There was a good amount in there, probably enough for two people if he waited for Cole to turn up. He could maybe ease him out of his frenzy, bring him down to Aaron’s level, to the place where they could float through time without moving, without worrying. He thought about the last time he’d seen him, the way his eyes had moved past him without any real recognition. He thought about the dark purple bruises on his wrist where Cole had grabbed him, twisting his arm and insisting Aaron give him whatever money he had.

Fuck him, he decided.

Cole would probably be angry if he came here and found Aaron high without him, would be suspicious of how that had come to be. He would probably regret not leaving any for him but just at that moment he didn’t care. Hurt and love and shame and desire were all the same to him, all more than he wanted to feel. He just wanted to feel nothing. He set himself up quickly, well practiced and sure of his movements. He glanced around the shed once, really seeing his surroundings, seeing how far he had sunk and he laughed as he pressed the plunger down. Anyone who heard him would have been alarmed, the sound more like an animal caught in a trap than an expression of human joy. His last thought as he sank back into the ground was that it really was too much for one person. Too much to be doing alone. Then he got what he wanted and everything was just black.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 9

Lightest before Dusk

Her dresses flutter as she strides into her throne room. The hushed whispers die down at her entrance, her courtiers startled and her guards standing at attention.

When they had mentioned a tear in space, Zelda's heartbeat had picked up. There were only so many explanations, and some of her agents had already confirmed that they felt no hostile power in the spell. Was her Hero back? He'd been gone for weeks now. It seemed only right that he returned to her sooner than later.

(She forbid herself the thought that it might have been-)

But on her way, another servant had come to greet them. Link. Link had returned. And so she had entered with her queenly mask in place and her thoughts light.

A few of the heroes still groan as they try to get back their bearings. By the looks of surprise, it might not have been a very graceful landing. Her people shuffle about, nervous by the presence of armed strangers, and those that recognize Link amongst them... stiffen. She makes a mental note of their faces and allegiances, for later review.

The hero with the blue scarf notices her first, and he goes on one knee with a smooth, practiced motion. A knight, that one, she immediately knows.

The rest imitates the motion or pay her respect in whatever custom their era holds. The youngest is amusingly the stiffest, his eyes not on her but the knight. A touching bond, she imagines.

With pose, she greets them all, until Link's nearest companion – scarred, a little younger, naturally sticking close to Link in the middle of a crowd – seems to realize that she is Queen over Link. His expression turns from respectful to impish, mischievous and far too triumphant.

Link cringes as if he realizes exactly what goes through that one's mind.

… And he put that one's neck in a sidehold, trying to stifle the barks of laughter without much success.

“Oh, hey, your majesty, did you know what Twi sa-?”

Link's hand slaps on top of the exuberant one's mouth. A tad desperate for his silence, and though she knows no words her Hero had spoken would be truly damaging, she cannot resist the urge to tease him. With her best, coldest mask, she arches a single eyebrow. Link's face takes on a cherry red color, one she had yet to see from him.

Muffled and swallowed snickers abound from the group of heroes. Poor Link shushes them, and it is when the knightly one reminds them of her presence that they settle, somewhat. Link looks grateful, and a little torn. What relationship does he share with this hero? One of surface level friction, she muses, that cannot reach the core of their trust in one another.

Link schools his expression into a solemn look.

“My Queen,” he says, a hand over his chest and his head bowed.

“My Hero,” she replies, so perfectly even. “Have you travelled well?”

He has a dark glare for the scarred hero.

“It's been... an adventure.”

Yes, she pictures it nicely now. And part of her warms to the image of her Hero so well looked after.

“Is there need of my assistance for any of your companions, My Hero?”

Link pauses, then quickly glances back. “Right this second? No, we could use a moment to rest,” he says, and rolls his shoulder for show.

She allows herself a small smile.

“I bid you all welcome into the kingdom of Hyrule, brave heroes of time past and to come. Accommodations will be arranged for all of you tonight. Refreshments and food will be brought to you. You need only ask. The Royal Family does not forget the debt owed to its saviors.”

“We would be thankful for such generosity, My Queen,” he says, and the relief in the others is badly hidden.

She gestures for her guards to show them to chambers being prepared by some poor, rushing maids. Circumstances oblige. They'd be compensated in some way later. As the heroes move to obey, however, she raises her voice once more.

“My Hero, I would have you share some tea with me. We have much to discuss.”

A few of them misstep, and shoot Link curious glances.

The one-eyed soldier lifts an eyebrow.

But Link shakes his head at his commander. He lands a strong clap on the man's back and juts his chin at the exit. Silent words are exchanged without even a twitch, and, on cue, eight heroes leave the throne room through the front doors, led by an honor escort. Link, however, breaks the distance between them and offers a second bow.

“I am at your service.”

That you are, she thinks to herself. Her courtiers do not notice. Not the irony of her thoughts, nor the displeasure she must hide from them every other week.

They disappear together through the passage only the royal family may take, and together they climb the staircase to the highest point of the castle. Few members of her forces patrol the area, all of which pay her their respect, and try to hide some contempt for Link. It cements her plan in her mind.

She waits two heartbeats after the doors to her chambers close, then rushes into his arms.

“Zelda,” he whispers, at first, his arms strong around her, “it's not proper.”

She knows. Of course she knows. Many like to remind her. But queen she might be, she is also Hylian, and she missed him. Him and his lack of decorum, care for propriety. She never asked it of him. Not as themselves.

“Farore has blessed many of my court,” she replies, pulling away from him.

Tea and biscuits have been laid out at her orders, and she invites him to sit.

“To think they would still suggest you to be too lowly for any association with me.”

Link hums in his teacup. “They do say Farore loves her fools.”

Zelda shoots him a sharp look. “Do not insult yourself so.”

For all of a second, her knight looks sheepish. Then: “But...?” he asked, his fangs shining in the corner of his mouth.

She lets out a sigh. “But those people specifically are, indeed, fools.”

His chest rumbles with an unspoken hum, a melody from home. Ordon. Zelda has rarely visited, and not once in recent memory. For all Hyrule rules over Ordon, that province is marginal at best. Out of sight and out of mind to most her subjects, she knows. How ironic that the Golden Three would pick their Hero out of this forgotten corner of Hyrule. A reminder, it would seem, that none of her subjects deserve to be neglected. She took it seriously; she wonders more often than not if her nobles have.

Link does not speak right away. He samples the biscuits, always a little wary of food he cannot identify at a glance. A remnant of the life of the traveler, she had long guessed. But after the first bite, he nearly swallows the next two whole. They must have gone without rest for some time before the portal brought them to her. She is glad the kitchen had been forewarned to cater to their whims.

Her first sip of tea coats a floral flavor on her tongue. It is one of Link's favorites, and she can appreciate its subtle qualities beneath the light, almost perfume-like fragrances. She had not cared for it before, but now she is away from public eyes, she is quite famished herself.

Link looks at her like he knows, and it prompts her to, in more delicate words, play with him.

“The scarred, insolent one,” she starts, her tone neutral to hide her teasing, “he is the one the goddesses sent you to help, isn't he?”

Link pales a bit. “My Queen, he meant no-”

“Peace,” she says with a smile. “I care not, My Hero, for protocol beyond its use in social gatherings. Least of all for one I see dear to your heart.”

Reassured, Link relaxes, settling back into his seat with an equally tender smile. His eyes flit to her window, to the rolling clouds and the splatters of rain on the glass. So many tears from the heavens.

(They do not shatter two hearts.)

She banishes the thought. Her Hero is here, and followed by eight others across time and space. The very idea fascinates her. Makes her wish for time to speak with them and show them what records the kingdom has kept. The Chosen Hero, the Hero of Light, the Hero of Time. Hyrule only remembers so few, and there is temptation all on its own, to know that some may come from times yet to come.

But her desires do not weigh enough for the indulgence. Other matters are of greater import.

“Those heroes of legend. You trust them, then?”

“With my life.”

No pause. No consideration. Yes, she had thought as much. If no one else, Heroes of Courage could only be trustworthy. The Goddesses would never tolerate otherwise.

But in truth, that judgment, she had already decided upon witnessing the easy manners Link displayed around them. Link suffers no false-faced turncloaks. There had been nothing begrudging in their interactions. Rather, the brotherly banters they had shushed upon her arrival had amused her as much as it had enlightened her.

“Can you tell me about them?” she asks, gently. Not an order, but a request from a curious mind.

He lights up, and his earnest joy shines above the drab atmosphere of the late afternoon. He speaks exuberantly, familiarly, as if they are old friends. He even manages to snatch a laugh out of her, something she is well aware her court desperately tries ever still. Ice queen, they murmur out of her sight. A few hinges their courtship on their charm, and for the life of her, Zelda knows they cannot equal this simple man speaking of the love he has for these newfound brothers-in-arms.

He speaks of them like Ordon, like home, and perhaps it is what emboldens her to ask, after a delicate bite of her biscuit: “Do they... like their Zelda?”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile smaller and somehow more mysterious. Puzzling. It is not a mannerism he used to have. She wonders which heroes he picked it up from. Perhaps the scarred, one-eyed hero. Link had stood by him with a deference he is loath to show any he doesn't believe deserve it. And that man had been the stoic sort, at least on a surface level. If her suspicions about their respective identities proved correct...

Well. It matters not, she supposes.

Link takes the time to swallow another swing of his tea, the impudent farmboy that he is, and looks at her knowingly.

“The Chosen's smitten.” Link wipes some breadcrumbs from his mouth, which then turns upward into a smirk. “You should hear him when he tries to write her songs. It's adorable.”

“Yes, adorable,” she repeats to herself, willing her cheeks not to burn.

Quick as it came, the amusement drains out of him, and he sounds more apologetic next. “The truth is, I don't know, my Queen. Some of them are fond, some are a bit like strangers, and some are like us.” He points at her and himself a few times. “In-between. What do you think of that?”

“In some ways... reassuring, I would say. Part of me worries that I have not done enough for my kingdom in its time of need.”

He opens his mouth, indignation naked on his face, and she preempts him with a raised hand. He silences his reply, and she does not back down from his glare.

“She was always more important to your quest than I.”

With a grimace, he sits back down.

“True.”

He does not lie to her. She appreciates that, on the heels of a meeting with courtiers who are never honest with her. When they had barged in this very room, during the Twilight Invasion, one cursed, one mortally wounded, she had known that it would be her choice. Her choice, and her chance to save her kingdom. When Link speaks of her, he softens at this part, at the sanded out edge of her wits and quips.

There's a faint hurt in Zelda's chest. A longing, phantom, mere daydreams that do not belong to her. To give part of one's soul is to accept part of someone else's in return. In that way, it is quite like love. She had known it would hurt, and had done it anyway, for her hero needed another princess. But Nayru, at the very least, blessed her too much to let those visions of a brave wolf and braver man cloud her reason. No union could be successful from a pair of fools chasing shadows.

“You were important though, My Queen. Don't underestimate yourself.” He holds out her gaze with the strength that let him challenge the King of Evil. “You were our goal, our salvation – more than once, the last one to give me strength against Ganondorf. You brought the Light Spirits' blessing to that battle, and the Three know I wouldn't have managed without it.”

She finishes her cup. “One's advices are so much more convincing when equally applied to oneself.”

“Fair. We were meant to do it together, My Queen. Believe me, it's like history told me eight times over.”

Her lips curl up faintly. “Only eight times? And to think you could be told a hundred times without moving before. Nayru has finally seen you fit to receive some of her blessing,”

His indignation flashes in his eyes, and settles in his innocent, wolf-like grin. “Aww, shucks. Your Majesty, don't you be using big words to insult lil' ol' me.”

“It was no insult. Your determination often forces admiration, My Hero.”

He chuckles under his breath. He says something that might be 'wolf boy'.

This is what they are to each other: a way to remember one they do not wish to forget and whose hearts long to, so they may at last heal. They are. Healing. She knows this. Just as she knows the process is slow and grueling, but every meeting they hold in her chambers, every teacup shared by the window, their gaze overlooking Castle Town... she feels closer to it.

And by the gentleness in Link's eyes, she thinks he feels the same way. That even away from her, gallivanting through time and space, he has progressed as well.

Naturally, with none of the terrible awkwardness that plagued their early conversations, their words drift away to more casual topics, the health of the servants, the network of the resistance, the state of the kingdom. Easy words for her to speak. They drift from anecdotes about the castle's kitchen to the latest nobility gathering to her bemoaning of the state's newest budget.

At his request, she produces the copy for him to skim, which he does with a ferocity that is rather inappropriate for questions of maintaining bridges and holding the annual solstice celebrations. And therein lies the problem. He begins his commentary.

Link, it must be said, is also a miser of the worst sort. He would never let her exceed budget and does indeed question anything but the strictest necessity. It is as useful an attribute in an advisor as it is prodigiously irritating.

“My Hero, whilst the people can survive perfectly well on a tight purse, they do not want to. I must consider... certain sensibilities.”

“Why?” he finally asks, standing and disturbing his cup on the desk. “Why must you when it seems none of them ever do? How can they bow to you and then demand? You're their queen! Everything you've done has been to help Hyrule recover and thrive. Why can't they put their darned wants aside for one season?!”

If only her nobles could be half as loyal, she might actually enjoy the administration of her council. “It is my queenly duty, Link.”

His stubborn, darkened look recedes. “Aye, aye, I know. Big part of why I believe in you, Zelda, but...”

Her hand catches his, and through her glove and his gauntlet, warmth reaches from and to the divine mark they share.

“You wish it was not so. That others might be willing to sacrifice for the good of their brethrens.”

His ears droop.

To be a hero is to walk a lonely road. To have the world at your feet and its weight on your shoulders. And Link is strong, so strong to have done it.

In her hearth, the fire crackles and spits out dying ember. The dregs of tea in her cup have gone cold. They have been at this long, long enough for the gossip to come back to life, and momentarily, she dares imagine the ribbing Link will be subjected to when he meets back with his companion.

But, Zelda regrets, that would come to a quick stop, once they notice.

She has delayed as much as she could. But, again, duty demands it of her, of him.

“Forgive me, my Hero, for what I must ask of you.”

She sees it in his gaze. The surety, the sturdiness that is a man of the land. Stubborn and decisive. Less delusions than most. He knows, then, that she means it. That it is no idle speculation, and that he will suffer in the course of his duty.

Yet he nods, once, a short thing. “You already are.”

There is no doubt in him.

Not yet.

She names the place she must send him to, and so rises the shadows of his regrets in his sky blue eyes.

He does not hear much of her explanation. She proceeds as if he does, as gentle an offering of time for him to gather his Courage she can afford to give.

“My Hero,” she whispers to him at last, her touch light on his chin, “Link, return to me whole.”

It's as much an order as she dares give, and the ghost of his smile lets her know he understands her feelings.

“As long as you need me, My Queen.”

Need me forever, don't let me go, not you too, is the prayer he will never voice. Nayru help us both.

***

Flecks of sand grates against his skin as harsh winds pick up. He wants to say he doesn't notice, but it would be a lie. He'd rather focus on the irritating grit, on the whistle of scorching dry air. On the glare of the sun even as the shadows of pillars inch closer to them.

Yet, he can't quite manage.

He stares ahead at the place he most hates in his Hyrule.

He loves his country. Loves the beauty he found in every corner, in the smile of strangers and the purr of beasts. From start to finish, Twilight had simply loved the world he was born in. But this place, he can't bring himself to feel anything for it.

(he would be swallowed)

(torn from the inside, darkness spreading, a mask with tendrils forced on his face like those poor people he couldn't save)

“Sky... You probably don't want to get inside that place,” he hears himself say.

The patient wait twists into a knot of tension. The ring of silent question bears on his back, and he turns, comes face to face with a Sky that is stone-faced, all but daring to be left behind. His eyes are more steel than the sword in Twilight's hand.

A nod.

It was a futile hope. Sky was the first to incarnate the Hero's Spirit. He never lacked in Courage. But this will hurt. Hurt so bad to show Sky a glimpse of the darkness that the dream shared with his love will unleash.

(it's not on him, never was on Sky, their sweet knight from above, but Twilight knows too much about heroes not to predict what one feels about responsibilities)

Time stalks forward, diffusion some of the tension.

“Is this one of your world's temples, Pup?”

A temple? He wants to scoff. This place is no temple. Nothing sacred, not anymore. It's a place of misery and pain and grudges never allowed to rest. It's a testament of sin and it's the place he wakes up to in his nightmares, one prisoner amongst many, chained with a spiked collar, Hylian or wolf.

The others wait after his words, and he hates the honest curiosity he sees in their gazes.

He should find a gentler way to say it.

But simply standing in the shadow of this place drains him of his energy. He already feels the weight of memories pulling at his limbs. It takes a mild effort to look back to the old man.

“... No, but I believe it is where one used to be. This is the prison they built when they exterminated the Gerudo.”

Blood rushes out of Time's face. He looks pale, horrified. There's no real need to elaborate, is there? The Hero of Time knows why and how Hyrule and its Gerudo neighbors would go to war.

Something like guilt and disgust twist inside Twilight's stomach. Why did he say that?

“Twi!” Wild shouts, his objection all too obvious.

“Those that stayed died. The warriors. The zealots. Those that didn't believe the kokiri seer had been truthful about Ganondorf's reign of terror.”

Time looks on the verge of being sick. “They weren't meant... ” he trails off, his one good eye staring at the torture complex.

Twilight puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know the details. You'd have to ask my Queen for the records of the kingdom's history.” – He sighs, squeezes gently. – “But peace didn't last, and that's why this place was built out of the ruins of a sacred place. A desecration of the worst kind. To let the torments of the regretful last.”

He wants to ease the pain on Time's face so bad, but... he can't. Whatever else happened, Time had been a child at the time. He'd saved the kingdom. The cost...

Twilight fumbles with a match to light his lantern. He can't think of costs right now. It's not the place. The flame from his lantern illuminates the first few steps into the broken doors of the prison complex.

“Be careful inside. This place is haunted by more than just the horrors of Hyrule's dark past. Lost souls and living corpses are trapped inside.”

“Gloom and doom, much?” Legend snarks.

It takes effort not to snarl.

“Just don't get paralyzed by a scream when you're standing on quicksand, Bunnyboy.”

The others straighten at his uncharacteristical snap. That, or the image he suddenly conjured of them, slowly engulfed by torrents of sand, unable to move but all too aware of what was happening. Back then, if it hadn't been for...

Not the time to be losing himself in old memories.

His chest pangs with guilt. The way the others look at him. The surprise. The shock for his poor manners. He mumbles an apology. Turns away quickly to face the dried out shadows of the unlit tunnel.

Farore, he hates how the Arbiter's Grounds empties him from the inside out.

***

There were, to Twilight's knowledge, two likely locations for what his queen asked him to investigate. He had been silently praying when he'd opened the gates to the inner sanctum. Had come close to begging as Hyrule and Legend examined the dusty remains of the paper talismans, and though repulsed confirmed their power long lost, alongside what they had been made to restrain. The Lense of Truth hadn't revealed anything else, and

– he couldn't turn into a wolf, not here, not where she –

it had been a waste of time. Unsurprising.

“Why go for the least likely first then?” Warriors had demanded, his stance a bit more defensive.

Because the Death Sword had been sealed in the middle of the prison complex, and if he was wrong, then Twilight would rather avoid having to backtrack through this accursed place. Upon that reasoning, the rest conceded that he had a point, even if they had some complaints.

“If the source of that dark magic flare wasn't in that creepy cell, why are there some many monsters here?” Hyrule asks, off-hands, as he locks swords with a stall captain.

There's no reason to worry, not quite.

“This place is never empty of monsters!” he shouts over his shoulder, crushing some of the smaller skeletons under a broad swing of his sword. “It's been soaked in blood and torment. No one rests in the Arbiter's Grounds.”

Legend, balancing on a near sunken platform above sinking send, kicks away a moldorm with trained ease. He seems pleased for all of a few seconds, before Wind points behind him at a shambling shadow emerging from an alcove in the walls.

Legend's sword seizes midswing, a piercing shriek tearing through the air with the force of a waking nightmare. The scream bounces in their heads, bites into bones and wraps around flesh. It strikes and tempers, and leaves all nine of them fighting their own bodies for the right to move as it inches ever closer to its target. He hears strangled grunts from his left, clatters of metal on the ground from his right. Struggles to break free.

And all Twilight knows is he'll be damned if this place steals another loved one from him.

He stumbles forward, amongst the first to do so. He doesn't waste precious time thinking, assessing. The shadows swallow him, and he dashes on four legs.

Paws stomp over sand, bugs and spikes as he bounds and leaps.

His fangs tear through the rotten flesh with ease. The revolting taste used to make him retch. The decay, the dry leather, the sandpaper texture of bandages. He's not sure if he's imagining it right now, so numb his whole body feels.

He gnarls on the monster's throat till he hits bone, then leaps off. The thing can't scream anymore. It's barely a threat without that power. It's slow, cumbersome. It drags its claymore through sands, but it doesn't get a chance to swing. He steps out of shadows with his sword in hand.

The mummified head rolls on the quicksand, soon sunken and no more than a troubling memory. The rest collapses, and they can breath again.

He's not sure what his are called. They have elements of both Gibdos and Redeads. The massive sword is only in his Hyrule though. Lucky him.

He spits to the side, the glob black and green, and the taste, worse. “Vet, you good?”

Legend's pale, his fingers twitching, and his feet pull him back closer to the center of the platform. Startled is the word that comes to mind. It comes, and goes. Legend's too – wearied – seasoned to let a mere close call shake him.

“Yeah. Thanks, wolfboy. That beast's out of the bag now,” he says, leaning toward the rest.

Despite the spill of sand, the room feels oppressively silent. Tension knots into his back. He's had nightmares of this exact moment, he suddenly realizes. The moment when the secret is out and it is time to face their judgment, be it words, disgust or drawn swords. But the silence doesn't press onto him, doesn't stifle. Warriors gauges the others, Sky looks about ready to speak up, the same way Wild does. Time looks the most wary, and Four sighs with something like relief. An incredulous chuckle building in the back of his throat, it occurs to Twilight that he never told anyone which of them knew his secrets. He's never been one to parse them out, after all. And now...  

Now, Wind's shock simmers into something else as he looks to the other Links and sees little surprise or even wonder.

“Oh,” Hyrule says, the only one dazed, “I had a feeling.”

It's too muted a reaction. It sparks the flurry of feeling boiling just under Wind's skin. “Really?! We're the last two to learn?”

The way he glares at him, at the others. The accusation is clear. He thinks they don't trust him. That Twilight doesn't trust him. That... that he tricked him. Got the feelings out of him, then mocked him behind his back.

Twilight quiets the 'beast!' his mind screams. “It's not like that, Sailor. I never sought to reveal it to anyone. I” – fear – “dislike talking about it. It just happened.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Wind bites out.

“I mean it, Sailor,” he tells the kid, hoarse. “I'm sorry.”

His tone gives Wind pause. The teen frowns, looks up at him with suspicion. “This isn't over. I'm gonna ask for more later.”

“Of course.”

“Twi,” Wild suddenly calls, his eyes flashing with worry, “are you okay?”

They can't do this inside the Arbiter's Grounds. The traps alone would be too much of a risk.

He shakes his head, then wipes the congealed blood off his blade. “I'm fine. I just hate this place.”

Warriors, with deliberate timing, clasps his hands. “Great. Finally a point in common between the two of us, Rancher. How about you lead us out of here?”

“I'd be more at ease somewhere with less chances of an ambush,” Time adds, still scanning their surroundings.

He nods. Wrestles with himself. They need him. Him, he can't fail now.

“It shouldn't be too far. Let's go.”

Sky's face twists, something like guilt, something like determination. Twilight doesn't regret following his queen's order, but he does bury the sorrow he feels at seeing his brother's dreams further crushed. Hyrule was... is... a country with a long history, and some of it unworthy of the glory it received.

There's frankly nothing Sky can do to prevent this outcome.

The thought flares with guilt. Look at him, giving lessons about making peace with the inevitable.

He ducks his head and turns back to the traps they will need to navigate.

“We'll need some creative solutions, heroes. This place is best travelled with a very specific item, and I only have the one...”

But though Warriors is the only one to share the spinner item with him, the others all have access to impressive resources to play around the traps that litter the Arbiter's Grounds. And even for the few that look perplexed, Sky's whip, Wind's hookropes or their hookshots allow them to swing back and forth over dangerous obstacles to link the groups together.

All that being said, he will keep a closer eye on his spinner for the next couple of days, because Wild's starry eyes at the sight of Twilight bouncing around on complex rails had left him chuckling for the first time today. And he wasn't blind to the intrigued glances Legend and Four had had for the item either.

Were he in a generous mood, Twilight would advise Warriors to keep a close eye on his stuff too. Kleptomania was apparently a shared trait of the Hero's Spirit.

The skull's fragments are unmoved, and their path takes them past even the boss chamber.

Light washes over them, wonderful thing that chases half the ghosts that linger in his mind after a trek through the cursed prison. Cooling winds makes him want to shout after the dusty, heavy air that mummifies every corpse down there. He wants to celebrate with the others, but in the corner of his eyes, he sees the monolith.

Tears spring to his eyes unbidden. Why? Why is he like this? He tried so hard to heal, to get over it! He's an adult, not a lovesick teenager. He's done his best to deal with the pain. So why is it that he can go months right as rain and then, one day, he just hears the wrong thing, sees the wrong shades, and his whole chest crumbles on him?  

On a shaky breath, he attempts to steel himself, to dry the tears. In vain.

He is, Twilight decides there and then, pathetic.

***

How long does he sit in front of the black stone?

The sun started to set whilst he was here. Red light over sand cast lengthening shadows, and it's too easy for him to get lost in his scrutiny of them. None ever came to life. But he still looked, wondered, ached.

With no real hint to direct their searches, the group had commonly decided that they ought to rest for now, with double watch tonight to make sure they weren't taken by surprise in an ambush. Twilight had agreed, and pretended not to feel Time's insistent stare when he slipped away to...

To do what, exactly?

He's not even sure. He's been sitting there, legs hanging by the edge, scrutinizing the stone as if it would come to life.

Eh. A callback to a bitter period of his life. Damn it! He's over this. He is!

So why aren't you facing the others? Didn't you tell Wind you'd explain everything?

He knows his conscience is right. He still doesn't stand. It seems, on top of everything else, Twilight might also be a hypocrite. Goddesses, why did Farore ever look his way?

They're eating, he tells himself. He can smell the hints of Wild's spice mixes from here. Can hear, vaguely, the conversations, and could even guess the contents if he strained to catch the words. He'll have to apologize. To come clean. And that's enough to root him in place. Just a few hours longer, before they can no longer bear his presence.

The idea sends pricks of ice under his skin. Any of them would be a stab wound, but it's when his mind lingers on Wild, that silly brother of his, that the rage hits.

He doesn't know many tricks, not yet. He's still learning, but on anger alone, he feels as if he could suddenly disintegrate the black stone from his glare alone. He wants it gone. He wants to be freed of it, and it's that thought that flashes last when on the canvas of ink flashes shifting oranges and yellow.

Twilight's already upright. That glimpse of fire... It hadn't been the setting sun!

He wishes he could have said he moved with purpose, his mission still in mind, not a short walk that had his heart beating out of his chest. The closer he gets, the easier it becomes to define the impression. There is someone looking back at him from beyond the stone's reflective surface.

His stomach drops when he reaches the steps.

Only himself.

He knows his queen would have something to say if she knew he felt disappointment at his own reflection. With a surly, self-deprecating smirk, he lets his fingers run over the sharded texture. Presses his palm against the ice cold material.

Imagines that the skin is a paler, greyish shade, splattered black instead of his tanned pink. The fingers would curl into his, intermingles. He holds onto the feeling.

Then yanks.

A hand cut from starless night emerges from the stone, and Twilight throws down a dark copy of himself onto the ground. The doppelganger blinks in shock, momentarily dazed.

The expression hardly improves when the Ordon Sword skewers it to the ground.

“The Prison Gate?” he drawls. “Did you think I wouldn't see a temptation coming?”

That you'd be the first one I faced here? he doesn't say. Twilight has always been good at connecting with accursed things. With forbidden practices and tricks played out in the dark. Even before his quest, before all the things that turned him from goatherd to hero, there had been the book he'd taken a fancy to. The mirror in his basement. Old dreams of a dead wolf and a dead hero.

There's a lot Twilight doesn't say, not in front of some dark apparition.

“Queen's dog,” it spits, ink blood sprayed from the corner of its mouth.

Twilight watches, unmoved, as the shadowed being melts back into the sand by the black stone.

They both know which queen it referred to. Twilight, with a faint smirk, shakes his head. Despite his heart's desires, despite the pangs of the chains in his chest, he is the hero of the Light Realm. And his queen will be pleased to know that her Wolf took care of the problem with the Arbiter's Ground.

He casts his gaze over the desert, the setting sun. It's a shame then, that they will have to spend the night anyway.

***

Time gives up pretense. He has polished his biggoron sword and unclasped some layers of armor and fiddled with his ocarina, and none of this let him clear his mind enough to pretend he wasn't worried out of his skin.

Their evening routine is off. Even in dangerous circumstances, they had always managed to build an atmosphere of safety, of care. The ideal that none of them were at risk so long as they looked after one another.  

Tonight's akin to the long nights he spent with Hyrule watching over wounds and illnesses that he knows he could have prevented somehow. Everyone is of a second mind, and it boils over right after Wild finishes scrubbing his pots.

There's one bowl still full, untouched, a little to the side of their campfire.

The last of the pots vanish in a flash of blue lights. Wild knocks over his bedroll standing. “Okay, I'm done. I'm going to check up on him.”

“I'm coming too,” Four jumps to his feet, a split second faster than Sky, Warriors and Hyrule.

“Like hell I'm getting left out again,” Wind says fiercely.

Time wants to sigh and smirks. Goddesses, he never signed up to feel so much pride for these insane boys of his. Even if one of them takes the route of the electrified chu-chu instead, whom Time has to nudge with the tip of his boot.

“Probably doesn't want to see anyone,” Legend explains, arms stubbornly crossed over his chest, but he ends up on his feet too.

“We'll tell him you were worried too, don't worry,” Warriors drawls, and gets flipped off for good measure.

They find Twilight almost immediately. By common consensus, they'd agreed to begin their search with the chained black stone. Twilight had gazed upon it with the melancholy of an old man reminiscing about his lost wife and children. It had to be a direction, if nothing else, they reasoned. More so from the dark vibes Hyrule picked up from the strange object.

But for all their speculations, they find Twilight as soon as they set out to do so, sitting on some small steps in front of the monolith, facing away from them.

“You don't need to be here,” he says, not looking back.

“I think we do,” Wild snipes back, his stubborn expression eerily familiar. (Twilight's.)

“Thank you, but I'm fine.”

“You sure seem fine to us,” Legend can't help snark.

“I. Am. Fine.”

Clipped words against the bars of a cage.

“Don't bullshit us, Rancher.” Warriors calls out, worry too sharp for calm.

The sand near the pedestal swirls against the wind, then dies down.

Behind Time, Hyrule's breath hitches up. Time understands. He knows enough magic to recognize it and its flares when emotions run high.

“Enough. All of you. We're not here to corner him. Pup, we just want to talk with you. You haven't been yourself since we arrived here and we want to know how we can help you.”

Twilight whirls around with a feral snarl. “I SAID I'M FINE!”  

For the first time since meeting Twilight, Time feels the urge to take a step back. He doesn't give in, never has, but part of him is shocked that a hero gave him the feeling.

It's wrong. So very wrong, to see softness sanded away by pain. The glare sent back is raw, unfiltered, untempered. A sliver of flame through a cover of shades.

And... quick as it flashed, the fury drains out of him, the edges gone and the scowl lifted into a guilty grimace. Shades cup around the flames like hands on candlelight, to protect others from its rays. Twilight's ears droop slightly. The look alone is an apology, and it's so obviously the word on his tongue.

But Twilight says nothing, huffs a little breaths and turns away from them.

It can't be a coincidence that he dangles his cursed amulet just far enough from himself that they get a glimpse of it. He's still not looking back.

“It's dark magic, Wind. I take the form of a wolf by using dark magic. And that stone...” They can see his fists clench. “That stone was the pathway to their world. Not the gate, not the key, just... the path.”

Time wants to urge Wind to err on the side of caution, but he can't without tipping off Twilight, and even the casual confession seem too important to mess up.

Wind only looks thoughtful for a split second. “So where's the key?”

“It's gone now. Goddesses know I've looked.” The admittance sounds like old shame. “But the sages of old used it often enough that the mirror left its mark on it.”

“You're...” Hyrule starts, getting looks from the rest. “You're connected to it.”

Twilight hunches, just enough that it's visible. “Yeah. Collected the shards in the sand, bled on the stone, prayed to the Goddesses. Anything that wouldn't hurt someone else, I guess.”

The glaring omission in that statement makes Time's heartbeat accelerate. What did his pup do?

“Anyway, it was foolish. The path can only open for the true ruler of the Twilight Realm, and boy, is it not me. But the experiments did have a few side-effects.” – a hand gestures vaguely to his forehead – “Uli did say the tattoo fit, in a rugged, strong man kind of way.”

That forced cheer gets a cringe out of Four. Time has to file the observation for later. He cannot turn his focus away from the pup now. Not when he's bleeding pain right in front of him.

“A mother's love is blind,” Wild croons.

“Brat. She'd love you all.” They can hear the grin on his voice. “Not that she wouldn't pull your ear to teach you good manners, but she would love you anyway. Her, Rusl, Colin, even little Lumi, they'd love you guys. I'm so lucky...”

His sigh floats away, forlorn, like a love letter on desert winds. Time instantly thinks of the ranch, of the horses and the singing they all clammer to. It makes him remember the sunlit smile Sky had worn when they found themselves surrounded by clouds and enormous birds, the whooping cry Wind let out when he recognized black sails on the horizon, the relief Legend had hidden at the sight of his rabbit-hooded friend.

Time wants to meet Twilight's family. Wants to know those people that raised this remarkable young man. Wants to help them make him understand he is cherished back.

Because he sees the slight shaking that wavered wolf fur on his shoulders. Almost misses the sob. The admiration, the awed tenderness had grown twisted, uneven from a darkened fondation. It builds in Twilight's frame, builds in the thicker shadows on him and the shifting sands at their feet.

And Twilight's fist strikes the pedestal beside him, and something Time cannot see passes into the sand by the pedestal. Hackles raised, Four's skin is paler. He is staring so intently, his eyes almost a different color entirely in the dusk. More worryingly, Time notes with a grimace, is the faint chime he thinks he hears rising from the Master Sword.

“Pup, just tell us.”

And Twilight does.

He looks them in the eyes, a scowl on his face. “Why am I so selfish?” he rasps in disgust. “Why am I so fucking greedy? Why do I demand more than what I've been fucking blessed with?!”

Aren't they allowed a little selfishness? Time bites back. The goddesses gave them each a war. Why was it so wrong to want their peace once they'd won?

“I was lucky. Incredibly lucky. I found the children of my village, not one hair on their heads harmed. I rescued my childhood friend and restored her memories. I proved myself worthy of my teacher and let him rest. I... I saved Hyrule, Queen Zelda, the Twilight Realm. I didn't lose anything.”

It's like being stripped off a mask he had forgotten he was wearing. Twilight's cry reaches deep, and it's too easy to see why it's spoken like it was a flaw rather than a magnificent triumph. How can he make his boy understand?

Wild shakes his head. “You lost things too.”

“Nothing that mattered,” Twilight adds, under his breath, a cruel bite at the truth. “Most of a village gone, half the army dead, Zora's succession in shambles. All before the Light Spirits told me my destiny. But I'm fine. I'm great.”

“I can say with complete sincerity, Farmhand, that it doesn't help.” Legend juts his chin, then shrinks back, somber and restrained. “What you're doing. Don't salt your own wound. It mattered to you. It was real enough.”

Something about that strikes Twilight silent.

“She's not dead, Vet. She's not even hurt. She just had to leave to fulfill her duties as her people's rightful ruler. I knew that. I always knew that.”

And, strangely enough, Warriors speaks up, his voice soft. “Midna misses you, Rancher. She...” An hesitation. A chuckle. “Let's say she didn't say so in as many words, but sometimes, she'd get this look, as dusk falls.”

Wind's head snapped up at him. “Aw hell... you mean...”

“You weren't kidding,” Four muses, looking a bit embarrassed by the late realization.

And Wild hovers, looking so ready to rush forward toward his mentor. “Your scars are worse than mine.”

“There it is...” Twilight scoffs, or maybe sniffs. He's not looking at them, he seems determined to avoid all their eyes. He's staring right ahead, at the black stone that seems to weep in the settling cold of night. “There, there's my tragedy. A fucking broken heart. One... one person I wasn't allowed to keep.”

Time's heart ache. One person. So little, most would say, but his pup makes his sound like he had indeed lost his world.

“It's NOTHING compared to you all!”

The shout echoes over the winds of the desert. They don't say anything.

They can't say anything. Not when the core of Twilight's pain bristles at hints of their sympathy. Shame convinced him he isn't allowed to receive it. A witness to their woes no longer feeling adequate by his good fortune. It's all Time wanted for his successors.

Nayru, forgive me for my lack of perspective.

“Why are you all here?” Twilight hisses, rubbing at his eyes. “You don't need to hear my whining. Goddesses, I hate feeling like this. I'm fine.”

Fine, is what he repeats. It's enough to make someone hate the word.

“You're not fine,” Wild says, firm.

The answering chuckle bites. “I should be.”

And Time suddenly loses all his words, because his heart just skipped a beat. Farore be good, of all things to bequeath his eldest, it had to be this reluctance. Malon would have a field day with him.

“No one asks that you be invincible,” she speaks through him.

Twilight gives a full body flinch. Finally, he stands, stumbles as if drunk – on anger, on sadness, on self-pity – and he faces them all, red-rimmed eyes and a smile that makes them wince.

“I'm the furthest thing from that. Her last words to me were 'See you later'. See you later, as she destroyed the only way to connect our worlds together! Wolf boy, dog boy,” – they pretend not to see Legend wince – “she used to call me that, patting my head or my back. Good boy. Wolf boy.” Twilight's scoff is brittle, shattered glass. “That's what I am. That stupid dog tied to a tree that waits with a big grin for a master that's never coming back.”

His head jerks to the side with a clap.

Legend pulls back his hand, stern despite the worry. “Don't insult yourself like that, Twilight. You're a Hero, a real one, you hear me?”

The pendant around Twilight's neck suddenly pulses with pitch black light. The markings on his face darken. He straightens with some erratic, wild motion, fangs gritting as he lifts Legend with one hand.

“Then why does it still hurt so much?!”

Legend slips through shaken fingers. He does not flinch or back away.

“Why, Vet?”

“That's the life of a hero,” Legend says, not unkindly. “Lots of scars that don't really fade.”

“A hero? How can I be a hero when she thought the only way to keep our worlds safe was to break them apart? We'd just won, but she still... How can I be when even the person that led me to my quest knew better?” Emptiness reflects in Twilight's watering eyes. “I thought she trusted me.”

Time's hand goes to his sword. Every instinct in his body demands that he fights off what torments his eldest this much, that he proves that princess wrong, that he makes her explain and sooth the injury she inflicted.

“She was wrong, Twi!” Wild screams, clearly aching the same way.

Time reaches forward, and, without hesitation, brings Twilight's face into his shoulder. Runs gentle fingers through the gentle brown locks. His boy shudders, then melts. Grips him with desperate strength. It's not long for the wetness to soak into Time's clothes, and he has rarely cared so little about it before.

“I'm sorry, Pup,” he whispers. “I'm so sorry.”

It's a long time before Twilight pulls back, sniffling.

“Pops, the heck ya talkin' about? Didya punch me when I wasn't lookin'?”

Wild and Wind immediately pointed accusing fingers at him, booing.

“Shush you,” he orders, stern, before softening for his eldest. “And no, I didn't sneak a hit on you, Pup, but I wronged you all the same. Sometimes, you're so good at helping others that I forget you can need help too. I should have asked earlier.”

A hand goes to the back of Twilight's head, and his lips pull into a boyish smile. “Ah, not sure I'd have sang, Old Man. Not for something this... childish.”

“It's not childish, Twilight,” Wind says with a sad, half-grin. “If it hurts, it hurts, right?”

Hyrule jumps on the line and wrestles Twilight's hands away from him. “Sometimes, you have to care for yourself too. Even if it's silly, even if it's a little thing...” And there's the shine of green magic dancing between them. “Brighten up your day.”

“Guys, please,” Twilight begins, red flushing his cheeks.

Four slips right beside him and pokes, which was unexpected enough to get a yelp. “No, no, you said your part, Twi. It's our turn.” The smirk is impish, but subdued. “We're on your side. And we do need to apologize.”

Twilight throws his arms up in frustration. “What for? This is just my problem! Nothing that you need to be concerned with. Nothing that you did.”

“Wrong.” Time doesn't notice who says it. Mostly, because he's heard more than just one voice. (It could have been eight.)

“Because... because we let you take it all on. More than your share.” Warriors crosses his arms, huffs. “It's a leader's role to care for his men, and the soldiers to take on something for their brothers. It's how units work.”

Time ignores the pinch of guilt. The Captain hadn't meant it for him, but he'll take the advice to heart anyway. It should be fine. He can see the plans being born behind Warriors' eyes. For once, he's rather convinced that none of the younger ones will protest whatever rigid protocol Warriors' cooking.

“It's not like that,” Twilight mumbles. Weaker, less stubborn. “I love helping y'all.”

“Makes you feel useful, doesn't it?” Legend scoffs, but it is soft enough that Time can't even bring himself to chastise him.

“No. You deserve it!” he says with sudden heat, eyes clearing. “All of you. You all deserve someone willing to listen and help you. I... I just wanted to help you walk through your troubles. To help you find reasons to smile again...”

He sees it, and he wants to laugh. How fitting, that it's words like these that bring soft smiles on all their faces.

“Well, mission accomplished?” Four smirks.

“Darn it, Rancher,” Warriors grunts, giving Twilight a warning look that goes ignored.

“Can't wrestle that one away from me.”

“Oh, we shall see about that. But first,” – Warriors plops down on the sand, not a care for the time and place – “we're not leaving this unsaid. Spill already so we can smile you.”

It's absurd, but Twilight's gaze flares for a short moment with competitive spirit. Those two would never cease to amaze him in the strangest ways. Twilight kicks a little sand at the captain before letting himself lean in Time's grip.

“I hate her...” he whispers, and the shame shrouds him smaller. “Why did she do this to me? Why did she tie my heart to a promise that she never intended to fulfill? I hate her...” he whispers again, near inaudible. “And I hate that I love her still...”

“So?” Wild slides in.“You know me. You know how I feel about those people from my past.”

'They were friends with me. The whole world told me I was friends with them. Sometimes, it's like I can't escape it. Even if I don't remember what food they liked, when we met, what secrets they had besides what a few glimpses told me...'

“Remember what you told me?”

Twilight huffs, looking sullen and trapped. It takes a little sigh, and then knocking their foreheads together for him to admit. “S'fine if you don't know.”

Time nods, chasing the feeling he usually avoids. The bittersweet triumph at the cost of so many friendships. The lack of recognition meant for strangers on familiar faces.  

“It can be difficult, to share people's joy when the same reason brings us pain. You can be of two minds on the same topic, Pup. People aren't that simple.”

“I feel weak.”

“You're not weak, Twilight,” Sky said with a sad smile. “If I lost my Zelda... I'd shatter.”

“Need I explain what losing Malon would do to me, Pup?” Time adds, rueful.

“But they're... you're couples. Real couples. We were never...”

Legend smacks his shoulder. “'What if's can be more painful than a clean break,” he says, and the two of them look like mirror images, lost to their dreams for the span of a heartbeat. Then, sharper, “Don't apologize.”

Twilight's mouth clicks shut.

“We're in your corner,” Four says with a private smile. “As long as it takes to make you feel better.”

The blush returns. Time will be asking for context later, though he has an inkling. Wind shuffles to one feet, then swears and pats Twilight on the back without looking at him.

“And, you know, there's nothing shameful about crying. Or missing people. Or, you know, strange sadness.”

The pup breaths out a watery giggle, and a whimpered 'brat!' Wind smugly croons to the others, saying that was how it was done. Right until the laughter turns into a shudder, and they gather round again.

“It's okay, Twi,” Sky cooes, bringing him into the folds of his sailcloth. “Let it all out.”

The pup's fight left him. Too drained by the confession. Too raw from unbinding the wraps around his wounds. It's up to them to take care of it, and there's not one of them that hesitates. They're not in the habit of leaving suffering ignored, besides their own. Not anymore.

They promise to be better.

They have to be, for each other's sake. And they will be, Time will do everything in his power to ensure it comes to pass. Their group will come out of it reforged by their own inner fires. Their bonds unbreakable, their trust rewarded.

Thank the Goddesses for the pup.

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 4

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623116614605357056/the-long-way-around-chapter-3

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2092

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

The next three weeks pass in a now predictable sequence. I spend the majority of my time getting to know my new roommates, for lack of a better word. Esme, who is quickly becoming my favorite, does whatever I want with me. We read books, watch movies, go for runs in the woods. The doctor, Carlisle, isn’t home very often. He and Edward spend a lot of time in town making sure the Cullens are not suspect in my disappearance. They decided it would be best to continue ‘business as usual’ to avoid suspicion, but also so they don’t have to give up the advantageous location in the woods and risk moving with me. Bella tends to keep to herself, though she does occasionally join Esme and I in our book club. Alice and Arthur are quite friendly, and I enjoy spending time with them, even if Alice does treat me like a Barbie doll. I swear, I’ve never owned more clothes in my life! Rosalie is slowly warming up to me. She’s not rude, exactly, but I can tell my presence is hard on her. Her husband, Emmett, is a whole lot of fun. He invites me for races and arm wrestling matches which, obviously, I win. I suspect that won’t continue forever, though. Once my newborn strength fades, he will likely be the strongest in the house. 

Then, of course, there’s my shadow. Jasper doesn't say much, but he is a constant presence. I can tell he doesn’t trust me. The minute I get frustrated or upset he invades my personal space and uses his ability to calm me down. I do resent it slightly, but I understand the need. It’s as he says: I’m dangerous. It amuses me though to know that, as Jasper has taken the task upon himself to never leave my side, he has to do everything I do. So he watches sappy movies with Esme and I, he sits quietly while Emmett and I play board games, he sulks in the corner while I ask Alice endless questions about her psychic ability, and, of course, he hunts with me about four times a week. 

My bloodlust is insatiable. This newfound life and the thirst that accompanies it keeps me in a near constant state of pain. My throat burns badly, and, even when I am drinking animal blood, the burn remains. I have a feeling that, at this stage of life, not even human blood would satisfy my thirst. 

At the thought of human blood, a delicacy so far denied to me, venom pools in my mouth. From across the room, Jasper shifts uncomfortably, feeling my desire. I imagine it must be harder for him than the others, because he not only has to fight his own bloodlust, but everyone else’s. 

He eyes me evenly. “Do you want to hunt?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. We just went yesterday, and I feel like a burden asking people to go with me constantly. I usually have an entourage of three minimum when I hunt, and I can tell it interrupts the daily flow of things. 

Jasper’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Taking you hunting isn’t a burden. Trust me, we would much rather go with you twenty times a day than have you get too thirsty and lose control.” 

I purse my lips at his uncanny ability to know what I’m thinking. I know his emotional radar detector must help, but seriously, sometimes he rivals Edward. 

“It would probably be a good idea,” I acquiesce. “I’ll go see if anyone else wants to go.” I push myself off the kitchen floor-I had been busy reading through one of Esme’s architecture journals-and walk into the living room where Emmett, Rosalie, Carlisle, Esme, and Arthur are gathered around the TV. 

“Hey does anyone wanna-” My words die as I register the news anchor’s words. 

“The search continues for local Y/n, Y/l/n, who was reported missing over three weeks ago.”

It feels like the breath has been knocked out of me. I grip the back of the couch, grief ripping through me. Five vampires turn their wary gazes at me.

“Turn it off.” Jasper’s command comes from behind my shoulder. 

“No,” I breathe, deeply hurt but desperate to know what my friends and family could be seeing.

The anchor continues. “Authorities say they have a man in custody who confessed to stabbing the woman, though claims he can’t remember what he did with the body. Witnesses to the crime seem to suffer the same memory loss. Police have refused to offer further comments, though locals speculate a conspiracy or the presence of illegal drugs. While the two witnesses to the crime, Kaitlyn Myers and Blake Hannigan, have faced backlash surrounding their involvement in the case, police have cleared them as suspects at this time.”

The couch snaps under my grip. I take two quick steps back, shocked by what I just heard and the jarring display of my physical power. 

“Oh, sweetie.” Esme is in front of me instantly, reaching out to envelop me in a hug. Before I can even blink, Jasper is standing between us, acting as a barrier to Esme. 

Hurt pierces through my gut. He only sees me as a threat.

“I’m not going to hurt Esme, Jasper. Back off!” I wish my words didn’t waver. 

His voice is hard when he responds. “You don’t know what you’ll do. Newborns are governed by their emotions more than anyone else. I’m not taking any risks.”

“Well how about getting to know me instead of just generalizing?” I throw my hands up, properly yelling now. “I’m sick of feeling like I’m a prisoner with you. Everyone else is giving me a chance, so why can’t you?” I spit the words out, my hurt growing by the second. 

“We’re hoping it’s all a terrible dream, that we’ll wake up soon and everything will be alright.” 

They hadn’t turned off the TV. On the screen is a video of my parents. Hearing my mom’s tearful voice is like a kick to the stomach. I sink to the floor, gasping for air I don’t need. 

“I just want our little girl to come home.” Mom’s voice breaks, and she stares into the camera. It’s like she’s staring right at me. 

“Jasper, it’s alright, really. I appreciate your concern very much but I promise, it’s alright.” Esme’s soft voice vaguely reaches me through my sobs. 

A pair of arms-Esme’s, likely-envelopes me, but I barely take notice. I only feel the pain. It’s so much worse than the burn in my throat. It almost has me wishing for the fiery torture I felt while becoming a vampire. But wishing very seldom equates to reality, so I’m left to allow the gaping hole in my chest to consume me.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, only that it’s dark when I finally regain control of myself. Esme never left my side, and even Rosalie had come to join us at some point. She says nothing, only rests her head on my shoulder and holds my hand. 

Jasper is noticeably absent. 

“I think I scared him off,” I mumble, guilty. 

“He’ll recover,” Rosalie replies, sounding unconcerned. 

“He’s coming from the right place,” Esme assures. “Jasper is a very passionate person who gives his all in everything. This is no different. I think he sees keeping you and us safe as a chance to redeem himself for his past indiscretions, though those are long-ago forgiven. He’s trying to keep you from making the same mistakes he did.” 

I look at the floor, mulling Esme’s words over. I don’t really know what to say to that.

Thankfully, Rosalie saves me from having to craft a response. “Do you still want to hunt? I can go with you.” 

I smile and shake my head, exhausted from the recent emotional turmoil. “No, it’s okay. I think I’ll just go to bed.” I say the word lightly, knowing I’ll probably just spend the next eight hours reading or something to keep my mind busy. 

I stand, intending to exit the room. On the way out I see the poor couch, broken in two. I grimace. “Sorry about the couch.”

Esme smiles sweetly, waving it off. “Don’t worry about it. It just gives me an excuse to go shopping.” 

I give her a quick hug, grateful for her endless kindness and patience. 

Once upstairs in the room Alice and Esme courteously set up for me, I flop on the bed, grabbing the nearest book. I do my best to let my mind go blank and focus only on the words in front of me. About two hours into this exercise, I hear a soft knock on the door. 

Jasper stands in the frame, looking repentant. “I’m sorry. You were right. I haven’t tried to know you. But I’ve got some time now if you’re free.” It’s then that I realize he means to do this now. Not wanting to smile because I really am still upset with him, I bite it back. 

I decide to play coy instead. “I suppose I could clear my schedule. Though, a little more groveling might help…”

He smiles softly, almost hesitantly. With exaggerated movements, he gets on his knees and clasps his hands together in an excellent show of desperation. “Please do me the magnificent honor...of telling me your favorite color.” 

Now I can’t help but crack a smile. “You may approach, peasant, but remember that my good grace can easily change.” I pat the foot of my bed, and he sits, facing me. “It’s green. Like trees and moss and emeralds.” 

“What’s your favorite thing about this new life?”

“The running. I had asthma as a human but now I can run for as long as I want and be completely fine.” 

He nods, filing the information away. “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”

I answer without hesitation. “London. The culture, the history, the accents.” He chuckles, teasingly exasperated. “I bet it’s amazing.” 

He smiles, a faraway look in his eyes. “Oh it’s great. I was there back in the ‘90s...I bet it hasn’t changed too much though.” He grins. “Maybe in a couple of years we’ll all be able to take a trip.”

I look down at my fingers. “Maybe a few more years than a ‘couple’. I can’t even think of human blood without…” Venom floods my mouth. I offer a humorless chuckle. “See?”

Jasper shakes his head emphatically. “No, you’re really doing good.” I try to protest, but he shakes it off. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. You are doing remarkably well for three weeks in.” 

I sigh, ready to tease him a bit. “Well I couldn’t do so well without my shadow micromanaging my every move.” 

He smiles sheepishly and looks at his lap. “I’m sorry I seem a bit…,” he sighs deeply, “intense. I will try to ease off.”

I grin, pulling my knees up to my chest. “Thank you. I’ll try to be a little less emotionally hectic. It’s gotta be hard on you.” 

Too quickly, he shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. You’re going through a lot, it’s okay.” 

I chuckle, feeling much lighter now, either thanks to his ability or the natural resolution of tension between us, I don’t know. “Yeah well I could stay away from the movies that make me feel all the things.” Now he grins, raising his eyebrows. “Next time we’ll try something bland, like High Noon.”

“Hey now.” Jasper raises a hand, a comically disbelieving look on his face. “High Noon is a masterpiece, don’t knock it.” 

I grin broadly, smacking him on the shoulder with a pillow. “I knew you were a Western guy! Gosh, that’s gotta be like, what, forty percent of your personality?”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking the pillow from me. “Mhm, somewhere around there.” 

I like this Jasper, I decide firmly. This new, witty, freer Jasper is so much more fun to be around. I could stand to have this Jasper follow me around all day. 

As if he has come to the same agreement, that Jasper stays at the foot of my bed well past the time the sun rises, talking and joking. We get to know each other. 

And, for a while, I forget about how sad I am and the near constant burning in the back of my throat.

A/n Thanks for reading! I’m having so much fun with this story and I’m glad you guys are enjoying it, too! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx, 

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623283543296049154/the-long-way-around-chapter-5

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life

[vajranam]

Ten Wrong Views

The objective basis of wrong views is infallible doctrines such as the law of karmic causality. With assertions like those made by the Nihilists, one perceives such doctrines as false and desires to deprecate them, motivated by one of the afflictions.

The execution comes when one believes these doctrines to be utterly false, thereby confirming one’s suspicions. The act is complete when one feels conviction about this. The fully ripened result of wrong views is a rebirth in whichever of the lower realms is most fitting. The result that resembles its cause is ignorance of the genuine view. As the dominant result, good and evil will be mistaken.

Similarly, when the ten nonvirtuous acts are classified in terms of their respective level of severity, all of the following are extremely severe: motivated by an intensely afflicted mind-set, to murder extraordinary persons such as one’s guru (which is serious from a spiritual point of view) or one’s parents (which is serious from a worldly point of view); or to deceive, steal from, and create divisions between such persons; to insult them; or to harbor a covetous or malicious attitude toward them.

Likewise, to have sexual relations with someone holding the vows of discipline or any other unacceptable partner; to lie and sow discord in order to create a schism within the sangha, as Devadatta did; to assert that there is no such thing as a foe-destroyer; to kill a large animal motivated by a desire for its flesh and blood; to steal many things and those that are very valuable; and to delight in negativity without confessing and committing [to refrain from such acts in the future]. Such acts are extremely weighty, and the opposites of these acts are light.

By way of explanation, the bodhisattva Padma writes:

The ten nonvirtues and the five acts of immediate retribution,

The five close and four weighty acts,

The eight mistaken acts and severe misdeeds—

Even at the cost of your life, abandon even the most minor of these.

The vows that are in harmony with the ten virtues,

Those of the layman, novice, one-day retreatant, fully ordained monk,

And others of individual liberation, also bodhisattva vows and those of Secret Mantra—

Embrace and safeguard the vows you have taken. If you desire liberation,

Safeguard them carefully, as you would your own life.

With a thorough understanding of the classifications just discussed, which pertain to acts and their respective results, examine your mind to clearly identify which of them is the most dominant.

Meditate until your interest and enthusiasm prompts you to think, “Alas! I’ve amassed an immeasurable amount of such negativity up until now, but since my acts have not been embraced with mindful awareness, I’ve wandered in a state of indifference. Like a barbarian, I never knew that I was accumulating karma; what a huge mistake! As represented by the ten nonvirtues, from here on out, whenever a negative mind-set occurs, whether subtle or coarse, I will apply an antidote and turn the other way. Yet this alone will not suffice; I will also work courageously to practice the opposite of such negativity—virtue! I will arouse diligence so intense that it is as though my hair or clothes are on fire, and I will apply myself to the ten virtuous actions, such as renouncing killing.”

The master Vasubandhu once wrote:

Because observable phenomena and so forth

Will be experienced, there are three definite types.

There are stories of evil people like Devadatta, Shasarakisha, Shridhara, and others [who committed such extremely negative acts] that they had conscious experiences of going to hell without leaving their bodies behind. Such evil people have created karma that is sure to bring them a rebirth in the lower realms.

Unless you are such a person, you should think, “Alas, to attain liberation and omniscience one needs to completely do away with the very roots of such nonvirtue, but if I think about it, in this lifetime alone I have consciously amassed so much negativity.

And this doesn’t reflect even a fraction of what I’ve accumulated in my previous lives! It’s only logical that I’ve amassed an inconceivable amount of negativity for the sake of my friends, students, subjects, community, and so on. What’s more, the results of these acts will be experienced by me alone; these acts that I’ve consciously committed cannot be shared with anyone else.”

On this point, Master Nagarjuna explains:

Do not commit negative actions for Brahmins, monks, gods,

Guests, your parents, queens, or companions—

For there will be no one with whom to share the result

When it ripens as a rebirth in hell.

That being so, you may think to yourself, “Oh no, not me! Not me! It looks like once I pass away, I’ll have no choice but to endure the lower realms!” Inevitably, you will sink into despair, and it is at this moment that you will realize the implicit harm of karmic consequences.

Nowadays people merely pay lip service to virtue and nonvirtue without directly recognizing the most basic principles concerning what they should do and not do. In this sense, they are hardly better than barbarians. In truth, this is nothing more than a state of apathy.

Due to the kindness of our enlightened teachers, however, we now see that our actions and their results do not just disappear. How fortunate!

It isn’t enough, however, simply to see that and become fearful and withdrawn. With the four powers complete, you need to confess earnestly and restrain yourself, with a firm sense of regret for what you have done. You should then devote yourself to enlightened activities.

Our Teacher, with his great compassion and skillful methods, said that if you do not err in terms of what to do and not do, past negativity can be purified through earnest confession and self-restraint, even if one has engaged in extremely violent acts in the past, such as those with immediate retribution.

Letter to a Friend states:

One without conscience in the past

Who later on becomes conscientious

Is a thing of beauty, like the moon revealed by parting clouds,

As was Nanda, Angulimala, Darshaka, and Udayana.

The Buddha’s relative Nanda was extremely attached to his wife, Pundarika. To address the situation, the Thus-Gone skillfully led him both to a divine city and to hell. This tamed Nanda’s desire, and he eventually became a foe-destroyer.

Angulimala killed 999 people, and Ajatashatru killed his father, Bimbisara. Though they had committed acts of immediate retribution, they were purified through confession and restraint and both later attained the level of foe-destroyers.

Udayana killed his own mother, but from that moment on, he regretted what he had done and began to behave in a morally correct manner. He ended up being born in hell for as long as it takes to throw a silk ball; he later attained the level of a stream-enterer.

Accordingly, as soon as you recall such negative actions, you should cultivate a deep sense of regret and exert yourself in the methods of confession. This is a most profound point, so you should train in the recitation of the Sutra in Three Parts.

Furthermore, in the context of these instructions, failure to recognize the aforementioned ten nonvirtues and their corresponding results must be avoided. Whenever these come to mind, the antidote is to recite the Sutra in Three Parts while adhering to the vital points of the four powers.

Alternate meditating on these two practices over and over again. From now on, be mindful and aware of all nonvirtue, and crush any negative thoughts as soon as they arise.

In the context of the main practice, always follow the example set by Atisha Dipamkara: confess in the morning the negativity that you accumulate in the morning, and confess at bedtime the negativity that you accumulate in the afternoon. Don’t let negativity or downfalls stay with you for even a day!

Some people take this to mean that simply confessing in this manner is enough. With this understanding, they behave wantonly, with no sense of restraint when it comes to immoral behavior and nonvirtue. However, it is a grave mistake to think that merely reciting a few words of confession morning and night will suffice, for doing so will overwhelm the confession outlined above, in which one confesses with a remorseful attitude using the four powers.

It will also result in the instant degeneration of the mind-set of restraint, where one thinks: “I won’t do this again even if it costs me my life!” Hence, this is a misguided belief that eclipses all the infallible doctrines concerning the interdependence of actions and their results.

The terms and principles that have been presented thus far should be given serious consideration. If all worldly activities fail to repulse you, like food repulses someone with jaundice, what you have heard are just quotations and what you have read are just words. This will not allow your mind to reach the level of mastery.

The Great Master of Oddiyana said:

Seek out whatever Buddhist transmissions and teachings there are.

When you study the sacred Dharma, if you don’t use the right attitude

To grasp the terms and principles, it will be like pouring water

Onto an upside-down vessel: none will go inside.

When the anguish of samsara wells up, they won’t be of any benefit!

However wonderful worldly wealth may be, like a candle in the wind, a dew drop in summer, a flash of lightning in the sky, or last night’s dream, it is utterly impermanent and unreal. Hence, you should always stay in isolated places and cultivate a sense of disenchantment, trusting with all your heart that whatever you have will be enough.

Take refuge in the fact that you will be joyful when sick and happy when dying. Let people say what they will, as if they are talking about a corpse. Like a wandering leper, yearn to be totally on your own, without even song birds to keep you company. Occupy your mind with meditating on your enlightened guru’s instructions.

The Great Master of Oddiyana said:

This world is a land of sadness;

The wonderful joy and happiness of beings,

Like a dew drop in summer or wealth in a dream,

Is unreal and swiftly gone.

From such things come distorted desires and carelessness.

So always cultivate a disenchanted frame of mind.

Those who hold worldly splendor in great esteem

Are of a class with inferior merit.

Your heart, like a rotten tree,

Will never bear the fruit of liberation.

Alas, how sad! The mind that thinks of the wealth

And prosperity of this life as wonderful and lasting,

The mind that thinks it to be stable and excellent,

Belongs to the most base of all immature beings!

Who in this world could be more foolish than that?

No one in the past and no one in the future!

Steps to the Great Perfection

The Mind-Training Tradition of the Dzogchen Masters

Jigme Lingpa

SNOW LION BOULDER

[thefanficmonster]

Our Sunrise

Vince x Tanya (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope)

Warnings: None

Genre: Romance

Summary: Homes - to some a place of safety, security, warmth and love; to others they pose as the source of their dread. They are suffocating with each day spent within the house’s walls, surrounded by family they can barely stand. In those cases, there’s really only one option to turn to.

Requested: No

It was her idea. She wanted this. He saw the tears in her eyes though, something in her couldn’t bare the thought of leaving her family behind after all. Blood is thicker than water, as they say. But the thought is troubling him, refusing to leave his mind.

“If you could just agree...we wouldn’t still be here, Vince“

Her words rang throughout his head, refusing to let him get any shuteye. 

“There will never be a right moment if you keep thinking about it. Just decide a moment and it will be the right one.“

She’s always had a way of getting under his skin - a look, a smile and he would be hooked. What she does to him can only be described as witchcraft. She’s got him under her spell, and he’s not too keen on breaking free from it.

“Every couple has its sunrise and sunset“ She told him once “The joy of the first big step and the joy of its aftermath.“

He didn’t think much of it - he has become to her mind being overtaken by the books of poetry she reads, it’s nothing new - but for some reason that one quote stuck with him. It bugged him later that night, a part of him refusing to let it go. A small flame of wanting lit inside him - the wanting of that first bid step, the sunrise. He knew what she had meant by that...

If he’s being honest with himself, staying in Little Hope isn’t an appealing future for him. Never was. It’s the last and least desired outcome. He has been making plans to leave and make something of himself since he was in his early teenage years. He never saw how he could become something more here, in this small, suffocating town.

He never thought he’d leave before saving up a good amount of money yet here he is now, behind the wheel of his car, his belongings stuffed in suitcases in the trunk on his way to pick up the love of his life from her home so they could count the last seconds of being in this town together. Meanwhile, neither of them have much to rely on - not money, not connections. They’ll only have each other.

That is, of course, if she goes through with the plan she initiated. She planted the seed of the intrusive thought in his mind.

Running away.

It wasn’t even an option prior to her mentioning it. He wasn’t that desperate to leave. Not that he’d be running away from anything or anyone - he doesn’t have anything or anyone. To him it will be rather simple, consider it moving. All he has is going with him anyway. He’s not leaving anything behind, no real family, no memories - the ones that matter are coming along. Such as the first time he met her. Their first official date. The day he met her family. He still chuckles recalling how nervous she had been when it came to him finally meeting her siblings and parents. All those memories are not tied to the place, they are tied to the person - to Tanya, the only element of importance in his life.

                                                              *  *  *

 A knock sounds from her window, a faint one, not one that’d be caused by a human’s hand tapping the glass. That’d be impossible anyway, her room is on the second floor of the Clarke house. A sound so faint, it would’ve gone by unnoticed by her if she wasn’t so focused on trying to clear her head. She had spent a long enough period of the late hours swimming in the depths of her troubling thoughts, questioning if any of them were concrete or if they belonged to her at all.

Another knock. Now she can decipher it to be a pebble hitting the glass probably as an attempt to attract her attention. She bites the bait and kicks the covers off, exposing herself to the cold - the pajamas not providing her any warmth whatsoever. She makes her way to the window, hesitantly peering outside without moving the curtains that are thin enough to allow her a peek while conserving her privacy. A wave of relief washes over her at the sight of a familiar car parked by the sidewalk and the figure of her boyfriend standing below her window. Her face lights up with a smile as she pushes the curtains aside and opens the window.

“Good evening.“ He greets her formally, taking a small bow

“A lot better now.“ She replies, resting her elbows on the windowsill, “It’s 2 AM you know?“

His eyes widen with fake shock, “Wait, what? Really? No way!“ Despite their voice being hushed whispers, due to the deafening silence around them, the words are transmitted easily and understandably.

Tanya rolls her eyes playfully, “To the point, please.”

Vince chuckles, motioning to his car that’s parked a further ways down the road from where he usually parks. “You said there’d never be a right moment until I chose one and made it right. So, I did. And don’t tell me I packed my stuff for nothing.”

She is stunned, unable to speak or do anything except look at him for a few moments, contemplating how to react. She’s torn between believing him and the thought of it being a ruse. She doesn’t want to fall for it if it’s the latter.

“Quit messing with me, Vince. Why are you really here?“ She finally settles on saying something along the annoyed lines, hiding the pang of adrenalin that has hit her at the thought of him being serious.

He stands his ground, the smirk still playing at his lips, “I know better thank to joke about something so serious, Tanya. Question is...” he raises an eyebrow at her, “...are you still serious about it?”

Holy shit, he means it. He’s serious.

We’re leaving this hellhole. We’re never coming back. There’ll be a sunrise for us after all.

A sunrise - she never realized how much she wanted one until now that she’s so close to having it. The first big decision: leaving Little Hope.

“Are you gonna pack or are you gonna give me a return ticket?“ Vince’s voice snaps her out of her spiraling thoughts of joy and excitement, reminding her that her future depends on what she’s about to say next. She can go through with it or chicken out. She can’t even see the second as an option.

“Give me fifteen minutes.“ She says, for a moment forgetting to keep her voice down, “Don’t change your mind in the meantime!“ she warns him with a serious frown.

He raises his hands in the air as if surrendering and nods, giving her the closure she needs to step away from the window and get to the task of sweeping all her belongings of importance in a suitcase.  Clothes, money, toiletries, etc. She moves around the room, going from the wardrobe to the dresser than to the desks where she stops when her hand automatically reaches for a picture of her and Megan she has next to her reading lamp. She mentally scolds herself for wanting to take all the photos she has with her family - A picture of her, Anthony and Dennis when they were in their pre-teen ages of eight, ten and twelve. A picture of Meghan when she was three, taken soon after she was brought in the family. A picture with Anne on her graduation. And a picture of all of them together - all genuinely happy. She remembers that day well, it sticks out in her memory because of how well behaved everyone was. James was sober. Dennis wasn’t trying to pick fights with her. She was nice to him for a change. This picture was Anthony’s idea of a gift for Anne’s birthday, an idea all siblings happily agreed to.

All these pictures are meaningful to her. She can say whatever she’d like about her family but she knows damn well that they matter to her no matter what they do. But she also knows she’ll love them more at a distance, sticking by them would inevitably make her despise them and she would much rather leave than start hating her own family.

Ignoring the scolding voice telling her not to bring any memories with her, she grabs all the pictures and carefully places them between the clothes in her suitcase to avoid damaging them. She zips it up with a heavy sigh. 

It feels insignificant, like she didn’t just back the majority of her life and identity in a suitcase as if she’s not about to leave the rest of it behind, heading into the unknown. She tries not to dwell on that though, forcing herself to stand up and lift the suitcase and get it over with before she talks herself out of it.

Going down the stairs, she repeats to herself she’s doing the right thing for herself. The best thing she could do at the moment. It’s only now that she realizes how hard it is for her to be convinced, but she shakes that thought away.

“Hey.“ She nearly trips on the second to last step when she hears a voice. Tanya stops dead in her tracks, looking down the dark hallway, straining her eyes to see the most they can with no light source other than the little light seeping in from the outside. She finally manages to catch glimpse of the outline of a head peering at her from the doorway to the living room. Once spotted, the body the head’s attached to emerges from the doorway, stepping out in the hall. It’s Megan.

“Megan, what are you doing up so late?“ She narrows her eyes to see her little sister better in the dark, all the while making hopeless attempts to hide the suitcase behind her.

“Where are you going?“ The eleven-year-old girl ignores Tanya’s question, tilting her head to the side while asking one of her own.

“Nowhere. Now go back to bed.“ She says with the strictest tone she can muster though it sounds more like a plea than an order.

Another silhouette comes through the living room doorway, taking a stand next to Megan. “Then what’s that suitcase for?” It’s Anthony. “Be honest, Tanya.”

Even if she could’ve fooled Megan, there’s no way she could lie to Anthony. She’s the closest with him, after all. And she doesn’t know this, but he always had a sneaking suspicion she’d leave. He always knew he’d be helping her pack her bags too. He wants her to be happy and he’s certain she’d do the same for him, knowing it’s what would bring him joy in life.

“I saw Vince outside.“ Anthony takes a step forward, encouraging her to take one as well, “Well, Megan did and she woke me up.”

“I’m sorry...” Tanya mumbles automatically, not really sure what she’s apologizing for.

“Don’t be.” Anthony tells her reassuringly, “It’s what’s best for you. Just....call often, ok?”

Her heart sinks a tiny bit under the weight of his words, tears pricking her eyes. She blinks them away though. “Ok, yeah. I will, I promise.“ She puts the suitcase down pulling her brother in a tight embrace which he returns. Pulling away, she feels arms wrapping around her hips. A look down confirms that it’s Megan. She’s not the hugger type, so this is quite odd, but sweet nonetheless.

Tanya kneels down, giving Megan a proper hug. “Do you have to go?” She hears the little girl whisper hesitantly.

Anthony opens his mouth to say something but the older sister gives him a dismissive wave, “Yes, I’m sorry but I do. But I’ll come back.” She pulls away, holding her little sister gently by the shoulders.

“When?“ the girl persists, her gaze unmoving from Tanya’s eyes. She desperately want to look at Anthony for help but she’s aware this is a battle she needs to carry out on her own.

“Soon.“ She settles on saying indecisively, “And when I do I’ll take you with me. Sounds good?“

To Tanya’s relief Megan nods with a small smile, giving her another hug.

“This is a bizarre-ass family gathering.“ The voice comes from behind them, on the staircase, pulling all their gazes in that direction, “And that’s a large-ass suitcase, Tanya.“

The three siblings are left staring at Dennis speechless. None of them dares speak up, uncertain of what they could even say.

Dennis saves them the trouble, “I saw Vince’s car. He hasn’t parked it as subtly as he thinks he has.“ He chuckles, “You’re going somewhere, huh?“ Tanya nods hesitantly, staying wary of his reaction. “For how long?”

Silence again. Luckily for them, that’s all the answer Dennis needs, “I get it. Ok. Um...” He ponders what to say next, going down the two remaining steps, “I’ll miss having someone to argue with...”

Tanya almost sighs in relief, “You have the four other people, you won’t even notice I’m gone.“

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. Um....“ He seems torn, confused and downright baffled with himself. He doesn’t know why he feels so down to see Tanya leave, he just does. So, for once, he acts on instinct and does something really out of character. He opens his arms for a hug. “Come here.“

Although surprised, Tanya’s more than happy to oblige. It’s the first time they’ve hugged. Her heart aches a tiny bit at the thought of it being their last too.

It doesn’t take long for Dennis to go back to being Dennis, “Now get out of my fucking house.”

She pulls away from him, returning his smile before picking up the suitcase and taking bold steps to close the distance between her and the front door. She stops with her hand on the doorknob, debating weather to turn around and say ‘goodbye’. She decides against it, deeming it too...final? Too much like an ending for her liking. This is a chapter left unfinished but not closed. She just needs to open a new one before finishing this one. So no, a ‘goodbye’ isn’t fitting.

She steps out in the chill of the air, feeling it caress her face as her eyes meet Vince’s. With a brisk pace she crosses the space separating them, dropping the suitcase to give him a hug while on the brink of tearing up.

“Goodbyes are tough. I get it.“ He reassures her in a soft voice, his hand gently smoothing her hair.

“There were no goodbyes.“ She sniffs, “Didn’t make it any less tough though.“

Placing the suitcase in the car’s trunk and settling in the passenger seat, next to Vince, feels so natural yet so new at the same time. Like a breath of fresh air, a breath of hope promising something better ahead. A brighter future. Vince’s firm hold on her hand just strengthens her eagerness to see what that future looks like.

To see what kind of sunset this sunrise will lead them to.

@artlovingbre  @sparrow-gg  @megandaisy9  @chairtiger

[thesvenqueen]

The Black Flamed Candle

Rating: G

Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: A life taken too soon. A plan set in place to save her soul. Now she waits, and listens, for the right time. Her lover, once before, to return back to her side, For only he can light the candle, and bring her back to life. (My contribution to the Halloween Zine 2020)

Happy Halloween everyone!

He pauses his work as he hears his door slam open, looking up to find a familiar face. 

Instead of a sweet smile, however, it is stricken with fear. 

“What’s happened?” He asks, dropping his tools to come to her. 

“There’s--there’s not much time I--” the woman sobs.

“What is it, what’s wrong my love?”

Sad blue eyes look up to him, voice shaky as she speaks, “I’ve been accused.”

~.~

He’s eight when he first sets eyes on the Sander’s house.

They’re on a field trip to celebrate Halloween. Kristoff isn’t sure how he comes across the old cabin, but he does so with ease.

That’s where his teacher finds him, the young boy staring intently at the old house.

“Oh Kristoff, you found the Sander’s house. Do you know the story?” The boy shakes his head, turning to look up at her. “Well, it’s said that two young witches lived there.”

“Witches?” He says, the word new to him.

“Yes, witches. They could do magic!” The teacher says with emphasis, “but these witches were bad witches, they did awful magic to people.”

Kristoff isn’t sure why, but without hesitation he says, “No they didn’t.”

His teacher goes silent, simply looking down at him confused. “What?”

“They didn’t do bad things,” he says, more sure now as he looks back to the house, “They didn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

Kristoff shrugs, “I just know.”

~.~

“By whom?”

“I do not know. I only know because of Elizabeth, she overheard one of the members whispering.”

“They will not hurt you,” he says, grabbing hold of her hands, “I will not let them lay a hand.”

She smiles at this, another sob escaping her, “I can not ask you to defend me.”

“I do so willingly,” he says, kissing her knuckles, “I will protect you with my life.”

~.~

It’s his first Halloween when he’s able to go off on his own. 

He’s only 13, as his mother likes to remind him constantly, but he feels more like an adult than ever before. He’s outside, no parents in sight, free to do whatever he wants. It’s every kid’s dream.

They’re playing hide and seek, trick or treating long forgotten, and as Sven begins to count Kristoff takes off to the woods. 

All the good hiding spots have already been found in previous games, so the pressure is on. He’s still running, not sure where he is nor really caring because he has to win. 

It’s only when he breaks through the trees, feet hitting a concrete path that he stops. 

He looks both ways, trying to catch his bearings and he realizes he’s made it to the park. It’s not far from his house, he knows this, but he’s surprised either way to find he’s made it here of all places. 

Then he feels it, a chill running up his spine that causes the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. 

Something was here, what exactly he isn’t sure. 

It’s not Sven, no way he had caught up to him just yet. 

Still, something was here and that something was pulling him to follow, beckoning him to come. 

He looks behind him, not hearing or seeing a sign of Sven or the other boys from the block, and turns back down the path. 

So he follows. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find his destination, Kristoff coming to a halt when he sees it.

The Sander’s house. 

It’s creepier at night, a contrast to the broken down cabin he’s seen within the day. Now it stands in the moonlight, early dark and broken before him.

As it does every time, he feels familiarity upon seeing it. As though he knows what lies inside, knows the makeup of the old house. Knows that the kitchen, as small as it is, lies to the right side of the cabin, giving way to two small sitting chairs near the fireplace. Knows that it has two bedrooms, one of which he knows has a bundle of dried wildflowers hanging above the small bed. 

More importantly, he knows that it held happiness here. 

It’s then, with that thought, he hears it.

A soft laugh, carried in the breeze and it makes Kristoff jump. 

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t hesitate to bolt back into the woods, leaving the cabin behind him.

~.~

“I can not bare the thought of losing you, of you dying because of me.”

“And I can not sit back and watch you die.”

A knock interrupts them, the man instinctively moving in front of her and grabbing hold of the fire poker. Ready for whomever may come for her, for his love, his heart. 

But it is not the village nor their leader, it is her sister. 

“Elizabeth? Why are you--”

“There is not much time, have you told him?” The younger sister nods. “Then we must make haste.”

~.~

Kristoff hears the family clock chime as it calls the hour. 

10:00. 

The house is still, silent as the clock’s song finishes. For a minute, Kristoff listens to any movement, any sign of someone awake. 

He hears nothing. 

With that, he eases out of his bed, still dressed from earlier today.

He’s thankful his mother did not question his desire to stay in his room this evening, assuming the 16 year old was merely bored and watching horror movies within his room. 

He’d watched one to pass the time, some new one Sven had recommended, turning the tv off to give the illusion he’d gone to sleep. It had worked.

The window slides up easily, hardly making a sound as he pushes it up. Steadily, carefully, he climbs out the window. He is sure to take light steps as he turns, pushing the window down just enough where he can get back in later tonight but not open enough to draw suspicion. 

Just as he turns to leave, he feels as though he is forgetting something. Turning back, he looks into the window and spies what it is he is missing. A lighter, one his friend had left behind that Kristoff held onto for whatever reason. He pauses before reaching for it, slightly confused at why he suddenly needed the lighter tonight. 

He takes it though, sliding the window back up enough for his hand to sneak in and grab it, putting it in his jacket pocket.

The night is cool, autumn in full effect now on this Halloween night. Kristoff can hear a few voices down the street, no doubt a few teens still out and about enjoying the festive evening. 

He ignores them though, going the path he has come to know far too well. 

One he has come to follow every Halloween. 

The familiar pull guides him, leading him to the destination in little time. He only stops when he is right in front of it. 

Kristoff looks it over, trying to work over what exactly could be happening with him and this cabin. What has somehow created a connection with him and this barely standing structure.

He knows the stories, the history by heart. After the encounter 3 years prior, he took it upon himself to look up everything and anything he could on the house and the residents that lived inside. There was not much, only small bits and pieces here and there but it was enough. 

Anna and Elizabeth Sanders. 

Sisters who had come for the new world nearly 300 years ago, leaving behind their home in Norway. There was little known about their parents. Only mentions of them being well liked and respected in their home village. They had journeyed before the girls, traveling to the new world only a week prior. Their ship never reached its destination, and historians assume it was lost at sea. 

The sisters found their way to the new world as orphans, settling in the cabin that sits before Kristoff now. They had been well liked, from what he could find, by majority of the village. 

After that, it was all rumors and speculations, tales that had been told throughout the town.

No actual facts of what transpired that led to the youngest, Anna, to lose her life so young. Only that she had been accused of witchcraft, as so many women during that time had been. 

No trial was given, only giving what the people then deemed as justice. 

One blogger said that she was responsible for the disappearance of children, and thought that she was using their lives to keep herself young. 

Another speculated she’d been careless, casting a spell in front of watchful eyes that led to her doom.

A reddit thread blamed it on a jealous man, scorned by her denial for her hand and accused her out of pure anger and rage.  

An author had written it off as just another sad moment in history for women during that time, and that was it. 

Though even having such little information, Kristoff was fully engaged into the story of this little house. 

He’d never come close to the house, always staying on the paved path before it but tonight felt different.

He feels bolder, confident; not as scared like he was years before. 

So he moves forward, taking slow careful steps as he comes to the front of the house. The porch, though broken and rotten, still stands strong as Kristoff steps upon it. It creaks with his weight, but it does not bend. 

Kristoff stares at the door, the same feel of familiarity filling him. He rolls the lighter in his hand over and over, as though he is working up the nerve. Out of what feels like instinct, he brings his free hand up and knocks softly. The sound seems to echo through the night, into the forest around him.

Then it is still.

Eerily so. 

Then, as the breeze rustles through the trees behind him and around him, he hears it. 

It’s soft, barely there but he hears it well enough to jump back. 

Kristoff.

His name, clear as day, had been whispered into his ear.

~.~

“Why don’t we run? I can prepare a horse and--”

“We can not,” The elder sister says, “there is no time. They were gathering as I came for you.”

“But--”

“I’m sorry.” she says, grabbing hold of her younger sibling, “I’m sorry I’ve failed you but I will not fail you again. I swear it.”

“You have not failed me.” She says, “It was not your doing that led to this, you did not cause this.”

“No,” the man says, his voice booming as the sisters turn to him. “I will have none of this.” He says, turning to find a true weapon, “I will not hear goodbyes, I will not accept this fate.”

The young woman turns to her lover, placing a hand to his chest to still him. He does so, tears stinging his eyes as they do her own, and he can not think of a world where she is not in it. Of a time where he exists and she does not. He does not want it, can not fathom such a life. 

~.~

The dreams follow after that night. As though his knocking had been answered after all, opening a door elsewhere that he could not see.

It’s always the same. 

He comes to the cabin, knocking the same as he did once before but this time the door opens revealing a home no more in shambles but tidy and clean. 

There, just inside, stands a young woman.

From the moment Kristoff first saw her in the dream, he knew instantly that he knew her. How or where or why, he was not sure, but he knew her immediately. 

From her long strawberry blonde hair, to her sea colored eyes, the freckles that scattered across her face, the large bright smile that she always has when he enters opens the door, the way her eyes seem to sparkle, to ignite as he comes in; as though he brings hope, brings her so much happiness that no one else can. 

Every time, without fail, she stands behind the door and everytime she holds a large black candle in her hands, its flame oddly glowing the same eerie black as the candle.

He comes to her, standing before her and watches as her eyes follow him, still smiling a radiant smile. She looks to him, then to the candle and just when he moves to touch her, to place a hand to her waist or cup her cheek, he wakes up. 

When he does, he is always filled with an intense feeling of dread and sorrow. 

~.~

“I can offer something.”

The two lovers turn to the eldest, watching as she pulls a book from beneath her cloak and begins to turn the pages. 

“What have you found?”

After a moment, the pages stop turning and the blonde haired woman speaks, “It’s a spell, one that I can create to give you the life you deserve.” She is crying now, reading through her tears, “It won’t be enough, not nearly enough, but I can try…”

The young woman comes to her sister, placing a hand on her shoulder to bring her eyes up to hers, “You’ve done more than you know dear sister.”

The older sister sobs, both sobbing as they hug one another. The man watches them, his heart slowly shattering at the notion this may be the end. 

“Ok,” the oldest speaks, pulling back as she looks back to the book, “There is not much time so I will have to explain quickly…”

~.~

While everyone else moves away, including Sven, Kristoff can not bring himself to do it. 

College in and of itself was difficult enough. The familiar pull to come back always there, nearly begging and pleading him to do so. 

He was never too far, only an hour or so away, but it was enough to make his chest ache. For the first time, his dreams change. 

No longer is the woman smiling as he enters, a sadness now in her eyes every time he appears. The candle she holds is no longer lit, adding to the sorrow that now sits within this dream. She speaks now, no longer quiet, and she always repeats the same thing:

“Kristoff.” She says, in her hauntingly familiar voice, “Kristoff, come back. Come home.” 

So he does. 

He graduates with his degree and finds a good enough job to pay the bills, a historian of all things, settling into a new routine. The ache is now gone, only coming back as it always does as the leaves begin to change to signal the beginning of fall. 

It’s the morning of Halloween when he decides he’s going to do it. He’s waited long enough, pushed the idea away far too long now. Something, whether the woman or the cabin itself, wants him to enter. 

Needs him to enter. 

So tonight he will.

He’s planned it, able to snag the spare key to the house from security a few days before. He hadn’t even questioned the fact, assuming it was for historian things. 

Kristoff spends the day preparing, for what exactly he doesn’t know. He’s nervous, ridiculously so, and he feels incredibly silly picking out an outfit to wear. 

Why was he trying to look his best? He was going to an abandoned house, no one was there. Yet, something within him wanted him to do so. So here he was, making sure to be clean shaven, dressed as nice as he can without going overboard. 

Night comes slowly, agonizingly so, and Kristoff sits impatiently for the sun to fully set. As soon as it does, he is up and gone, opting for a car this time instead of walking. 

The whole drive he ponders, wonders, questions what could happen this night. 

~.~

“And you’re sure it will work?”

“Yes, it shall work.” 

She turns, facing him, the question in her eyes that she doesn’t need to ask. He sighs, nodding as his tears begin to fall. 

She smiles weakly, understanding what is to come and they come together as they both desperately try to hold on to as much as they can for this last moment.

“I’ll come for you.” He whispers in her hair, “I promise you, with my life, I will come for you and we will live together. I promise you this Anna.”

The girl shakes as she cries in his chest, only nodding at his words.

“I love you.” He says, over and over, “I love you.”

~.~

Kristoff nearly runs to the house, not wasting any time to get to his destination. He picks up his pace when he sees the house come into view. 

He’s panting as he steps onto the porch, adjusting his jacket and checking his pocket for the old lighter and the key. He takes a deep breath, preparing for whatever it is on the other side of the door, for whatever it is that has pulled him here every year. 

To find what it is the woman in his dreams wants him to discover. 

Kristoff pulls out the key, unlocks the lock from the door and lets it fall to the ground with an echoing bang. He looks back up, hand on the handle, and before he turns he knocks as he’s done so many times in his dream. 

It’s pitch black as he enters, his eyes adjusting to the darkness within. It’s exactly as he’s seen it so many times, only dark and decrepit. The chairs have since fallen apart, barely standing and the kitchen is covered with dust and cobwebs. 

More importantly, there is no woman within the house. No bright, welcoming smile to greet him as Kristoff steps into the home. 

As he enters, as he steps across the threshold, there is an overwhelming feeling of calm that comes over him. A peace that causes him to pause in his entrance. It’s welcoming, comforting, something he senses he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

While he stands, looking at his broken surroundings, he spots it on the nearby table. 

The familiar and oh so recognizable black candle. It stands tall, untouched by time as it’s surroundings have been. It seems new, as though someone came in and left it there recently. Kristoff looks it over, turning the lighter over and over in his jacket pocket before pulling it out. 

He moves to the table, the woods creaking beneath his feet, and he doesn’t know why but he must light the candle.

Has to light the candle. 

There is a quiet click as the lighter creates a flame, Kristoff eyeing it then the candle before moving it slowly to the wick. 

As soon as the candle alights, as the flame takes hold of the wick creating the familiar black flame Kristoff has seen in his dreams, he is consumed by a wave of memories. 

Of a time so long ago, of a journey he once took abroad a small vessel to the new world. The days he spent building, working hard to create a home here, a life. Then they’d arrive, the two Sander’s sisters. Elizabeth was so calm and poise, a striking contrast to the lively and bright Anna who had taken his breath away the moment he’d laid eyes on her. 

Of their awkward first meeting, at the sound of her laugh as he’d blushed furiously down at her. How they’d been inseparable ever since that day, sneaking off when they could to spend time with the other. Of late night walks under the brightly lit sky, of strolling through the town hand in hand, taking in what was all around them.

The night they’d spent alone in his cabin, Anna having snuck out to meet him. It was the night her secret was shared, was told to him in confidence and with eyes full of tears she had asked him if he still loved her. He’d simply said how could he not? How they’d shared more than secrets that night, giving each other wholly and fully to each other.

They’d been set to marry in the Summer, her favorite season, with a bundle of sunflowers which he'd planted for her. Just for her. 

How she never got to see them, never had the chance.

The day that it came crashing down around them, her secret somehow exposed for all to know. She’d come to him, completely terrified with news of what had transpired, how a new villager had decided to go an unspeakable way of revenge after she’d turned down his advances. 

The moment Elizabeth had appeared, plan in mind, to set things right and give them both a future they deserved. To give back what was to be taken away from them.

It would take time, she’d warned, lots of time but she swore, on her life, that they would get the ending they deserved. The happiness they both were supposed to have. All it would take was the lighting of a candle, the same candle that sat before him on the table. 

Kristoff blinks, dropping the lighter to the table as he takes it all in. The old memories, the realization of what exactly this means. 

He hears footsteps then, coming up the path to the door and Kristoff turns as he hears the floors creak under their weight. He holds his breath, waiting in excitement and awe as she listens to her move through the door.

“Kristoff?” 

He gasps at her voice, at the wonderful sound of her saying his name.

A few more steps and she appears.There, standing before him now, smiling and beaming at him with the same beautiful smile he’s always loved, was Anna. 

He smiles, tears falling as he simply stares. He doesn’t move, let alone speak as he takes in the sight of her, of the woman he had so wholeheartedly and completely loved.

Whom he still loved, would forever love. 

Anna moves closer, the tears in her eyes now visible and he doesn’t reach out till he hears her say his name, this time in absolute utter relief.

“Kristoff.”

He breaks, moving and wrapping her in his arms then, holding her close to his chest as he breathes in the scent of her, takes in the feel of her small arms wrapping around him. 

“Anna.” he whispers in her hair, “Anna, my Anna...I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you.” She says, pulling back to face him. He cups her cheek, he himself now sobbing at the feel of her leaning into his hand, a subtle reminder that she was here; she was real.“What took you so long?”

Kristoff laughs, full and deep before capturing her lips with his own. 

[prolestariwrites]

The Wish [5]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Lady, Eva, Sparda, OC Rating: General Tags: Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Typical demon hunting violence

Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth?

Now posted: Chapter 5, in which Dante puts his foot in his mouth and talks to a cat.

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Chapter 4: Dante Fucks Up

Dante grins when the door to the shop opens and his father enters, Nero and V following. He’s already had a great day: a good night’s sleep after pizza and a movie with Lir last night, and today he’s already changed an air filter on a bike and ordered a set of new tires for a customer. Running the repair shop is a lot like running the Devil May Cry, he has learned over the course of the morning, except less blood and killing and more money.

Vergil had texted that Sparda was bringing his nephews by, and as promised they arrive and come straight into the garage. “Hey there boys!” he says happily. “Hope you’re ready to work. I got a set of brakes to replace, and there’s a Harley that needs a new carburetor.”

“Cool,” Nero says, and to his surprise, V looks interested too.

“We can help?” V asks.

“Sure,” Dante replies. “I’ll get the parts and then we’ll get to cleaning everything before putting the new brakes on.”

Sparda clears his throat. “Before you get started, can I speak with you?” he asks.

Dante nods, and Nero says, “We can get the stuff together. Come on, V.”

The boys go into the back to the supply room, and Dante is a bit impressed they know what to do. “What’s up?” he asks. “Did you and mom have fun the other night?”

“Yes… but…” Sparda folds his arms. “Did you uh… make any phone calls yesterday, Dante?”

They stare at one another, and Dante shakes himself, remembering his father is waiting for an answer. He has a darn good guess what Sparda is hinting at, so he rubs the back of his head and says, “Uh, maybe? Why?”

Sparda looks around, as if to see if anyone is listening. But there’s no one there but the two of them, so he tilts his head in and says quietly, “An old friend of mine called me last night. Said she received a call from Dante, son of Sparda. Now I don’t know how you got her phone number, but…” Dante frowns as Sparda looks uncertain. “Well, let’s just say it was a shock. I had not expected to hear that name again.”

“You mean Matier?” he asks. “Why not? She’s cool.”

His father looks at him in surprise. “So you’ve met her?”

“Um…” Dante shifts uncomfortably. “Kind of? It’s hard to explain.”

Sparda’s eyes narrow, examining him closely, and suddenly he feels like he is six years old and trying to convince him that he didn’t break the lamp in the front room. “How do you know Matier?”

He decides to take a chance and give some truth. “What would you say if I told you I’ve been to Dumary?”

“Impossible,” Sparda hisses. “How would you have gone there? When?”

Dante shakes his head. “I can explain. I think?”

“Yes, you’ll explain.” Sparda’s voice goes sharp, scolding, and Dante frowns. Why is he so upset about this? “You’ll explain that, and more. Like Nevan? Have you been spying on me?”

“Spying? What, no!”

“Reading my journals?”

“No! Pop, what…” He studies his father, wondering what the big deal is, when it dawns on him: Sparda never told any of them anything. “Wait,” he says, leaning in closer. “Does Mom know?”

Sparda snaps back, his eyes open in alarm. “Enough of this,” he says. “Come over tonight. We need to discuss this.” His eyes dart to the back room, where they can hear the boys chattering. “You’re going to tell me everything you know, and how you know it, understand?”

The tone of his voice gets under his skin. It’s not as if Dante did anything wrong, and he huffs with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll come over. And you’re gonna do some explaining too, got it?”

Sparda mutters something under his breath as he turns on his heel and stalks out of the shop. “Uncle Dante!” V calls. “Nero mixed up all the lug nuts!”

“I did not!”

He sighs as the door shuts with a slam. “Stop touching shit,” he calls, turning his attention to his nephews.

After they get the lug nuts resorted, he hustles the boys out of the storage room to get started. They sit as he starts taking things apart, Nero handing him tools as V takes and sorts the parts Dante hands him. They actually work together pretty well, which surprises him. Nero is all energy, talking every chance he gets to fidget, even looping the tools through his fingers before handing them over. Meanwhile V is quieter, methodical, even huffing over the mess when Nero accidentally kicks the neat rows of parts askew. Dante just chuckles to himself, thinking that they remind him of himself and Vergil. But maybe that’s the point?

Before long he hands over the pieces for them to clean while he goes to his office to grab some drinks. With three sodas in hand, he hands them out before cracking open his own, leaning on the reception desk as he watches. “How come you guys don’t have school today?” he asks.

“It’s summer,” V says, and they both laugh.

“Right.” Dante thinks as he takes a sip. Maybe these two can answer some questions, especially if this is all a made-up place? Best to do this subtly, he decides, thinking about how Lir had grown suspicious of his questions. “So your parents. What’s up with them?”

Nero and V glance at one another. “Huh?”

“What are they like? Gotta be weird having them as parents, hm?”

Nero laughs. “Why is that weird?”

“Well, you know, because Vergil is… I mean, your mom is…” Dante frowns, realizing he has no idea what they do, and guesses it’s got nothing to do with demon hunting. “They uh… happy?”

Nero makes a face but V frowns. “Why are you asking? What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Nothing. I mean…”

“Are they getting a divorce?” Nero asks, his voice going tight.

“No! At least, I don’t think so…” Dante makes an aggravated noise in his throat and rubs his face. “No, I was just asking. Everything’s fine.”

Neither looks convinced, so Dante tries a new tactic. “Hey Nero, got any girlfriends?”

He turns bright red as V laughs. “He wishes!” V exclaims. “There is this one girl—”

“No there’s not—”

“And he spends all day and all night—”

“I do not!!”

“Just going oh, oh, I love her so much!” V mimics him with a sad, dramatic voice. “I’ll never be good enough for her, boo hoo—”

“Cut it out!” Nero shouts, aiming a kick at V that he easily dodges.

Dante just laughs. “Okay, lay off. This girl got you bad, hm, Nero? But I bet Kyrie likes you just fine.”

Nero stops glaring at V long enough to give him a confused look. “Who’s Kyrie?”

“Isn’t that… nevermind.”

He finishes off his soda, wondering what else to talk about, when V asks, “Why so many questions?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” V repeats. “You never do.”

Dante huffs. “Yes I do. I’m very involved.”

They both laugh at that, and Dante tosses his soda can away as he grumbles, “Okay, enough out of you two. Go back to work or I ain’t paying you.”

“Like you have money,” V says, and both boys set off in another round of laughter. Dante makes a face and folds his arms, thinking how much he can’t stand kids. This is probably why he and Lir haven’t had any. Can’t catch a break, even in his own ideal world.

Vergil picks them up at five on the dot. They’ve managed to get the brake pads changed and bled, and Dante has them labelling inventory when he arrives. “Are they in one piece?” he asks as he approaches the desk.

Dante sits in his chair, his elbows on the desk and his chin in his hands. All afternoon he thought about his father and the look on his face when he mentioned Dalmary. It doesn’t make sense: if Sparda is still who he is, which he seems to be, then why hide it? Maybe the outside world didn’t know about the Legendary Knight living in their midst, but he had never kept it a secret from Eva, or from them.

“Yeah… but Vergil, I need to ask you something,” he says.

Before they can continue Nero hops over. “Dad, Uncle Dante said you and mom were getting a divorce.”

Vergil shouts “What?” just as Dante protests, “I did not!”

“He did, I heard him too,” V says with a smile.

“You brats,” mumbles Dante.

Vergil looks ready to kill as he glares at him. “Why would you say something like that?”

“I said I didn’t!” Dante insists. “I was just asking how you guys were. Like if you were…” He swallows thickly, dreading Vergil’s reaction. “Happy.”

His brother narrows his eyes. “What game is this?”

“Huh?”

“First you wanted me to come over to talk,” Vergil says. “Now you’re asking about if I’m happy? What’s going on?”

His first instinct is to deny, but then he decides against it. “Something is, but…” He side-eyes the twins, who are watching expectantly. “I’m going over to see Dad tonight. Can you come with me? Please?”

Vergil presses his lips together into a thin line. “What does this have to do with him?”

“I can’t exactly tell you now,” he hisses.

Luckily Vergil gets his meaning and nods. But Nero and V immediately protest, “No! We want to know too!”

“Go get in the car,” Vergil orders.

With some grumbling Nero heads out, V following behind. But before they head out the door V turns and says, “Hey Uncle Dante? Everyone’s happy, you know. You should be too.”

Dante frowns. That’s a weird thing for a kid to say, isn’t it?

Vergil sighs when they are gone. “Now tell me what this is about.”

“Dad has been…” Dante rubs the back of his neck. “Keeping secrets, I guess? But you should hear it from him.”

“What kind of secrets?” asks Vergil suspiciously.

“Like I said, hear it from him.” Dante picks up his keys, moving to shut off the lights in the shop. “Meet me there at eight, okay?”

Vergil agrees, but reluctantly, and when he’s gone Dante takes a walk through the shop to make sure everything is turned off before he locks up. On the way home, he wonders if his suspicions are correct, and Sparda has kept the truth a secret. And what will Vergil do when he finds out?

He can’t shake the feeling of unease when he gets home, where Lir is putting chicken in the oven. “How was your day?” she asks cheerily when he moves to wash his hands.

“Fine.”

Dante grabs a kitchen towel to dry them when she moves closer and rubs his arm. “Hey, are you okay? Were the kids too much?”

“No, they were fine.” He glances at Lir and says, “I need to run over to my parents’ tonight. Dad wants to show me and Vergil something.”

“Okay.”

Dante goes to move away, but Lir stretches up to slide her arms around his neck. Dante chuckles to himself at how short she is, and when she smiles and nudges him closer, his hands go to her waist as he follows her pull. She kisses him sweetly, tugging on his lower lip a bit, and in spite of himself he responds, giving her a teasing bite that has her lips curling into a smile against his. They linger like this for another moment, and Dante refuses to feel badly about it. She might not be real, but it’s nice to have someone to take care of him, and he never realized how much he likes the simple affection. It’s something he hasn’t had since he was a kid, and Dante is almost sorry when Lir eases back to return to making dinner.

She launches into a story about water damage in the storage room and some missing labels, which he only half listens to as he sits and watches her cook. Really he uses the time to debate if digging into all this is really worth it. Dante had read the paper that morning, picking it up on his way into the shop. There was nothing in the news that would indicate a demon attack; everything was normal human crime and chaos, so he had to assume that demons didn’t exist in this place. But if there were no demons, then how was he here?

“He did what?” Lir’s voice pulls him from his thoughts, and when he looks up, she is giving him a funny look as she talks on her cell phone. “I have no idea,” she laughs, turning back to stir the vegetables on the stovetop.

She hangs up a minute later, setting something on the stove before walking over to him. “Did you really tell the boys that Vergil and Mary are getting divorced?” she laughs.

“No,” he sighs. “They took it all wrong.”

“Well what did you say?”

Dante shrugs. “I just asked if they were happy.”

Lir gives him another strange look before taking the seat next to his at the little kitchen table. “Why would you ask that?”

“I guess I was curious,” he replies.

“Dante.” Lir sucks in a deep breath before she leans forward, resting her elbow on the table. “You’ve been so different lately. Acting like… I don’t know. Like you aren’t you, somehow. Is something wrong?”

He opens his mouth to assure her that he’s fine, but hesitates. “I don’t know,” he answers truthfully.

“Okay.” Lir’s brows draw in as she thinks. “When do you feel like it started?”

“Two days ago,” he replies. “The day of the dinner for my uh, parents.”

“That’s specific,” she chuckles. “Did anything happen to make you feel this way?”

He considers telling her the truth: he fought a demon that granted him a wish and sent him to this weird reality. Would Lir even believe him? Does he even believe it? “It’s hard to explain,” he says.

Lir considers that for a moment before asking, “I guess the important question is, are you happy?”

“What?”

She shrugs. “Simple enough question. Are you happy? Or do you feel like you need something else?”

Dante studies her for a moment. “No,” he answers finally. “I like it enough here.”

“Like it enough?” Lir looks hurt, and that makes him feel bad. And confused, too, because she’s a demon, right? Or made up by a demon. Either way, he shouldn’t care about what she thinks, even though he does.

“That’s not what I meant,” he hurries on.

For a second he’s worried she’s going to cry: a woman crying was never something he handles well. But instead she stands and moves to sit on his lap. Immediately his arms go around her waist as she strokes his cheek, and Dante has to admit it feels nice. “I love you,” Lir murmurs. Then she tilts his face up to look at her, and he can see the real concern in her eyes. “More than anything.”

His heart is beating loudly in his chest as he swallows thickly. Dante thinks of them in bed together, when she was the perfect combination of sweet and sexy. He had thought this was a dream then, and maybe it is… but does he want to wake up?

“I love you too,” he replies, the words feeling both right and wrong.

“Good.” Something beeps on the stove and Lir looks over. “Why don’t you go get changed out of those dirty clothes while I finish getting everything ready?”

Dante mutters an agreement and heads upstairs, the uneasy feeling following him. Until now, he had been trying to figure out what was going on, and find a way back. But now he thinks: should he even be looking for answers at this point?

There’s got to be something you’d rather be doing than this.

He splashes some water on his face and looks in the mirror. Why is he trying to figure this out? Here he has Vergil, and his parents, and Nero. And Lir… he has to admit, he is growing a soft spot for her. If he finds a way back, it’s just back to debt and demons and being alone.

“Fine,” he decides, giving himself a stern look. “I’ll just stay for now. See what happens.”

A clatter startles him, and when he looks down, the damn cat has jumped on the counter, sending Lir’s makeup and the soap everywhere. “Shoo,” he says, swatting at the feline, but it just sits and looks at him.

Dante huffs. “You I could do without.” The cat blinks at him and he shakes his head. “Figures something would be a pain in my ass. Guess this place isn’t perfect, hm?”

“Humans are too fickle. If it was perfect, you wouldn’t be happy,” the cat replies.

He jumps, staring at the cat with wide eyes. “What the fuck did you just say?”

But the cat doesn’t answer, just licks its paw, as Dante’s heart pounds loudly in his chest.