#and then i was like 'girl i am still deep into pearl jam... back in april i was just getting started'

[iamonlyhereforthefreefood]

There was this girl at my friend’s party that I talked to some last time I was there and she was like “how have you been? last time I saw you you were deep into Pearl Jam” and I’m just thinking “you remembered 🥰”

[wh6res]

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person. 

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve. 

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun. 

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings. 

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll. 

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections. 

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to. 

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail. 

but you weren’t as lucky today. 

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin. 

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you. 

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing. 

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too. 

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold. 

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale. 

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you. 

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn. 

she reminds you of yourself. 

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck. 

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job. 

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again. 

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you. 

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine. 

you look over your shoulder. 

no one’s there. 

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way. 

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding. 

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night. 

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea. 

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government. 

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted. 

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. 

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes. 

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin. 

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight. 

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force. 

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud. 

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green. 

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak. 

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer. 

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply. 

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them. 

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?” 

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape. 

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent. 

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries? 

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life. 

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake. 

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls. 

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault. 

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house. 

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day. 

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless. 

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate. 

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can. 

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside. 

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again. 

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice. 

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there. 

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with. 

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan. 

you almost collapse against the brick wall. 

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose. 

until you saw who it was. 

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday. 

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try. 

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma. 

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down. 

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times. 

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left. 

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes. 

three times you’ve cheated death. 

but time is up and your luck has run out. 

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch. 

naeun is nowhere to be seen. 

good. 

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare. 

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience. 

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it. 

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket. 

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances. 

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper. 

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you. 

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder. 

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you. 

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings. 

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you. 

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke. 

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone. 

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath. 

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase. 

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium). 

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin. 

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them. 

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory. 

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball. 

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

taglist !!

@hoeartchoke @donghyukcore @stopknot @greenish-taro @zhongriot @lmaoskz @zephyr-abyss @anonymous-stuff @josuke8 @jaemotel @winwiniee​ @dundun-baby @nakamotocore @hcwurld @alaeddis @recs-for-later @jaehyunssslut

wanna be added to my taglist? click here!

‎

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[missvifdor]

My MC /OC /YUU, in the doorframe of the entrance to Ramshackle:

My MC /OC /YUU: W -Why ..? Grimm, I'm not crazy, it's not my birthday. Or yours yet?

Grimm: No but I'm not going to complain, it smells so good! * Dive into the assembly of packages and gift packages in pink and red *

* The First Year Gang arrives to look for MC for classes like every morning *

Deuce: Eh! I didn't know you were so popular MC!

My MC /OC /YUU: Me? Popular? I reassure you right away, in my world I was considered as the weird and silent child of the class. So popular I have never been very popular.

Ace: Do you know at least what day we have?

My MC /OC /YUU: No ...?

Jack: It's Valentine's Day * Sniff the air * Ugh! All this sugar gives me stomach ache and toothache ...

Grimm: It's so good MC! * Eyes that glow * Free chocolate! I'm going to be happy to eat it all!

Epel: Easy, Grimm, they're at MC you should ask her before you binge without permission.

Grimm: * Touching eyes and adorable gaze *

My MC /OC /YUU: * Sigh * Isn't that risking your health at least? I mean .. you really look like a cat and chocolate is poison to them.

Grimm: Who do you take me for? A vulgar animal? I'm a monster, obviously I can eat anything!

My MC /OC /YUU: Alright. You can take it but out of the question that you abuse it and fall ill afterwards, understand?

Grimm: You are the best Dorm Leader! Yahoou! * Plunges back among the packages happily *

Sebek: IF WE DON'T HURRY, WE WILL BE LATE FOR CLASSES!

My MC /OC /YUU: Sorry, Sebek, I'm making you late ... Go ahead I'll take the packages inside and I'll join you!

Jack: Do not be ridiculous, we will help you it will go faster.

* Our happy group of friends are going to their first class of the day *

* My MC /OC /YUU going to sit in his usual place *

My MC /OC /YUU: Is it really happening ...? * Turns all red * I even get flowers, now.

Ace: * Smirk * You look so shocked, like this is the first time this has happened to you, Hehe!

My MC /OC /YUU: ....

Deuce: Is this the first time this has happened to you ?!

My MC /OC /YUU: I told you before, I was not very popular and not very pretty. Boys and girls aren't really used to looking around in my path and neither am I.

Ace and Deuce: * Mumbles * His world must be filled with blind people ...

* Later that day they pass Cater, Trey and Riddle *

Cater: * Put his arm around MC's shoulders * Hello lovely young lady! What are you planning to give me for Valentine's Day? Although, you know I prefer the salty.

Riddle: Cater! This is inappropriate!

My MC /OC /YUU: Don't worry, Riddle. Well Cater, I completely forgot that it was today and I don't have a present for you, I'm sorry. Besides, why do I have to offer you one, we are not in a relationship?

Trey: Tradition has it that girls give chocolates to their friends and loved one. Doesn't that work in your world?

My MC /OC /YUU: Actually, no. Valentine's Day is only a day for couples, at least that's how it is in my country but I know that in Japan, another country, it works the same as Twisted Wonderland. But if you really want chocolates, I can make some for you, that makes me happy! I'm only sorry I didn't give them to you on the right date ...

Riddle: Don't bother if you don't want to, MC!

My MC /OC /YUU: I really don't mind, I would only need to borrow the kitchens from Heatslabyul. That of Ramshackle is not sufficiently equipped or even in good condition to work in good conditions. Dust is falling from the ceiling all the time, I wouldn't want that to end up in the preparation.

Trey: It works, come see me after class when you finish I'll give you the keys to the kitchen.

* Later that day, in Heatslabyul's kitchen *

My MC /OC /YUU: Well let's see ... Rose and violet chocolates are for Riddle. The orange and blood citrus ones are for Trey. The spicy beef and chicken mini skewers are for Cater. Ace has his pastry cream strawberries. Deuce to his red berry and chocolate pancakes. Leona ... Her filet mignon meal basket with sweet and salty honey. Ruggie his donuts and donuts are ready, all they need to do is garnish and fill them. Jack doesn't like things that are too sweet or unhealthy ... so a mango and coconut sorbet. Azul pays close attention to her figure, so poached pears in honey. Jade un Canteloupe and blueberries with green tea and lime. Floyd strawberry chocolates in the shape of shrimp and sea animals. Kalim and Jamil hot chili chocolates and rhubarb and date jam that they can put on homemade brioche toast. Vil, Rook and Epel fresh fruit salad, French pancakes with rum and apple clafoutis. Idia ... chocolate and peanut butter pop cake with a Bubble Tea with tapioca pearls and mango and candies for Ortho. Malleus popsicles in the shape of a gargoyle and a bouquet of chocolate in the shape of roses, Lilia macaroons with mint and vanilla in the shape of a bat, Sebek ... A mini figurine of Malleus in dark chocolate and food coloring, for Silver it will be passion fruit Pasteis De Nata. And Grimm ... Squid with seafood and vegetables. Lord! I've never cooked for so many people! I'll put it all in the fridge and go home!

* My MC /OC /YUU coming home exhausted *

My MC /OC /YUU collapsing on Ramshackle's living room couch: Lord! I am so tired!

Grimm: Your hands smell full of delicious smells! Am I going to have some too?

My MC /OC /YUU: * Smells his hands and grimaces * Ugh! It especially smells like chocolate fish! It makes me sick ... I'm coming back I'll try to make this smell available, by all the gods ...

* Grimm who decides to wait for him while eating another packet of chocolate intended for MC *

Grimm: * Starts at coughed, disgusted * Yuck! These taste too weird !!

My MC /OC /YUU who comes back with his hands washed aggressively: You make a funny face, what's happening to you?

Grimm: These chocolates are too weird, I don't like them.

My MC /OC /YUU : Let me see? * Frowns and takes a chocolate to eat it * * Chew gently * Hmm ... it's true they have a weird aftertaste ... I feel weird ... M-My head spinning ... I can't feel my legs anymore ... * Fainted on the ground *

Grimm: Nyah! MC! Don't move, I'll get help!

* A few hours after taking MC to the infirmary, the strange chocolates were analyzed and an emergency meeting of the leaders and vice-dormitory leaders be given *

Professor Crewel: The results are clear ... The chocolates contained a love potion prepared in the most mediocre manner I have ever seen. So this has the effect on the Prefect of Ramshackle that she is falling into a deep sleep.

Kalim, with tears in his eyes: Is there no cure ?!

Crewel: Yes.

Leona, hiding her concern with aggression: And ?!

Crowley: The only solution for my dear MC to wake up is the ... The kiss of true love ...

Azul: I thought it only existed in children's books .. What if it doesn't work? How is it supposed to work?

Trein: That's the problem. The person kissing MC must be the person they love.

Ace who holds Grimm in his arms because the poor thing is absolutely devastated: Does MC at least love someone ?!

Jade: You are his closest friends, you should know that.

Deuce: MC never talks to us about that kind of thing and neither do we, she says all the time that it's her private life and that it's none of our business .... Oh MC ...

Jamil: Grimm, do you know?

Grimm who sniffs and holds back his tears: NOOooOoo ...!

Ace: Don't worry Grimm, we'll find the person who did this to her and she better be sorry for even entering this school.

Azul: Floyd will certainly be happy to help you find him, he has a special affection for MC.

Riddle: You can count on us too! We will make him regret acting in a manner so disrespectful and dangerous towards MC and the school rules!

Crowley: Come on gentlemen, let's try to act in a neutral and professional manner * Whisper to himself * If I find this little fool I'll be happy to kick him out of this school forever!

Malleus: If you let me deal with this man's case personally, I can assure you that he will never return to this school. Because he won't have any legs at all.

Idia: I'm still going to do some research approach to find out if there are no other solutions with MC!

Ortho: Big Bro, you'll have to come and try to wake MC up with a kiss first.

Idia panics immediately: I- I don't think it will work w-with me! How could MC love a geek like m-me ?!

Ortho, happily: Don't devalue yourself, Big Bro ! You have all your chances!

Rook: Oui, Mon cher, you have every chance! MC must obviously have noticed your unique charm!

Ruggie: * Whispers mockingly * Ah that, to be unique, he is! Shishishishi!

Lilia: * Laugh slightly * Let's see if our dear Idia has the courage to come out of his den.

Vil: That's enough you two, what we're talking about is serious. It is not time for jokes!

Trey, whispering sadly to himself: And to think that a few hours ago MC and I were talking in the kitchen and cooking like nothing had happened ... She had put so much heart into her preparations...

* Everyone is gathered in the infirmary plus the rest of the boys *

Riddle who blushes a lot: So uh ... how do we do it? Are we in line?

Crewel: The best is if you all wait outside and come one by one to Miss MC. If either of you ever wakes her up, I think you both need to discuss it.

The boys went by one by one and finally ....

Twisted boy: Okay ... It's my turn. * Enter the infirmary and approach MC * Hi MC. I'm sorry to kiss you without your consent but ... we have no other solutions at this time. Please forgive me .. * Kiss her *

My MC /OC YUU: * Wakes up coughing very hard until spitting out a piece of half-melted chocolate * WHAT THE HELL ?!

Twisted boy: You're awake! * Hugs her *

My MC /OC /YUU: * hugs him back * What's going on ?!

Twisted boy: * Explain everything to her * That's why I kissed you. Aren't you angry?

My MC /OC /YUU: No, no! I understand that was the only solution, thank you for freeing me from the negligence of the fool who gave me these cursed chocolates!

* My MC /OC /YUU finally realizes what it means *

My MC /OC /YUU: So uh .. Yeah I love you I guess ... But if you don't feel anything for me I totally understand and we can stay like we are now! I promise not to make this awkward or weird!

Twisted boy: Actually, it's good because ... I also feel the same way but I didn't know how to tell you.

My MC /OC /YUU: ... So ... you wanna go on a date with me?

Twisted boy: I would love that!

* Grimm who goes into the infirmary like a cannonball *

Grimm: MC! YOU ARE ALIVE ! MY HANDMAN, YOU WON'T EAT ANY MORE WITHOUT I TASTING IT FIRST! * Hopped into MC's arms to give her a hug *

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: mingyu x fem!reader | purge!au ⚬ word count: 15,728. ⚬ warnings: weapons, death, drugs, blood. ⚬ genres: ANGST, spicy/nsfw scenes, fluff to mend the heart, romance, action, and whatever else you could fathom lol.

✧✎ synopsis: the annual purge was a system of purification, alleviation, a supposedly psychological device in which people found a moment to unleash their indignation. you never purged until you met mingyu, a boy whose warmth was just as palpable as his darkness. you begin to fall for him, which means involvement with the evil he’s managed to attract.

✧✎ a/n: longer note at the end of the fic! sorry i’ve kept this in the vault for AGES bc i couldn’t figure out how to write in the ‘twist’ or whatever the fuck. you’ll know when you get there. anyways this is for @mihgyu (sorry it freakin took so long!) and @solgyus​ as they are my Resident Mingyu Stans. i also changed the title bc i thought... yknow... it fits better!

You had always wondered what life was like for the previous generation, the generation who grew up without acquaintance to the annual purge. It was an alien concept if any concept at all, one so foreign and inexplicably bizarre that the cogs in your mind would start jamming against each other in a struggle of comprehension. The education system had groomed its pupils into believing it was the only plausible way to recover from an economic collapse, feeding into gullible and malleable minds the possibility of clearing rage through bloodshed.

When your parents disappeared at dawn, leaving nothing behind but the sound of a lock clicking shut and a note advising you to stay away from the windows and doors, it could be assumed they’d return at morning with crimson-stained clothing, crusted lacerations, and heavy weaponry sealed taunt to their hands; or maybe they wouldn’t return at all. Yet you were taught to believe that was okay. At least if you didn’t have your family, you had your friends. 

At least if you didn’t have your family, you had Mingyu. 

As much as you despised admitting to yourself, Mingyu meant to you what the moon meant to the tides, what the sun meant to the meadows. He kept you in perpetual motion, allowed you room to recuperate and blossom into a much stronger version of yourself after your father never came home. When he lost his job your family lost its momentum. The last you ever saw of the man was his backside as he slipped through the door frame, a chortling in the evening air, a black revolver clasped to his hand.

He seemed to disappear alongside your mother’s sanity. She isolated herself and pushed everyone away, even you, the only person capable of nurturing her. In school you’d learned that the purge was supposed to bring purification, it was responsible for cleansing humans of the everyday stresses that slowly crushed them flat. Purging allowed them happiness; a twelve hour capsule to unleash what the law prohibited three-hundred-sixty-four days a year.

Yet when you looked to your mother, you didn’t see any traces of happiness or fulfillment, just an empty shell that sat with sunken eyes in her rocking chair, mumbling to herself like a toddler. Before you even had time to find closure after your father’s disappearance, your mother suffered a similar fate, abducted through the windowsill by a maniac who sought vengeance for the crimes committed beneath your father’s hand. He was a stingy businessman who often scammed to make his money, therefore collecting a myriad of enemies.

Notably, you didn’t start purging until you met Mingyu. The first time you’d ever used a gun with malicious intent was when you ran into the man responsible for abducting your mother. The kick-back from the trigger had you stumbling across the watered asphalt, the silver slick rain that caved down from the clouds washing away the minuscule spatters of his blood that blew onto your face. As he slumped down against the red bricks, the animation draining slowly from his eyes, he spluttered,

“S-She’s dead, she payed for your father’s incompetence, his greed.”

In complete lifelessness you lowered the weapon, not realizing how close the  distant gunfire sounded until Mingyu had to drag you away by the wrist. He murmured his condolences to you when the air was tinged with less bloodshed, carefully nuzzling you into his chest when the reality of what you’d just done had come spiraling forth, leaving a slap so brutal across your face the burn seemed more realistic than the raindrops hitting your skin.

You felt disgusting, enclosed in a body that had been consumed by the purest form of hatred, and there was nothing you could do to evade the feeling of that ugly gun pressed into your hand. But within that same moment, hot tears pumping onto Mingyu’s shirt, you understood a certain satiation that tempted so many people to do what you had just done.

“We can’t stay here,” You felt the vibrations from his deep voice against your cheek, coolness stinging the heated flesh of your face when you lifted your head to meet his gentle eyes.

“Gotta keep moving, alright? It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Mingyu’s composure was definitely an admirable trait. But then again, he’d been exposed to this environment long before you ever questioned purging. At that point you had felt completely numb, allowing him to wind you through the crevices and shadowy tunnels building the foundation of the city, your vision blurred by a mixture of salt and rain water. You felt safe with Mingyu, though it hadn’t always been like that. Before your friendship you were an outsider to the boy, harbouring nothing but a tiny crush toward him and his handsome face.

In fact the first time you’d ever spoken to Mingyu, it was after his fight with Wen Junhui, one of the most infamous, cynical purgers you prayed to never meet.

Two Years Ago –

“I’ll kill you if you come near her again!”

“Is that supposed to scare me?!”

You’d never seen a fist fight in real life before, and you were positive that was a good thing. A large crowd steadfastly increased around two tall, venom-eyed boys caught up in their alcohol. They were spitting profanities, threats, and whatever else their clouded minds could formulate within the gap of the other’s speech. The party had been rather lackluster before that point anyways, so like the congregation swarming to the centre of the room, you etched into the crowd and managed to stand just inside the inner circle.

“Shit – sorry,” you squeaked as you were suddenly shoved into the girl beside you. Your face became hollow like a crater on the moon when you saw that it was Mingyu’s girlfriend.

“What am I supposed to do?” She mumbled whilst biting her nails, “I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Stop the fight?”

She continued babbling, “Junhui kept coming on to me and Mingyu saw. They’re both competitive, boggle-brained idiots when they’re drunk. I don’t know what to do.”

Her name was Yang Yeeun, born and raised by parents maintaining such wealth that rumours began circulating their bloodstream was crushed rubies. You could see her pearl earrings flashing behind the straight black locks framing her small face. You don’t think she ever took them off. Her father manufactured security systems for the purge; however, the most recent release had been proven to bore many defects and flaws. She didn’t care, as long as she got a slice of the wealth.

In the beginning, Yeeun and Mingyu’s relationship came as a slap to the wrist. How could two people reaping such difference in personality become so close? Yeeun was frank and staid, with cold, cindered eyes that never displayed an eclipse of emotion. Her complexion was just as pale as the pearls she wore and her heart swam darkly.

Mingyu was her polar opposite. 

Sure he was intimidatingly tall, but any menace he constructed with his height was easily derailed through his bubbly nature. He was what you call, “a gentle giant,” and anyone who contacted him for more than a brief period understood this. The warmth was in his honey-brown gaze, the velvet of his tanned skin, the sepia tones that were shaggy in his hair. When he spoke you could feel the gravel roll beneath your feet, and when he said your name heat would flood your face like steam throughout a hot spring. 

Again, Mingyu and Yeeun made a bizarre couple, yet he loved her so deeply you swore the dark coverings in her heart had peeled back a little.

You kept in mind, a little.

“They’re fighting over you?” You questioned carefully, trying not to exaggerate your words so that it seemed utterly impossible for her to be worth fighting over.

“Yes,” Yeeun gritted, her eyes darting around the crowd, strangers pressing into the circle, allured by drunken shouting, “can’t they wait until purge before they start ripping into each other?”

Wouldn’t it be best if they didn’t rip into each other at all?

“Like you said, they’re drunk and stupid,” you opted for the latter choosing.

Mingyu’s mellow stare had been licked over by enraged flames, the remaining liquor still pumping through his system and warming his blood until it sizzled. His fists were balled tightly, fangs peeking past the taunt snarl on his lips. Junhui appeared calmer, though the bar of composure was quite low to begin with. The unkempt ends of his midnight black hair were shaking, his sharp nose crinkled, and his stare so impossibly intense that you were nauseated a vein on his neck might become engorged and pop. 

As interesting as it would be for you to witness your first fist fight, you knew it wasn’t a wise idea for these two to start swinging at each other.

You set a hand on Yeeun’s shoulder, “maybe you should stop thi—,”

Suddenly, her palms encased her mouth as the last few words of toxicity were spat between Mingyu and Junhui, the crowd erupting in brazen cheering as the two lunged for one another in a flash of blurred colour. Your jaw was permanently unhinged, your body set in stone, attention completely spellbound under the boys who were viciously entangled. The world seemed to spin at a snail’s pace whilst the fight flickered faster than lightning. At one point Mingyu had Junhui shoved up against the wall, one hand nearly ripping through the boy’s black-collared shirt as he tore his free fist back and swiftly launched it forward. The hard ridges of Mingyu’s knuckles connected with Junhui’s eye, his head smashed back into the drywall so that an indentation remained.

“G-Get the fuck off me, Mingyu!”

���You fucking asked for this, dumbass!”

In another fuzzy whirlwind of movement, Junhui managed to push Mingyu backward and onto the snack table, bowls and bottled alcohol spilling across the floor with jade shards of glass scattering in flurries. Junhui drew his fist into Mingyu’s face, the collision splintering against Mingyu’s brow bone. You could see the speckles of blood flying off Junhui’s hand as he curled his fingers into another ball, preparing to throw once more. Panic encompassed you from every angle; it drowned you above your head until the crowd’s bellowing became a muffled choir to your ears. 

You could hardly breathe as your sights shifted to Yeeun, the girl with her hands still clasped to her mouth, doing absolutely nothing.

Was that a smirk hidden behind her hands?

She really did have a dark heart. By the looks of it no one was going to intervene. You were most likely the soberest person in attendance. Even if it downright petrified you, letting those two get their hands so bloodied it would look like they doused their arms in red paint wasn’t a viable option.

“Hey!” You barked, slowly etching your way into the clearing, “what the fuck is wrong with you two?! Get off each other!”

Mingyu and Junhui were still a violent mass now buckled to the floor, anger and alcohol swelling through their bodies like a drug. You felt your knees wobble, as though a tight fist had an ironclad grip on your entrails and was squelching them around slowly. Junhui had Mingyu pressed to the floor, and raised in his arm was a sparkling shard belonging to a smashed bottle. You didn’t know what it was, but something inside compelled you to react. In a mere instant you were ripping the shard from Junhui’s hand and screaming at the top of your lungs, the crowd’s cheering turned to hushed whispers.

“Enough!”

Your chest was heaving, fingers grasping the glass piece tightly enough that thin lines of red began dripping down your hand. Junhui and Mingyu had peeled themselves apart, the deep marring of hatred etched so profoundly into their eyes you’d never be able to forget it. Yeeun suddenly blossomed with emotion after standing on the outskirts smirking into her palm, the girl bounding toward Mingyu and snaking her arms around his neck like she’d been downright sobbing with worry the whole time.

“C’mon, Gyu,” she gritted, “we’re leaving.”

Thanks for the help.

You were tempted to call.

The fight between Mingyu and Junhui might have stopped, but the party continued to thrive. You were wandering through the upstairs hallway as the wooden floorboards jolted beneath you, driven by incessant music that became a furthering echo. Fresh blood had yet to stop streaming down the grooves between your knuckles, pooling from the lacerations of that jagged, glass shard and wetting your warm skin. You continued seeking for a bathroom, any room really that might contain a first aid kit, or at least some water and tissues that would help to clean your hand.

Each room was either occupied or locked. A defeated sigh ghosted from your lips as you stood at the end of the hall, weakly knocking your healthy hand against the last door. Scarlet drops were creating a puddle on the wood whilst you waited, until the brass handle jiggled and you were stepping back in shock that someone had actually acknowledged your presence.

Of course, the person doing the acknowledging had to be Yeeun.

“Oh! It’s… you.” She murmured. Behind her slim frame you could see Mingyu sitting on the sink, holding a cloth to his eyebrow.

“It’s me,” you replied, desperately wanting to skip the small talk and use the first aid kit. Didn’t she say she was leaving?

Yeeun finally noticed the red pathways on your hand and nodded, “I see you need to get yourself bandaged up.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You hummed, trying not to sound impatient but utterly failing.

“Well… I’ll be right back then. Just so you know there’s no gauze left.”

“That’s okay, I don’t think I’ll need an—,”

“I’m going to look for some!” Yeeun called as she squeezed her way past you and began trudging down the corridor, “be back soon!”

Mingyu tossed you a lopsided smile when you entered the bathroom. You kicked the door shut with your foot to drown as much noise as possible. Though the small barrier didn’t do too much in regards to sound, it certainly made the bathroom feel one-hundred times smaller. Or maybe it was solely Mingyu and his gargantuan height. Perhaps it wasn’t any of those factors and you were just feeling nervous to be enclosed in a private space with him. Either way, your face turned into magma and you felt like swallowing sand. Without saying a word you turned on the sink and let the cold water stream between your fingers.

“Hey.” He began.

Oh no. If you initiate conversation with me there’s a ninety-nine percent chance I’m going to fall in love with you.

“Thanks for intervening. You kinda saved my life there.”

You scoffed whilst scrubbing the dry scarlet from your wrist, “I think you could have taken him.”

Mingyu took the wet cloth from his brow and folded it over before reapplying pressure to his own wound, sighing deeply. “Fuck this. I hate getting drunk.”

Fastening your teeth into your lower lip, you remained silent and continued swirling around the bloodied skin until the red currents seemed to all drain away, down the white porcelain. You winced a little because there was indeed a stinging sensation, but it was better than allowing the cuts to get infected. Mingyu’s curious gaze was watching the scene intently, and with his body propped right next to the sink, there was really no easy way to avoid your feelings other than to talk with him.

“How’s your injury?”

“I don’t know, how is it?” He peeled the damp cloth from his brow bone. You could see that directly in the centre the skin had spilt, a little ways above the brow and a little beneath it, bright pink flesh gleaming from between the dark hairs and tanned skin. It would definitely leave a scar.

“I’m no doctor, but you might need stitches.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu grimaced. “That fucking sucks.”

You scoffed. “That’s funny. The same kid who socked Junhui in his eye is afraid of getting a few itty bitty baby stitches.”

Mingyu pouted, his thick brows then slanting downward which made him wince petulantly. You couldn’t suppress your chuckling, turning off the sink with a coy smile playing along your mouth.

“I’m joking.”

“I know.” Mingyu said. “I’m sure everyone’s gonna start saying he’ll rake my eyes out at purge.”

You laughed at that too, though deep down you both knew it wasn’t anything flowery to laugh about. Junhui was the definition of nefarious. Similar to Yeeun his family danced in riches, their security systems were top-notch, and his access to weaponry and blueprints of the city could be in his hands within minutes. People worshiped the ground he walked on, but it wasn’t because they liked him. It was only sensible to play nice to the person capable of taking your life away in a single breath. 

Of course, Junhui’s reputation made him a prime target, yet despite all the people who secretly wanted him dead, it was difficult to even lay a scathe on his amber skin.

In your eyes it was better to avoid the boy altogether. That way you never gave him any reason to seek out your oblivious-self during the annual purge. Mingyu had crossed that line to the fullest extent. He laid more than an innocent scathe on Junhui; the boy had given him an entire fist to his pretty, supposedly untouchable face. Feeling your heartbeat thump widely, you quickly willed to change the subject.

“Do you see any cloths? Or Kleenex? Anything?”

Mingyu frowned. “Sorry, nothing.”

You shook your arm out over the sink to shed some water droplets, yet the blood still continued to bead. Mingyu looked sympathetic. He presumed it was his fault you were even injured in the first place.

“Yeeun’s getting gauze.”

“I think I’ll be okay—,”

“Wait!” Mingyu suddenly piped. “This might be super awkward but—,” the boy’s tongue peaked out between his pink lips as he gripped the end of his white t-shirt and gave it a tear, pulling off a strip of fabric.

Your cheeks began crackling and your palms felt oddly clammy, “M-Mingyu, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy said, “this shirt’s old and busted anyways. It’s better than walking home, dripping blood everywhere.”

You smiled softly and stared at the floor.

“Here! I’ll even wrap it for you.” He purred, gently reaching for your arm and twining the white material like a roll of bandages around your hand. 

Forgetting about his own spilt brow that began clotting with blood, Mingyu finished his dexterous work with a tender glance that made your stomach flip, his chocolate bangs falling endearingly before his eyes. After shaking the fringe away, he gave you a thumbs-up.

“Now you look like you just got into a fight.”

“Right, because I’m the first person everyone suspects to start a fight. You hit the nail on the head with that one.”

Mingyu chuckled at the heavy sarcasm, blinking his pretty lashes at you with such warmth you keened to melt like an ice cream cone. You supposed after that moment, Mingyu might not be nearly as brutal as his drunken, love-induced mind influenced him to be. For a fleeting moment you even doubted that this was the same boy with his own kill-list. His eyes glimmered like diamonds catching a shaft of light.

“That’s something only time can tell.” He purred

Two Years Ago –

When Mingyu and Yeeun broke up, it was like the universe took its cue to make everything in life feel unreal. If their romance was nothing more than a mirage, then had romance ever existed in the first place? At least to you, it routinely appeared as though Yeeun’s heart had never been within the same realm as Mingyu’s. There was always an island of separation between them, one little ploy that prevented the couple from truly clicking like puzzle pieces. That ploy was exigent in the form of onyx hair, a sultry voice, and bottomless eyes.

In other words the obstacle was Junhui. Yeeun started dating him no less than a month after the break-up.

Mingyu, he was crushed; taking the point of devastation and expanding it an extra nine yards. In contrast with Yeeun’s heart, his was always wide open, warmer than a summer fire and more embracing than sun rays. You swore she would be the girl he took to meet his mother, the girl whose finger he delicately touched to slide upon a silver loop. A part of you crumbled each time you saw them together, before the break-up, and even more so after the party.

Remembering how his rough fingertips skimmed the wet (and surely burning) skin of your hand as he wrapped the cloth around it did something peculiar to your mind. Reminiscing on the soft timbre of his chuckles made your head spin, and replaying the manner in which his eyes twinkled as he gazed at you through his thick bangs brought forth fluttering in your stomach. It was what you were daydreaming about even after their infamous break-up, fingers clacking against the keys on your laptop whilst you finished an essay in the library. To your dismay, the thoughts were scattered by conversation at the table behind you.

“Think Junhui is gonna gut Mingyu at purge?”

“Probably not, Mingyu would be expecting it. And it’s not like he’s hopeless. Did you hear about how he stabbed someone to death in the tunnel last year?”

“Yeah. But Junhui’s clique practically owns the purge. They’ll tear your fuckin’ house down if they can find it.”

“…True. Those two seriously have some bad fucking blood. Do you remember the rumours about how Junhui sho— ”

Unable to listen any longer without this horrendous churning against the walls of your stomach, you shoved your laptop into its carrying case, swung it over your shoulder and began shuffling between the book shelves. Your stare traced the floor whilst a pummeling sensation thundered into your ribcage. Mingyu didn’t seem like the type to kill, though you didn’t know him personally, and perhaps he had matters of vengeance that crooned for redemption. This tiny hope inside you flickered, prayed that Mingyu was unlike Junhui, the kind that tortured for torture’s sake, the kind that shoved a pistol beneath your jaw because you looked at them funny.

Suddenly, you collided with someone. Blinking upward, you gazed at the body you’d walked into, Mingyu, who was in the midst of pulling out a book.

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologized.

You hadn’t seen him for a while, but he looked healthy, a bit tired perhaps, but mostly healthy. Dressed in comfy clothing, a grey hood drawn with his earbuds plugged in, he popped one of the speakers out and lent a small smile. His eyes were slightly veiled by his earthy bangs, the coarse fronds wavy in front of his forehead. His scent was a concoction of something tropic mixed with cannabis, and when he spoke his voice was lower than usual.

“Were you leaving?” Mingyu asked.

Yes.

“No, no. I wanted to finish my essay somewhere that wasn’t... back there.”

“Oh,” he sighed, “seemed like you were in a rush.”

“I was just thinking.”

Mingyu stuck the book back into its gap and smiled, “about?”

You sniffled. “What?”

“What were you thinking about?”

Obviously you were not going to admit that you just overheard conversation about Mingyu being gutted under Junhui’s hand, about Mingyu supposedly cramming a knife through whoever’s chest during last year’s purge, about Mingyu’s history of participation in the annual mayhem that plagued the country like a sickness each year. Now that the purge was on your mind, a dark worry skulked in the shadowy crevices of your brain, yet it seemed to dissipate just as quickly as it arrived when Mingyu stared at you so gently.

“How much I hate essays.”

He nodded. “That must be it.”

Without thinking, you blurted, “what happened with your eyebrow? Did you get a scar?”

He simply carded back the bangs covering his forehead and poked at the nick with his finger. It would have been courteous to receive a warning that he was going to reveal his forehead. He had no clue how powerful a mechanism it truly was, how badly you wanted to kiss that tiny scar after seeing the slit through his brow. Swallowing the flushed heat that arose in your throat, you grinned with a closed lip.

“Well, it makes you look like a badass if that’s any comfort.”

Mingyu let his hair flop back into place and laughed quietly. “What’s up with your hand? That cut looked so nasty.”

Looking down at your fingers, you probed the faint lines of where the glass had sliced your skin, engraved almost, like a stone carving.

“Kinda. It doesn’t look as cool as your eyebrow slit though. And you’re way less busted than Jun. His eye is still purple.”

For a brief ellipse you simply embraced the opportunity of being alone with Mingyu. That some higher deity had taken pity on your life barren with romance and granted you this precious exchange to add to your vault of daydreams. The more his hoarse voice lapped at your ears, surely roughened yet equally soothing, you felt your chest create a burrow for him, a gap that only he could fill. It baffled you, that Yeeun could break his heart. But it didn’t surprise you. She was built from titanium, similar to Junhui, and together they were hawks that would make prey of everyone.

“Trust me,” Mingyu said, “it wouldn’t make me feel any better if we were matching.” 

His jaw clenched, and his stare slipped to the floor for a transient moment. A nearly imperceptible breeze tickled up the back of your neck, causing you to rub at the fine hairs as Mingyu’s usual aura slowly dissipated into a much darker nuance. You gulped, attempting to laugh something of comfort back into the air.

“There’s a lot we could match in, like... bracelets! Or a necklace! Or one of those couple t-shirts... Not that we’re a couple,” stuttering helplessly, you felt electricity tingle in your cheeks, “I was just thinking about matching stuff and that popped into my hea—”

“It’s fine.” Mingyu responded, the storm clouds cast in his gaze finally ebbing away. He smiled, and a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“You’re pretty cute y’know? I don’t think I’d mind.”

1 year ago –

You never spoke commonly to Mingyu about the idea of purging until you were thrust into the political nightmare on a whim, a stupid, stupid, moonstruck whim.  The few times the morbid topic arose seriously, neither of you had enlightening stories to exchange. A bitter knot lodged itself into your throat the night you reiterated to Mingyu about the tragedies concerning your parents; the disappearance of your father and the abduction of your mother, a tearful lining glossy in your eyes.

You’d never seen Mingyu express such grief when he returned the storytelling.

He moved out from his parent’s house when he was eighteen years old, his best friend, Minghao, making the journey alongside him. Faintly, you remembered Minghao, more or so from your high school days when you shared the same last period art class. He had always been rather subdue, never really speaking with anyone apart from Mingyu, though there had was a handful of times where you caught him and another boy, Wonwoo, skipping class together. Apparently Wonwoo didn’t have a very good home life. He’d supposedly been forced into purging since middle school, and his psyche never quite recovered. 

You never even saw Wonwoo smile apart from when he was with Minghao. 

However, one day that boy from your art class just disappeared, and the rumours hadn’t stopped swirling since. It was a common fact that Minghao never purged. He didn’t have any bad blood with anyone either.

Not that you were aware of.

In the beginning stages of Mingyu’s purging he used to commonly venture with a group of three friends. Wonwoo happened to be one of them, plus another named Jihoon (who you could recall dawdling around in the background of the party) though Mingyu never named the third. He described it as being pure, inexplicable dread. They were constantly finding themselves in gruesome situations that forced their true colours from camouflage, how they stole burning glimpses of the other when the night came to an end and blood was caked to their clothing. The purge had tainted all of them, some more than others, whether it be with drug addiction, eternal madness, or an unhealthy fascination to mend so seamlessly with the evil that they personified it.

However, genuine fear pitted in the core of your stomach when Mingyus’ fists had clenched in his lap, his features distracted by a look of anguish as he sucked in a breath and spoke in an unsettling, distant tone.

“It was four of us in my car. I was driving, Wonwoo and Jihoon were in the backseat, and he... he took up the passenger seat. It was different... How he reacted to the purge... The rest of us were still somewhat fearful of it but he almost thrived in all the destruction. We were even talking about going purging without him the next year, but...

Mingyu had to clear his throat.

“I guess Minghao was waiting for me to come back to the house. He probably wasn’t even waiting on me specifically, he had this little crush on one of my friends, Wonwoo. They were always messing around together. Minghao probably got excited when he heard us, so he came outside, onto the grass... But then I heard the pop of the gun out the open window... I just... I don’t fucking know if he thought Minghao was a maniac or... If he was on drugs or something... But, God... He just —“

You didn’t allow him to say anymore when his words became warped, when his voice cracked and his eyes split like a sheet of broken glass. Minghao didn’t just disappear - he was killed, and Mingyu knew who was responsible. Instead of pressing him for details, you reached for his hand, rubbed your thumb along his knuckles, made sure he knew that you were there for him. 

And yet you had been thrust into the setting of the same picture during your first purge, the first time you had ever experienced what it was like to harm someone, turning their existence into an irreparable patch in the universe.

This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the annual purge.

At the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve hours.

All emergency services will be suspended.

Your government thanks you for your participation.

“This is going to be your entire fault if I die tonight, Mingyu! I just want you to know that!”

“Relax. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

It was nothing short of chaotic. Pitch blackness shrouded the skylight like a heavy cloth, the distant rattle of gunfire and screams sitting heavy in the air as you raced down the street. The horrendous acts were most commonly centred to the city’s heart, where prime businesses, rich corporations, and notorious killers congregated to create havoc. Still, that didn’t make you any less petrified, your nails sinking into Mingyu’s hand like dog’s teeth. Fights were slowly beginning to litter the sidewalk, a store going up in orange flame and hissing embers now glinting behind you.

“I knew that we weren’t going to make it back to your place on time. I knew it was stupid that we even questioned going out on purge in the first place - Ah!”

You shrieked at an unprecedented decibel as two men came tumbling out of the alleyway only meters away from your feet, your body slamming into Mingyu’s backside when he cemented himself to a halt. The men payed no notice to you, entirely engulfed in their own world of vengeance through bloodied fists and messy punches.

“This way.” Mingyu’s words were like a breeze in the midst of a hurricane.

You hardly registered he’d even said anything until his grip lurched you forward and you were stumbling to the opposite side of the street. Then, your jogging pace skyrocketed into running, the breaths just squeezing from between your lips and the pain in your chest aching so potently you felt like vomiting. Your stamina was breaking faster than glass. You couldn’t afford to run any longer.

“M-Mingyu, can we please stop?”

The boy didn’t seem to have a choice as your fingers began unclasping from his hand, your body collapsing on the concrete staircase belonging to the city bell tower. Mingyu anxiously carded his hair back, his eyes moving hyperactively down the street only to be greeted with more and more violence consuming his vision. Gunshots seemed to thunder from every direction, splintered shouts joining hymn. Large trucks blared down the black pavement with ominous members hunched in the open cap, holding weaponry and wearing masks of painted wood.

The boy squatted down, his palm firmly encasing your cheek and keeping your head up.

“I’ll give you a minute. But then we have to keep going. It’s too dangerous to stay in one spot.”

You stared into Mingyu’s face with a tiresome expression, the bronzed and gleaming hue of his skin reflecting the fire that crackled in the distance. His touch became sterner as he moved in closer, his eyes no less than a few inches from your own.

“Trust me, I know you’re exhausted. We’re gonna be at my place soon though, okay? You just gotta hold tight for a little longer.” He pressed his forehead against yours, and met your gaze head on. “I’m going to keep you safe, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

An intruding shout echoed a little too closely down the street, engendering you to choke on your own heartbeat. Mingyu growled in irritancy, pivoting his head and glaring at the stranger who stepped from an alleyway. Rather than looking frightened (you were on the verge of sobbing bullets), Mingyu’s forehead crinkled angrily, the tiny scar that cut through his brow beginning to slant.

“Stay put.” Mingyu commanded you.

There was a colder lining to his tone that you’d never heard before, malevolent and icy. As soon as his touch fell from your cheek, you knew his hands were about to tend to a much different matter. Your mind implored for you to look away, yet your heart waned for the exact opposite. The man was scraggly and a bit stockier than Mingyu, a mischievous intent welling in his movement as he seemed to dance back and forth like a hummingbird. He wore a smooth, white mask and a heavy brown coat that bore many unidentified stains, a long, curved blade in his hand.

“You’re just a kid,” the man taunted, “it’s always the younger crowd that get so riled about the concept of murder, think they’re all that, but they drop faster than flies when it comes down to it.”

Mingyu didn’t waver. “You should keep talking if you want that knife poking through the opposite side of your throat.”

You inhaled stiltedly. This was definitely not the same Mingyu who smiled with the power of a burning star, his mannerisms filling your chest with laughter and his golden eyes bathing your face with heat. You thought back to the library, the conversation that drawled behind you. This was the Mingyu they were talking about. You had a feeling that the innocent projections in your head were close to changing.

The man chuckled and pointed his knife, shaking it at Mingyu, “you’ve got the same cockiness as that rich China boy’s little clique. I’m sure you’ve heard about them. They’ll be flocking to the streets any minute now.”

Mingyu spoke gutturally in response, the disgust and repulsion so thick in his voice you almost couldn’t recognize it. “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to him.”

The man chuckled darkly, “hit a nerve, did I?”

You weren’t sure what happened next, mainly because it all happened so fast, a series of swift movements (on Mingyu’s behalf) that resulted in your pulse fizzling like hot oil. Ultimately you were going to be exposed to murder one way or another, though watching it reflect in the glassy curve of your own eyes left behind a deep scarring. The man lurched at Mingyu with his hefty blade slashing for the chest, most likely assuming that because of Mingyu’s height he would be quite slow and lack agility.

However, that was severely not the case, to the man’s dismay more than anyone else’s. Within the span of sixty measly seconds Mingyu had tripped him onto his back, snatched the blade from his grip and wedged the knife directly into the man’s windpipe, exactly as he said he would do.

At that point you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. Mingyu’s breathing was level as he rose from the man’s waist, a burgundy pool of blood bubbling at the neck where the blade had punctured skin. Mingyu lifted his jacket, pulled the knife out, and attached the weapon through his belt. He spent an extra few moments patting the fresh corpse down until he uncovered a small revolver hidden in the inside pocket on the man’s coat. When Mingyu handed you the revolver in means of protection, you didn’t realize you were shivering.

“Now,” he pronounced, “we’re going home.”

And at the time you believed him. 

Until thirty minutes stretched into an hour, an hour into two hours, three hours, four hours. The chaos that was the purge had encompassed you both. This supposedly psychological device controlled you like a ventriloquist. Violence sneered at every turn and eventually an unspoken conclusion emerged; that it was easier to join chaos than it was to run from it. Later that night everything came full circle. 

You were the one pointing the weapon, aiming the silver barrel into the face of the man who had broken in your home and abducted your mother last year, on account of stupid, petty crimes your father had committed in the past. Seconds before touching the trigger, all you could picture was his face swathed in moonlight, the horror that clawed in your stomach when you ran down from your room that night to see him yanking her out the smashed window. 

And when you felt the release of the bullet, it became emboldened that it truly was a small, cruel world.

Present –

Squeezing one eye shut, you held the black gun with both hands and aimed the muzzle toward a tree stump that acted as your target, a cheek pressed into the taunt muscle of your shoulder as you inhaled a steadying breath. Delicate winds blew across the meadow, each strand of grass rippling in a hypnotic wave. The horizon lay beyond the tree trunk, a bleeding yellow sun submerging quietly behind the endless terrain, casting a honeyed glow to speckle like rain droplets upon your face.

There was not a single sound apart from the grassy fronds tickling against each other, your concentration solidifying to a mar in the tree bark. Then, your finger ghosted over the trigger, a sharp burst echoing into the pale yellow sky and causing a distant congregation of birds to take flight. The bullet struck the wood, right where you had envisioned the lead entering.

“Look at you,” the tension keyed into your bones drifted away, exiting your body in a shallow exhale once Mingyu’s prideful tone filled the spaces between the winds, “your shot may be even better than mine now.”

After lowering the firearm to face the earth and switching the safety on, a demure smile danced across your lips. Mingyu’s arms were strong and looping carefully around your waist, hauling you back into the broad expanse of his chest. He buried his face into the smooth plane where your shoulder met your neck, his soft locks feathering along your jaw. You giggled the second his lips kissed your shoulder, evening sunlight spilling across the meadow and encouraging heat to caress your skin.

“The student becomes the teacher,” you purred, “I even remembered to turn the safety on this time.”

“You’re damn right you remembered to turn the safety on,” the boy quipped sternly, his palms gliding downward to grip your hips and spin you around, “you almost took my kneecap off the last time.”

Furrowing your brows, you pursed your lip at him petulantly, “can we stop talking about that? It was a mistake you big idiot.”

“I know, I know,” Mingyu cooed, “a very, very, very dangerous mistake.”

You rolled your eyes as he unwound the black firearm from your fingers. He walked toward his jacket that sat on the blanket you’d strewn across the grass, making sure to place it back inside the pocket.

“You still need some more practice, but I think for today we can call it quits. How does that sound?”

The boy then fell back onto the blanket with his head titled to the side, his eyes staring up at you winsomely. With the sun flaring behind you, the vibrant streaks set the grass aflame, making it appear as though Mingyu was sitting in the centre of a fire. His skin twinkled like golden silk and his canines peaked between his lips in a smirk. Shrugging your shoulders impetuously, you stumbled toward the blanket and fell into the boy’s lap, squirming against his broad body until he became pinned beneath your weight. As though he were a glass vase, you gingerly swept your finger along his scarred brow.

“Sounds fine,” you hummed, “since I kinda wanna makeout with you right now.”

“I love how straightforward you are, baby.” Mingyu confessed with his intoxicated gaze drinking in your image, already imploring for a taste of the strawberry balm that defined the pretty arches of your mouth.

Unable to quell how your body yearned for him, you gave your eyes a toss and pressed your lips to his. Mingyu craned his neck forward in immediate desperation to feel more pressure against his mouth; however, he soon gave up his craning and allowed his elbows to give out beneath him. His hands snuck beneath your shirt, to which he placed soft squeezes against your ribcage, fingertips skimming lower and lower until they were running along the back hem of your shorts. You continued to straddle his waist as the kiss drawled further, rhythmically slow and sweet.

You didn’t think it was humanly possible for your chest to be so encompassed with fondness, yet here you were, brushing your digits through Mingyu’s tresses, pressing your forehead to his, encasing his lower lip between your teeth to experimentally tug until the flesh swelled and glistened in garnet. You weren’t really sure how you started dating, it just sort of happened. It was perhaps an escalation of lingering touches, infatuated glances, and hot, fever dreams that kept you both slamming awake at blue midnight.

After your first purge together, the connection between you strengthened, like welding two pieces of molten iron into one. It was an experience that ruined you, stripped you of any innocent fragments still clinging to your bone, and once the night came to an end and you were sitting on Mingyu’s bed with blood spatters sopped into your cloths, you burst into tears. Strangely, you weren’t sobbing out of pain, mortification, you were sobbing because you could. It was the only accurate way to depict the weird melancholic, hopeless lump in your throat.

You squeaked as Mingyu grew impatient of your slow kisses. His want was increasing and he couldn’t bear to hear the quiet mewls that kept slipping from your mouth. His strength effortlessly allowed him to flip you on your back, his mass keeping you slack against the blanket as his lips dotted your jaw, your ear’s cusp, until he craved to taste more of the natural salt on your skin and his kisses ventured further down your throat.

Mingyu began suckling at a sensitive patch near your pulse. The warmth of his tongue combined with his teeth, and you felt him scrape his canines sharply against your skin. It wasn’t until the boy nudged his thigh between your legs that your fingers lurched into his scalp, tugging the earth fronds tightly. You couldn’t help but buck up against him, summoning a growl from his chest that only made him press his fangs into the soft skin with more force; not enough to actually break the petal-thin flesh, but enough to leave deep, possessive indentations. The ecstasy drumming in your veins was insatiable.

And yet, you knew it couldn’t progress.

With a fragile whine you placed your hands against Mingyu’s chest and gave the giant a small push, his mouth regretfully detaching from the beautiful marks he was intent on leaving all over your body. He spoke coarsely, breathlessly, when his rosy face surfaced from your neck, though the glaze in his eyes had quickly softened out of fear he’d made you uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong? I wasn’t being too rough, was I?” He gathered your hand in his and kissed along your knuckles apologetically.

“No, not at all,” You mumbled, still dealing with the blare of crimson running through your veins, “I just… Don’t think we should, do it, in a field.”

The hollow grooves in Mingyu’s features immediately flushed with solace, a large sigh escaping from his chest as he allowed his head to tumble into your shoulder.

“Thank God, I thought I hurt you or something,” he heaved in relief.

Your heart sang wildly, knowing that he truly was a boy gentler than butterfly wings and softer than cotton. It was difficult to imagine him as the same boy who ruthlessly shoved a blade through a man’s windpipe, allowing thick trails of blood to slide from the open wound and create morbid puddles on the hard cement. The evening air seemed to turn cooler, the wind’s peaceful lilting now picking up with more vigor. Mingyu collapsed at your side, one of his long legs still tossed over your waist as you stroked his hair.

With the sun halfway behind the horizon, you gulped whilst watching the yellow sky fade into watered, fierce shades of orange.

“Mingyu?” You hummed.

“Yeah?” His warm breath scattered in a ticklish manner against your neck.

“What’s going to happen with you and Junhui?”

Mingyu stiffened instantly. Nibbling on your lower lip, you watched with sincere eyes as the boy lifted into a sitting position. You joined him, closely monitoring the contours of his face that had surely twisted at the mention of the sinister purger. There was no room to blame Mingyu for harbouring such distaste toward the boy. Junhui did swoop in and steal his ex-girlfriend fresh after the breakup and run purge night like he invented the device himself.

Still, you wondered if there could be something more. If there could be a more profound explanation for why the air was so stale between them.

“Nothing is going to happen,” Mingyu said flatly, “are you scared?”

Caught off guard by his sudden questioning, you stumbled over your syllables for a painful second, his gaze turning back to wrack you curiously.

“N-No, I was- I just- I was only wondering.”

“He’s too obsessed with himself to care about me. Don’t worry, okay? Nothing is going to happen, baby.” Mingyu said in a much lighter tone, his signature, canine smile quirking along his lips. 

Despite his calm protrusions, you could sense that something murky was swimming behind the curve in his eyes. The boy leaned backward and planted his lips against your forehead, leaving a small, adoring kiss. Shaking away the ominous tension that came with simply speaking the purger’s name, you grasped for Mingyu’s hand and smiled.

“Let’s head back into town.”

He set his jacket as well as the blanket in the backseat and climbed to sit at the wheel.

“Don’t forget about that, y’know,” you reminded him whilst gesturing to his jacket, “it’s not like there’s a gun in there or something.”

“A gun with the safety on.” He replied sheepishly, to which you simply huffed and stared out the window.

You stopped Mingyu when you were no less than a block away from your new apartment building, the tires crunching to a halt beside the common coffee shop.

“I’ll get out here,” you told him, “I’ll be fine to walk back to the complex. I just really want caffeine.”

Mingyu leaned over and pushed the car door open for you, his palm tenderly grazing your thigh as he found your lips. He gave you a quick goodbye kiss, and you felt flowers bloom between the bones of your ribcage.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” He reminded when you slid from the passenger seat.

Scurrying into the coffee shop, you already had an idea of what drink you’d like to get. As you stood off to the side waiting for an employee to call out your coffee, you fell into a slight trance, your eyes casting mistily across the cozy atmosphere whilst the sky began darkening beyond the clean window panes. You thought about Mingyu, how laughable it was that you were dating, and yet you knew you loved him like ink loves to kiss paper.

Hm, you chuckled inwardly, that girl sitting in that booth by the window, she looks like Yeeun, and that guy beside her really resembles Junhui. That’s funny.

That’s funny.

That’s… funny…

“Order 24, half decaf, two sugars one cream.”

To your inexplicable terror, heart-twisting dread, and every other repulsive emotion that could have cloaked you in that moment of realization, the couple sitting at the window booth was indeed Junhui and Yeeun. The employee called out your order again, this time a little louder, drawing customers to look left and right with puzzled glances. The nefarious couple was sitting across from two familiar faces, one with jet black hair brushed away from his forehead, the other disquieting with how vacant his face appeared, a grey beanie pulling back the fronds from his porcelain features, and a lollipop shoved between his lips.

It took you a minute, but you eventually recognized the lollipop boy as Wonwoo. He looked insanely different compared to your outdated, high school memories, where he was just a scrawny, fox-faced boy with the straightest black bangs you’d ever seen, always running around next to Minghao, getting pink in the face when the younger so much as smiled at him. It was evident that purging had completely hardened his face, his aura, to which he developed an almost sinister light. Whoever he was now, he definitely wasn’t the same boy. Jihoon sat next to him, impatiently spinning a stir stick between his fingers.

You didn’t know why you weren’t moving. Mingyu’s words rang in your head.

Are you scared?

Craving nothing more than for a sinkhole to form beneath your feet and swallow you whole, you did the sole thing your body permitted you to do; walk sternly out the coffee shop and pretend you never ordered a single thing.

God - I hope they didn’t see me. That would be the last thing I want, for Junhui and his purging buddies to have anything to do with me.

Jihoon and Wonwoo with Junhui was odd. Had they always been friends? Junhui never attended your high school either, rather he used to be a student at a prestigious private school you couldn’t ever dream of getting into.

Your apartment was close. You could distinguish its height amongst the low-cut buildings lining the sidewalk. If you just walked a little faster, you could be up the cement staircase, swinging open the glass doorway, and be safe within the front lobby. Titling your head back you quickly ogled at the sky. It wasn’t completely black yet, but there were distant tinges of dark, oily colours that pressed down like a heavy thumbprint amongst the grey. The wind picked up behind you, slamming into your backside in menacing howls.

Finally, you’d reached the cement steps—

But it was too late.

His tone was smoother than a crystal ball, lower than baritone, and incredibly seasoned at feigning genuineness. Hearing your name cascade from his mouth that was deceivingly shaped as a heart made your breath flatten. You didn’t want to turn around and face him, but it was too late to pretend you never heard his chant. Unwillingly, your body pivoted like a stone statue, your foot taking that one victorious step back as it left the staircase.

“You walk so fast, you could have been sprinting.”

“Exercise is good.” You nearly wheezed.

For the first time, you realized just how tall Junhui was, his body appearing as a shadowy mass as the wind blew the tails of his trench coat. His brows were slanted, lips quirked, his irises so rounded you could hardly see the white bits. He was handsome in the way that some people found graveyards entrancing. It was the eeriness that allured you.

“You left your coffee.” He stated.

“I realized I had somewhere to be.” You tried to hold his gaze, but it was impossible to evade the nervous eye fluttering.

“As anyone would, it’s getting late.”

The wind whistled between you, dark clouds swirling above your head as though the sky were a witch’s cauldron.

“I think it might rain,” you said meekly, “are you looking to ask me something?”

Junhui took a step forward. He’d never been this close to you before, maybe a few inches away from the tip of your nose. Your gaze tripped to his eye, the eye that Mingyu had driven his clenched fist into that one night, causing Junhui’s head to thrust back against the plaster. You swallowed the salty brick in your throat.

“I heard you like to purge now.” Junhui said with a smile. You swore his caramel gaze glinted with excitement.

Your blood froze. How did he know about that? Junhui saw through you like a translucent piece of plastic. He saw how you inwardly panicked.

“I was surprised,” he cooed, “you don’t seem like the type… But I suppose all that running around with Mingyu changed your morals.”

Your heart was beating at such a frantic pace you feared it may dislodge itself from your chest and land in your mouth.

“I’m so elated you found purpose,” his midnight fronds then fell mischievously before his eyes, keeping the candor of his secrets hidden from you, “the purge is a time of cleansing intended to help people like us find a little alleviation in the world. That one person whose been causing you grief? You won’t have to worry about their disgusting discrepancy that makes you so infuriated. It’s quite healing,” Junhui purred, “if you ask me.”

It felt as though someone just ripped your tongue from between your teeth. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. A splash of rain thumped your forehead, and yet you allowed the cold bead to trickle along the side of your nose and run onto your cheek. Junhui’s hand delicately raised, his thumb caressing the droplet away. He stood closer now, eliminating any room in which the wind could whisper through, his bangs tickling your forehead as his onyx pupils bore through your heated face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looking toward your lips through his heavy lashes, his fingers pointing your chin upward, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt just because Mingyu can’t take care of you.”

“I-I trust him,” You managed to squeak, though it required every bone in your body to summon equal modicums of courage.

“C’mon,” Junhui seemed to taunt, “you know who I am, right? I can have any weapon, any blueprint, any ctv footage I want directly in my hands, and all it takes is a single phone call.” He grinned wolfishly. “Besides, Mingyu doesn’t have the most durable history of looking out for others.”

His grip on your chin hardened like steel, heart-shaped lips pressed lightly to your ear’s cusp, “you do know what happened to Minghao, don’t you?”

Your body turned more frigid than ice, the warm blood that pumped beneath your skin running colder with every second that Junhui stood, seeing straight through you and to his old friend he’d hurt so dearly. You instantly grew sick to your stomach. The universe beyond Junhui’s shadow was spinning wildly, darting in nauseating circles like a carousel. The images came in flickers; the truck pulling into the driveway, the window cranking down, the crack of the gun as its bullet pierced a shape in the darkness. No wonder Jihoon and Wonwoo were friends with Junhui. He had been the other person in Mingyu’s car.

You felt lightheaded, like you were going to faint.

“I’ll let you go, but just consider your options. Really, truly consider them.” Junhui murmured. “I’m sure you have some personal contentions kept covert beneath that kind tongue of yours. Given your participation, I know you can upheaval your need to feel purification. If you’re wise, you’ll cleanse with us, with me, as you are entitled to.”

Without a single ripple Junhui broke away, his touch drifting like the edges of a silk blanket from your cheek. Immediately afterward, a disturbing burst of wind whipped between your bodies, inducing a long shiver that crept down your spine and fizzled at your fingertips. Your throat felt like cracked sandpaper and your chest bottomed out with a horrendous, wrenching fear.

Junhui knew that Mingyu didn’t fear him, but he knew that you feared him, and he knew that your fear would grow to consume you now that you’d been introduced to the devastating truth. 

The radio was on, high-pitched static and monotonous advisement rasping through the car’s sound system. It was clear that in time, there would be a chorus of other harsh noises leaping to fill the sky, any pockets of oxygen, and the spaces that lingered between your hazy breathing. Yet in the dense heat, you could care less.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of The Annual Purge, sanctioned by the government.

It was hot, burning. The air felt like scorching linen that pressed fire into your skin. Mingyu’s teeth scraped along your collarbones, the thin layer of flesh that mapped over them singed with bruises and bites and kisses that still glistened.

Weapons of Class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.

The radio continued to blip. Your fingers tangled through his earth-toned tresses, gripping the thick strands and tugging on them as your throat started to ache. The windows were splotched with oily fingerprints that had been left earlier, when you first climbed onto his lap.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Your legs quivered over his thighs, his hands guiding your hips with such a brute strength that the pain welled into numbness and everything that surrounded you seemed nonexistent, save for where your bodies connected like a jewel to its staff. His forehead fell on your shoulder, groans muffled as they brushed your hot skin. He continued to hit deep, and you knew you couldn’t hold on for much longer, the sparks catching a foreshadowing flame 

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

It was then, when your weight came down on his lap for the final time, his hips stuttering upward at the perfect moment, that your head tossed back and you felt the energy rip from your body in a single scream. Mingyu wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you flush against him, working the pleasure for all its worth. You then buried your face into his neck, a soft sea of your whimpers filling the thick air whilst Mingyu emptied inside you, filling you with warmth.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7am, when the Purge concludes.

For a moment, you just needed to close your eyes and breathe in his scent, hear his heartbeat, feel the familiar heat spread throughout your abdomen. He squeezed your hips tight, and his words were barely audible, attempting to drown over the radio’s static as well as the heavy breaths from your lungs. You heard them, even if your ears really had to strain to decipher the syllables whispered at the peak of his sensitivity. Mingyu said he loved you, and he meant it with every ounce of his soul as he felt your body shake in his arms.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and a nation, reborn.

And you would have meekly hummed the words in return, if the sudden cacophony of a siren didn’t shred the air like pastry, startling your system that had just come down from the best cloud nine experience you could ever fathom. It would have been wondrous to bask in the afterglow, to trace patterns on his biceps and run your lips over the scar in his brow.  It had all been purloined from you in an instant. Though your centre still ached, you crept off his lap and into the passenger seat, cleaning yourself up as best you could.

“Here,” Mingyu held out his jacket that he’d tossed in the backseat, probably since your training in the fields, “it’ll keep you warm if it actually rains tonight.”

“Thanks.” You murmured whilst slipping the fabric around your body, noting that something a little heavy was inside one of the pockets. You remembered the gun was still inside. Suddenly, Mingyu started the car, the engine purring lowly and musty clouds of exhaust puffing into the empty parking lot.

He tapped the steering wheel with his palm, “where should we head?”

When the sirens faded away, you looked to him and smiled, “wherever you want.”

The red sun seemed anxious to disappear, for its rays cracked across the sky like bloodied, broken ice, hurriedly pushing itself further below the horizon as Mingyu drove into town. The Purge never introduced an easy atmosphere to stomach, yet tonight, you felt the bile in your throat was more acidic than usual. Maybe it was because you knew a huge secret, one that tied Mingyu’s hatred to Junhui’s existence.

You didn’t confess to Mingyu anything. Every word that seeped like a venom from Junhui’s lips was sealed within you, and only you. It was already painful enough for Mingyu to brace through such a traumatic incident. There would come a time when he told you his reasons for hating Junhui, and that time had yet to come.

Even so, the terror was exhausting. The first few nights after your encounter with Junhui, your slumber was plagued by gruesome nightmares, his comfortable laughter, and the black fire that seeped in his eyes as though he were some underworld creature. You’d slam awake in a cold sweat. At times you’d be so drenched that you needed to take a shower before going back to sleep, that is, if your mind allowed you to. Sometimes you would phone Mingyu and lie to him, tell him you needed to hear the brass in his voice as your nighttime spell.

You never told him about the nightmares, the panic, or the anxiety. Now the Purge had returned after its position was quelled in the nation for a year. Your head turned to glance more thoroughly out the window after you flitted past a man holding an axe tool, a painted mask shielding his face.

It didn’t take long for the streets to begin flooding with people of the same stature, and if their eyes of thirst were hidden behind costumes, then it became more than evident in the weaponry that adorned their guises. Mingyu seemed calm as he stared out the dash, his eyes giving away nothing that would hint toward his inner complex. You sighed and let your cheek rest in your palm, your gaze unable to stop tracing each and every person that emerged from the dark crevices.

About forty-five minutes had passed, driving around the quieter outskirts of the city. Looking into the side-mirror, you watched as the occasional killing occurred behind you.

Mingyu smiled. “The night just started and you already look like you’re over it.”

The echo of a gun pierced the air. You cringed slightly.

“I don’t know if I’m over it or not. I guess I’m thinking about how I’ll ever suppress witnessing senseless murder, y’know?”

The boy gently stuck his arm out, across the glove compartment, his thumb stroking your cheek for a fond moment.

“We don’t have to hang around. I can drive up to the field where we’ll be away from the worst of it. What do you want, baby?” He asked.

You scratched at your knuckles and puffed through your nose. “I don’t even know what I want. Am I supposed to feel this way?”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, “what way?”

“Melancholic, sorta like everything seems pointless. How do you feel?”

Mingyu took a wide turn to avoid a collection of smashed bottles that glinted on the road, increasing the vehicle’s speed steadily as the chaos increased. Like your first Purge, you saw the distant glow of burning buildings appear across the lake, at the other side of the city.

“I don’t even know if I can describe it anymore.” He shrugged.

You turned your head to look at him, deciding to ask something rather abrupt, but a topic you were curious on nonetheless. 

“Why did you start purging?”

The boy’s canines pushed into his bottom lip as he probed his mind.

“Because I was friends with someone who wanted to. Even involving yourself once makes enemies. You can’t hide from it after that.” 

Staring at the side of his face, you felt almost dirty for knowing a pivotal piece belonging to Mingyu’s past.

“Were you friends with Junhui?”

There was a thick silence as you waited for Mingyu’s response.

“At one point, yes.” He admitted, his words sounding distasteful. 

You shifted up in the seat, stretching out your hand to rub Mingyu’s bicep. 

“I don’t care if you were. I know you aren’t the same as him, and that this night changes people. You don’t let it consume you like he does.”

Mingyu took a turn through a wide alleyway to avoid a hostile situation escalating at the far end of the intersection. You didn’t get a good look as the sky was continuing to lose its orange light, but the flash of the group’s masks and weapons was convincing enough to take a different path.

You couldn’t help but note that Mingyu’s eyes had become slightly watered.

“It was never about purification,” he told you, “I never had any specific target, or someone I detested. Neither did Jun. But he comes from a family that relies on purging as their income. His mom designs weapons and his dad works for some underground branch, assigning bounties. He just isn’t the same as us. I was lucky if I could even hold a gun in my hands without trembling. I had to learn how to desensitize myself. For Jun, it was almost natural.”

A familiar sickness made your stomach twirl.

“It’s sad he had to grow up like that.” You sighed, glancing out the window whilst Mingyu remained silent. 

A few minutes later, and you were laughing. “I didn’t mean to make the mood so terrible. I was just wondering.”

“I know,” Mingyu said, his lips curling warmly, “I can’t blame you for being curious, baby. I just don’t think back on my past all that much.”

He then gave you a thoughtful look, and your chest started fluttering embarrassingly fast. “I like focusing on right now, where I have you.”

It was quiet again, to which you let your thoughts roam astray. 

You pictured the night your father disappeared, the night your mother’s life was taken away from her when she wasn’t even capable of defending herself. The feeling of coming down the stairway to broken glass, spilt moonlight, and a dirtied face lugging her away couldn’t be compared to any pain. And daring to unlock that enraged, bitter half of yourself, you thought to applying pressure on the trigger that killed the man responsible for her death.

Those memories influenced your appreciation, your gratitude, toward Mingyu, the boy who you had always admired at a distance, never knowing he could be so tender and benevolent. It was possible that you could have turned out similar to Junhui if you let your indignation take control. Seeing how Mingyu always remained so grounded helped you keep your footing, and you hoped there never came a day when you started looking at the world how Junhui did.

All of sudden, your musing was shattered when a pick-up truck roared from an alleyway and soared into the street, plumes of grey smoke pumping from its pipes as the tires screeched against the asphalt.

”Mingyu, watch out!” You screeched, gripping the steering wheel.

At the same time, Mingyu veered away from the truck, your heart nearly tearing a hole right through your chest as the head of your vehicle rammed into a light post. The collision jolted your body forward, though the seatbelt kept you strapped in and unscathed. Mingyu cursed through his teeth.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He rasped.

“I-I’m fine. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” You replied shakily.

Mingyu’s facial expression relaxed for less than a second. He appeared ready to oblige, though casting another inspection into his features relayed a nauseating truth. Suddenly, Mingyu’s hand gripped the back of your neck and he forced your head down between your legs. You heard it, the crisp echo of a gunshot. Except there was no bullet that punctured the glass and made fragments rain over your body. There was no dent in the metal door either. The barrel was purposely aimed to a different area, and as the second shot fired off, you felt like passing out.

They’re shooting at the tires.

Mingyu whispered to you with a coarse urgency, “this way!”

He’d managed to open his door, your only choice of escape a labyrinth of alleyways that lay beyond the mangled car. The alleys were dark, damp, and most likely rife with impending danger. Your throat closed in when you attempted to swallow. You could see the blade that Mingyu had collected from the console, already tight in his hand. Licking your leathered lips, you squirmed out his side after he’d gone through. He was squatted down, waiting for you.

Just as you joined him, you cast a glance above Mingyu’s head, your blood turning into ice as a slim figure appeared around the back end of the car. It was a man, dressed in a black raincoat, long and glossy. He was wearing a dirtied, white mask, where kohl paint was runny down the large eyes and the mouth was outlined in a red marker. Next to his side was the long barrel of a shotgun, and you felt unimaginably dizzy. Mingyu immediately identified the terror that leaked into your gaze, and with a thick gulp, he dared stare over his shoulder.

“Hey Mingyu,” the stranger mumbled, taking the pointed chin of the mask and tipping it upward, revealing a fox-like face, “long time no see.”

Mingyu wrapped his fingers around your hand and stood up slowly, ensuring your body was sheltered by his size. You breathed as quietly as your vandalized chest would allow, your diaphragm keening to erupt. 

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu echoed, “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Didn’t mean to scare you or anything.” The boy said, his voice very deep and smooth. The depth reverberated in your chest and made your skin crawl.

“Are you crazy, dude?” Mingyu growled. “You shot out my fucking tires.”

Wonwoo scratched the nape of his neck. “I was just following orders.”

You had no idea what was happening. The only piece of concrete knowledge that hadn’t been fogged over in tangible fear was that you could still hear incessant firing in the distant, chaotic screaming and rioting. Looking down to the blade that glinted in Mingyu’s palm, you were able to plant a little reassurance in yourself knowing of his skill and ability to stay grounded. Keeping your mouth shut, you held Mingyu’s hand in a vice grip.

“Following orders from who? What are you talking about? Are you wired?”

“It’s understandable you would think that,” Wonwoo sighed, “but I’m not. If I were though, your death might be a little easier.”

“Since when are you supposed to kill me?” Mingyu sounded flat out bewildered.

It was then that it dawned on you: Mingyu really had no idea Wonwoo was still a part of Junhui’s brigade. 

Grinding your teeth together in contemplation, you finally decided to swallow the grain in your throat and break the truth. Getting close to Mingyu’s ear, you whispered to him what you knew, no matter how much of a fable it may be perceived as. Visibly, his body stiffened. His fingers gripped the blade’s handle with an unprecedented rage. 

“What are you doing?” Mingyu implored, candor in his despair. “Even after what he did to Minghao? What the hell is holding you to him?”

“It’s nothing personal, but as you know already, Junhui is filthy rich,” Wonwoo gloomed, cocking the barrel once more, “and he’s promised me some things.”

Mingyu clenched his jaw. “You mean more of those drugs he keeps stealing from his dad’s lab? Wonwoo, what the fuck happened to you? The last time I heard from you, you were getting clean, you were going to start fresh!”

There was an unorthodox twinkle in his black stare, oddly full of emotion, hurt, repressed pain that cut deeper inside than out. 

“I tried,” Wonwoo stated, a slight anger tainting his voice, “I went to three different rehabilitation clinics. I took a vacation to the rural springs and received lessons in guided meditation and bought myself a journal so I could document my success in getting clean. And you know what? I haven’t touched that journal since the day I fucking bought it. Tell me, Mingyu. How the fuck am I supposed to care about staying clean, how the fuck am I supposed to care about anything when I saw the love of my life get fucking shot right in front of me?”

Mingyu shook his head in disbelief, “Wonwoo, I--, I know that was horrible, I know that hurt you and--”

“Just shut up,” the elder interrupted flatly, “maybe today I’ll actually feel something when I put this barrel between your eyes.”

It was impossible to stand by and remain silent. Chewing on your bottom lip, you gathered a modicum of courage and poked your head around Mingyu’s shoulder.

“So you’re going to kill us just because Junhui wants you to? That’s how you’re going to live the rest of your life? Listening to his psychotic fantasies about purification and entitlement?”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw taunt.

“I know you loved Minghao, I know your life hasn’t felt the same since. Minghao was Mingyu’s best friend too. You weren’t the only one who lost somebody. Do you think when I came downstairs at fourteen years old and saw my mother get pulled away through the window that I wasn’t upset, angry, confused at the world? Junhui just sees you as a pawn to delegate the matters he doesn’t want to dip his hands into, but you’re a real person. Wake up and act like it!”

For even just a fraction of a second, Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped, his finger that was feathering the gun’s trigger drifted from contact, and the stoic cloud in his eyes fuzzed a little. You were starting to feel confident. Yet just as easily as the feeling came to you, you were caught off guard by an arm that slid around your neck and lurched you backward, against a hard chest.

Mingyu barked immediately, his blade drawn and eyes wildly dilated as he turned to face the person responsible for holding onto you. Biting the inside of your mouth, you squirmed and thrashed and kicked, until something cold pressed into your temple and suddenly the energy evaporated from your body like dew droplets on an August day. 

Mingyu’s voice sounded rusty as he gaped again. “Jihoon?!”

Wonwoo piped up suddenly, and his eyes turned cold once more. “Be careful, dammit. She’s the one we can’t afford to bruise up.”

Jihoon’s arm was now wrapped around your neck, pressing against your windpipe and causing your air supply to falter. You knew it was a gun that was poking sharply into your temple. 

Mingyu’s gaze was wild and rife with fire. He growled between his teeth like a wolf. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Jihoon.”

Wonwoo stepped forward and shook his gun at the boy who was closing off on your breathing. “Junhui wants that one,” he pressed the snout of his weapon into your chin, “alive.”

Jihoon sulked, his voice rumbling in his chest, “So what’s our fun tonight? We kill Mingyu and then pack up?”

You wriggled again in Jihoon’s arms, tempted to gnaw right into his wrist. “Can we not kill anybody?!”

“Calm down,” Wonwoo instructed, “I hate shouting. If any of you shout I’m planting a bullet in your brain.”

“You’re such a bore,” Jihoon whined, pressing into your windpipe with more force, painting speckles of white across your vision. Mingyu was bubbling with rage, like a teapot left on the burner for too long, his teeth clamping down so tightly his whole face was aching.

Wonwoo used the muzzle of the gun to tip your chin toward the moonlight. “A word of advice. Stop struggling and you won’t get hurt.”

“H-He’s hurting me,” you attempted to coherently spit past the pressure concocted against your throat. Jihoon was issuing enough force to make your eyes water and your head spin. Mingyu piped up, but Wonwoo was swifter and beat him to it.

“Lighten your grip.” He told Jihoon.

“I’m not even holding her that tightly!” The boy protested. Wonwoo’s face didn’t crack. He just repeated himself with an underlying menace.

“Lighten. Your. Grip.”

“It’s all pretending! Can’t you see? They’re trying to distract you so Mingyu can shove that blade through your back. Don’t be so fucking soft, Wonwoo. Look! I’m hardly touching—“

Bang.

Wonwoo dug his gun right into Jihoon’s forehead and pulled the trigger, the strict barrier against your throat immediately releasing. A fresh gulp of air hastily entered your lungs as you stumbled, Jihoon’s body folding onto the sidewalk from the corner of you eye. Mingyu quickly caught you, cupped your face in his hands and wiped the beaded sweat at your forehead. He kept whispering to you that you were okay, repeated the words in a soothing, husky mantra, his thumbs stroking your jaw in comforting sweeps. The ringing in your ears was unfathomably painful, it stung and stung and stung.

“Well,” Wonwoo announced with a despondent sigh, setting the gun over his shoulder, “I really do hate yelling.”

Mingyu’s kissed your forehead briefly. Your lips were still dry and they struggled to form a word of thanks to Wonwoo. The boy shrugged.

“He was holding you kind of tightly.”

Mingyu gasped, “no fucking kidding.”

Wonwoo sighed. “I guess I don’t expect to live much longer now that I’ve gone and wasted my companion here with my last few bullets. Not to mention I have  prolonged the existence of your life, Mingyu, which I was strictly ordered not to do. It was nice to meet your little partner in crime too.”

“What are you talking about?” Mingyu questioned whilst gathering you into his side.

“I didn’t follow through on my order. I can’t bring myself to do it. ” Wonwoo mumbled. “We’ll catch up in the afterlife or something. Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. You’ll probably be with Minghao while I deservedly rot. One of life’s many mysteries, right?”

There wasn’t much of an opportunity to process the situation, not when a gunshot echoed from down the alleyway and pierced the boy in his temple. The shotgun clamped in his hand clattered against the cold, concrete sidewalk, and his mask clattered off his head. His body joined the likes of Jihoon who’d been staring up at the night sky with dead, glazed eyes, a trail of red leaking down his nose. Your head pivoted and you felt a surge of vomit climb to the back of your mouth, for the person behind the trigger was Yang Yeeun, her pearl earrings flashing against the silver moonlight.

“Horrendous.” Her accent was thick with venom, heels clicking down the alleyway as she stalked in her black trousers and white dress shirt.

Intimidation sweltered against your skin at just her attire. The fact she dressed expensively for the night proved she wasn’t expecting to get in any confrontation that would result in her own blood being spilt.

“I expected Jihoon to cause trouble, but not Wonwoo. He was so promising. I guess he really did need drugs to stay sane.”

She stepped over a corpse you hadn’t noted lying face down in the alley, growling between her teeth.

“Filthy,” Yeeun remarked without a grain of empathy, “nothing but filth.”

Mingyu gripped your wrist and you felt your body stumble behind him. Keeping your arms drawn against his back and softly breathing, you inhaled the musky scents of damp, nighttime air and car exhaust. Though you couldn’t directly see Yeeun, her voice was still audible, lacquered in such a feigned delicacy it reminded you of Junhui. Mingyu hadn’t said a thing. He didn’t have to speak for you to know his heart was decaying.

“There’s my sweet boy.” Yeeun cooed. She was close now, so close you peered between Mingyu’s legs and saw her shiny heels standing in blood spatters. 

She regarded Mingyu like they were still together, like they still reflected the image of romance that was envied by so many people, you included. Her arm extended, pale, numb fingers brushing along his amber cheek. You wanted to scream at her to never touch him again. It was her own mistake to let Mingyu go, when he was positively in love with her and preached their future with honeyed words, like an artist who preaches with paint.

“You know, I miss you,” she hummed, tracing the flint of his jaw, “I’m so terribly sorry you had to witness your old best friends get a bullet to the brain, but, that is what happens when tensions are high, and, you know, we can’t afford to let many errors slip past us. Now, let’s not let that put a damper on the night. It’s still young, and so much has yet to happen. How about you come with me?”

You knew there was a handgun she was keeping pressed to her leg right now, and that if neither of you complied, it would be put to good use. Mingyu hadn’t opened his mouth. His lips were tight and his eyes were concentrated. Maybe he was trying to scheme.

Yeeun stretched out her gun and let the muzzle clink with Mingyu’s knife, trying to push the weapon from his hand.

“Just drop this and follow me, sweetheart. Due to these unforeseen events, there’s been a change and your presence has been urgently requested.”

Quicker than expected, Mingyu complied. He let the blade untwine from his grasp and rattle against the ground. If he did have some sort of plan, you were hoping that giving up his only weapon was part of it.

“She can come too,” Yeeun purred, “Junhui wants to see both of you.”

Yeeun trudged behind you, her weapon drawn, a manicured nail feathering upon the trigger just in case one of you attempted something of trickery. Tall, grimy buildings surrounded you, leading up to the black sky, where the stars gazed down in lamentation. Mingyu’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist with such steely strength that you felt your circulation dwindle, though the tiny, tingling feeling would never surpass the fear that sat like a pound of tar in your stomach. Similar to your first purge, tears pushed at your ducts, though there was a certain exhaustion shrouding your body that prevented them from falling.

Despite your unstable condition, the possibility of death snickering right in your face, the wavering thought that either Junhui or Yeeun could imbue a torturous fate, you were worried about Mingyu.

Yeeun was playing him expertly. She knew it wasn’t her heart that cracked after their breakup, it was Mingyu that suffered independently.  Only he bit the nail, only he felt the salt mix with his wounds, and only he would welt in self-contemplation over a love that he nurtured, alone. If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate? Would he be afraid of hurting someone he used to treasure so dearly? You didn’t doubt his affections for you. His heart was strong, but what if Yeeun’s deceit was stronger?

The labyrinth of alleyways had finally led you to a dead end. Your wrist shook in Mingyu’s grasp, for the man nonchalantly leaning against the solid wall was none other than—

“Junhui,” Yeeun cawed, “you won’t believe what the fuck just happened. Wonwoo popped Jihoon. He’s dead, should have brought more crew instead of displacing them like we did.”

She finished her sentence by fitting her gun right snug at the back of your head.

Junhui spat onto the floor before he unstuck himself from leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark trench coat.  

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, “using Wonwoo and Jihoon was a squander anyways. I could have concluded both their lives at a much more efficient pace. I’m guessing you took care of the traitor?”

Yeeun cackled, “right though the side of his head. He fell like a stack of cards.”

“It’s a real disappointment,” Junhui huffed, “since the beginning Wonwoo and Jihoon have shown the utmost loyalty for me and my craft. But, I guess this just demonstrates how purifying this device truly is. We’re ridding the streets of scum, aren’t we?”

Mingyu released your wrist, and you felt like a bomb had just dropped to the soles of your feet. His lips parted and his voice was deep. Hearing him speak allowed your heartbeat to calm, even with Yeeun’s gun taunt into your hair.

“The streets will never be rid of scum until you’re over and done with.”

Junhui cocked his head, his mouth falling open and his eyes twinkling as though a tiny flame had ignited in their inky depths.

“And here is the biggest traitor of them all!” 

Junhui tossed his head back and ludic laughter echoed into the compressing air, “how do you suppose you’ll rid me, Mingyu? Are you going to give me another black eye? Curse at me? Damn me to hell and back because of what happened that night? Damn me behind my back because I took Yeeun away from you? The girl you once loved and valued with your every essence?”

It was then that Junhui shifted his sights on you, his lips pulling wide in a smile.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware Mingyu, but your partner and I exchanged a very compelling conversation a while ago. I guess word never got around to you.”

Junhui’s boots dragged over the crumbs of dirt and asphalt that littered the ground, his presence nearing closer and closer. When you tried to lower your head, Yeeun’s gun pressed with a stricter force into your scalp, filling you with enough fear to keep your gaze straight.

“You’re very fortunate, Mingyu. To have such a pretty thing to call your own.”

Junhui’s hand reached for your chin. His touch was colder than the dark shadows that masked his soul, and it engendered a shiver to slither along your spine. 

“Don’t put your hands anywhere near her!” Mingyu seethed, to which Yeeun instantly switched her gun to point against the back of his skull.

You could see his jaw clench from your peripheral vision. But Junhui didn’t listen, and his thumb pushed down on your bottom lip as though he intended to brand your skin with his insanity. He spoke lowly, smoothly, confidence lathered into his every syllable.

“Do you know why I did it?” Junhui stared into your eyes and asked.

“Dd-did w-what?” You warbled.

“It wasn’t because I was jealous of Wonwoo and Minghao, or because I had some personal contention against the boy. I didn’t even think when I pressed the trigger. I spent the whole night adding so much blood to my hands, that the moment I saw another shadow move, my body just - it just acted for me. Like it was an instinct. I wasn’t sad... But I wasn’t happy. I only knew I was no longer myself... I was someone stronger, someone enhanced, and that is the greatness of this evening!”

Junhui clutched your shoulders and shook them, his eyes alight with a certain derangement that petrified you to your core.

“You’re reborn! Don’t you get it? You’re no longer tied down by the concept of goodness, and your free will is truly free. When will you two realize that--”

Out of nowhere, Mingyu shoved into your side so aggressively you stumbled sideways and collapsed on the sooty ground. The air was knocked from your lungs and your heart pumped like it had been electrocuted. Fuzzy splotches of colour coalesced before your watered vision, projecting nothing but an obnoxious blur. There was shouting, the loud crack of a harmless gunshot, and scuffling that emanated from every direction. Before you could separate the blacks from the blues, something cold wrapped around your wrist and dragged you backward. Then, your entire body was thrust up against the brick, scrapes and bruises already forming on your bare skin.

When your head stopped spinning and the world dulled down from reflecting three versions of the same image, you were shuttering, whimpering, as Junhui held you firmly against the wall.

Across the alleyway you could see that Mingyu had Yeeun pressed to the floor, his palm covering her throat whilst he took advantage of his weight to keep her slim frame still. He fought to unwind the firearm from her fingers, but when he did, the weapon was digging into her forehead. You wanted to scream at him to pull the trigger, to fucking end her already, even if your throat felt like it had been scraped of all moisture and scrubbed with a pad of steel wool. You heard Junhui snicker, his mouth twisted cynically. It was evident what he was thinking, for it was identical to your own thought.

“Like hell you’ll do it!” Junhui screamed.

If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate?

Love. It was just as much a weapon as it was a comfort. And as Mingyu stared down at Yeeun, silver pearls of water slipping from her brown eyes, the eyes he had fallen for, you felt consumed by terror, that your life may truly end at this exact location. Mingyu proved your doubts were transparent and his finger jammed against the trigger. Except – there was nothing, nothing at all. The gun had no ammunition left. Yeeun sighed heavily.

“Don’t do this,” she mewled, still wriggling beneath him, full-fledged tears pumping down her flushed, scarlet face, “I never meant to hurt you. It’s just – you wouldn’t understand why – he didn’t leave me any choice!”

Mingyu released his ironclad grip over her throat and used his fingers to sweep the stray hairs from her eyes.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He abruptly snapped. “You lie through your teeth like it’s the only thing you’re good for. You don’t love anyone or anything. I bet you lost that silver spoon you were born with, huh? Daddy’s security systems aren’t as bulletproof as he thought they were? So you had to run to Junhui?”

She gargled slightly on her own saliva, coughing a bit of foam, though she never tried to respond.

Mingyu lifted Yeeun’s head in his hands. Squeezing your eyes shut didn’t make the snapping noise any less gruesome. If anything, it only amplified the sickness building in your gut, it only amplified Junhui’s enraged storm of cursing as his companion’s body went limp, her eyes stained with not even a smidgen of regret. If there was any regret at all, it was that she couldn’t have killed you herself. Hope began trickling back into your body, and, taking advantage of Junhui’s distracted vacancy, you attempted to give him a swift kick.

And yet that thought was a mistake in itself. Junhui lost his composure, his sophistication.

Your struggling only encouraged the anger spilling inside him, prompted him to uncover a blade that was hidden inside his coat, its silver gleam reflecting off your eyes for a millisecond before you felt its sharp edge nuzzle into your skin, somewhere around your stomach. A surge so violent and unbridled soared through your body, forced you to lean over the blade where your eyes soaked up the unholy sight of Junhui’s knuckles pale as snowflakes wrapped around the handle. You spluttered out nothing but air, watched as dark liquid began seeping from the wound and wetting your shirt.

Junhui took it upon himself to slowly, ever so slowly, extract the knife from its crevice, his teeth grinding together as just the point remained in your flesh. Then, he dug the blade back in through its opening, giving the weapon a slight twist. 

When Mingyu had risen from Yeeun’s corpse and tore Junhui away from you, a silent sob wobbled off your lips. At some point that your mind was too fogged to remember, you were sitting, slumped against the wall as thick, grey storm clouds crowded the night sky. When you could no longer find solace amongst the stars, your gaze flitted across the alleyway, to where Junhui and Mingyu were a vicious tangle of limbs that punched and kicked and pulled. It reminded you of the party, the stupid party that had somehow preluded your path to cross with Mingyu’s. They were shouting at one another, at war for Junhui’s knife that kept slipping from their grasps like butter.

Wincing, you stretched an arm to fold over your stomach, attempting to apply even the meekest amount of pressure to your wound. Your brow furrowed when something hard nudged against your arm, a harsh weight that seemed to sit inside your jacket.

Well, it wasn’t your jacket, it was Mingyu’s.

Chewing down on the inside of your mouth, you ignored the pain that cut through your every nerve and fought to wind your hand within the jacket, fingers poking and shuffling around until they brushed the pocket stitched to the inside. Despite your battered condition, you nearly yelped when you gripped the handgun, the same gun that you’d used to practice your aim in the fields. There was not a moment to squander, nor a moment to think. Your whole body screamed as you drew the weapon from its pouch, fingers slippery with blood as you fought to turn the safety off.

Your entire arm shook like a brittle leaf in mid-autumn, yet you still held the gun forth, your head banging, your vision blurred, bile pushing and stinging against your throat. Junhui had Mingyu pinned to the grit, his boot heavy on Mingyu’s wrist. Raised in the air was the knife, stained with red globs of your blood. It was just like the party, except it wasn’t a tiny glass shard sealed between Junhui’s fingers. It was a literal hacking device. There was nothing you could do to stop your arm from shaking. You had no more ammunition apart from the bullet left in the gun.

What if I miss, what if I miss Junhui and hit Mingyu? What if I hit Junhui but it isn’t enough to stop him? I don’t think I can do this. I can’t I can’t I can’t—

“So,” Junhui barked, his vocal chords strained and hoarse, “where’s your little guardian angel now, huh? If it weren’t for your girlfriend fucking getting in the way two years ago, you would have had it, Mingyu. But now there’s no one to save you. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. Finally, I’m entitled to purge how I’ve always wanted.”

The tears finally erupted from their ducts, streaming down your dusted cheeks and dripping at your chin. You felt like a child, a blubbering infant.

But it wasn’t worth it to lose Mingyu.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened when you sucked back the distracting binds of your self-doubt and clamped the trigger down. It didn’t register that the bullet had struck Junhui’s head until his body collapsed off of Mingyu’s lap, lying lax on the pebbles like a sack of flour. It didn’t register that you had saved Mingyu’s life until the first few cold splashes of rain thumped against your forehead, dampened your lashes, and trickled along your scuffed flesh. The gun dropped from your fingers and the whole world went black.

The next time you awoke, you were faced with a pair of glimmering, penny eyes that rapidly blinked, tiny crinkles mapping along wet, amber skin. An instant pain jolted into your gut when you attempted to fidget, and a whine nearly tore itself from between your cracked lips.

“Don’t try to move,” you heard a rough voice, “stay still as best you can.”

“Mingyu?” You croaked, reaching upward to stroke his cheek. 

His fingers coiled gently around your wrist, bringing the scars that were carved like ancient hieroglyphics to his lips. The second he pressed kisses to the old wounds, you smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake,” he rasped, his eyes soft, gleeful, “you fucking saved me, y’know? It’s because of you I’m still here, still breathing. All because of you.”

Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Wait… So, I’m not… dreaming?” 

Despite Mingyu’s earlier advisement to stay still, you forced your body upward, though you faced immediate repercussions as a jarring bolt struck you in the stomach. Mingyu attempted to make you relax once more, but you refused to listen to his cooing. Distant thunder rolled in the distance, and you could see a pale glow beaming behind the flossy clouds that shielded the sky. Seven o’clock was probably on the brink of arrival. You were still in the alleyway. Casting a glance toward your new wounds, you noticed that Mingyu had wrapped his jacket tightly around your waist.

“Now would be a good time for lots of gauze, right?” You smiled.

Mingyu settled his palm delicately at the back of your neck and pushed your lips together, a smile slowly dancing along his mouth as he felt your fingers thread through his locks. Just like Mingyu had predicted, a misty rainfall was spraying from the early morning sky, infinitesimal droplets of glass sitting upon his skin as though he were a springtime rose. You kissed his lips again, and again, and again, until the pain in your stomach became too much of a distraction and your head was falling to the crook of his neck. Stealing a glance around the alleyway, you couldn’t help but notice that Junhui and Yeeun’s bodies had been laid beside each other.

You thought about what Wonwoo had said.

Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. One of life’s many mysteries, right?

Well, at least Junhui and Yeeun would share an eternal fate in the one place they truly belonged, and it wasn’t exactly a mystery where that place was either.

“Mingyu,” you reached for his shirt and gave it a small tug.

He peered down at you through the fanned arch of his lashes.

“Are you still in a lot of pain, baby? I wish I could take it all away from you. I’m sure the medical services will be here soon, I promi—“

“I love you.”

Mingyu stuttered over the humid air. “O-Oh – I, um, I – I love you too… But, I think you already knew that.”

A molten blush crawled up from the column of his neck and flushed throughout his face akin to a raspberry burn. Though it ached to giggle, you couldn’t evade in doing so, your eyes turned to crescent moons as more golden splashes of dawn light ebbed through the clouds. Somewhere in the distance, you no longer heard gunshots, incoherent slurs, riots and the skid of tires creating friction against pavement. You heard the whirr of emergency sirens and helicopter wings, medical services beginning to flood throughout the city like a creek. It was over. Mingyu was still tangible, warm, smiling whilst he pressed kisses against your forehead.

You don’t know how, but you survived the chaos, you survived Wonwoo and his ludic friend, Jihoon. You survived Yeeun and you survived Junhui.

You survived the Purge together.

✎ a/n: ugh. this is just one of those fics where you become v attached to the characters. i was able to write this quicker than expected (MINUS THE STUPID TWIST THAT STUMPED ME) bc i was truly invested in the plot, and i rly adored every moment of it. actually, this fic was supposed to be posted ages ago, i think last year? but last year was terrible in terms of my health and wellbeing, so i kinda forgot this fic existed as i went on my hiatus. anywho, in my opinion, the first purge film was the best.

i haven’t watched any of the newer purge movies tho, so they could be good! since im a horror/thriller fan, i liked the aspect of vulnerability the purge brought and how it forced ppl to invest in their capacity for violence, especially when the ppl they loved were involved. obviously - only for the fic lmao. bruh, during a real purge i am going to lock myself in the crawl space with a blanket and some cheerios. ALSO!!!! A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!! be proud of me!!!! this was an adventure!!! i hope you can enjoy the story as much as i!! hearing ur thots is appreciated as always!

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

12. Granny Out of Control a.k.a. headless chickens, Gene Simmons’ girlfriend and Rapunzel

In the previous chapters: Judy and Stone act after their embarrassing encounter in the shower as if it hadn’t even happened; they implicitly agree on not telling Mike that his one-night stand was just the consequence of Judy’s revenge-fueled rumors about Stone’s sexual preferences. Ed loses his voice so the show has to be canceled, Jeff offers to give guitar lessons to Judy instead in his spare time. Granny buys a metal magazine to learn more about Seattle-based rock bands; the picture of Pearl Jam makes her think the perfect match for Judy isn’t Jeff but Stone. Krisha picks Effie up in the city to tell her that Kelly Curtis and Susan Silver have plans with her as a photographer; she also gives her the list of codenames the band and crew members use at hotels. Effie also joins her when she feeds Stone’s unsociable cat, Red who is incompatible with all girls who try to approach him.

 „I don’t know, man… Are you sure you saw them?”

“Don’t piss me off, Schmitty, of course I’m sure. I know whom and what I saw.” I mumble as I put the flashlight back between my teeth. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Not only makes he me do this stupid act, he even drives me crazy with this weak-minded questioning in the meantime. The guy obviously watches too much TV. Especially detective shows about drug cartels.

“But let’s go over it again. Maybe you were wrong or misunderstood the situation or…”

I sigh, and take the flashlight out of my mouth only to direct the blinding ray of light in his face.

“Okay, but this is the last time. And I’m only willing to tell it again because I have nothing better to do and because technically, I can’t do anything else until we finish this. Open the bag and hold it.”

“Yes sir... so you went having a shower…”

“Not that it matters if I went showering or shitting but yes, I went to the restroom.”

“And you opened the door…” he goes on with the storytelling like a small child who already knows his favorite bedtime story by heart.

“And there were they, standing at the sinks…”

“Stop. Are you sure it was them?”

“Of course I am, I could recognize Judy and Stone from miles!”

“Are you 100 % sure?”

“No, I’m only 99 % sure because there’s a very small chance that they both have doppelgangers right in this town but let’s say I’m very likely to have seen them.” I confirm while I start portioning the green leaves into the plastic bag Schmitty is holding.

“And they were…”

“…basically naked.”

“Basically?” he asks like he’d never heard the word before.

“Yes, basically.”

“How do you mean “basically”?”

“What? I’m fucking around here with sharing my weed with you and you’re already high? Unbelievable…”

“No-no-no, seriously, man, you didn’t say “naked”, you said “basically naked”. Define the difference. It’s important.” he flails fussily.

“Stop shaking the bag, it’s difficult enough to do this only with one hand. So, uh, they weren’t completely naked, they both were wearing a towel…”

“The same towel or…?”

“Hah, interesting idea, but no, they both had their own towel on. But I assume none of them was wearing any underwear…”

“That’d be normal, I mean, after showering… but that’s the weakest point in your theory, them having a shower at the same time… it sounds so unreal.”

“Yeah, I thought the same until I found the only logical reason.”

“What? That you only dreamed the whole thing? Or that it was just an intense trip due to the shrooms Mike gave you?”

“I know it sounds unbelievable but at this point, I’m pretty much convinced they did it on purpose.” I close the bag and throw it at Schmitty who hides it immediately in the inner pocket of his jacket and pats himself on the chest satisfied.

“Thanks. But I can’t follow your thinking, Scully. Why’d they secretly meet in the shower?”

“I don’t want to shock you but… I think they had sex right before. I almost entered but then I glanced them and they were almost naked, both giggling and Judy was groping Stone and… I backed out, I was so surprised, I didn’t even know what to do…”

“But they hate each other.” Schmitty protests shaking his head.

“And? Since when can’t people who hate each other have sex with each other?”

“Man, this is too much to me, Stone has Amber at home, Judy is like a nun, they can’t stand each other so obviously, they have sex??? Bullshit, that’s all I can say. I don’t know what you saw but it definitely couldn’t be a post-coital scene.”

“Look, I don’t understand the exact reasons either but…”

“I’ve always been told that as soon as we start touring, girls will try to drag me in the tour bus all the time but I imagined it somehow different…”

We both freeze at the hearing of Stone’s smug giggling and our surprise only grows when we recognize the voice that belongs to his companion.

“Sorry for ruining your wet rock star dreams but it’s impossible here to talk to someone face-to-face, even the walls have ears in this crew.”

Schmitty and I exchange a meaningful look and to his nod, I turn the flashlight on the lowest level. Walls might not have ears here but this bunk bed curtain we’re hiding behind definitely does. Even four, to be exact.

“So what’s the purpose of this conspired, hyper-secret meeting, Camden? I’m hungry so let’s get over with this as fast as possible!”

Hungry, yeah, I can imagine. So you prefer quickies, Stoney?

“I just wanted to talk about yesterday.”

Schmitty stares at me with popped eyes, even his jaws drop of shock.

“Ha. So you were thinking about it?”

“Yes but not the way you think. I’m not gonna tell you tirades about how much I regretted it or stuff because I didn’t. I only want to ask if you talked to Scully about it?”

Schmitty grabs my forearm, digging his nails into it, his other hand is shaking uncontrollably.

“No and I don’t know why I should force it, I mean it happened, it’s embarrassing enough for both of us so let’s draw a veil over it.”

“It’s embarrassing for both of us? Do you really think I give a damn about that? I mean, okay, I lost control, which doesn’t happens really often to me but who cares, I can handle the consequences. You feeling embarrassed, now that’s the last thing I care about. But have you already thought about the feelings of your friend at least for one single second?”

We both furrow our eyebrows and her words probably found their marks since Stone doesn’t answer, which makes Judy go on with the pep talk.

“Okay, neither of us is going to say a word since we both have selfish interest in keeping it in secret but if Scully shoots his mouth off and he finds out about what happened… just think into it, it’d ruin his self-esteem. I mean, it’s inevitable that it turns out later but the best strategy is discretion. Now, it’d be too fresh for him, let’s wait until he forgets about this little… intermezzo.”

Schmitty covers his still opened mouth in complete horror and even I start feeling uncomfortable now that my intuition is basically confirmed.

“So, would you finally promise to talk to Scully?”

“Dunno… I’ll consider it.”

“Jesus Christ, Gossard, would it hurt not to piss me off once in a lifetime?”

“To answer your question, yes, it would but this time it’s not about you, Miss Fussy. I was just thinking that we should let it slide since after all, it’s not as a big deal as you think.”

You fuck her and then try to ditch her? Come on Stone, I thought you were better than this.

“I mean, you make such a fuss but I don’t think Scully would let it slip, he’s probably already forgotten about the whole scene. And if I came up with it, he’d just start overthinking it; when he knows he has to shut his mouth, he becomes gossipy all the more.”

Ha, thanks Stoney but just for the record, I don’t gossip, I just process things by discussing them with other people, see also at “coping mechanisms”…

“It’s you who’s overthinking it. Just stop protesting and do what I ask you. I even use the word “please”.”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll see what I can do, just leave me finally alone with this. Can I ask you something too?”

“It depends…”

“Could we stay here for ten… fifteen minutes? You know, it’s about my reputation…”

“Fuck off, Gossard!!!”

We both exhale with a deep sigh when we hear them leaving the bus.

“Holy. Shit.”

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. Dude, you were right!”

“Of course I was right, I always am, you just never believe me.“

“But… damn… I didn’t see that coming… Gahhh.” Schmitty facepalms, rubbing his forehead worried.

“I’m surprised, though, I thought they didn’t notice me.”

“Apparently, they did. Jesus, I doubt there’s something serious between them but now that I heard it with my own ears, it all makes sense! They hook up, they are both embarrassed since they are enemies, plus the Amber-factor… and poor Jeff, he has a massive crush on Judy and she knows it, maybe she tries to have two irons in the fire… So she convinced him to keep the fling in secret not to ruin her chances at Jeff… She looks so innocent and now she turns out to be an actual snake… Do you think Karrie knows about it?” he jabbers staring desperately in front of himself.

“Whoa, stop, dude, are you insane? She’s not a bitch, they just made a mistake and she freaked out. Her worrying about Jeff sounded genuine, after all, Stone is no perspective for her, he’s got that… he’s got Amber, whatever she is for him. And I don’t think Karrie knows anything, even if she does, she’ll pretend she doesn’t.”

“But this changes everything! Jeff is our friend too and I don’t want to lie to him.”

“Trust me, he’ll never ask “And tell me Schmitty, have Judy and Stone had sex?”, so you don’t have to.”

“You’re making fun of me but you know too how dangerous information these are so you’d better have a good idea what are we going to do know.”

“I’ll tell you, Schmitty: we’re gonna act casual. Just watch me.”

***

„There’s no chance I could reach that string. Just… no. I don’t have that muscle, I’m done.” I moan as I desperately try to stretch my pinky finger to play the next chord following Jeff’s instructions.

“Hey, relax, just reach a bit further, you’ve almost got it.” he chuckles and makes an insecure move to help me out but he changes his mind in the last moment and pretends he only wanted to scratch his arm. And I pretend not to have noticed it.

“No, it’s impossible, I can’t twist my wrist that much. I don’t have freakishly long fingers like Stone, it’s enough.” I give up and put the guitar aside. We’ve been practicing for like one hour, I played him my still rudimentary sounding song idea, of course without telling him what exactly it was. He improvised a bass line to it on his acoustic bass guitar, his fingers are still running back and forth over the strings despite the fact I stopped playing. When I was a kid, Grandpa would tell me that if you cut the head of a chicken, it can still run around for a few seconds before collapsing, maybe it’s a similar phenomenon. Or maybe it’s like when a freight train hits a car and it pushes the vehicle in front of itself for miles before stopping. Headless chickens and train wrecks, why am I thinking about stuff like these while hanging out with a nice guy?

“I’m sure you can do it if you practice it. Look, my fingers aren’t long either.” he raises his palm. Is he expecting me to measure mine to his by placing them together? Could we rather just draw them around and compare the drawings like small children? Okay, he’s got strong, manly hands, that’s not bad at all. But how can he stuff those thick fingers between the strings? And those jewelries, God, they are terrible. Would he mind if I asked him to put them off?

“No, I can’t. I’m not good at these moves, I’ve already tried to play the violin, it didn’t go well. It went awful.” I protest, rather to overtalk my racing thoughts than to argue with him. I hope he’s not going to ask me about the details, I don’t feel like telling him that story at all.

“Okay, it was you who asked me for help, so…” he shrugs with a half smile, his fingers are still nerve-wrackingly torturing the instrument.

“Actually it was you who offered to help so…”

“Fair enough. I don’t want to force it so… if you want to finish all your future performances by saying “sorry, now comes the chord which is incompatible with my wrist so go the fuck home” – then okay, I don’t care.” he puts down the guitar. I try to decode the expression on his face, is he disappointed or just casual or…?

“How do you do that?” I ask quickly, I can’t bear that look.

“What?”

“This… everything…” I flail helplessly.

“I don’t know… I think I got bored with doing nothing and wanted to try something new and I realized I could do everything instead of nothing.” he leans back with a challenging smirk.

“Geez, you spend too much time with Stone.” I roll my eyes. “I mean… I played you something and you immediately knew what to do with it. Your head is full of ideas and variations, can you hear the harmonies instinctively or…?”

“I don’t know… when I hear a melody, I start hearing the other parts in my head… but sometimes I just mess around and try different things to check if they can work as a song or as an idea that I can use later. I try to keep my ears fresh, I fight against crafting only bass lines in my head, that’s why I pick up the guitar from time to time. You know, if a bass player never leaves his comfort zone, after a while, he’ll tend to operate only with the same five or five notes, it’s like a tunnel vision… or tunnel hearing…” he ends his explanation with a shrug and a lopsided smile, as far as I’ve observed, he does that pretty often.

“That’s amazing… I envy you so much. I’ve been studying and playing music for as long as I can remember but I’ve never felt that… sense of liberty? I practiced my ass off, I learned everything I could, at Juilliard, we basically dissected classical musical pieces into single notes and… I developed some weird perfectionism in the meantime, I know how good music is supposed to be composed but… I myself just can’t do it. I was so busy with studying other people’s works that I couldn’t develop the ability to create something, it’s like… my knowledge paralyzed my creativity… Or that’s just what I keep telling myself because I1m not willing to accept the fact that writing music is a gift you can’t just earn by practicing and learning…”

“Maybe you’re right.” he shrugs again and his reaction somehow hits me hard; I don’t know why, though. “I think I’ve already mentioned you that I took piano lessons but I hated it. I found literally nothing intriguing in it, it was boring, I’ve never been into Beethoven or some shit like that.”

“What?” I frown. I didn’t expect him to like the same things I do but… could he just show at least a little interest in what I like? I even talked about art and skateboarding with him. Okay, he doesn’t owe me anything, we’re not dating and all but if he ever wants something from me… okay, he probably doesn’t, it was obviously just a stupid gossip.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to trash your music, it’s just not for me, I appreciate it but I don’t like it. I’m just a Montanan jerk, did you forget?”

“You’re not a jerk, don’t say that… I’m just… nothing, forget it.”

“No, if you want to say something, don’t swallow it. Did I hurt you?”

“You didn’t… I’ve just spent my entire life playing classical music so I can’t imagine how someone is able not to like it at all.”

“Same here with sports.”

“God, I hate sports!” I exclaim and I immediately begin to laugh realizing I’m not better than him either.

“You see? But speaking of your music studies, there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to ask.”

“No.”

“No what? Am I not allowed to ask the question?”

“No is the answer to the question.”

“But I haven’t even…”

“Trust me, it’s no.”

“If you say so…”

“I’m just kidding. Most people attack me when they learn I’m a musician asking if I’d sing or play something for them, it’s so annoying, it’s like the “grunge question’ of classical musicians…”

“Okay, I get it.” he smiles. “But that’s not what I was about to ask.”

“Thank God. So, I guess you don’t want me to teach you reading sheet music either, because that’s usually the second question, which is usually asked by people with no musical hearing at all...”

“No, it’s more of a… personal one.” he hesitates squinting at me for the final permission.

“Hit me.”

“Why are you here?”

“Here? Like, here and now, with you or…?”

“No, I mean, why are you here, with the band? You graduated from one of the most prestigious music schools on Earth, you could conduct top choirs or whatever… and you’re here, loading our shitty van every single night, smelling sweat and cigarette smoke, spending days in a tour bus with beer drinking ugly dudes… Why? I guess Juilliard graduates can pick whatever job offer they want so...”

“I’m here for the money.” I answer without thinking and it immediately sounds false. Am I? Really? “I came here for the money, I don’t deny it, I had no job and however terrified I was, something told me I had to take this opportunity.”

“But… as a classical musician trained at Juilliard… why this job? I just can’t get it.”

“Well… I’ve known for a very long time that the music of baroque era is in which I’m the most interested. It’s, you know, a passion to me, it’s like punk was to you. And if you want to be really good at it, you have to go to the place where it comes from. Here in the States, you can basically hear nothing that was written before Mozart.”

“Europe?”

“Exactly. So in my senior year, I applied for a scholarship of the music academy in Leipzig.”

“And…?”

“And I won it.”

“So you studied in Europe too?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because my father died a few months before I graduated and the small firm he ran died with him… it was a very complicated period so I asked the academy if I could postpone it by one year.”

He’s chewing his lower lip and speaks up only after digesting for a few seconds what he’s just heard.

“And they refused your application?”

“No, they sent me a kind acceptation letter in which they cited their scholarship regulation that said postponement is allowed once. So I moved back to Seattle and started teaching.”

“Oh. I guess something came up one year later too.”

“Well yeah, my sister’s almost dying, that came up.”

He exhales with a deep sigh, I have the feeling he already knew all the details, he just couldn’t do the math. Maybe Karrie told him our family saga. I don’t mind, though, I don’t feel like telling him those stories either…

“Well, that’s a lot… but it also sounds like… you gave up your dreams.”

Now it’s me who can’t do anything else but shrug.

“Maybe… or maybe, it was just a warning from the universe. I’m not religious but I do believe that everything happens with a reason, maybe you can’t find it out ever because it’s something bigger than you or your shitty little life. My family needed me and they still do, or at least they need my two hands I can make money with so… plus, I’ve always been terrified of performing. I have worst stage fright, I doubt I would be able to conduct in the spotlight of the world’s biggest concert halls… anyways… have you ever heard about famous, female conductors?”

“Normally, I’d say you’re a coward and you should follow your dreams but I understand the family factor, of course. And I don’t want to act like a hypocrite either, I could have looked for another graphic design program too when mine was canceled in Missula.”

“But changed your dream instead.”

“Exactly. And maybe that’s what you should do too if universe or God or Buddha or the spirit of Johann Sebastian Bach is trying to message you that you picked the wrong dream.”

“Are you trying to say I should switch my brain to believe loading shitty vans and smelling Scully’s and Schmitty’s stinky feet is my real dream?” I giggle.

“If that’s your way, than go for it, girl!” he plays the overly enthusiastic motivational trainer. We crack up but none of us is laughing heartfelt. His face finds finally rest in a genuine, encouraging smile. “Let’s raise our glasses to the new dreams!”

We both reach our hands to clink our imaginary glasses.

“To the new dreams!”

***

I’ve been on the road with them for days and nothing. Not a single move or a sound that’d confirm we’re following the right traces. And I’m thirsty. So thirsty. But they are so envious, I know they are hiding spare water in their stupid spacesuits or what but they claim they have nothing to share. Sure. I would never drink recycled pee, anyway. But those two moons look pretty cool, the night sky compensates me for every inconvenience I’ve experienced since we started chasing that gross sandworm… everything for the melange…

However important my mission is, it gets interrupted by three quick, impatient knocks on the door.

“You’ve been shitting in there for forty-two minutes! I know you’ve finished and you’re just reading! I have to pee! Get the fuck out of there! Why do you have to do this all the time?”

Maybe because this is the only place where I can have some progress with my current reading undisturbed? I reluctantly close the hardcover volume of Frank Herbert’s Dune and glance lazily at my wristwatch.

“First of all, it’s been only forty minutes. Second, it’s shorter than a blink of an eye, if you measure it in cosmic time. Not even applicable.”

“Okay, I can use astronomical metaphors too. My bladder is a red giant that is about to explode so…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, geez, urinary incontinence? You should see a urologist.” I remark opening the door. He basically tosses me out of is his way and almost slams it on my nose.

“It’s rather you who should see a doctor, fuck, Stone, what did you eat? Uuugh, I’m dying.” I hear his muffled indignation.

I lie down on my bed and stuff the pillow under my nape. I turn the pages back and forth for a few times until find the place where I was before Mike kicked me out. So, back to those goddamn pervert Fremen fuckers…

I barely manage to read a few lines, when Mike comes back and throws himself on his bed, unmuting the TV that is showing underdressed ladies caressing their own body and telling their erotic fantasies in seductive voice. I clear my throat. No reaction. I do it again, this time longer and louder. Nothing.

“Sorry, am I bothering?” I ask sharply but our guitarist seems to be completely immersed in the curves. “Okay, busted. I know you only went to the toilet to jerk off. You only watch Playboy TV and noname porn channels, you really need to get laid.”

“Done, last night. Remember?” he answers slowly and mindlessly, his eyes are still glued to the screen.

“No, because I wasn’t there, thank God.”

“You’re just envious because you have to practice celibacy, otherwise Amber would cut your balls off.”

I squint at the girls over my book.

“Not that I feel tempted. Jesus, I’m sick of these… udders…”

“Hey, watch your mouth! Those ladies deserve more respect! Especially her!” he points at the blonde, blue-eyed, busty woman on the screen who is dropping her lingerie standing at a bath tub.

“Why, who is she?” I look back at the text in front of me, not that I understand a word of it. Since I receive no answer I turn my head towards Mike only to see he sat up in the meantime and stares at me offended. “What? I have no idea.”

“That’s Shannon Tweed!!!” he flails outraged.

“… who is…?”

“Who is a goddess, Playmate of the Year in 1982 and last but not least, the girlfriend of Gene Simmons!”

“Oh. So she’s old as dirt.” I summarize laconically.

“Stone, what’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with big boobs? I thought you liked them… I mean, you are the guy who’s entitled to do anything with Seattle’s most spectacular pair of bosoms so…”

“Hey, you’re talking about my girlfriend!” I grunt.

“I’m talking about your girlfriend’s tits!”

“Exactly, that’s it! Don’t talk about my girlfriend’s tits! Anyway, how do you know what they look like?”

“Hey, first, I’m only talking about them. It’s called freedom of speech, First Amendment…”

“What the fuck, parts of the Constitution are printed now on beer tags or did I miss something?”

“…second, it is very difficult not to know what they look like, they basically poke your eyes out!”

“Only talking, ‘course.”

“Certain female anatomical features attract men’s eyes, it’s in our genetic code. Don’t even try to make me believe those features had nothing to do with you ending up with her. Wait!” he exclaims with a finger snapping. “Oh, I get it already. You miss her! That’s why you can’t stand the playmates on TV! But you could have said, it’s not a shame…”

“Dr. ‘Cready, expert of constitutional law and anatomy, psychotherapist. I’ve just said I don’t feel tempted…”

“Because those boobs” he points at the screen “are forbidden fruit and remind you of those boobs in Seattle.”

“You’re pointing in the wrong direction, Michael. You’re pointing at boobs in Indiana.”

“Whatever. You miss her, admit it. My boobies are over the ocean, my boobies are over the sea…”

“Stop!”

“My boobies are over the ocean so bring back my boobies to me…”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“BRING BAAACK, BRING BAAACK, BRING BACK MY BOOBIES TO ME, TO MEEEE!”

“I’m only saying that even huge breasts can be boring after a while.” I overshout his off-key singing.

Mike suddenly stops singing and just blinks at me completely frozen.

“You mean… you want to leave Amber?”

“Jesus, what did I do to deserve this?” I bury my face in my hands. “I mean… imagine your favorite food!”

“But that’s… risotto…?”

“Perfect!”

“But risotto doesn’t look like boobs!”

“Jesus, of course not, just imagine it!”

“Okay. Mmmh, it looks delicious. I can even feel its smell.” he moans with closed eyes.

“So you want to eat risotto now, right?”

“Oh yeah, I want it more than anything.”

“And if you could… or had to eat risotto every single day, would you feel the same?”

“Uhm, probably… not.” he opens his eyes.

“And here we are. If you’re in the position where you can play with huge breasts every day, it’s not such a big deal anymore.”

“Hm, makes sense…” he lies back. “But wait!” he sits up quickly again.

“What?”

“In that case, risotto wouldn’t be my favorite food anymore.”

“Yeah, probably…”

Congrats Sherlock. I drop my book on the nightstand, by now, I basically gave up all hope for finishing the chapter I was reading.

“But that means that you prefer small boobs now!”

“I didn’t say that but obviously, smaller tits have their appeal too. And there are girls who would look ridiculous with big breasts.”

My mind begins to wander involuntarily… Yeah, Amber is a bombshell and she drives me crazy whenever she’s around but I’ve always had a thing for more fragile looking girls…

“Who are you thinking about?” Mike asks greedily like a curious puppy.

“Jesus, no one.” I scoff frowning. “I mean, very slim girls look better with… proportionate breasts, you know, like small apples…”

I catch myself cupping my hands, what the hell, am I honking imaginable tits in the air? Okay, I have to talk to Eric to fly Amber here, I’m going to put an end to this, I’m pathetic.

“Say an example!”

What? I don’t know whom I was thinking about, I don’t even know if I was thinking about an existing person, maybe I was just fantasizing about freaky phantom breasts, I couldn’t even see them, it was just a desirable cleavage… and round hips… and shapely thighs…

“I can’t!”

“Just say an example, I don’t know, someone famous who looks like that, or someone who we both know…”

“Kylie Minogue?” I groan in agony. Hopefully I satisfied Mike’s need for a new protagonist for his erotic dreams because he only nods with an appreciative pout.

The ringing of the phone on the bedside between us interrupts our intellectual conversation and we both stare at the device surprised and confused for a few seconds, it’s usually us who call family members and friends, not the other way around. Finally, I decide to pick up.

“It’s Stone.”

“…” No one answers but I can hear some indistinct noises coming from the other end of the line.

“Hello… who’s that? Wo am I talking to?” I ask, and Mike pulls closer to the speaker of the receiver too.

“Ah… excuse me… I must have dialed the wrong number… you’re obviously not the Notre Dame Hunchbach…” an old female voice answers.

What the hell? Is this a prank call? Old people make phone pranks too?

“Who?” I mouth to Mike who mouths “Judy” as a response. Ah, yes. She also chose a codename, not that anyone is interested in her. “You’re talking to Dr. Hugh Jeego, but who am I talking to?”

“Ah, you must be Mr. Gossard. I’m Mrs. Albertson, Judy’s grandma.”

I almost drop the receiver.

“Ugh… uhm… hi, Mrs. Albertson, it’s nice to meet you… I mean, even if not in person but… I guess you wanted to call Judy so…” I make an attempt to finish this awkward intermezzo but she cuts me off.

“Actually, I am glad that I can talk with my Judy’s new colleague, this job is so different in comparison to what she worked earlier, you know, she taught in a school…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“…and now she’s with a rock band, and there are so many rumors about musicians, they drink and do drugs and…”

“We… we don’t drink… that much… not before shows…” I answer and Mike nods approvingly opening a beer can with a loud fizz. “… and we prefer herbs…”

“And mushrooms…” Mike adds.

“Shut up, you ruin everything!” I hiss between my teeth while I cover the microphone with my palm.

“Who was that?”

“It was… it was Mike, our lead guitarist.”

“Ah, Mr. McCready!”

Mike pats his chest proudly.

“Exactly, Mr. McCready…” I flip him the bird.

“I hope my Judy takes care of herself, she tends to become obsessed with work, she even forgets to eat… does she eat properly?”

“I’ve… I’ve seen her eating… so I guess she does…” I try to reassure her but I’m afraid I don’t sound very convincing; after all, the eating habits of Miss Smarty Pants don’t belong to my main interests.

“I wish she ate more, she’s so skinny, isn’t she?”

“She is… I mean, she’s slim. But like… not too slim. Her body is proportionate… I mean, physically, anatomically… her shape is feminine…  and when I say “feminine” I mean she’s not malnourished…” I babble and the small apple tits appear in front of my eyes again, Jesus, I’ve started losing my sanity… For some reason, Mike feels necessary to grab the receiver and yell a gratuitous, cheesy tirade into it.

“My learned colleague is trying to say that she’s a very pretty young lady, with all the respect, of course. She’s the most virtuous girl I know, she behaves well, you can be proud of her, Mrs. Albertson.”

Yes, Mrs. Albertson, exactly, your grandchild behaves well, she brought condoms only enough for a whole fuckin’ football team, safety first… I snatch the receiver out of Mike’s hand and lift it back to my ear but before I could finally get rid of the old lady, the TV catches my attention. While we were listening to the phone call, the harmless playmate fantasies ended and the channel started airing hardcore porn. And either was the petting part very short or it didn’t even exist since the “characters” are pretty much in the middle of things and before we could react anything to avoid the disaster, the actress starts screaming rhythmically.

“What was that noise? Are women with you too?” the old woman inquires suspiciously.

“Turn down the volume, for fuck’s sake!!!” I scream-whisper to Mike.

“No, we’re alone, Mrs. Albertson… we’re just watching TV… Murder She Wrote, someone is being killed!” Mike improvises aggressively poking the remote. “It’s not working…” he groans with a miserable expression.

“Oh, I like that show… which episode? Maybe I turn on the TV to watch it too...”

If you knew… In the meantime the man starts moaning too so the obvious noises grow even louder.

“Oh, the murderer is being killed too!” I try to win some time for Mike, I admit, it wasn’t the most creative lie I’ve ever said…

“I’m saying it’s not working, it must be contact failure or low battery…” he explains beating the remote against his palm at full strength, creating a counterpart to the sound of the bodies snapping against each other on the screen.

“It’s the episode about the slasher.” I maintain the conversation and then address Mike again. “Then use the power button on the TV device or throw it the fuck out of the window, I don’t care, just do something!!!”

“Ah, great idea!” his face lights up and finally, he walks to the TV and turns it off. I swear, I thought for a second he was going to choose the window version, like Keith Moon. I’m sure he was considering it but found the box too heavy.

“It’s over…“ I transmit to Mrs. Albertson.

“It ended with a cliffhanger, what a shame…” Mike remarks and I can barely suppress my snorts.

“I hope for a happy ending…” I grin, Mike presses his pillow against his face, while the poor lady obviously doesn’t even know what to say. After a few seconds of silent, body-shaking laughter, he rearranges his face muscles and takes the receiver away from me.

“It was a pleasure to meet to you, Mrs. Albertson. Judy is a great girl and as far as we know, Effie too, please, hug her for us. I hope we can meet you in person too, when we get back.”

“I admit, I’m relieved, I want you to know I think you are just darling guys. And now, I call the Notre Dame Hunchbach, as I intended to. Goodnight, Mr. Gossard, Mr. McCready.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Albertson.” we sing in unison.

After I hang up the phone, we stare at each other silently for long moments, before we burst out laughing hysterically.

***

Great. She’s late. She promised she’d be waiting for me at the bar counter at 9 p.m. I’m doing the third circle in this goddamn place and she’s nowhere to be found. Okay, RCKNDY is actually my favorite place and I was happy when Krisha offered to meet me here to unveil Kelly’s and Susan’s “great idea” about which I only know at this moment that it concerns my photos. The cigarette smoke irritates my throat and some unknown band is in the middle of sound check on the stage, the indistinct guitar noises and the female lead singer’s instructions blast at random moments from the speakers causing me mild heart attack every single time and making the crowd members overyell them. Despite the early hour, the place is packed; I can barely struggle through the mass of flannel-wearing guys and girls. Early hour… what am I talking… now that my lifestyle converges on clinical death, both metaphorically and literally, I usually spend my evenings in front of the TV wearing my pajamas. It’s good Krisha picked this day, Mom is working at that new side job again so I didn’t have to make anything up to prevent her from asking suspicious questions.

I visited the restroom to kill some time but it just made me frustrated all the more since I involuntarily became the audience of a bunch of girls, one of them was gushing about the kissing skills of her current crush… gah, I can’t believe I turned into this sour bitch, just because I’ll end up as a spinster, she’s entitled to have some fun…

Almost fifteen minutes have passed by and she still hasn’t shown up yet. I can’t hang out with Victor either, he’s helping with putting the finishing touches at the sound check. I guess I have to wait then. I pick a bar stool and try to decipher the list of beverages on the wall.

“What can I get for you?” a red-haired bartender girl asks. Her question catches me off-guard, since my good old answer “beer” hasn’t been an option for a while and I didn’t have enough time to consider the alternatives. She’s chewing gum with a bored face, reminding me of a ruminant… a hot ruminant.

“Uhm… I… ugh, I haven’t…” I jabber and she reacts with an impatient eyeroll, the countless bracelets are clinking around her wrist as she runs her fingers through her red mane.

“I’d like to have a virgin mojito.” I utter the first thing that comes to mind. She acknowledges my choice with a scornful scoff… Yeah, in case I haven’t felt embarrassed enough yet, she makes obvious that she’s the sexy and cool femme fatale and I’m a straight-edge cripple in a boring, worn, brown jacket.

“Hey, here you are!” someone grabs my shoulders.

“Me? I’ve been waiting for you for like… hours?” I frown while Krisha settles down on the bar stool next to me and places her beer on the counter.

“Gosh, sorry!” her eyes pop as she checks her wristwatch. “I arrived too early and went to the executive office to meet a few friends.” she points at some people talking in front of a door that probably belongs to the office rooms. “That’s Alex, he runs this place, he’s a good friend of Stone, by the way. And that girl next to him works here too, she’s the girlfriend of Regan.”

I observe the girl she’s talking about, she has a nice, bright smile. Fantastic. Krisha knows everyone here… and I have no idea who these people are, and by the way, I’m nobody.

“Regan?” I furrow my eyebrows. “It’s a unique name, I swear I’ve heard it but I can’t place it…”

“He’s also an old friend of mine. And of Stone of course. You might know his name because he played in Malfunkshun with Andy. I mean Andy Wood.”

“Wood.” we say the name at once. “Of course I know his name, I didn’t grow up in a cave…” I explain, maybe in a sharper tone than intended.

“Oookay… “ she raises both hands defensively. “Actually, Regan almost became the drummer of Mother Love Bone, until they replaced him with Greg Gilmore. They made Stone fire him, I was thinking “okay, that’s it, he’s gonna hate us forever” but somehow, he managed to convince him by using logical reasons. If you ever want to fire a drummer, just call him because he’s your guy.” she nods meaningfully and takes a sip of her beer.

“Based on my sister’s opinion, drummers probably leave the band willingly, after having spent some time with him.” I remark dryly. “Thank you.” I reach for my drink and slide the money towards the phlegmatic redhead. I suppress a smile when I see her realizing with disappointed face that I spared the tip. What was she thinking, seriously?

“Oh yes, I forgot your sister and you sew Stone-shaped voodoo dolls in your spare time. By the way, Regan has played with a guy called Shawn for a few years, he’s a huge talent. The dude is a Prince-freak, which is somehow odd in a city where you can’t make a single step without stomping on a distortion pedal but he’s an awesome singer. AND they are planning to jam with Stone as soon as he gets back. I can give you the address of their rehearsal room in case you want to assassinate him…”

“No, thanks, I already know where he lives so…”

“Right!” she slaps herself in the forehead.

“Anyway, can I finally learn why we’re here?”

“Soon. We’re waiting for someone… I’m going to introduce you to someone… who has a job offer for you!”

“Wow… let me guess… healthcare branch has discovered me and they want me to be the face of some firm’s dialyzer portfolio?” I squint at her as I loudly slurp my cocktail.

“Damn, you nailed it!” she bangs her fist against the counter. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell you anything until she arrives, you need to be punished for the self-deprecating joke.”

“Spank me…” I mumble but my retort stays unnoticed since Krisha stares in an indefinite direction next to me sending an enthusiastic wave towards someone.

“Look, Jer is here too.” she points at the target of her smile and I follow her gaze only to recognize Jerry Cantrell… he’s wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket with a white tee.

“Wait… didn’t… didn’t you mention… I mean, you dated, didn’t you?” I ask confused, trying to form coherent sentences. It’s not going well.

“Yeah, we did.” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“But exes are supposed to hate each other…” I try not to turn around too obviously, so I remove a non-existing hair from the shoulder part of my jacket. While he’s slowly walking through the crowd, I notice he’s holding hands with a long, brown-haired girl. She has a perfect body and she’s probably completely aware of it since the tight leather pants highlight every curves of her. Sure, a 10/10 chick for a 10/10 guy, that’s how world has always worked… His hair is let down… I catch myself smiling, Dad insisted on calling him Rapunzel…

“It was just a summer fling and we realized after a few dates that we weren’t made for each other. So no one got hurt.” she shrugs. “Anyway, we share the building with the management of Alice in Chains so we knew we would run into each other all the time. The music scene of this city it’s like a big, incestuous family so…”

We both crack up.

“Oh no…” she sighs annoyed, staring over me again. I don’t know what’s going on in her head but it must have to do something with another twenty-eight people I’ve never met. “DON’T TURN AROUND!” she yells at me when I try to check the cause of her reaction.

“Why, what’s…?”

“It’s too late, I guess she’s already noticed us… or hasn’t she? Bow your head…” she leans on the counter, letting her hair cover her face.

“What the fuck?”

“I said bow your head… avoid eye contact… shit, I don’t have the nerves for this right now…”

“Krisha? Oh my god, it’s you, I haven’t seen you for ages!” I hear a powerful female voice from behind my back.

“Oh, hi Amber, it’s nice to see you!” Krisha groans with a painful smile, lifting her head and letting herself be pulled in a half-embrace resigned. I have to bite my lips to prevent myself from giggling since she sends a cross-eyed grimace to me over the girl’s shoulder. So she must be Stone’s Amber.

“Hey, are you here with your little friend?”

And that must be me. I involuntarily straighten up as much as I can but despite the high bar stool, I’m still shorter than her in her heels. I wonder if Red peed into these ones too… Now that I’m checking her out properly, I realize somehow she doesn’t belong here. Mini dress, heels, perfect makeup… That’d be Stone’s type?

“Uhm, this is Effie, she’s the sister of the band’s new monitor engineer…”

“Ah, Julie, you see, I know everything…” she knocks on his temple with her index finger a few times. “I’m Stoney’s girlfriend.” she grabs my hand and shakes it aggressively. I don’t correct her, I just exchange a quick look with Krisha, her eyes confirm that it wouldn’t make sense anyway.

“And… are you going to stay for the gig too?” Krisha nods towards the stage after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Oh, no, I’m going partying with my girls, I just checked in, I wanted to say hi to Alex and ask him for a favor. We’re organizing a grunge-themed fashion show and this place would be a perfect place for it.”

“A what?”

Krisha’s face radiates shock and disgust at the same time.

“You know, this grunge thing is blowing up, the firm is about to launch a collection, you know, flannel shirts, jackets, shorts with leggings, so we’re looking for a grungy place to present it…” she explains with huge hand moves. As she begins to explain the details of her brilliant idea, I get immediately distracted. Not only because my mind is desperately trying to ignore this nonsense but because I spot Leather Pants Chick at the same sport were Alex and his colleague were standing a few minutes ago. Only a few seconds pass by until her partner arrives too, he immediately pulls her closer by her hips as he leans against the wall… they engage into a make-out session without hesitation. Jerry digs his fingers into her hair and as things are getting more intense, his hands slowly wander along her back until they reach and firmly grab their destination…

I swear it wasn’t so hot in here when I arrived, I can feel my face is burning, I’m sweating like I was in hell… Yeah, being forced to watch a hot guy smooching with a girl who isn’t you but in exchange, is much prettier than you, that’s how I imagine the first circle of hell. I can barely peel myself out of my jacket, my elbow gets stuck when Amber grabs its sleeve. I’m still a little dazed-off and stare at her expressionlessly while I’m trying to pick up the threads of conversation.

“...exactly like this one, thrift clothes are so trendy now, where did you get this one?”

She shakes the sleeve of my jacket impatiently, making me realize that’s what she’s talking about. Should I tell her the truth? That it’s not from a thrift shop, that it’s original, that Judy and I pooled the money we earned at our summer jobs together and made an agreement about taking turns on wearing it six years ago?

“I can’t… can’t remember…” I manage an effortless answer.

“You have a great taste, we three should do a thrift store tour together.” she rants on.

“Totally.” Krisha tries to seem enthusiastic but she rather reminds me of a snarling serial killer.

“Okay, I have to go, oh my god, I’m late and I haven’t even talked to Alex. We could hang out in the city next week, call me, Krish! And bring your new friend too!” she winks at me. “See you, later girls!” she finally leaves us alone, the quick tapping of heels echoes in my head even after she has disappeared behind the office door. Krisha grabs her glass and drinks its content for one sip.

“Ah, I feel much better now.” she sighs. “I’m afraid my phone is about to die. I may not be able to make phone calls for a while.”

I snort into my drink.

“I must say, she’s not the girl I’d imagine as Stone’s girlfriend.”

“Trust me, she’s not the girl whom anyone would imagine as his girlfriend. But seeing them together is always like a free circus ticket, it’s pretty funny, especially when you have coke and popcorn too.”

“Sooo… where’s the mysterious person who we’re waiting for?” I look around, although I have no clue what physical characteristics I should look for, I don’t even know if we’re talking about a man or a woman. As my gaze slowly wanders around the room, I admit to myself unwillingly, that I exactly know what I’m looking for. Long, blonde hair, black leather jacket and a white shirt. The realization makes me blush, I feel like in those good old high school days, trying to casually encounter my current crush who doesn’t even know I exist. Why am I like this all the time? Why? I’m such an idiot…

“Okay, I check Alex’s office, maybe we misunderstood each other and she went in without me noticing her. And I’m sure Alex needs some spiritual support too, the recovery will be tough for him. Do you wanna come?”

“No, I… I’d rather wait here.” I answer quickly, flushing, I’m stupid, stupid, stupid… “So it’s a she?” I shout after Krisha but she just waves me off laughing.

So… what was I thinking? I could have join her and meet her cool friends but I chose to drink here alone, not that I don’t feel lonely enough. And I ran out of drink in the meantime too… I want to procrastinate the next round until the other, friendlier bartender shows up again but unfortunately, the red-haired demon spots my empty glass and elbows on the counter opposite me with a challenging, patronizing smile.

“May I bring you a next lemonade?”

I’m about to snap back but a pleasant male voice over my head makes me change my mind.

“One more of this, whatever it is. And the lady is my guest.”

[mycomfortblanket]

Written in Ink

Chapter 2

“You’re Aang,” there was no question in her voice.

“You’re Toph.”

“And we’re leaving, come on Zuko,” Katara says, pulling Zuko away from the other two.

The air between the two of them gets immensely awkward. Aang can't take his eyes off of her, his thoughts are running a million miles an hour, and the only thought that would come to the forefront of his mind was of all the soulmates out there, he certainly could have gotten worse.

“Listen, I really don’t want to come off as this arrogant bitch who is always unsatisfied, but the whole soulmate thing doesn’t sit well with me. It’s nothing against-” Toph started but Aang lets out a big sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank god. I was trying to figure out how to break it to you that I didn’t want to do the soulmate thing either.”

“Seriously?” Toph asks, her eyebrows raised, “Well, alright then. Uh, I’m going to head home. Long day and all,” she says, standing up and begins to walk towards the front door.

Aang immediately jumps up and reaches for her elbow, “Wait, you’re walking all the way home?”

Toph turns towards him, “Yeah. I do it all the time, Katara and Zuko are dating, and I don’t exactly like to be third wheel.”

“Let me walk you home.”

“Ha. Aang, no offense, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I can get home fine on my own.”

“I’m not saying you’re a damsel in distress, but it’s not polite for me to just watch you walk out the door at this time of night and let you walk home,” he says, his voice taking on a frustrated tone.

“Whatever. But, you’re wasting your time.”

“How long have you worked at Iroh’s place?” she asks, her cane clicking against the concrete every now and then.

“About a year now, I think. I’m not entirely sure.”

Toph looks over in his direction, “You mean to tell me you’ve worked there for a year and I’m just now meeting you? Katara and I go there all the time.”

“Well, Zuko and I didn’t get along too well at the beginning so Iroh had us working different shifts, so that’s probably why we never met. Or I wasn’t assigned to your table, although, all things considering, I think I would have remembered seeing you,” he says, muttering the last part.

A blush spreads across Toph’s cheeks and she dips her head hoping that he doesn’t notice. She really wasn’t liking this. The small butterflies that she had been feeling all night while talking to him had erupted to giant ass pterodactyls seconds after she learned his name.

She was trying her damn hardest not to walk closer to him or lean into his space to smell him. She kept repeating in her mind her beliefs about the Names and how horribly suffocating they were. She should be free to choose who she wants and when she wants, not when some stupid inscription shows up on her skin.

Toph was trying to keep the distance between them and not ask any personal questions but somehow, they seemed to be pulled together by an invisible wire until their hands brushed. She would pull herself away and she could feel him pull away as well, the blush rising higher on her cheeks.

They finally come to her apartment building and she begins walking up the steps but stops and turned back towards him, “Thanks for walking me home. Sorry about the Names.”

“It’s fine. Was bound to happen, right? Anyways, I’ll see you later,” he steps off the bottom step and watches her walk into the building and punch the button for the elevator.

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

“I just don’t see how a guy working with Zuko that he didn’t get along with never came up!” Toph says harshly into the phone. She’s pacing back in forth in her living room trying not to lose her cool too much.

“I’m sorry! I thought the name was familiar but it was so long ago that it didn’t even register who it was.

“Whatever. Did you tell Zuko anything?” Toph asks slightly more calmly.

“No, you told me not to. When he asked, I just... distracted him.”

“I don’t want to think about how you distracted him. It’s fine. I probably won’t see him again. I mean, he worked at Iroh’s place for a year and we never bumped into each other, so it’s fine!”

It was not fine. Now that they have met, they couldn’t seem to stop running into each other. Literally. The first time was a complete accident. Aang had opened the door to the Jasmine Dragon, Iroh’s restaurant, rather quickly and Toph’s cane became stuck underneath the door. The two of them spent at least ten minutes trying to get it unstuck and arguing about whose fault it was.

The next time is in her own home. She had walks out into the living room after a shower in nothing but a towel and her headphones in and makes her way over to the kitchen. Apparently, Katara, Zuko, and Aang were hanging around the kitchen table doing various forms of homework.

She's digging around in the fridge looking for her Naked smoothies (ironic right) when a gentle hand came to her shoulder and takes out an earbud, “Toph, people are here.”

“WHAT?!” Toph whips around and rips out the other earbud. She clutches the towel close to her body, “Who is here?!”

“Uh, it’s me, Zuko, and uhhh… Aang,” her voice going low when she says his name.

Toph’s face immediately went blood red, “Why didn’t you tell me we had people over?!” she hisses.

“Well, you were in the shower and I wasn’t paying attention when you got out, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever, it’s fine. Fuck. Just warn a girl next time,” and with that, she opens the fridge back up and continued looking for her drink.

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

He's focused on the algebraic equation but glances up with he heard a soft voice singing along to Black by Pearl Jam, his favorite song. Toph’s walking through the living room, skirting the furniture and reaching out to lightly set her fingers on corners as she passes.

She’s in nothing but a short towel, her hair piled on top of her head and her earbuds placed firmly in her ear. She walks over to the fridge and begins rummaging around, her fingers dancing from item to item. When she leans over, more of her legs become visible, and Aang can’t help but stare. She’s fucking gorgeous and the more skin that exposed to him, the more he wants to see.

As soon as Toph bends over, Katara is out of her seat and moving over to Toph to let her know of the audience in the kitchen. Even though Katara spoke low when she said his name, he instantly knew when it registers with Toph that he is seeing her in little to nothing.

Her eyes scan the kitchen listening for a sound that would direct her to him. Somehow, her eyes land right on him and they make unintentional eye contact which steals his breath away.

He immediately drops his head onto the table unable to keep looking at her. Toph’s bare shoulders were free of any freckles or acne and looked as smooth as silk. He so badly wanted to run his fingers across her shoulders to see if his assumption is correct.

Once Toph’s freak out is over, she bends back down and continues looking for something before she snatches it out of the fridge and walks back to her room.

Katara sits down, her cheeks having a slight blush to them. She glances up at Aang who still has his head down on the table.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. It's just a lot harder to stay away from her than I thought.”

“I still don't understand why you two won't just talk to each other and get together. You guys had such a great time at the party,” Katara says in a low voice so Toph doesn't hear from her room.

“I just… I can't get emotionally attached to someone right now. It's… complicated,” Aang says, hoping that's the end of the discussion.

“Explain it to me then,” Katara says smartly, leaning back in her chair with her arms over her chest. She raises an eyebrow at him and waits for him to start talking.

“I just… I don't know. My guardian, Monk Gyatso, he past away a year or two ago from some form of rare lung cancer. And just, ever since, I- I don't know. I just haven't wanted to be close to anyone I guess? It sounds stupid when I say it out loud but, in my head it makes sense to me…” Aang says, his voice trailing off at the end of his sentence.

Katara makes a humming noise in the back of her throat in acknowledgment and cuts her eyes away from Aang and over to Zuko.

“Has Zuko ever told you about his family?”

Zuko's eyes go wide when she brings the topic up. Why on earth would she want to talk about that?

“Long story short, when I met him, he was this super angry person, could barely get a word in without his temper flaring up,” she says, waving her hand in the air.

“That's not true,” Zuko grumbles.l

“It totally is true. When his Name first appeared on his skin, we had actually just made eye contact. He immediately came up to me and started giving me shit for walking into his life, saying that he had enough to deal with and I didn't need to add to it.”

“Oh whatever, I did not say that!”

“You most certainly did. And being the stubborn person I am, I poked a finger in his chest and made him back down. It was slow and hard work, some serious fights broke out between us that I won't go into. But, in the end, it was completely worth it,” she says, her eyes softening when she looks back at Zuko.

Aang takes a deep breath and sits back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table in front of him, “Yeah, that's great and all, but it's not always like that. Plus, she doesn't want it either.”

“Oh, I know her reasoning and it's because she's stubborn about having things decided for her, that's it. Her parents growing up were incredibly over protective cause she’s blind,” she gestured towards Toph’s room, “She would act out any chance she could, which honestly, just made the whole situation that much worse.”

Aang looks over to the hallway that Toph had disappeared down. Glancing back at Katara, he just shrugs his shoulder before picking up his pen and continuing his homework.

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

Later that night, Toph heard Katara yell for her from the kitchen. She walks in there in a large tshirt and sweatpants, her hair down and falling over her shoulders. She had put on her baggiest clothes to hide herself after the incident that had happened earlier

“Sokka and his girlfriend are coming over to watch some movie that Zuko has been raving about. Do you want to watch with us?”

Toph just nods her head as she walks into the kitchen and hops up on the counter as Katara rummaged around the kitchen, preparing something to eat.

“Is Aang going to be there?” She asks, fiddling with the wooden spoon Katara had just taken out.

“Uh, I'm actually still here,” he says from the kitchen table.

“Oh. My bad. So, princess, what's for dinner?” Toph asks, trying to ignore Aang and the butterflies that erupt in her tummy.

“Zuko ordered some pizza, I'm making brownies, Sokka is bringing snacks and yes, before you ask, he did get you your blue sour straws,” Katara says, cutting off any outburst Toph may have had.

An hour later, everyone had arrived and Aang had been introduced to Sokka as Zuko’s coworker and nothing more, and Sokka’s date had been introduced at Suki, and nothing more. Katara had set up the tv to the opening scene of the movie and wis waiting for everyone to grab their slice of pizza, snacks, and drinks and pick their spots for the movie.

Toph was the last one into the living room as usual, “Okay all you seeing-eyed creatures, let’s just make this easier for everyone, where am I sitting?

“Mmm,” Katara says, swallowing her bite of pizza, “Other end of the main couch, next to Aang.”

“Shocker,” Toph mumbles, too low for anyone to hear. She makes her way over to her spot and sits down between Aang and the arm of the couch. She leans her elbow on the arm of the couch and attempts to move herself a little further away from him nonchalantly.

Aang leans into her a little more and she can feel his breath move the hairs around her neck just before he says, “You’re being totally obvious you know.” His light laugh causes the corners of her lips to turn up involuntarily.

“My bad,” she says, sitting back normally on the couch.

“If my cooties really bother you that much, I can sit on the floor.”

Toph snorts which draws the attention of Katara and Suki but they say nothing, “No, sorry. I’ll behave. I’ll be normal.” She pulls her legs up on the couch with her, sitting criss cross applesauce, her knee resting against Aang’s thigh and the other resting on the arm of the couch. She puts her elbow on the arm as well and leans her cheek against her fist and listens to the movie.

The heat from Toph’s knee seeps into his pants and it’s all he can think about as the movie continues. She opens her bag of sour straws and points them over his way, offering him one. It takes him a full three seconds to take his mind off her knee touching his thigh to acknowledge the fact that she is offering him some of her snack. Grabbing on quickly, he shoves it in his mouth and looks over at her.

She is still looking straight ahead, although a lot more bored. “You bored?” he whispers to her.

She jumps slightly, but turns her head to whisper back, “Yeah. Action movies are kind of hard to follow along with since, you know, I can’t see the ‘action scenes’,” she says, using quotation marks around ‘action scenes'.

About half way through the movie, she shifts so that both of her feet are curled up on the couch with her, resting against the arm of the couch and just barely touching him. She lays her head down fully onto the arm of the couch as well and closes her eyes.

He honestly doesn’t blame her for being bored. He’s bored.

He’s always hated action movies so he can’t imagine how bored she must be trying to decipher people with British accents talk during loud car chasing scenes. Eventually, he leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes as well.

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

The screen finally fades to black and it seems that only Katara and Zuko are still awake. She looks around the room and notes that Aang is leaning against Toph, his head resting against her shoulder as she rests against the arm of the couch.

Sokka is spread out longways across the other couch with his back tucked into the corner and Suki in between his legs, using his chest as a makeshift pillow.

“No offense, but that movie sucked,” Katara whispers standing up from the couch and stretching, popping her back in multiple places.

“Hey, 007 movies are amazing, you just don’t appreciate them correctly…” the two of them head towards her bed room as he continues ranting about the cinematic wonder world of Agent Bond.

[real-fanta-sea]

If you're serious about the kiss thing...... You should do trikey with 56? Mikey's getting irritated about all the shit in Trevor's house

yep I’m serious, thanks for the request! It was fun to play with it, especially the part of annoyed Michael :D I used some strong language here, just so you know. 

Ok, here we go *cracks knuckles*

Apart from being an exceptional place to hide from all kinds of law enforcement and pissed off gang bosses, Sandy Shores provides another highly valued quality - it's fucking hot. And not that convenient 'oh look it's the first sunny day of spring' kind of wee warm, but the brutal, penetrative heat of working by deep fryer in McDonald's during summer.

Michael smacked his lips, belched and threw an empty bottle over the battered railing of the front porch. It clanked and landed on dusty ground with a satisfying crunch, and the sun dried it in an instant. He lost count on how many of them he has already downed and disposed of, but drinking didn't help no matter what style he tried. Slow, fast, cold, warm. He tried everything. Except feeling a bit sluggish, there was no effect the lukewarm pisswasser could ever have on him after years of self-taxidermy with whiskey and coke.

The street went gradually silent by the time he finished yet another bottle, shadows grew longer, and the sun grilled him from a slightly different angle. A chatter of people was replaced by an out-of-tune orchestra of crickets and the Eagles blasting from a radio somewhere in the neighbourhood, both flowing through the air with the flavour of barbecue.

Another day successfully wasted Michael thought and shifted on the couch. If only the TV would work, he could have spent it watching movies. Or not, because the tin can ramshackle got so hot during the day he could barely breathe there. Fucking Trevor. If it wasn't for him, he could be sitting by a pool full of ice, eating ice cream and slurping milkshakes from frozen tits. Maybe even pay the girl to ride him, so he didn't have to move a finger. Or better yet, tie Trevor up, throw him into his tailgater, lock him there and make him watch them fuck... But did he really want it? Wouldn’t he be the one who would instantly let him out and have a wild make up sex with him?

An annoyed grunt later, Michael lazily tugged on the hem of his, now very rural looking, tank top and dried his forehead with it. Something deep within knew he shouldn't have used the words Trevor and Fuck in one sentence because it awakened a part of him he should better let sleep. That part that supplied his tipsy brain with vivid images of long limbs locked around him, dark hair all over dirty pillows and amber eyes rolled back, set in a very flushed face... No, nope, it wasn't what he wanted to think about, in fact, he just wanted another beer. Yeah, another beer to make that awkward semi go away. And maybe strip off his top to make that damn heat go away? Yup, that was what he wanted. Aaaand a cigarette. Perfection.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Michael's half snore was interrupted by a sound of shutting the car door and heavy boots stomping through the cooling dust. A quick glance from the porch told him the Bodhi was back from where it took off in the morning, and there was a tall figure growling near it, shuffling some boxes in the back. For a second, Michael thought he actually moved back in time, because his back was killing him pretty much the same way it did in the morning with the same taste of beer on lips. The only detail that didn't quite match was that his torso was now naked and pearled with sweat, and there was quite a lot of bottles and cans right below the railing.

Slowly and carefully, Michael stood up and stretched like a fat cat after a good afternoon nap. Trevor was still caught up by the truck, which gave M enough time to step a bit closer to the stairs and lean on a post to regain stability while observing the sight right in front of him. Trevor never was the most ripped guy, but the way his arms bulged when he lifted a box made Michael weaker than he would admit, and the way his jeans perked up his ass when he squatted made his mouth dry. Why the hell did he have to wear that black sleeveless top? Michael thought. He knows whenever he does, we end up fucking...

Just as he lip his bit for thinking about T that way, his best friend turned around for the first time since he arrived and locked eyes with Michael. For a brief moment, he looked surprised, even taken aback by that idiotic drunk grin on Michael's face and the way he leaned against the only solid post of the house, but it soon was replaced by pure fury.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That was actually an excellent question. Or it would be, if Michael knew the answer to it.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You SLUT!!!"

Trevor charged towards him full speed in a split second and made Michael jump a little harder than he thought it would and jammed his lower back against the table, and both M and table cried in pain.

"What the fuck, Trevor! What's your fucking problem... ouch..."

Trevor leapt up the stairs, grabbed one of Michael's wrists and yanked him towards the door he kicked open.

"You fucking whore, YOU are the problem!"

Michael's brain quit the chat altogether and bailed out on him, leaving him staring on Trevor with gaping mouth and slightly raised eyebrows. He stumbled through the door, unable to free himself from Trevor's grip, and when T shut the door and threw him back first on them only to grab his shoulders to keep him still, all he could do was to stare into his fiery eyes.

"What were you thinking, showing off your tits to all our neighbours, huh?"

Michael gulped when Trevor leaned closer. Over the past few weeks, he learned the smell of gasoline and tobacco meant sloppy fucks on the kitchen counter and hungry kisses with bitten lips. That night, it all was topped with a gun powder.

"you dirty bitch, I leave you home alone for one day and when I come back what do I see? A pair of your slutty knockers right in my face."

His hands suddenly decided to fight his stupor, and as he felt Trevor's breath on his neck, he tugged on T's top and hungrily squeezed waist found there. The only answer was a deep purr and wet tip of Trevor's tongue right where his pulse drummed against the fine skin. With a small moan, he yanked Trevor closer and collided their hips, but Trevor was faster and grabbed both his wrists and pinned them against the tin door.

"You horny bitch, did showing off make you hot and wet? Or are you just happy to see me?"

Trevor's anger was gone, now replaced with his usual horniness, as he ground his hips against Michael's to let him know the thought got him hot too. And god that shit-eating grin on his face when he leaned in and bit Michael's lip, but didn't go for a full kiss... That was the point of no return. That fucking tease! Michael trashed under him and actually managed to get both hands freed just to leap forward and literally throw them both trough the bathroom door, for Trevor to land on the toilet bowl.

Michael could barely hear the sound of boxes and bottles clacking, falling to the dirty ground as he straddled Trevor and grabbed his head to steal that kiss he wanted since he saw him outside. Trevor just did his best to balance them both on the tiny bowl and waved his arms around, trying to grab onto something solid. Just as Michael decided to nib on Trevor's lip lightly and open T up for a nice french action, something hit the back of his head with an annoying accuracy. Then it clanked on the ground, followed by choked laughter and sound of plastic rustling. Michael instinctively shot up and stumbled back, massaging the hit place.

"Ouch! T, what the fuck was that?!"

"That was a shower curtain, cupcake... I must have torn it when you tried to flush us both down the bowl..."

"and you won't even say sorry you prick?"

"hmmm, how about showing you how sorry I am?"

Trevor possessed this strange ability to appear out of nowhere and cover M with kisses and hugs. Michael noticed only then how much taller Trevor really was when he was pinned against the shower wall and two hot hands slid past the waist of his jeans, kissing his lower lip too gently for Michael's liking. At first, he went with the flow, burying his fingers to Trevor's stubble and hair on the back of his head just to push him closer. Still, he set his mind to he didn't want it there, slow and gentle with water running down his back, not that night. Michael knew well when he brushes his tongue against Trevor's, pull back and bite his lip, T would not only let out a needy whimper, so unlike his manly growls, but he would also become weak enough to be pushed back to the kitchen where they could have much more fun. What he didn't count with was a nasty crunch under his foot when Trevor stumbled back towards the sink which immediately broke their kiss. A small moan of frustration made Michael more anxious for a moment than he would ever admit.

"What is it, T? Are you ok?"

"Fuck, Michael, you stepped on my laxatives!"

"What?"

"How am I supposed to shit without them?"

"Screw them, you won't need them when I'm done with you tonight."

"Gee how hot..."

But there was no way Michael would let Trevor finish that sentence - all he wanted was to pin him to the kitchen counter, tear those sweatpants apart and fuck him. Now it was him who stomped around, holding Trevor's hand and throwing him to the counter. It took him another second to grab a fist full of his hair and yank Trevor's head backwards to relish absolutely delicious silhouette of his throat with adam's apple bobbing up and down in excitement. Trevor's moans only fired him up further and probed the hardened bud under the black shirt - to a promising whimper and a force pushing him aside to which he willingly succumbed and let a pair of lips suck onto his own so hard he hit his head against a tv stand which cried in pain and fell apart along with the tv.

"Fuck Trevor...."

"Not now, Mikey, don't stop."

Michael felt the telltale twitch under his belly that watered down the pain and gave him enough power to roll over a couple of times, french kissing the fuck out of those perfect full lips, drawing nails to Trevor's now naked back and push his head closer. He almost didn't mind when the radio hit the ground and when Trevor threw him onto the table which made their beer spill on the filthy floor. With Trevor on top, latched onto his nipple and running his hand down to his tightened jeans, nothing could stop him from getting what he wanted. As he tried to kick his jeans off, there was a slight sensation on his foot, but nothing very clear. It could have been a cup or something - when suddenly Trevor bolted upwards, and Michael was forced to open his eyes and look into his horrified face.

"Trevor I swear this isn't funny, what is it this time..."

"Michael, we broke the Impotent Rage..."

"T are you trying to give me blue balls or what?"

"No, but you clearly want my home in shambles! Oh fuck look at that! This was a limited edition with a signature of the original cast!"

Trevor just emotionlessly bolted towards the couch, next to which lay a mass of broken blue plastic that might have been anything in Michael's opinion. And it was in the way of reaching destination orgasm which made him a tiny bit mad. Ok, maybe a lot.

"Pardon me, but it was you who put it to the wrong place! Why did you leave it on the shelf with all this trash? Why don't you just throw all this shit out?"

And with just one swing of the arm, he managed to throw the rest of Trevor's memorabilia to the floor where it shattered comfortably.

"And this whole place is a fucking dump! Have you ever heard about wall-mounted TV or glass shower door? When the fuck will you live somewhere normal? Jesus, what do I have to break to make this place look decent? And that stupid action figure? What's so special about it, anyway?"

He wouldn't regret it if Trevor didn't turn around with puppy eyes and didn't tell him in his hurt voice.

"Because it was a gift from you..."

Michael didn't quite know how he managed to pick Trevor up from the ground, bring him to the bed, plant gentle kisses to every inch of him and whisper he's so so sorry. He didn't even have to, because soon enough, Trevor pulled him closer again, rolled over on top of him and gave him a lesson from Canadian french that left Michael breathless. He just let it happen, running his hands all the way down from the back of Trevor's head, to feeling his stuble, chest hair, hard nipples and his raging boner, and his nails draw new tattoos on Trevor's back first and then drawing his fingers into soft inside of Trevor's tights enjoying the view of T riding him.

"Hey M..."

"Hm?"

Michael lit a cigarette, just relishing the sweaty and sticky afterglow with Trevor pressed close to his side.

"You broke my impotent rage, gimme that..."

And before he could say or do anything, Trevor snatched his last cigarette and inhaled so deep half of it was gone.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"Make me!"

Michael instantly shot up, determined to kiss that grin off Trevor's lips and lept forward only to bang his head against the headboard again. This time, Trevor didn't even try to hold back and let his bubbly laughter echo in Michael's aching head.

"Fuck you and fuck this damn trailer..."

"aww come on porkchop, you did both tonight - unless you are up for the round two?"

"Hmmm... Make me..."

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 57 - Phone numbers and Spring breaks

In the previous chapter: Eddie and Angie get some alone time in a secluded romantic place near the beach but are caught by two cops, who trap them in a cross-fire of questions, halfway between gossip and interrogation. During this conversation, Angie unexpectedly opens up and reveals she's afraid to tell her friends about her relationship with Eddie also because she doesn't want to lose them, in case they'd break up. Angie manages to overcome her fears and insecurities and, as he drives Eddie back home, she suggests to tell their friends about them at the Ok Hotel on the next Pearl Jam show. The two also have a small fight caused by Eddie being jealous once he finds out Angie had already been in the same isolated romantic spot with Jerry too. Thanks to the cop, who had read Angie's driving licence aloud, Eddie also finds out that his girlfriend has a second name that starts with a W but Angie has no intention to tell him what it is. In the meantime Stone and Grace are coming back from their latest eccentric date. She's brought a tape with some songs she likes so they could listen to it in the car and he criticize the selection and the sequence of the tracks. Once they're at home, after a moment of passion, Stone is determined to confront Grace and her problems with sharing her bed and intimacy with another person, also because he can sense there's something more going on. Anyway he's shocked when he finds out the true reason of her insecurities: many years before, due to an aggressive form of bone cancer, the girl had her foot amputated. Stone's reaction is total confusion, he doesn't know what to do or say and, although he reassures Grace about his feelings, he leaves, saying that he just needs to process the news.

**

I swear I didn't do it on purpose. I mean, maybe I shouldn't swear, because even if I didn't do it intentionally, my subconscious must have given me a little push. Or it's just some kind of fucking mental automatism, just like when you're used at driving the same itinerary every day and once you get to the crossroad you turn left as usual. But you had to go somewhere else instead and you only notice once you get to the wrong destination. That never happened to me anyway. But it's something that happens to everybody, you know, people's always talking about stuff like that. Well, this time it must have happened to me because I left the Music Bank, I got behind the wheel and, I don't know how, I drove and found myself in fucking Roxy's parking place. I sit still without doing shit for who knows how long, uncertain about what to do. Why am I here? What should I do? Do I get in and say hi? Sure, the first thing you wanna see after a hard work day is your ex boyfriend's shitty face, isn't it? Well, actually, maybe she doesn't even remember I'm her ex, just look at the way she treats me, like she treated me in San Diego. Just like a friend. She's not even mad at me anymore, you know, she's even grateful maybe. After all, if I hadn't sabotaged our relationship, she wouldn't be with Eddie now. 'Cause of course she's with him. I don't know but I can guess. He must have hit on her and she said yes. She said yes to me and I'm a loser. Whoever comes after me would look like Prince Charming in comparison. By the way, my car engine is still on. I turn it off when I see Angie with Brian and another girl, coming out of the diner, followed a couple of seconds later by Roxy herself, who waves at them and closes down. Angie's holding a trash bag and is walking towards the dumpsters on the side of the diner, while the others leave walking or by car. I get out of my car and run to the opposite side of the diner, hiding, I don't know why, and peep out from time to time to check her moves. She shows back up after a few minutes, she's still got her uniform on, both hands in her leather jacket's pockets, her face half hidden under a big scarf, her usual colorful bag on her shoulder. She crosses the parking lot and walks down the street, followed by me at a safe distance. I look around to see if someone noticed me, 'cause to the external observer I could look like an attacker going after a helpless girl. But I don't have bad intentions, honestly I don't even know what my intentions are, I don't even know why I'm following her. I almost get caught a couple of times, when she stops and looks at some shop windows and then unexpectedly turns around towards me. The first time I got to sneak into a phone booth, the second time I managed to blend in with the small crowd of a street busker. I keep on following her and I'd really wanna know where the fuck she's going, since we've already passed two bus stops. We're at the third one when she stops and looks around, whereas I literally launch myself into the first alley not to be seen. But why not anyway? Can't I just go there and say hi? I sneak a peek and see her lighting up a cigarette and pacing the small portion of sidewalk in front of the bus stop back and forth. And I hide behind the wall every time she comes into my direction. I look out once again and I just can't see her anymore. I get out of my hiding place and I guess she must have left to the next bus stop, maybe it's early and she doesn't want to wait standing still in the cold. Or maybe someone came to pick her up, maybe her boyfriend... No, there she is, she's still walking all alone, literally all alone, 'cause as we drift away from the shops and clubs the streets get more and more empty. I walk along the wall, basically on my tip toes, 'cause I'm afraid she could hear the sound of my shoes. And this is the very moment I realize there's no fucking sense in what I'm doing. I curse under my breath and jog to catch up with Angie, I put a hand on her shoulder and that's when I feel one of the strongest pains I mean can experience in his life, the moment she suddenly turns around and epically knees me in the nuts.

“JESUS, ANGIE!” I cry, I don't know if it's more for the pain or to call her, since she's about to run away.

“Jerry??” she stops and looks at me perplexed as I squirm in pain, before cautiosly coming back to me “Was it you following me?”

“Yes”

“Are you stupid? Why?”

“I wanted... well, I wanted to play a prank on you” I didn't lose my improvisation talent.

“What a shitty prank, you scared me!”

“Sorry”

“Well, I'm sorry too. Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm great” I sigh as I finally start getting my sight back.

“You had it coming... you scared me to death!”

“And I got punished”

“I thought you were a guy who wanted to attack me”

“Hehe I was attacked instead.” it looks like I have to get hurt everytime I meet Angie, physically or not. I notice her hand and point at it “What about those?”

“It's a trick Meg taught me” she answers and takes the keys she had placed between her fingers in her closed fist and puts them back into her bag.

“Do you know you can get hurt if you don't hold them tight when you throw a punch? That's a dangerous trick”

“What's that, are you volunteering for training me?” she retrieves the keys and clinks them, whiles she gives me a devilish smile and I give up to the fact that I'll always love this girl. In my way, my wrong and senseless way, but I can't help it.

“No, thanks. It's not that I don't deserve it, but I have other plans for the night”

“What plans?”

“Something like... go on listening to the demos I've just recorded and try to figure out why they just don't work”

“Demos? Of the new album?” Angie goes from joking to being extremely interested and I cannot wait to satisfy her curiosity. That's probably why I came here in the first place.

“Yeah but it's my stuff, you know, songs I wrote by myself, I haven't played them to the guys yet”

“Well maybe you just need to work on them a little, with the band as well. And then Layne can sing anything and make it perfect, so don't worry” Angie shrugs and smiles and I think I'm going crazy, 'cause I'd happily let her kick me in the balls once more just to be touched by her.

“Do you wanna listen to them?”

“I'd love that! Do you have a copy for me?”

“No, but... I've got the tape in the car... we could go and listen to it, what do you think?”

“Uh well, I don't know, it's a bit late” even though it only lasts a second, I can feel the whole hesitation in her answer. It's obvious she doesn't totally like the idea but she doesn't know how to say no without removing that mask of complete indifference towards me. Admitting that being alone with me would make her uncomfortable would be like admitting that there are still unfinished issues and feelings between us. And she'd never do that.

“It's just three tracks. You'll listen and give me an opinion, and in return I'll drive you home. What do you think? “

“Ok, let's go!” she shrugs again and follows me like nothing's wrong.

“So?” I ask her after the first song.

“Jerry it's... what exactly do you think is not working in this song? It's great”

“Do you really think that?”

“Sure!”

“You're not saying so just because you don't wanna go home by bus, are you?”

“Don't be stupid...”

“It'd earn some points with Layne's voice”

“In the chorus for sure but I like your voice in the verse” play my new songs to Angie is not just an excuse to spend some time with her, I like her cause she's sincere and her opinions are honest. She won't tell you a track is good only to please you.

“Thank you”

“Does it have a title?”

“I was thinking about Would. A wordplay, with Wood”

“Andy?”

“Yeah, of course the song's about him. I've been thinking about him a lot lately. Well, I've never stopped thinking about him but he's been in my mind more and more often. Our first album did great, we've been playing around the country ever since it came out, Stone and Jeff are finally making it, many other bands start getting recognition and-”

“And he's not here”

“Right. He's not here. And I miss him. Andy was a friend. Not one you talk deep serious shit with or something like that. It was only fun, everything was fun with him, we had the time of our lives, Andy, Xana, Chris and I. He was such a great person, full of energy and life”

“His life choices tell a different story though...”

“He made the wrongest choices in his life but that doesn't mean he wasn't a good person. So he made a big mistake. I don't judge him though. I hate the people who judge”

“Sorry, I didn't mean that”

“Nuh, it's not you, I didn't mean you, you're not like that” Angie doesn't need to judge you, she just speaks her mind or looks at you in the eye and you feel like shit for the mess you made.

“Meg told me he died around this time last year, didn't he?”

“Yeah, it'll be one year in a few days. And to me it's like ten years have passed”

“Will you play another song to me?” Angie knows when it's time to change the subject. What she doesn't know is that the mood of the conversation won't get any higher with the second recording.

“Rooster was the nickname my dad's grandpa gave to him when he was a child,” I tell her before she even asks and I press STOP on the cassette player “because he had this cocky attitude hehe and  his hair, it used to stick up on top of his head, just like a rooster's comb, you know”

“Did you write a song about your dad?” Angie perfectly knows the whole messy story of my family and also knows how difficult it is for me to talk about it, although it was much less difficult with her.

“I wrote a song trying to put myself in his shoes, trying to imagine what an American soldier in Vietnam could think or feel in those moments. As you know, he never wanted to tell us anything”

“You should play this song to him”

“We'll see. If an actual song comes out from it, it could happen, who knows”

“That could be a way to reach out to him and reconnect, bring you closer”

“That's not why I wrote it”

“I know”

“I wrote it for no particular reason”

“Ok”

“It just came out like that”

“It just had to come out then”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, I do. Can I listen to the last one?”

“This was the last one” I shamelessly lie.

“You mentioned three songs..”

“Yeah, well, it's like three tracks but two complete songs. The third one is just an instrumental” telling lies to Angie is still easy for me, like in the good old days. What I don't know is if it's still as easy for her to believe me.

“I wanna hear that one too” she folds her arms and gives me a bad look.

“Alright, I'm taking you home” I play dumb and turn on the car but Angie has a different idea and stretches out her hand to press PLAY on the stereo.

Here are the first chords of a song that's too slow and too soft and will never even be a fucking B-side on a band's single and that I'd never play to the guys, not even under torture. Also because it's so personal that they'd make fun of me for ages and I believe I already gave them enough reasons to do that. Luckily, in the first part of the song I had the idea to sing the melody with some mmm mmm mmm so I can reinforce the excuse of the instrumental piece.

“See? It's just a draft. It's just an asshole strumming and humming an improvised tune” I shrug and stop the tape, then take it out and sneak it into my jacket's pocket. Why am I like that? I shouldn't have gone to see Angie in the first place. Then, when I saw her and talked to her and asked her to come listen to the demo I tried and told myself it was just a trick so I could spend some time with her. But that's not true. I clearly wanted her to listen to this song too. Well, especially this song. And now? Am I chickening out or did I just realize it was a stupid idea? What did I expect from this? What did I want to get? Let her know that, as she goes on with her life, I'm still stuck with my bullshit?

“Well, it seems a nice draft”

“Too slow, too depressing, I don't know”

“Jerry?”

“Yes?”

“Is everything ok?”

“Sure, why?”

“I don't know, just asking” why I ask. It's only natural for her to wonder if there's something wrong with me. I just show up out of the blue where she works, I convince her to listen to some songs I wrote, then it all turns into some fucking psychotherapy session under cover.

“It's alright, it's just... just the same old shit, you know”

“The same old shit will always be the same if you don't deal with it, Jerry”

“I know. In fact, I'm dealing with it. Music is perfect for that, didn't you say it too?”

“Yes, but it's not enough”

“Yeah. Oh and sorry if I came and bothered you and took your time. It wasn't planned, you know, I just found myself there. I mean, it's not like I got to Roxy's by chance, I'd say that until a certain point I had no idea I was coming to see you. Then, you know, on the last mile...”

“Ok Jerry, I got it”

“I'm sorry”

“Don't be sorry, you have no reason to be”

“It's just that, well, it's easier with you. It's easier for me to talk to you, despite everything. Weird, right?” Angie knows everything, I don't owe her any explanation and now that we're not together anymore, I don't owe her anything. At the same time though, she doesn't owe me anything either. She doesn't have to listen to me.

“Well, a little weird but not too much. People love to vent with me, maybe I look trustworthy. Or just innocuous” Angie shakes her head and I think that she's not like that at all, considering that the (too short) time our paths crossed left a big deep mark on me.

“Innocuous? With your key brass knuckles? I wouldn't say so”

The drive to Angie's house lasts more than it should, 'cause I deliberately choose the slowes most trafficked road, but she's too kind to say anything. Or she doesn't even notice.

“So, good night. And thank you for the ride” she says as she holds her hand on the already open car door.

“Thank you for being my test subject, and for the opinions”

“No problem. Anyway, whenever you wanna talk or let me listen to something else... I'm here for you, ok?”

“Really?” I ask, not because I don't believe her, but because I perfectly know that she means what she's saying, that's she's really ready to suffer through the rants of a guy who can't open up emotionally with anybody but his ex, who's with another man now.

“Sure. Only because you acted like shit, that doesn't mean I, I don't know, that I wouldn't rescue you from a fire or offer you a hand as you're on the edge of a brink to pick you up. For the serious stuff, the things that really count, I'll always give you a hand” Angie shrugs as she's telling me beautiful things and by now I should just stop and admire her kindness and selflessness, get inspired by her concept of friendship, learn something from her total lack of resentment. But all I can do is fixating first on her eyes, then on her lips, and this time I doubt she didn't notice I have every intention of kissing her. And that must be why she tells me good night and sprints out of the car in a couple of seconds, running towards the entrance of her condo.

“Good night!” I yell through the window as she distractedly waves bye at me.

What the hell have I got myself into?

***************************************************************************************************************************************

What the hell have I got myself into? What am I doing now? Making promises I'm not sure I can keep? Sure, mine were such great words, they sounded very good, but will I be able to support them with actions? Will I truly always be there for Jerry, although he's been a jerk? Aspiring to be a better person is great but I think that, in my case, it's more like a sort of masochistic complacency. Because you know what? I love being good, acting like a good person and have everyone see me like that, like a kind and understanding young woman. Everyone, even those who wouldn't deserve any regard, well, especially those. You were a bastard to me, right? And now you're expecting from me to at least cross the street when I see you coming, aren't you? But no, instead I'm here listening to you as you vent, holding your hand and encouraging you, telling you everything is gonna be alright. Take that! It's not like I'm faking it or doing it on purpose but I can't deny there's this element of satisfaction in being the one who does the right thing, or better, who does the good thing no one would do. Now I know that when I tell Meg about what happened tonight, she will shake her head and tell me I'm stupid and that I should've just told Jerry to fuck off as he deserves. But what she'll actually think is that I'm too good, too kind, or something like that. Well, I adore being too good, it makes me feel... well, good, at peace with myself and the other people, because it's one of the few existing social roles I easily fit in, that I feel comfortable in. At least for a while. Because the problem is that if you decide that you're good, then you have to be it all the way, from start to finish, without any doubts, afterthoughts or shit. And that means that if I've just told Jerry I'll always be there for him as a friend, the next time I see him I can't just kick his ass because I suddenly remembered he cheated on me and totally disrespected me, not only as a girlfriend but first of all as a person. That's how it works with Jerry: I talk to him and it's like I'm interacting with a completely different person from the one who was with me, but it's not just rhetorical, it actually is like he's another guy, no upset, no tension between us. That is until something happens, a word, some noise, a fucking joke or anything that reminds me who's standing in front of me, and then I swear I'd throw stones at his face just like that, out of the blue. But no, you can't. Because if you've got the Jesus Syndrome you gotta be Christ all along, turning the other cheek and all the rest. You can't just enjoy your fame as a messiah, you have to get crucified at some point, or more often crucify yourself.

My inner rant takes a mystic turn right when I enter my apartment, maybe it all depends on the fact that as I'm inside I take my shoes off and on the ecstatic feelings my feet had as I did after spending the whole day standing. I grab the phone without even turning on the lights, I notice something scribbled on the notepad nearby but I don't look it twice since I guess it's a note from Meg telling me Eddie called looking for me. After all we were supposed to have a phone date... well, like an hour ago. I plop down on the couch, even though I know it's not the best thing to do and that I'd better reach for my bed, and dial the number by heart in the dark.

“Hello”

“Hi Eddie, were you sleeping?”

“Obviously not my dear... Wallflower?”

“Haha no, you're cold, sorry! “

“How cold?”

“North Pole I'll say”

“Shit”

“I'm never telling you, just give up”

“I'm gonna find out all the same”

“Oh really, and how?”

“I got my persuasion techniques, don't you know?” yes, I do know, that's why I drop the subject.

“Anyway, you're getting more and more unpredictable, I was sure you'd have answered with 'Is it Friday already?' instead of hello”

“I love to surprise you, kitty. By the way, is Friday yet?” he giggles, whereas I try to get off the couch but end up losing touch and rolling down on the carpet.

“WHAT THE- OUCH!”

“Hey, are you ok? What was that?”

“Huh nothing. Excuse me Eddie, what the actual fuck have you just called me?” I ask as I straighten on my side, stroking my sore buttcheek.

“Kitty, why?”

“Why, he says!”

“Are you actually talking to someone or is it just your usual imaginary audience?”

“Don't ever do that again”

“Aw come on, it's cute”

“That's what you think”

“And you like cats anyway”

“I like a lot of things, I like horror movies too, but that doesn't mean I'd let you call me poltergeist... although, well, thinking about it...”

“That's not bad but I prefer Kitty”

“I'd prefer anything rather than Kitty”

“Beware of what you wish for”

“Ugh do you mean you could come up with something worse?”

“Try me”

“And kitty doesn't make sense anyway”

“Sure it does”

“'Cause I like cats?”

“Because you have big beautiful cat eyes, you're sweet and cute but you know how to pull out your nails when needed... also literally. My back says thanks hehe” it's past midnight, I'm still lying flat on the rug and I'm blushing.

“It's just I don't like nicknames in general” the defense diversion mechanism kicks in by itself as I try to get back up.

“You like princess though”

“That's another story, it's not a couple nickname”

“The fuck are you talking about, it's the epitome of couple nicknames!”

“Ok but in our case it was a thing between friends” I finally sit back on the couch and instinctively hug one of the pillows.

“Haha friends my ass, had it been about friendship only, that nickname would have been born and dead that same night”

“Ok but technically it was born in friendship so it can go” I focus on the technical aspect because I still find it hard to acknowledge the fact Eddie has had this... crush (?) on me for a while. I mean, I rationally understand he didn't get a sudden epiphany on that morning in San Diego at the bus station and that he must have thought about it before that. But my irrational side hasn't realized yet that Eddie is with me, let alone comprehend he's been having an interest in me for months.

“Alright alright, what's wrong with kitty?”

“It's too... too sappy”

“It's a nickname, it's gotta be sweet, that's how it is”

“It's stupid”

“What were you expecting from a stupid guy like me, kitty?”

“Umph you're really stuck on that, huh?” I roll my eyes and I already know I'm not gonna win this, not even by mistake.

“You know what? I think it's not that you don't like it, it just... you're just embarrassed for some weird reason I don't know”

“That's not true” I retort clinging to the pillow.

“Yes, it is”

“No, it's not”

“Do you know the tone of your voice slightly changes whenever I say something and hit the target right?”

“Haha what... what the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing. If you let me call you kitty, I'll let you call me whatever you want”

“Haha you mean you really do want to introduce it as an official nickname! You've been working on this for a while, haven't you? Confess!”

“No, it just came out like that, without thinking. And I'd have probably forgotten like two seconds later, if only you hadn't had that amazing reaction”

“It's basically my fault then”

“As always, princess”

“Princess or kitty? You gotta make a decision”

“Why choose? You can be both, I mean, you are both”

“If by any chance that word comes out of your pretty mouth in front of one of our friends you're-”

“HA! So that's the big deal! Is that what terrifies you? That the guys could hear it??”

“If something like that happens, you're dead, just so you know”

“You're too preoccupied with what people think, let me tell you”

“But not dead as in me kicking your ass, ripping you apart or literally killing you. It's just that from that moment on you'll simply stop existing to me, I'll mentally celebrate your funeral, cry a little, then I won't talk to you ever again and won't even acknowledge your presence in any way”

“Have I ever told you I love it when you're so dramatic?”

“Have I ever told you my threats are always real?”

“Ok ok, I promise I'll never use that name unless we're alone. Is that better?”

“Yes” as I said, I knew I'd never win this.

“Thank you, kitty. What do you wanna call me instead?”

“I'll call you Eddie and that's it”

“Look, I'm fine with a non sappy nickname too”

“Ed?” yeah, that's the most I can do.

“Hahahahaha”

“What the fuck are you laughing for?” actually I love it when he laughs, especially when he laughs at me, but he doesn't need to know.

“Wow, isn't it too intimate? I don't know if I'm comfortable with you calling me Ed”

“Fuck you, Ed”

“Especially in front of our friends”

“It's not something you can say on command, it just comes out spontaneously, didn't you say that? When I feel the urge to call you a stupid name, you'll know”

“Ok ok. Now, on a more serious note, is it Friday yet?”

“No, it's still two days before that”

“Technically one, it's waaay past midnight”

“So if you already know, why do you ask me?”

“Just checking on your level of attention”

“See what happens when you talk stupid shit on the phone? Time goes by fast”

“That was my goal from the beginning. Anyway we could have talked more stupid shit if you hadn't took your time. I've been here waiting for you since half past eleven”

“I didn't take my time, I've just come home. I mean, like a minute before I called you”

“Roxy makes you work extra hours? I can't understand why you're always the one closing up, they're called shifts for a reason, they're supposed to shift”

“I'm not always closing up. And I'm the one who asked for these shifts because they're more comfortable for me for multiple reasons. Anyway, I almost left on time tonight, I wasted some time later, but I wouldn't call it wasted time, since I got an exclusive preview! Or pre-listening, I don't know how to call it”

“Really? What did you do?”

“I heard a couple of demos by Alice that are gonna be in the next album. Well, that's what I think, because they're very good, although Jerry's not sure about that. But that's normal, 'cause Jerry doesn't understand shit” another fucking perfectionist songwriter like Eddie, they should get along in this.

“Jerry? Did you see him? Was he at the diner?” in spite of their supposed chemistry, the adorable and playful Eddie disappears in a second and the very moment he says Jerry's name, I know he's about to get mad just like the other night.

“No, I met him after work”

“You met him? Where? Did you go somewhere after work with your colleagues and-”

“Oh no, I met him in the streets”

“In the streets?”

“Yeah”

“In the street in front of Roxy's at eleven o'clock on a Wednesday evening?”

“Yes” the conversation is slowly turning into inquisition”

“And what was he doing there?”

“I don't know, he was out, I didn't ask him”

“Ask me”

“Hehe what?” I'm not an idiot, it's not like I'm here laughing knowing that Eddie must be fuming, literally having steam coming out of his ears right now. It's more a nervous chuckle I can't hold.

“Just ask me, I'll give you the answer”

“Eddie, I don't-”

“ASK. ME.” Eddie can convince me, although I prefer his other methods, the most enjoyable ones.

“Ok, what was Jerry doing there?”

“He came right to see you, obviously”

“It didn't come to see me” of course he came specificaly to see me. What I mean is that he didn't come with the idea to hit on me and get me back, like Eddie thinks. He just came looking for me because he didn't know where to go.

“Sure, and then?”

“Then what?”

“Then what happened? What did you do? Where did you go? Where did he play THIS FUCKING DEMO?” Eddie shouting through the phone startles me on the couch.

“Ok, easy there, calm down, why are you raising your voice?”

“''CAUSE I WANT TO”

“Eddie”

“'Cause I've been here waiting to talk to my girlfriend on the phone at least, since we couldn't meet in person tonight, while she was hanging out wandering around with her ex”

“I wasn't wandering around”

“Did you go directly to his place?”

“No”

“Did he came to your apartment? Maybe you even made him coffee”

“We stayed in the car, just the time to listen to two songs, then he took me home” I ignore his sarcasm because if I didn't, I'd end up using mine back against him and we wouldn't come out alive from this.

“In the car”

“Yes, where do you think he would he play the tape to me? Nobody went to nobody's place and Jerry's not going around with a boombox on his shoulder like John Cusack” here it is, my sarcasm couldn't resist, this discussion cannot end well.

“In the car” he repeats harshly.

“Yes, in the car”

“And where did you sneak off this time? Since the old parking spot is off limits now, you know...”

“We didn't sneak off anywhere, we were there, on the street. Is the interrogation over?”

“No. Did you kiss?”

“WHAT? ARE YOU CRAZY? What do you think??” I'm unwillingly loud but at the same time I don't wanna react too vehemently and give him the impression he struck a nerve and something really happened with Jerry.

“I don't know or I wouldn't ask”

“You really don't know? I mean, you seriously think I could kiss Jerry? And, most of all, that after kissing him, I could just call you and talk about cats, poltergeists, names and nicknames as if nothing happened?”

“I don't know Angie, I only know you're ex boyfriend showed up with the excuse of the demo and you couldn't resist. And considering the timing, I'm sorry, but I doubt you just listened to a couple of songs and then went straight home, unless Alice in Chains turned into prog rock and now make 15-minute long songs”

“We talked”

“About what?”

“It's personal”

“Oh well great! Perfect! I've got absolutely no reason to be upset then! You met your ex and you talked about your secrets, now I'm really calm, thank you!”

“Personal stuff about him, that has got nothing to do with me”

“Oh because you're Jerry's favourite confidant now, right. Why can't he go tell his bullshit to the girls he used to fuck behind your back?” well, wow, thank you Eddie, that was so tactful of you... I remain quiet for a moment before replying.

“And how would I know? I don't know, maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Why are you asking me about how he acts?”

“I'm asking you because you are my girlfriend, not his, just in case you forgot”

“I didn't forget. Maybe you did, given how you're treating me now” keeping calm is great but I didn't do anything, why should I be defensive? I don't like him at all when he's like this.

“Right, I'm the jerk here, after all you only went out with Jerry, I shouldn't get mad”

“Listen, I told you I saw Jerry, on my own initiative, without you asking shit. If I hadn't told you, you'd have never known. But I wanted to tell you and I told you, 'cause I've got nothing to hide and did nothing bad” fighting is one of the things I hate the most and I avoid at all costs. I hate fighting, it makes me anxious, even when I'm right, and that's why I often play dumb and close my eyes and ears, even when I shouldn't, even when I'd have something to say in the matter, because I simply don't wanna make a fuss and just wanna be in peace. In this case though, I can't really shut up, so I try and talk some sense into him.

“Ok, listen, I believe you didn't do anything, that nothing happened, I trust you. But I don't trust him. Can't you see he did it on purpose? It was a fucking excuse to see you” Eddie stops treating me like shit for a while but that doesn' make me feel that much better.

“That wasn't the case at all, I can assure you. But even if it was, I didn't do anything about it. He just asked me to listen to a couple of songs and give him my opinion, that's all”

“You could've said no. You could have told him you had to go home, that you had an appointment. Which you actually had, with me”

“Honestly I can't see anything wrong with listening to a couple of songs and half a vent of a friend, so I can't see why I should have said no” the appointment I had with him was a phone call, the world won't end because I called him a little later.

“Maybe because he's not a friend but he's your fucking ex?”

“Right because he's my ex, I can't see why you're jealous. It's in the past, it's over, I put multiple pins on it. If you're jealous, that's your problem” if there's one thing I can't stand is jealousy, I just can't, it's stupid, it's-

“If you can't see the problem, then you are the problem. Good night” the disconnect tone goes on for a while before I realize Eddie's just literally hung up on me. I'm weirded out, not just for that, but for the whole situation. What the fuck has just happened? How did we go from an easy phone call to World War III in a minute? Why did he get so mad? I don't know what to do, I wait for a couple of minutes, then try to call him back but his phone rings and rings and I get no answer.

“WHAT THE FUCK! Angie, what the hell are you doing there?” the lights in the living room suddenly go on and seeing me appearing on the couch out of the blue scares my room mate.

“Hi Meg, sorry”

“Sorry my ass! Ok, the Make your roommate shit in her pants championship has officially ended. You won, period. I give up” she walks up to me holding one hand on her heart and I already know now she'll sit with me, she'll sense in a second that somethig's wrong, I won't tell her shit at first, then I'll inevitably spit it all out, she'll confort me, insult Eddie, curse Jerry, then she'll tell me it's nothing that can't be solved, she'll give me advice that will not make sense to me but in the end will turn out to be just right and everything will be ok in the end. Maybe.

“Sorry, I was on the phone”

“Oh you called your friend back then” Meg completely disorientates me, as if I wasn't already confused enough.

“My friend?”

“Yes, Jane, your ex school mate. I left you a note...” Meg skips away then comes back holding the notepad I noticed before, beside the phone base. It only takes me that name, first mentioned by her, then written on the yellow sheet of paper, to immediately regain control of myself.

“Yeah yeah, I've just called her, thank you!” I get up from the couch and delicately but firmly take the notepad from Meg's hands, before tearing off the written page.

“Is everything alright? It seemed something urgent”

“Hahaha it's always urgent for Jane! Nuh, she just wanted to give me the big news, that she finally found a job. And give me her new number now that she has a place of her own” I take my bag, fish out my planner and stick my note in it, not to lose it. At least, that's the impression I wanna give Meg. I already have this number and I'd secretely love to lose it.

“718... uhm... what code is that, Texas?”

“New York”

“Wait, do you have a friend in the Big Apple? That's so cool! And what is she doing there?”

“She's a model. But her dream is to be an actress” it's be more correct to say that her dream is to be famous, actually to be adored. Possibly by everyone. But I don't feel like adding this detail, I don't even know why I'm talking with Meg about her.

“Will you direct her then one day? An actress and a direction: the perfect squad!” the enthusiasm expressed by my friend goes doesn't reflect my mood but I can't show that.

“Apart from the fact that I'd rather write than direct... don't worry, I still have a lot of burgers to serve before I get there” I zip up my bag and put it back on my shoulder.

“Why have you never told me about this Jane? It's the first time I hear about her, I thought you only had three friends” she doesn't give up and follows me across the hallway.

“That's right, I confirm the magnificent three. Jane is not really a friend, she's more... she's a more superficial acquaintance”

“It's nice of her to keep in touch though” yeah, sure, very nice indeed.

“Yeah, she's a good girl” I think she'd throw up if she heard me say this about her.

“What are you doing? Are you going out?” Meg stops me as I'm about to open the door instead of rushing into my room as she was expecting.

“Yeah, I'm out of cigarettes, I'm going to buy some, it'll take me a minute”

“And can't you just not smoke?”

“No, definitely not, Meg, trust me”

I leave, telling her to go to sleep since I've got my keys and she doesn't have to wait for me. I go downstairs in a flash and when I'm outside the condo I take a look at the windows on the fourth floor. They lights are all off again. That's better, I won't need to go around the block. I get into the nearest phone booth, put the money coin by coin into the pay phone as if they weighed a ton each and dial the number that's now inside my planner. But I don't need to take it out, I've been knowing it by heart for years now.

“Hello”

“What do you need?”

**************************************************************************************************************************

“Fuck, it's still too early” I tell myself as I look at my watch, which says it's a quarter to eight. And I should just throw away this fucking watch. Or sell it. I told Angie too, asking her if it was bothering her, but she looked at me as if I was crazy and asked me why. She doesn't care if every single day I wear the watch a girl who liked me bought for me, a girl I even kissed. Angie doesn't know what jealousy is, that angst that starts from the middle of your stomach and goes to your head, that makes you see everything black, that takes your breath away, like a sea monster emerging from the ocean that catches you off guard as you're swimming, wrapping its tentacles around you and immobilizing you, that convinces you that everything's lost. Angie doesn't even think about that, she didn't think about it last night, when she met Jerry, and not even when she told me, innocently, like it was normal. 'Cause to her it is normal. 'Cause it's most likely normal to everybody but me, the unstable jerk, who's been standing outside his girlfriend's house since six o'clock in the morning, waiting for her to come out so he can apologize and save the day. I had no intentions to wake her up early and I knew she wouldn't leave that early, but I couldn't stay at home any longer after a sleepless night, when I quite quickly went from anger to realizing the big mistake I had just made. I get out of my truck once again. I must have got out and in like five or six times in a couple of hours and the cigarettes butts of a whole pack are covering this shitty sidewalk. It's not raining but the air is cold. But I'm sweating. I stretch my hand through the half open truck window to retrieve the baseball cap I left on the passenger seat and I wear it. As I'm busy sticking all my hair under the hat, I hear the door open and see her walking out, while fixing her big scarf around her neck to protect herself from the wind. She doesn't look my way but comes towards me and I don't even need to put any effort into looking sad because as soon as I see her, my heart skips and I'm sure my natural expression is already the right one. I'm almost about to call her when, instead of walking right up to me, she turns to her right and goes who knows where. Didn't she see me? Did she see me and ignored me on purpose? I don't care. I throw the umpteenth cigarette away and follow her.

“Angie” she comes to a dead stop as she hears me calling her name and it clearly means that no, she didn't see me. She turns around and literally looked at me up and down, from head to toe, before stopping at my eyes and answering with a nod.

“Hi Eddie” she turns around and starts walkig again but slowly.

“I know you're mad at me, you've got every reason to be” I catch up and walk beside her, who's burying her face into her scarf, as if she wanted to hide herself from me.

“I'm not mad. You were the mad one, I think”

“I got upset for no reason, Angie, I'm sorry. I want to apologize”

“You were a fury”

“I know, I know, I was a jerk”

“You hung up on me and didn't even answer when I called you back”

“Better that way, trust me! I was out of my mind, who knows what else I could have said” well, maybe I shouldn't have said this.

“Ok, better this way then” Angie shrugs and subtly quickens her pace.

“Angie, can we just stop for a second? I need to talk to you, properly, not just walking like this”

“I got shit to do, I need to go to the bank and run some other errands before going to class”

“It'll only take a couple of minutes, Angie, please. Let me talk to you, I haven't slept all night” I delicately and cautiously circle her shoulders with my arm and gesture in the direction of the closest bench.

“Oh and what's new about that?” she asks with a weak smile. I guess she didn't get much sleep either.

“The news are that it's my fault this time.” I nod towards the bench “Please”

“Ok, just two minutes though” she rolls her eyes and gives up, sitting with me.

“So... well, as you might have guessed, I have a little problem with jealousy” I start confessing.

“No! Really?” she gives me that sarcastic smile of her and I feel a little better because maybe there's still I chance I didn't fuck up completely.

“I'm jealous. And it's my problem, as you said last night, you were right, you are right. As you didn't do anything, you never do anything, it's about me, it's not about the things you do or the way you act or shit like that. You could as well never leave your apartment and I'd be jealous of the pizza delivery guy because, the fuck I know, because he smiles a little too widely to you when you leave him the change as a tip”

“Well, yeah, considering the ridiculous paycheck they get, someone could actually fall in love for a tip, I can believe that” Angie keeps on making fun of me and I admit this makes me feel more and more comfortable.

“The fact is that nine times out of ten this thought flashes upon my mind, upsets me for a couple of seconds, then goes away and I forget about it. I mean, most of the times I can keep it at bay, I just ignores the voices in my head and go on with my life as nothing happened.

“We're not talking about actual voices, right?”

“Hehe no, just inner voices of conscience”

“Huh ok. And what happens that single one time out of ten instead?”

“What happens is that I lose my mind and say things I don't actually believe”

“Are you sure you don't believe them?”

“Angie, no, I don't believe them. I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise” I try and take her hands, kinda timidly, and she lets me do that.

“How can you promise that? If you lose control, like you said, how can you prevent that?”

“I can because I want to, because you're more important than anything”

“Eddie, listen to me,” she sighs and turns a little more towards me, still keeping her hands into mine “I can understand your jealousy. I mean, I can't accept it, I don't excuse it, but I can understand how it works, I guess what the mechanism is and what the triggers are. I know you must feel very insecure about yourself, although I have no idea how, since you're such a wonderful guy and I'd never leave you”

“Maybe there's someone more wonderful than me out there...”

“Who? Jerry Cantrell?” Angie doesn't waste any time and goes straight to the point.

“There must be something good about him if you got with him. And if you're still friend to him after... well, after he hurt you”

“Sure there's something good about him, but no potential boyfriend material for sure. Not anymore. And I don't know what else I should do to convince you”

“So why are you still talking to him? I don't mean you can't talk to him, I'm not that kind of guy, imposing things or telling you who you can hang out with or where you can go or shit like that. It's just that, I really can't understand how you can do it, I mean, if Beth came out of nowhere, looking for me and telling me she needs to talk to someone, my answer would be just showing her the middle finger”

“I'm not you” her reply is as quick as simple.

“Hehe I know. And thank god, I must add”

“That's the only explanation I got, that's how it is for me. Before he got with me, he was a friend, and what happened between us as a couple didn't change things. To be honest with you, I thought things would change, a lot, but as time went by I realized that to me Jerry went back being what he used to be before, no more no less: a friend”

“That's unbelievable, it's like you're separating the two things”

“It's not like that, it's exactly that. I separate the two things, the two relationships, the two Jerrys. There's my ex Jerry and my friend Jerry, the former has gone, the latter ha stayed” Angie shrugs as if she was explaining the most obvious thing in the world, but I don't even try to understand and I don't know if I should believe it or not. But I gotta make an effort if I want to make this work and not fuck it up now that it's just started.

“That's... a concept that's really far from my way of seeing things but... I can understand it”

“Same here with your jealousy. That's something really, really far from me but I can understand it. What I can't accept is the way you treated me because you were jealous.

“I know, Angie, I'm sorry”

“You said very bad things to me. And your voice... the tone of your voice was so mean, like you were trying to hurt me as much as you could”

“I told you, I just flipped out on you for no reason”

“I think your problem is not with jealousy but with rage. As soon as you feel in danger, you attack, blindly. It's not the first time I see this in you but not at this level” ok, guilty as charged. Angie has known me for less than six months and she's been with me for a few weeks and she already has me pretty well figured.

“I know, it's a mess. I am a mess.” I lean down and rest my head on her lap, without letting go of her hands “I hoped you'd never see this side of my character” I was just fooling myself, of course it came out almost immediately as we got closer.

“I'm a mess as well, we all are. But when you're deliberately mean to someone, to hurt them, well, that's where I draw a line, that's my limit. What am I supposed to do with sappy nicknames, if you then take your frustrations out on me?” I knew that, she's breaking up with me. She put up with me long enough though.

“It's over, isn't it?”

“WHAT? What are you talking about?” Angie lets go of my hands and grabs at my head, gently forcing me to turn around and look at her.

“Aren't you breaking up with me?”

“Hehehe who's the dramatic one now?” she pushes my head back down, takes off my hat and puts it on her head, before playfully messing up my hair.

“But you said that's your limit...”

“Do you think I'd break up with you after one fucking fight?”

“No?” am I safe?

“Next time you get upset for some reason, before insulting me, just take a nice deep breath and talk to me, openly, tell me what's wrong, what you're afraid of and how I can help you. Or you can as well insult me but only if I deserve it or if you believe there's a valid reason. I mean, it's ok to discuss, fuck, it's ok to fight too, although I hate fighting and I'd do anything to avoid it. But I admit that it can happen and it's not necessarily bad if there's a reason. Well, I wanna be free to fight with you without risking an emotional breakdown every time, ok? Because, as I already told you, I'm a mess too, just like you, I've got my problems as well, don't you know? Can't you see how hard it is for me to express a single fucking feeling? To a certain extent, I kind of envy you, you know?” what she says leaves me speechless at first because it's so... mature. I'm here whining like an annoying brat, whereas she's rationally examined the situation and is just telling it like it is.

“You envy me? Do you think that being a slave to your emotions is better? Every time is like flipping a fucking quarter in the air, I throw it and I have no idea what will come out: how am I doing today? Good? Bad? Happy? Mad? Jeff and Stone could place bets on me” I sit back up like a normal person and notice one of my shoes is half-untied.

“Well, my quarters are never flipped, I just push them down into the piggy bank, one by one, and I keep them there. At least until Christmas comes and you need to break the piggy bank and then BAM! They come out all together” I'm about to tie my shoe when Angie gets there before and ties it for me as she speaks, then takes my hands in hers once again.

“Can I borrow your piggy bank?” I ask her before I get that kiss I was afraid I wouldn't get anymore.

“Ok, but only if you let me flip your quarters from time to time” she smiles at me and now I'm sure: I'm safe.

“I'm sorry, Angie, for real”

“I don't need you to say you're sorry, I need you to not be an asshole anymore”

“Ok”

“And if something's wrong, you just tell me and we can talk about it, like adults”

“Ok”

“Because I'm not your punching bag”

“No, you're my...” I wait for her to figure out what I want to say and to react to the provocation. Finally she turns around abruptly and gives me that nasty look of hers I love.

“Don't you dare”

“Why? You said I could”

“Not in public”

“But nobody's around” I look around and the few passers-by don't give a fuck about us.

“Do you think that since I didn't break up with you for the scene you made last night, then I won't cut you off for calling me kitty? You could be surprised”

“HA! You said it. By saying it, you automatically accepted it as official nickname”

“Says who? You?”

“Yes, kitty” I whisper into her ear because I'm ok with risking but I don't wanna push it too far.

“What the hell have I got myself into?” Angie rolls her eyes for the nth time and I'm afraid forher it'll soon become a habit with me.

“You got no idea, trust me”

“I don't wanna fight with you anymore”

“I can't wait to fight again though”

“Haha what?”

“Only you can turn a fight into an open hearted confrontation about emotions, feelings and how to handle them. I like talking with you about these things, I like talking to you, I like you”

“I like you too,” Angie gives me a peck on my nose then stands up “but I really have to go now”

“Huh so wasn't it just an excuse to avoid me? You really got things to do?” I joke as I stand up too and I pretend to ignore the fact she's just told me she likes me, without blushing or being ashamed, without me asking her or trying to extract a confession with torture.

“Yes and I gotta hurry up”

“When does school end?” I puff as I get my cap back and put it on my head.

“Tomorrow's the last day”

“Finally! How long is your spring break, one week?”

“Ten days”

“That's even better... listen, I was thinking... well, actually I didn't think about it before, I'm thinking  about it just now as I'm speaking. What if we just leave for a few days, you and I?” I take her hands again, actually I take her by her wrists and softly stroke the inside with my thumbs. I know she likes that.

“Leave to go where?”

“Wherever you wanna go. Just to take a break and spend some time alone, would you like that?”

“I don't know, aren't you busy with the movie and the album recording?”

“Yes but we could leave this weekend, what do you think? It just makes me mad that I'll be busy right when you're on holiday and we could see each other more.

“I don't know, Eddie. Actually I had already signed up both with Roxy and Hannigan to work some extra hours, in the weekend and also during the week, you know, to save some more” she looks down too often, there must be something wrong.

“Oh ok... but is everything alright?” I shake her a little, prompting her to look at me and be honest.

“Sure, why?”

“I don't know. Do you need money?”

“Hahaha who doesn't?” Angie backs up from me and gestures for me to walk with her.

“Hehe no, I mean, maybe you have some problem and you need money for that”

“My problem is the same old problem: paying the bills, rent, college and books. Or books' photocopies, those cost too” we walk side by side as Angie counts her expenses on her fingertips.

“Well, ok, but your parents are helping you, right? Ray doesn't look like the type of dad who freaks out if you don't pay your part at the beginning of the semester but a little later”

“That doesn't count, it's a matter of principle. When I make a commitment, I follow through with it”

“Sure and that's great. But you know, there's nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it” I go on and I don't immediately notice Angie has stopped.

“Ok, now this is the kind of advice I should get as a tattoo, if I ever got one. So maybe I'll finally follow it” I turn around and see her standing on the first step of the stairs outside the bank.

“Everybody comes to you when they need help, what about you?” I walk back and hug her.

“I call you if I have a spider at home”

“You can call me for anything else too, you know that, right?”

“Thanks.” she kisses me again and this time she can't help looking around to check if someone we know is nearby “Anyway, everything's ok, it's just about every day needs, don't get weird ideas or something, really”

“Ok”

“I really gotta go now. Can I call you on lunch break?”

“You don't need to ask me”

“I'll correct my question: will I find you at home if I call at lunch break?”

“Yes”

“I'll call you later then, have a good day” she gives me another (too) quick kiss and leaves as quickly.

“Later... Whirpool??”

“You're so cold, you're freezing!”

'If something's wrong, you just tell me and we can talk about it' that's what you told me. I hope you know the same goes for you as well.

[snackerdoodle]

(via https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7vTyjuuslUqiHauSgsmbuQ?si=WJHuwxgiQ422gub_5ZEC5w)

I got a little obsessed with the idea of creating a Lyctor Love Songs playlist for The Locked Tomb. I’ve finally finished fussing with it and wanted to share! You can read a breakdown of my rationale for these songs below the cut because I always wish other people would do this for their playlists, and now it’s time to put my money* where my mouth is.

This playlist is conceptually a definite spoiler for the process of achieving lyctorhood as revealed at the end of Gideon the Ninth, so proceed with caution if you haven’t finished that book yet. I also made this after reading Harrow the Ninth, but I’ve tried to censor (or at least be vague) in my references to spoilers for that book.

Possibly obvious content warnings for murder, suicide, toxic relationships, and cannibalism mentions—stuff you’d kind of expect from this series, honestly. I’m adding an additional content warning for the lyrics of We Both Go Down Together by the Decemberists including implied rape, which is not in line with the content warnings you might expect for these books. 

*obsessive energy

Umbrella - Rihanna

This is a much more wholesome song than the rest, but I really wanted to include it for "When the sun shines, we'll shine together, told you I'll be here forever, said I'll always be your friend, took an oath, I'ma stick it out til the end," and "You're a part of my entity, here for infinity." It has a bit of a “one flesh, one end” feeling to it. 

#1 Crush - Garbage

This song is creepy, obsessive, and uses some upsetting violent imagery, which is exactly the mood I’m after here. I really like the idea of being haunted by the other person—”See your face every place that I walk in, hear your voice every time that I’m talking.” I also like the implications of seeking power—”Throw away all the pain that I’m living [...] and I could never be ignored.” The line about selling their soul doesn’t hurt this song’s case either. 

Drain You - Nirvana

This feels like a pretty easy connection to syphoning for me, and for this context the gorey, semi-medical imagery is spot on. Also how could I resist “with eyes so dilated I’ve become your pupil,” when there is just so much eye-related lyctor baggage in this series?

Animals - Maroon 5

Here comes the cannibalism. There are so many cannibal songs. I also included this one for the language about absorbing the other person and not being able to escape each other.

I Will Possess Your Heart - Death Cab for Cutie

Here for creepy possessiveness, pure and simple. Also, “I wish you could see the potential, the potential of you and me”—the potential for achieving ultimate necromantic power? Maybe!

Banks of the Ohio - Dolly Parton

When I first had the idea for a “Lyctor Love Songs” playlist, it was just going to be a bunch of murder ballads, but expanding my criteria turned out to be more fun. I really love the way Dolly Parton sings this traditional American murder ballad. This one gets to represent the traditional songs on this playlist because of its river imagery and because I think lines like “she cried my love don’t murder me, ‘cause I’m not prepared for eternity” play well with the lyctor concept. It also makes me ridiculously happy to include a 19th century song on a playlist for a distant future sci-fi setting. We’re all lucky I’m not making a playlist of the oldest extant folk songs I can find for the archives on the Sixth.

Phenom - Thao & the Get Down Stay Down

More cannibalism imagery, yes thank you. Anatomical imagery? Yes, thank you. “Scorched earth”? Sure, I’ll just take that for my distantly post-apocalyptic playlist, thank you. I also like the narrative in this song around rising to power. “First of the secondary class” plays well for me with our spoilery knowledge about the nature of lyctorhood in relation to the powers of the Emperor. 

Under My Skin - Jukebox the Ghost

I’d never heard this song before I started working on putting this playlist together, and a friend suggested it in our group chat. It’s completely perfect, and in my opinion, a total bop. “I can fit two people under my skin […] crawl up in there and join me within. I can feel your heart beating under my skin,” etc, etc. 

Two of Hearts - Stacey Q

Same vein as the one before! I also think there’s room here for intentionally misreading “I got this feeling that you're going to stay, I never knew that it could happen this way, Before I met you I was falling apart, But now at last I really know we're made of two hearts that can beat as one…” with lyctoral intent—the narrator is in a stronger position now that they’re entwined with the other person.

Tears of Pearls - Savage Garden

So this song is here in part because my high school friends and I once accidentally listened to this Savage Garden CD on repeat at a sleepover for like 5 hours straight, so I love taking the opportunity to break out this song in particular. That aside, I think the toxic relationship structure described here plays well with the lyctors, especially as we see them in Harrow. I particularly like this part near the end: “We twist and turn where angels burn, Like fallen soldiers we will learn, Once forgotten, twice removed, Love will be the death, The death of you.” I would love to include some religious imagery on this playlist, thank you Savage Garden. Also, as we see in Harrow, the older Lyctors sure do handle their emotions...poorly. 

I’m Sorry - Margaret Cho

An excellent murder ballad! “I’m sorry I killed you dear, I only wanted you to be near,” and “And I sincerely apologize, My actions were unwise, And now I realize that it killed me when you died,” and “My pride was stronger than your will to live.” 

We Both Go Down Together - The Decemberists

Another murder ballad, and even within the murder ballad genre, I think this one is exceptionally creepy. Especially with the murder-suicide implications, I think “we both go down together” works well with the creepiestreading of “one flesh one end.” 

Arms Tonite - Mother Mother

Another absolute bop suggested by a friend in my Locked Tomb group chat. I love the imagery, and I think it works exceptionally well for the lyctoral concept—”That I died right inside your arms tonight, That I'm fine even after I have died, That I try to escape the afterlife, That I try to get back in your arms alive.”

Genghis Khan - Miike Snow

Another super possessive song. I know it isn’t really explicit to cannon, but between this and Banks of the Ohio, I really like taking the literally all-consuming lyctoral process as a weird extension of the possessive “I don’t want you to get it on with nobody else but me” energy in this song and some of the others. Please also accept for consideration these lines—“'Cause I don't really want you, girl, But you can't be free, 'Cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene.” That has been part of the fun of this playlist for me—while I think some songs track for some characters more than others, I’m really having more fun with playing with the idea of someone who would intentionally murder and absorb someone they love in exchange for power. 

The Beast - Concrete Blonde

Another creepy, somewhat cannibalistic song. “Love is the leech, sucking you up, Love is a vampire, drunk on your blood, Love is the beast that will, Tear out your heart, Hungrily lick it and, Painfully pick it apart.” Cannibalism and that idea of draining someone of their power is a great combo. 

Savages - Marina

I love Marina, which is probably the only reason I’m not bowing to the fact that it bothers me that this isn’t even arguably a love song. We see in Harrow how vicious the old lyctors are, and  how their dinner parties feel like a thin veneer of civility over some truly rotten cores (I say this as a person who genuinely loved Mercymorn, but like… they’re terrible). Also, how am I supposed to resist “Is it a human trait, or is it learned behavior, Are you killing for yourself, or killing for your savior?” and “I’m not afraid of God, I am afraid of man.” More religious imagery? in my locked tomb playlist? It’s more likely than you think.

Cannibal - Kesha

More cannibalism! I love how vicious this song is, for this purpose. I also feel like “I have a heart, I swear I do, But just not baby when it comes to you,” works well, even if I’m not sure I can 100% justify it. 

Bring Me to Life - Evanescence

An explicitly canonical choice. “Now that I know what I'm without, you can't just leave me, breathe into me and make me real” and “Save me from the nothing I've become.” Because I’m an absolute turd, I love the semi-joke I’m finding in many of these song lyrics about the partner being unable to leave. Also because I’m terrible, I really like that this song can be read as regret over having become a lyctor in the first place. 

Monster - Lady Gaga

Cannibalism again, and I like that there’s some eye stuff in here. 

Cellophane - Sia

I like the anatomical imagery, with veins and blood and brains and all that. I also like “Patience is your virtue, saint o' mine” for a little call out to one of our extant lyctors. 

Most of All - Fuel

Like “Bring Me to Life,” I really like the regret and self loathing in this one. I also like the mentions of memories because [redacted]. “And I hate you now, And I miss you most of all, All those times we laughed, The scars that you left.” 

‘39 - Queen

First of all, I really like this song. I don’t think I should quite call it a bop like some of the others—maybe a jam? A song that’s explicitly about leaving Earth behind for deep-space exploration and the passage of time works wonderfully well for this sci-fi series about a society that has abandoned a dying(?) Earth and that is populated with a group of very damaged people staring down the barrel of a traumatic immortality. I also like that there’s a bit of eye imagery in the song. I especially like “For my life still ahead, pity me” as a cutting line for a lyctor. 

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

The Pretty Reckless’ Taylor Momsen: “This record saved my life”

The Pretty Reckless frontwoman Taylor Momsen faces your questions about lost friends, life in quarantine and her band’s new album

Four years on from their last album, The Pretty Reckless return in the face of personal loss and depression for the follow-up, Death By Rock And Roll. In the meantime, we challenged frontwoman Taylor Momsen to answer your burning questions on the band’s new era, making dream collaborations come true and… really rubbish tigers?

What can you tell us about how the new album is sounding? Debbie Smith (email)

“Awesome! I’m ecstatic for people to hear it. It’s been a long time coming and we’ve been sitting on music waiting to put it out, it’s been torturous. I don’t want to say too much but I am very confident with this album – in a lot of ways, this might be our best album yet; it’s very much a rebirth for this band and it feels like the first record in a lot of ways. I know to my core that I’m extraordinarily proud of what we’ve accomplished on this album, it’s a new chapter in the band’s life. This record saved my life and I’m really excited to share it.”

If you could collaborate with anyone on a future album who would it be and why? Jenni Owens (email)

“I don’t know because I don’t think of music like that, I think collaborations have to come about organically and in these modern times of streaming, collaborations are used more as a marketing tool than an actual artistic statement and I don’t really like that. I very rarely collaborate with people, but I say that just as I got to collaborate on this new album with some amazing people like Matt Cameron and Kim Thayil of Soundgarden on a song called Only Love Can Save Me Now, which we recorded at London Bridge Studios in Seattle where Soundgarden made Louder Than Love, Pearl Jam made Ten and Alice In Chains recorded there. It’s such an iconic space, so being there with those guys and hearing the song I wrote come to life with them playing it was one of the best experiences of my life. The collaboration came about in a really natural way through a lot of tragedy; we were opening for them on that last tour before Chris Cornell passed and that created a bond. We also have a song, And So It Went, that features Tom Morello playing the guitar solo – again that was such an amazing artistic collaboration. When I wrote the song, he immediately came to mind as a voice that could really express the concept, the lyrics and the point of the song and really take it to another level and he certainly does; when he comes in, it’s undeniably Tom Morello and it’s awesome!”

What do you think of them rebooting your old TV show Gossip Girl? Danielle Harris (email)

“I’m curious to see it! Social media and technology has changed so much since that show first aired so it’ll be interesting to see what they do with it. I remember on the show, they used to periodically give your character a new phone and it was still flip phones when it started… now everyone’s glued to iPhones and you feel like you’re dying without a smartphone. The social commentary alone will be interesting to see how they take that and bring it into the modern life we’re all living in.”

What did 2020 teach you? @immortalevfan (Twitter)

“It’s taught me patience, which I think I had a pretty good handle on ahead of 2020 but it certainly has tested my boundaries of how patient I can be. It’s taught me to appreciate the small things that we overlook in life – if we were on tour right now, I wouldn’t be getting to spend time with my tiny dog ,who’s very old, before she’s inevitably going to pass. I’ve been enjoying the little moments of being at home because the rest of my life has always been a whirlwind and was always on the go, so now there’s no other option but to reflect on your own thoughts and your own life.”

Would you rather have an army of badass ducks or one really crap tiger? James Brian Fitzgerald (Facebook)

“Can’t it be one badass tiger or a load of ducks? I’m kind of a solitude, isolated person; I have very few friends but the friendships I have go deep. Because a lot of ducks seems a little overwhelming, I think I want one tiger but I’d have to get him on the game. He just needs a little sensei training; I’ll give him a Soundgarden record and we’ll be on the same page. I’ll reform that tiger!”

Who in the music industry was most helpful to you taking your first steps and adapting into that world? Jane McAhrane (email)

“I have to give credit to my managers who I’ve been with for a very long time, they’ve always supported my visions and always had my back, but I think the main people are in the band. It started when I first met Ben [Phillips], our guitarist and my songwriting partner, and our producer Kato at the same time. There was an undeniable chemistry and magic that you can’t duplicate – it was something otherworldly, if you believe in that kind of thing. It was a defining moment in my life. Through that, I met Mark Damon [bass] and Jamie Perkins [drums]. When we all came together and made the decision to see where this was going to go, quit our jobs and I quit acting, we really jumped in with both feet. The support, camaraderie and the way we looked at music and life, everything about it is amazing.”

In your opinion, has having the career in acting helped or hindered the public perception and success of the band? And how long do you think it took for people to see you as a musician rather than the actress who has a band? Matt Heeks (Facebook)

“I think it was a combination of both a hindrance that we had to overcome and a slight help to the press side. In the beginning it certainly helped get our name out there because I was known for something else and I was living in a tabloid world at the time, so it spread the band’s name around, but I don’t think it contributed anything to the actuality of what it is to be a band, to make music and to be successful at that – having your name written in a bunch of articles doesn’t validate anything. I think the people who gave the album a chance without judging it with a pre- existing notion and went in with an open mind, they noticed pretty quickly. The rest of the world took a while to see this for what it was. There’s no facade, it’s just who we are as people.”

Do you think we are more likely to cry or headbang during the new album? @xxrecklesstayxx (Twitter)

“I think you’ll get a bit of both! There’s a very full spectrum on this record; it starts in the dark and ends in the light and it really takes you on a journey. If the first half doesn’t work for you, you’ll find something in the second half and vice versa. It encapsulates everything we’ve been through since the last time we were out and about in the world. A lot of this record was made due to how much tragedy and loss that suddenly thrust itself upon our lives in a short amount of time, from Chris Cornell’s passing to our producer Kato Khandwala [who died following a motorcycle crash in 2018]. [Kato] was my best friend on the planet and that was the nail in the coffin for me. I went down into a hole of depression and substance abuse and I didn’t know how to get out of it; it was music that saved me, it pulled me out and made me want to keep going. Writing this record was all I had left and I think you can really hear that on the album.”

What do you miss most about touring? Aimee Baker (email)

“I miss you guys, the fans! I’m going through show withdrawal, I miss being onstage with my best friends and cranking the amps, screaming into microphones and never really knowing what’s going on. I miss the whole energy of live shows because there’s nothing like it; it’s a drug and there’s nothing that competes with it. Being in the studio and writing gives you a different substantial kind of high that lasts forever, whereas shows are just one night but you can’t beat that one night.”

Any plans to release an acoustic album of any of your songs or covers? @Jmj2022 (Twitter)

“No specific plans but it’s certainly something we’ve been talking about for years now at this point. Because we haven’t been able to get together as a band plugged in, I’ve been doing a lot of acoustic stuff from home. We just released a piano version of House On A Hill, which is something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time and I think that turned out really beautiful. I’ve got to work with some amazing friends and musicians; Alain Johannes and I covered Chris Cornell’s The Keeper together, I also got to work with Matt Cameron and we recorded Halfway There by Soundgarden. Things are happening that wouldn’t have come about if we were on tour.”

[moonlightstars16]

Scenario: "One is mind controled and forced to fight the other" Numbers (prompt 2): 43, 45, 47, 51, 63, 67, 89, 99, and 103.... (Sorry if that's a lot of numbers 😅)

43. “I almost feel bad for you.”, 45. “No.  You listen to me.”, 47. “I know you're scared.”, 51. “You should leave.”, 63. “I hate seeing you like this.”, 67. “You'll be fine.”, 89. “Calm down.”, 99. “You're not crazy.” & 103. “Don’t worry about it.”

“One is mind controled and forced to fight the other.”

You think you would want some fluff after reading my fanfic lolz. You know what I’m capable off🤣🤣🤣. Oh and I also wrote this at 1 am so my apologies for lack of story depth and grammar.

~~~~~~~

They thought it was over.

They thought it was over.

It SHOULD’VE been over.

Fate seemed to play on Steven’s life. But now it had gone too far. It was a simple cleaning up mission. Making sure all loose ends of the past gem war were gone. Naturally it would’ve been the job for Pearl, Garnet and Amethyst. And it was. But they just want to help.

It should’ve been that simple.

A pink shield bursted out of thin air. Just in time for the sound and vibrations of a sword, to hit it right in the middle. The hit echoed through the trees. Steven slid back a tad and looked up, ready for the next blow.

“I almost feel bad for you” a more taunting voice rang out. Connie lifted up her head as a green flash glimmered across her eyes. This wasn’t Connie. Her physical body yes, but not in her control. Deep down she was still inside, fighting for dominance.

It was an accident. Steven activated the platform. Connie opened the capsuled box. Inside was a beautiful statue similar to the moon goddess one. But more earthly toned. However that theory blew out the window. Obviously it was more of a cursed object from General Emerald’s army. Cursing any soul who dared touched it.

Only humans could’ve activated it. Thanks to the diamonds allowing her to use peridot’s to invent this sort of trap. But Steven only cared about the now. How he could bring Connie back to the forefront.

“I hate seeing you like this...” with a smirk the possessed girl raised her sword. “You should leave.” With that she swung it downwardsand broke his shield. Only to be combated by his bubble.

“Connie! Fight this! You can do it!!!” Steven cried out, hoping his words could reach her. Eyes landing on her blood scratches across the top parrot her arms. Trailing down to her fingertips. He dodged every attack, trying to come up with a plan. Suddenly, in the deepest represt(ish) part of his memories, he got an idea.

“Whatever gem-hybrid-boy. Just shut up.” With those words, their was an opening. With his fast reflexes, he put the bubble down, knocked the sword out of her hands. Grabbing her by the arm and putting her in the bubble. Watching as she tried getting out.

“Let me out! I’ll give you an unfair fight and when I’m finished you’ll-“

“Whoever you are be quiet! I’m talking to the real Connie.” His voice firm and full of determination. “I wont-“

“No. You listen to me, Connie. I know your scared. I know that your the strongest friend I’ve ever met, on the beach and trapped them in a bubble. We’re jam buds, we stick together no matter what. You can fight this Connie! Fight it for, if not me or anyone you know, fight for you!” small flicker of brown glistened. He was reaching through to her, all he had to do is keep it up.

“There you go, calm down Connie, you got this.” She bent down in pain, head in her hands. Trying to regain her staggering breathing.

“I-I’m going crazy...I can’t fight-“ that was his Connie. Bending over in what seemed to be more pain than before. It made his heart ache but he had to do it for her. “You’re not crazy, and you can beat this Connie.”

“Steven-... I’m scared...”

“I know you are, you’re going to be fine.”

Time seemed to pass by slowly. Steven’s breathed hitched with every movie Connie made. Like any fusion he could tell which part is which depending. But this wasn’t fusion. It was a fight. A fight for inner strength and dominance.

And to no surprise, Connie won out.

Moments passed between them, a green puff of smoke disappearing in the air, Connie’s body going limp, Steven rushing over and placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Causing her to wake up.

“S-Steven?...w-what happened?” She moaned rubbing her temple.

“Don’t worry about it.” He spoke, lifting her up in his arms, carrying her all the way home.

[jenomark]

Secrets- Part 1

○Pairing: Office!Mark x Reader (Female) x Jungwoo ○Other Members/ Characters: brief mention of a character named Doyoung. ○Genre: smut  ○Warnings: no smut in part 1 ○Word count: 6,007

→Summary: Who says office workers can’t have a little fun? There’s a secret sex party that your whole office can’t stop talking about. At first, you’re not sure if you’re someone that could have sex in front of strangers, but there is something that keeps drawing you in. Trying to face your fears, you get dressed up in your prettiest dress and attend the masquerade ball without fully committing, telling yourself that you can just bail if you can’t do it. When you arrive, a mystery man takes your hand, and pulls you deep into a world you never dreamed you could be a part of.

→Notes:

An anon requested a Jungwoo, Reader, Mark threesome & this is the result of that. 

This was only meant to a one shot, but it was so long that I had to divide it into three parts.

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

Friday

  You’d never heard of anything like it. There was something naive about how you perceived the world, your wide-eyed stare, and your metaphorical pearls clutched in your good-girl fists. You liked to think you were beyond being a prude since you kissed Kim Doyoung at your middle school’s playground, your tongue jammed halfway down his throat, but there was much to the world you still didn’t know about. You had liked the way he made you feel, a bit like you were on top of the world. It was the last time you had taken control like that, the last time you had felt any passion. Since then, you’d entered relationship after relationship, having sex with men quietly, all while letting them come and go as they pleased.

  Word traveled fast through the people at your office, their excitement dribbling down their chins, and into their coffee cups. It wasn’t a company affair, but it felt like everyone was attending. You thought a sex party was only for a certain type of person, and you definitely didn’t think Janet from accounting was one of those people. At first, your co-workers mentioning the word ‘sex’ so casually in a workplace setting threw you off. Your cheeks grew red, and it took everything in you not to cover your face with a stack of papers. After trying to escape the talk for weeks, it followed you everywhere until you decided to give in. You were a sex positive person, and you could take a little of the heat.

    You cornered your office bestie one afternoon, and asked her what exactly the party was about, and how many people would be attending. She was a wife, a mother of newborn twins who sneaked off into the bathroom to breast pump when she could. You knew it was a long shot asking her, but she was also the nosiest person you knew. 

“How would I know?” she asked. “It does sound like a lot of fun. I’m kind of sad that I won’t be able to go. Do you think there is a kink for mothers who--actually, you know what, I don’t want to know.”

“It’s for single people?” you asked.

“It’s for anyone who likes and wants to fuck.”

  The word ‘fuck’ always made you wince; it felt harsh coming from peoples mouths, especially yours. You smoothed your pencil skirt and tried a different tactic.

“Do you think someone like me could attend?” you said, adding “hypothetically” at the last moment.

  At that, she laughed. She wasn’t pitying you, just wasn’t taking you seriously enough. When you didn’t smile, her mouth fell into a frown. She looked around her and leaned in so that no one could hear your conversation. Your work floor was full of like-minded people who eavesdropped, and with the latest news, everyone was trying to find out who was attending the party. You didn’t love the thought of Monday arriving, and finding out which of your co-workers liked to be spanked. 

“Do you think you could handle something like that?” she asked. “You don’t seem the type.”

  You sat on the edge of a desk and tried to look like you were a relaxed person that wasn’t fazed by much. You pushed your hair to the side and stuck your chest out, but stopped when her mouth started to break out into a smile. There was a con to having a young face, and you were sure that was part of it.

“I’m sorry, “ she said. “I don’t want to offend you, babe, but this hardly seems like something you would do. Maybe I don’t know you that well. We all have our secrets.”

  You hunched over and looked all around the room. It was Friday, and people were gearing up for the weekend. You tried to imagine what everyone would look like in full Masquerade formal wear, the masks on their faces hiding their true selves. Everyone knew the masks didn’t hide much, but you thought the thrill was in pretending that it did.

“I’m not sure what happens at those things,” you said. “Does everyone meet up and decide who they want to be with? Do they date? Is it just sex and no dating at all?”

“Oh, you poor misguided child.”

“I’m not a child. Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m sorry, again,” she said. “Look, you can go and check it out. You don’t have to sleep with anyone if you don’t want to.”

“Won’t people be angry if I don’t participate?”

“Consent is important at things like that,” she said. “Ask Regina from sales. She’s been to a lot of sex parties. I think she met her boyfriend at one.”

  Your office bestie left you soon after to go home. You felt just as confused as before you talked to her, your mind pulling you in all different directions. You were very curious about the party, but in a way that you didn’t want to be involved, you just wanted to see how everything went down. Your thoughts made you feel aimless, so until you were dismissed, you walked around the office trying to overhear conversations you weren’t a part of. 

   “The girls don’t get to choose who they fuck,” someone said. “That is where the fun is.”

Another chimed in, “No, it’s the men who don’t. It’s ladies choice.” 

  You tilted so far into their cubicle that someone's calendar fell to the floor. Everyone looked at you, waiting for you to say something.  You acted like you were just shuffling through papers in your hand, oblivious to everything. Luckily, Mark, the copy boy, came by and grabbed your elbow, spinning you around.

“Hey!” he said, “How are you? I haven’t seen you all week.”

 Mark led you through a back hallway, his fingers still on your elbow. You liked being around Mark. He was fairly new to the office, but he brought an interesting vibe to the place. He was only a copy boy, but everyone adored him like he was the most important man on the floor. There was always a smile on his face, and he brought in pastries for people without asking. Word around the office was that everyone had a crush on him.

“I’m okay!” you said, matching his excitement.

“Happy for the weekend?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s nice to rest my hands. I’ve gotten so many paper cuts since I’ve been here.”

  Mark let go of your elbow and showed you his hands. They were small and veined, with a brush of light hair across the top. You smiled, your eyes practically lighting up as if he showed you a pot of gold. It wasn’t odd for you to have a little office crush every once in a while, but Mark made you feel like you were back on that playground again.

“Ouch,” you said. “You have to be careful.”

“I’m always too rough with my hands.”

  You looked down at the floor, the nerves getting to you. Mark bent over and tried to get you to look at him. When you locked eyes, he broke out into a smile.

“You’re still shy around me?” he asked. “That’s sweet.”

“I’m not-”

“-It’s okay,” he said. “I like it. Anyway, I hope you have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Okay, “ you said. “I’ll see you.”

  You watched Mark walk away, your eyes going straight to his firm ass. He turned back once to give you a little wave, which you returned lamely. When he was gone from view, you banged your head against the wall, keeping it there for a whole minute before you returned to your desk.

Saturday

  You knew the address. You knew the time. You knew how to get there by car. You knew what you would wear, what you wanted your makeup to look like. You knew all it took was a bit of courage, and maybe a dash of tequila.

   You stood in your apartment staring at The Dress. It hung on the back of your door on a hanger, it’s fabric nearly reaching the floor. You were meant to wear it on a fancy date once, but the date had bailed on you last minute. The dress had sat in your closet ever since, just begging to be let out and loved. You tried it on only once, in the store, the sales clerk helping you into it. It was burgundy and made of imitation silk, with a plunging neckline, cinched in waist, and a long slit up the right leg. It was much sexier of a garment than you would usually wear, but it made you feel expensive.

  You planned on going to the party, or rather, the ball, as it was called. You weren’t going to participate, just walk in and see what everything was about. You knew that if you weren’t comfortable, you could easily reverse your decision and everyone there would respect you. Still, even with the safety net in place, you felt fear clawing up your spine like a cold hand.

   You went into your kitchen and took another shot. It didn’t go down smoothly so you scrunched up your face. Before you could fully chicken out, you removed your clothes and bra, and slipped into the dress. Everything seemed to come together from there, your hair falling in loose waves around your shoulders, your makeup dramatic all the way down to the dark red lipstick. You didn’t want to look in the mirror and assess yourself in case you saw the little office girl staring back at you, so you left and caught a cab.

  When you arrived, you couldn’t stop staring up at the building. It loomed overhead like a palace, pretty gold pillars and stained glass windows as far as your eyes could see. There were people milling around, designer bags on their arms, masks on their faces, and their hair adorned with jewels. You couldn’t imagine your average office worker attending, let alone yourself. You looked down at your dress and suddenly felt out of place. You hugged yourself and walked towards the entrance, moving your legs forward like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

  “Name?”

  You stopped behind a line of people trying to get inside the ball. A big burly man stood at the doorway, with a tablet in his hand, and his fingers scanning down a list of names. You tried inching closer to hear what the people at the front were whispering to him, but you were too wobbly in your heels. A few people walked out of line looking dejected, which made you start to sweat. You weren’t aware there was a list to get inside, and you weren’t that great at handling rejection. You looked around you and thought about dipping out, but the line behind you was so long that any movement would make all eyes watch you. Very slowly, you moved to the front of the line, your heart sinking down to your asshole.

“Name?” 

  With one person left to go before the man asked you your name, you felt a hand around your wrist. Before you realized what was happening, you were whisked out of line and through the door. The hand attached to you belonged to a man in a black suit, but all you could see was the back of his head. The man at the door let both of you pass through without looking up from his tablet. You were brought into a dark entryway, and before you could get a better look at the man, you were left in total darkness.

“Oh, you’ve been picked.” a female voice said.

  A woman came walking out of the dark. She was wearing a tight, white dress and heels so high she towered over you. Like everyone else, there was a masquerade mask on her face, its edges decorated with white pearls and lace. Her red hair was scraped up into a neat bun that sat on top of her head. Her voice was higher than any you’ve ever heard before, which could have been annoying to some, but you found it oddly addicting. You felt too googly-eyed around her, too new and too young.

“Picked?” you asked. 

“Is this your first time?” she asked.

   A few women entered behind you. When they opened the door to the main hall, a light so brilliant illuminated everything. If you were that kind of person, you would have believed you were getting ready to walk into heaven, but the door shut as quickly as it had opened, and you were brought back into the dim room, back into the conversation with the mysterious woman.

“Yes.” you said.

  She sat down in a chair and crossed her legs. It was then that you realized you weren’t wearing the mask you brought, and that everyone could see who you were. You rummaged around in your bag and pulled your mask out. You had found a plastic one at a party store, the kind you decorate yourself. You ended up putting a few black feathers and sequins around it just to blend in, but it was clear that your mask looked like a child made it.

“I’m surprised,” she said. “Not a lot of virgins get picked their first time. Darling, don’t take offense to that. We call first timers virgins here. It’s no wonder someone snatched you up so quickly. You do look like a scared little baby.”

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to be here.”

“That’s what they all say,” she said. “Some of them don’t even make it through the second door.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked. “To coax virgins who want to run?”

  She laughed, her laugh like the cracking of glass. “Me? What makes you think I have the patience. I don’t work here. I’m just a surveyor. I like to watch the fun.”

 You looked back towards the first door and thought about leaving. No one had come through the door since the last group of girls. Everything was feeling too quiet, too still. You looked back at the woman and opened your mouth to speak, but closed it just as soon as you did.

“Go ahead,” she said. “What do you want to know? Better yet, what do you know?”

“My work,” you started. “They said it was a sex club, a sex party.”

“Office work?”

“Yes.”

“We get a lot of those types,” she said. “They’re lazy and don’t put in the work. A lot of them go through rooms acting like idiots who have never seen a tit in their lives. The thing about these kinds of..what did you call it? A sex party? Is that it always attracts the wrong people. “

“Am I the wrong person?”

“That’s not for me to judge,” she said. “You were picked before you even made it inside, so that tells me that someone thinks you’re the right person.”

  A loud bell interrupted your thought process. It rang three times before the woman raised her eyebrows and stood up. She went to the door and put her hands on a handle that looked like a stemmed rose. Before she opened it, she stopped and looked at you, giving your body a once-over.

“They smell fear,” she said. “It’s important to know that.”

  When she opened the door, you were gifted with the light again. She held it open for you and you walked on through, not daring to look behind you.

  The ballroom was gorgeous. At first glance, you felt blinded by the beauty in every corner. A giant marble staircase with lush red carpet running down it stood in the center, it’s steps leading both left and right as if guests were given a choice of which way they wanted to go. The floor you were standing on itself looked so delicate, as if it would crack as soon as you dug your heel into it. The room was set up like a party, with food and drink being served, and round tables everywhere for guests to sit. Music was playing softly, acting more like the soundtrack to the guests chatter. There were so many people mingling on the floor, their outfits perfectly pressed and masks perfectly crafted, that you felt overwhelmed. You looked around for the woman, but she had disappeared into the sea of people.

  “Drink?”

  A man with a tray came over and offered you a flute of champagne. You were getting ready to take it until a man sidled up to you and told you that it would be easier if you just sucked one down. You moved away from him, losing yourself in the black suits and ties, the ball gowns and their satin. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were going to do, but it seemed like the right move to make. You found yourself by a table of food, grabbed a little pig in the blanket and shoved it into your mouth. You chewed nervously, looking all around for a sign of what to do next.

  You still had no idea what would happen at the ball.  As far as you could see, it looked like any normal formal party, with people too rich for their own good talking out of their asses. There wasn’t any talk of sex, no table full of condoms, or people fucking in the middle of the floor, just a bunch of investment talk and showing off.

“You’re supposed to talk to people.”

  The redheaded woman came back. Her voice made you jump and drop your fifth pig in the blanket on the floor. You ignored it as it rolled underneath a table.

“I’m shy.” you said.

“You’re in the wrong place,” she said. “Come on, these people don’t bite, well, unless you want them too.  Aren’t you curious what person chose you?”

“I guess.”

  You tried to remember if you saw any part of his face,  but all you could remember was the back of his head and the way his hand felt: warm and familiar. Everything happened so fast that it was impossible to know who he was. With the masks, it was even more impossible.

“It’s not for everyone, darling.” she said.

  There was something about the way she said ‘Darling’ that made you feel angry. You didn’t want to be someone's first choice, someone's darling, someone's virgin. You could easily belong with these people, even with your shitty mask. 

“Alright, I see some fire behind those eyes,” she said. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to feel guilty if you want to back out. But by all means, go get yourself some sweet cock.”

  With that, she disappeared again. You thought about grabbing another pig in the blanket but thought better of it. You walked to the other end of the room, loving the way the slit on your thigh revealed your smooth leg. You could feel the burn on your skin from the eyes that watched you as you passed, mostly men’s eyes. The embarrassment about the mask washed away, and what was left felt like a steely determination to make the best of things. You scanned the room for your man, but everyone melted into one person.

“You’re beautiful.” a man said.

“Thanks.”

  When you didn’t pay him as much attention as he paid you, he gradually faded away. You kept your eyes on the crowds of people arriving and leaving, arms linked with arms, hands dipping underneath skirts. You didn’t know how long you had to listen to strange men telling you how pretty you were, but there was something about it that began to build onto your confidence. You straightened your posture a little and thought of yourself as the baddest bitch around. It was a little silly, but it really helped ease the nerves.

“Hi,” he said. “Can I stand here?”

  The timidness of the voice coming from your left startled you. You turned and thought you would find someone small, but the man beside you soared over you, his body seemingly going on for miles. He wore a dark blue suit, with a casual white t-shirt tucked into it, and no tie. His ash gray hair was curly and stuck out in all directions. He reminded you a little bit of a dog, which made you instantly feel comfortable.

“Yes,” you said. “I would love that.”

  You were sure he wasn’t your man because he was much too tall, and his hair wasn’t the same color, but that didn’t stop you from talking to him. In that moment, you desperately wanted it to be him. You could tell he felt the same way by the way he let his breath go as if he had been holding it in. He smiled and offered you a sip of his drink, which you accepted.  

“I’m nervous.” he said.

“Me too.”

“I’m a virgin,” he said. “Well, I’m not actually a virgin but…”

“It’s okay, “ you said. “By their standards, I am also a virgin.”

  There was a little bit of awkwardness in the air as you revealed what kind of people you were. You didn’t think you would meet anyone like yourself so early, but it was like the heavens were giving you a chance to interact.

“Do you know what happens at these things?” you asked.

  If he was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it.  Like a manual, he read out a list of rules that made no sense to you. He stated it so matter-of-fact that, after he was done, he looked at you like you would give him a treat.

“Wait,” you said. “The men choose?”

“The women can choose, too,” he said. “It’s whoever gets there first.”

“How does anyone else know who's been chosen?” you asked. “Is there some kind of name tag I was supposed to get?”

“No,” he said, wide-eyed. “Everyone here has been chosen. Well, some just watch.”

   The little bit of information he gave you was blowing your mind. You tried to make sense of it all, tried remembering the rules he told you, but everything felt fuzzy.

“So…,” you began. “Were you chosen?”

“I was.”

  You felt sad at the thought of someone else claiming him. You didn’t want to leave his side. There was something about his presence that made you want to be around him.

“A woman chose you?”

“A man,” he said. “I didn’t get to see his face, but he was shorter than me. He pulled me out of line and brought me inside. I didn’t get to say much to him before he disappeared.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“My name,” he said. “He said my name like he knew who I was.”

 It occurred to you to ask him what his name was. When he told you he was named Jungwoo, you told him your name back. He blushed when you told him you liked the way he said your name.

“We both have a mystery man and we don’t know who he is,” you said. “How do we find him?”

“We don’t. We wait.”

“We what?”

“Didn’t you read the rule book?” he asked.

You shook your head no. “Coming here was a spur of the moment thing.”

“That’s brave,” he said. “I’ve been talking myself out of it for weeks. I only came tonight because I lost a bet. Is this something you’ve been wanting to do?”

“Have sex with a random stranger? Not exactly.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.

“Sure.”

 Jungwoo leaned down closer to your ear. “I wish it were you.”

  Before you could respond, the lights went out and mood lighting was set. You looked up at the massive chandeliers and felt the way the excitement buzzed through the air. During this, Jungwoo’s hand reached out instinctively to hold yours. The music got a little louder, the drunkenness a little bit more apparent.  Jungwoo removed his hand from yours and watched you looking from face-to-face.

“We don’t have sex here, do we?”

“No. There are rooms.”

“Can everyone watch?”

“If they pay,” he said. “Typically it’s about 10 people a room, plus the people who put on the show. It’s all done voluntary, and with complete consent. “

“Are there private rooms?”

“Not here on the ground floor ,” Jungwoo said. “But people choose to go upstairs to the hotel rooms for the night.”

  The nerves were coming back. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands were sweaty. You felt exposed in your own body, though you were wearing a mask to give your identity some dignity.

“You never have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Jungwoo said. 

“What do you want to do, Jungwoo?”

“I want to participate.”

“I think I do, too,” you said. “If you excuse me, I’m going to find my man.”

  Jungwoo didn’t say anything as you walked away from him. You felt like you glided across the floor, touching shoulders as you went, looking at every mask to find any details of the man who brought you inside. You thought about shouting for him over the noise, but you weren’t sure that would be taken well in a place so organized. Your other choice was to wait. You were deciding what to do when you saw Jungwoo being led somewhere by a woman without a mask. You didn’t have time to wonder where he was going when you felt a body press against yours. Instinctively, you tried turning around, but a hand around your wrist and the other on your waist stilled you.

“Don’t move,” a  deep voice whispered in your ear. “Do you want me?”

  You knew it was him. You didn’t have to look him in the face to know it was the same person who brought you inside. His body was so close to yours that you could feel all of him, the bulge in his pants against your ass, his heart racing against your back.  After you said yes, he snaked his hands down your thigh, his fingers pausing just an inch inside the slit of your dress. With the other hand, he unclasped your wrist and brought it up to your neck.

“I’ve been watching you.” he said.

“Isn’t that kind of creepy?”

  You didn’t care if people were watching you, but of course they were. His hand on your thigh made you feel so good that you struggled to keep your eyes open. You leaned your head back a little, and you let his hand grip your throat lightly. 

“Maybe.” he laughed.

“Why me?”

“First, it was the dress,” he said. “It doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does it?”

  You felt his hand cup your pussy over your underwear. His fingers were feather light against the lace, your pussy lips practically quivering as he drew circles, tracing the pattern with his fingertips. He brought his other hand from your neck and slid it between your breasts. You both swayed in place, dancing to music that no one else could hear.

“And second?” you asked, your breath getting caught in your throat.

  His hand went up your throat again and grabbed your chin. He pulled your chin down so that you could see all of the people looking at you, all the men staring with envy in their eyes. 

“Look at how much they want you,” he said. “Look at how much you’re all mine.”

  His fingers went underneath your underwear. He swiped his hand against you to feel your wetness. His hand came up to show you how you glistened in the light.

“Am I yours?” he asked. “Tell me, and it all begins.”

  He let go of you and you could still feel his touch on your body. You rocked backwards, but were met with air.

“You’re mine.” you said.

  He moved a stray hair from your neck and kissed you. His lips were soft and wet, his kiss sweet. Before leaving, he whispered in your ear and told you someone would be along shortly to collect you.

  Waiting felt like an eternity. You hadn’t felt that excited in a long time, like you would explode from the anticipation alone. Being touched like that in front of all of those people felt thrilling. They knew how your face looked with fingers inside of your pussy, and hands at your throat. They knew how fast you would crumble, and they would pay to see it. Going along with it felt too crazy of a thing for you. People from your work were probably watching your every move, and soon they would see what you looked like spread eagle on whatever surface you would be fucked on.

   About twenty minutes later, a different woman than the one who collected Jungwoo came for you. She was taller than you by a good five inches, and her face was all business and all pleasure. You didn’t know what to say to her, so you just stayed quiet and followed her out through am unmarked door off to the side.

“You need to sign a few forms,” she said. “Nothing too scary, just for legal purposes. You understand?”

“Yes.”

  She brought you into a room that operated as an office. You sat in chair with a yellow light bringing out the worst tones in your skin. You could pick yourself apart in the office and the woman would be none-the-wiser.

“Sign on the dotted line and on the next page,” she said, handing you a clipboard. “You can read it, if you want, but it’s just a guide to understand that all participants safety is our main concern. When you’re done signing, I need to ask you about personal matters such as contraceptives and stuff like that. Do you consent?” 

  After you agreed and signed the papers, she went over a few more things. Hearing her talk was daunting. She was fast and sure, her words spilling out like she had spoken them a million times, but you were struggling to keep up.  

“All set,” she said. “The important thing is to have fun. If you’re not having fun, there is no point.”

“Okay.”

  She stood up and you followed. She opened the door and you walked through. She escorted you down a long hallway with funky colored carpet and brown walls. The sconces on the wall looked like they belonged to a cheap motel, which was a far cry from the main ballroom. At the end of the hallway, was another door, but this one had a key code.

“This is serious.” you whispered.

“Safety is important to us,” she said. “We want our participants and our surveyors to feel safe.  Nothing will be recorded for this purpose. Phones are taken away before they ever reach the room, which reminds me, give me your bag.”

  You handed over the small bag you brought and watched as she tucked it under her arm. When she saw your face, she assured you nothing would happen to your belongings.

“Beyond this point,” she said. “You can choose to keep the mask on, or not. Most people like it on for the slight anonymity, but some do get brave.”

“I want it off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

  You whipped the mask off and handed it to her before you could change your mind. You’re sure she was used to ridiculous displays of bravado, and judging by the look on her face, you were also sure she didn’t take you seriously.

“Are you ready?”

“You make it sound like I’m being thrown to the wolves.” you said, nervous laughter following behind.

“Well, Mark did choose you,” she said. “And that boy likes to play.”

“Mark?”

  The door swung open, revealing another long hallway with a bunch of rooms. Every room had a door with a number on it. The woman told you only participants can walk through those doors and that once they were all inside, the doors would lock for safety reasons.

“No one tries to get through,” she said. “But it’s an extra protection. This way, no one can just join in if they feel like it, or are too drunk to stop themselves. These rooms are only for surveyors.”

  Where there should have been walls, there was a floor to ceiling sheet of glass so that people could easily see everything going on inside the room.

“It’s like a cage.” you said.

“We were going to do a two-way mirror type of deal but we realized that people find it sexier if they can see the people watching them.” she said.

 The thought of people watching you have sex was finally sinking in. Even though you could opt out at any time, you felt like you were at the point of no return. You had felt him on you, felt his breath on your neck, and there wasn’t much that could tear you away.

“You’re in room four,” she said. “ Before you go in, I’m going to have to blind fold you.”

“What? Why?”

“Virgin rules.”

  She turned you around herself and tied a red sash around your head to cover your eyes. Not being able to see made you feel vulnerable. She told you to stand in place while she opened the door with her keys. She held your hand as she directed you inside, her voice making you feel more anxious as you moved inside.

“Stand right here.” she said.

  She pulled you to a spot and stopped you before you went too far. Standing there felt awkward, so you clasped your arms in front of you and tried to remain calm.

“Things will start shortly,” she said. “Any questions?”

“Am I the only one in this room?” you asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” she said. “Any other questions?”

“No.”

“Good. Remember to have fun, and use protection.”

  You heard the door shut. The silence in the room felt uncomfortable. You could hear yourself breathing too heavily. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. You thought about removing your blindfold, but you didn’t want to get in trouble. All you could think about were the stacks of papers you signed and what the repercussions were for breaking a rule. After what felt like another eternity, you heard movement. When the door opened, voices poured into the room, which made you feel scared. As soon as the door shut, the voices vanished. 

“Who’s there?” you asked.

  You could hear the footsteps walk across the room, taking their time. They weren’t going to you, but heading further away. You could hear whispering, but couldn’t make out the words. When you put your fingers to the blindfold to tear it off, a voice suggested that was a bad idea.

“Going too fast could ruin the whole thing,” he said. “I like to take my time.”

“It’s you.”

“Of course it’s me,” he said. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Are there people watching us?”

“They are, but they can’t hear us just yet.”

“Why can’t we hear them?”

“It’s the way things are,” he said. “They hear us, we don’t hear them. It’s just us in our little world.”

  You swallowed. It was so loud that you swore he could hear it. His footsteps moved towards you and your whole body clammed up. He stopped in front of you and skimmed his fingers down your cheek.

“You really shouldn’t be so shy around me.” he said.

  He reached up to untie the red sash around your eyes. It fell like ribbon to the floor, and you got to watch it land at your feet. You looked at his shoes, but couldn’t bring yourself to look up much further than that. He touched your chin and brought your gaze up to meet his.  When you looked into his eyes, the world shifted.

“Mark.” you whispered.

[searchingwardrobes]

Happy belated birthday, @courtorderedcake​ ! I am so sorry this gift is late! It’s been a week, we’ll just say that, and I wanted your gift to be good. I know you have been through SO much difficulty, my dear, and I wanted to write a fic focusing on Emma’s tough past and her strength because I know you identify with her so deeply. This turned out going in a much different direction than I anticipated, especially with the Daddy!Charming at the end. Nevertheless, I hope you like it! I based this on the song of the same name by Pearl Jam, and the two lines I used at the end made me think of you, Court, as well as Emma: “She holds the hand that holds her down/ She will rise above.”

This fic doesn’t follow the season seven timeline simply because it makes my head hurt and it was just easier to ignore it. I also needed Emma’s past in the Land Without Magic to touch her in the present, and the whole “all the realms are in Maine” wouldn’t really work here. Therefore, this is three years after the season six finale. Henry is sixteen Neal Nolan is three, and baby Hope is two months old.

Summary: The past collides with the present when Emma gets an upsetting phone call. But she isn’t a lost girl anymore.

Rating: T for brief discussions of child neglect, emotional abuse, and alcoholism

Words: 3,500 and some change

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @jennjenn615​ @distant-rose​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @tiganasummertree​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @snidgetsafan​ @thislassishooked​ @branlovestowrite​ @scientificapricot​ @stahlop​ @hollyethecurious​ @shireness-says​ @winterbaby89​ @wellhellotragic​

Neither Emma nor Killian would say that their pasts were a faded, distant memory. Trauma just wasn’t that easy to get over. They would say, however, that this life they’d built in Storybrooke made the memories easier to handle. They had legit, “I’d go to hell and back for you”, family and friends. They had the home of their dreams where they could give Henry and Hope all the things they never had. They no longer felt the pang of hunger or the bite of cold.

Most of all, they had each other. Having each other meant sharing the burden of those memories for the first time. It was like peeling an onion, and Emma didn’t mean that metaphor in the usual sense. She meant the layers stung like hell, so they could only handle tiny bits at a time. It was okay, though, Killian told her. They had a lifetime together.

Taking the pain a tiny piece at a time was why the phone call came as such a shock for both of them. It wasn’t that Emma forgot about Hank, it’s just she’d never heard anyone speak of him aloud in almost thirty years.

Killian watched her face go pale, saw her arm go limp even though he could still hear a tiny voice coming through the speaker of her phone.

“Emma? Is everything okay?”

She dropped the phone without ending the call, and it hit one of the throw pillows and slid to the edge of the couch. Without saying a word, she headed upstairs, and Killian snatched the phone up and pressed it to his ear. The person on the other end was saying “hello? Ms. Swan, are you there?”

“This is Mr. - this is her husband,” Killian said. Though Storybrooke was no longer isolated from the outside world, Killian still essentially didn’t exist outside of its borders. Their marriage, though real in every way that mattered, wasn’t legally official outside of their little hamlet of fairy tale characters.

“Oh,” the woman on the line said, “well, could you just let her know that visiting hours end at nine pm?”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Visiting hours?”

“Yes, if she’d like to come visit Hank Gregory. Her foster father?”

Killian sank to the edge of the couch. “Could you fill me in, please? My wife was a little - overwhelmed by your call.”

“Well, Mr. Gregory was admitted to Maine Medical Center here in Portland about two days ago with complications from both liver disease and diabetes. We’ve done all we can for him, but he’s been admitted into the ICU.” The woman took a deep breath, as if gathering her strength to get the next words out.

“I told your wife this already, but he doesn’t have a lot of time. We asked if he had any next of kin he’d like us to contact, and your wife’s name and number was all he gave us. He said she was his foster daughter?”

Killian rubbed the curve of his hook against his chin. No wonder the nurse phrased it as a question - this call likely wasn’t going the way she had envisioned. Across the room, Henry had discarded his video game controller and was watching Killian with a question furrowing his brow. Killian wished he weren’t so worried himself because it’s one thing for the man to have Emma’s name. It was quite another for him to have her cell phone number.

“Let me jot down those visitation hours,” he finally told the nurse, motioning to Henry to get a pad of paper and a pen. The lad dashed to the kitchen and fished them out of the junk drawer. Killian repeated the information from the nurse as Henry scribbled it down. After ending the call, Henry regarded him intensely.

“What was that all about? Mom seemed really upset.”

Killian sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not one hundred percent sure yet, Henry.”

***************************************************************

“Are you’re absolutely positive that you want to do this, love?”

Emma was clutching the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip, but she nodded at Killian anyway. They were twenty minutes outside of Storybrooke, and she’d been completely silent the entire time.

“I need answers. The man treated me like shit for two years, and now, 24 years later, he calls out of the blue?”

Killian really wasn’t sure what to say, so he merely rubbed Emma’s arm with the curve of his hook. She smiled at the gesture, and her body relaxed. One of her hands released the steering wheel, and she reached over to grasp his. He lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

“The bastard isn’t going to die without me getting a thing or two off my chest, either,” she added with a bitter chuckle.

There was a time a few years ago that the anger radiating from her and the harshness of her words would have him worried. His mind would have gone immediately to his own bitterness towards his father and the darkness that kind of path leads to. But now he knew better. Emma had faced the darkness and risen above it. He also knew she had to face her demons on her own terms.

“I’m right beside you, Swan, you know that.”

Her face relaxed and she turned her palm to lace their fingers together. She lifted their hands and pressed her lips to the back of his before letting go so she could put two hands back on the wheel. She bore right and soon the Bug was heading down 295 to Portland.

**********************************************************

Maine Medical Center was enormous, comprised of several different buildings. To make matters worse, parts of it were being renovated and construction zones were everywhere. They finally found the correct building, finally found a parking deck, and then walked what felt like a million miles to the ICU. Killian had never been anywhere but Storybrooke General, but this massive place had the same sterile smell and chilly air. He noticed Emma shivering and put his arm around her as they walked. She leaned into him, clasping his prosthetic hand in hers, his hook not exactly appropriate for the setting.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” she whispered.

“It’s what a husband does,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

His quip at least elicited a tiny chuckle from her. They approached the nurses station for the ICU, and Emma told them who she was and that she was here to see Hank Gregory. A smiling woman in her sixties whose spectacles reminded him of Granny Lucas led them to the correct room, which looked more to Killian like a glass prison. She eased the door open and called to the patient in the bed with a voice only slightly above a whisper.

“Mr. Gregory, you have visitors.”

The man’s eyes blinked open, and he turned his head towards the open door. He was covered in wires and tubes, and things blinked and beeped all around him. The nurse pressed a gentle hand to Emma’s arm.

“I’ll let you visit.”

Emma simply nodded, and Killian could tell she would rather flee. But she let out a long, slow breath and then took a step closer towards the man in the bed. His skin was pale and looked as thin as paper, littered in bruises. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks sallow, and there was a yellowish pallor to his face. He was mostly bald with only a few wisps of dingy gray hair. Killian glanced at Emma. She dropped her arms to her sides, and her hands were balled into tight fists.

“Emma,” the man said on a struggled breath, “you came.”

“How the hell did you find me?” she bit back.

The man’s eyes blinked, moist with tears. He looked sad, resigned, but not angry or defensive. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you over the years. Trying to, anyway. You can be a hard girl to find.”

“Yeah, I kinda pride myself on it.”

He ignored her jab, and smiled at Killian. “And who is your young man here?”

“I’m not ten anymore, Hank. This isn’t my young man, he’s my husband.”

“Killian Jones.” Killian gave the man a slight nod, unsure if he should attempt to shake his hand or not. He glanced nervously at Emma, wondering if she was offended by his polite greeting, but her gaze hadn’t left the man in the hospital bed.

“Nice to meet you, son.”

“He’s not your anything.” Emma propped her hands on her hips. “How. Did. You. Find me?”

He sighed, his head sinking even farther into his pillow. “I saw you in the papers a few years back. Emma Swan Always Gets Her Man, that was the headline. I’ve done some, well . . . work with computers, so I -”

“You obtained my personal information illegally, right? Did you know I’m a sheriff now?”

Hank tilted his head. “No, actually, I didn’t. Funny thing, I was following your career in New York, even found out about your son -”

“You stay the hell away from Henry!”

Hank ignored her “-but then the two of you just . . . disappeared. I held onto your number, though. When I gave it to the nurse, I wasn’t sure if it would even work. I was even less sure that you would come.”

Emma’s chin was tilted, and Killian knew what that meant. “Why me?”

“You’re all I’ve got left, Emma. You were my daughter, for God’s sake!”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your daughter. I never was.”

“Maybe not by blood, but I loved you like my own -”

“You don’t know what love even is!” Emma was shouting now, and Killian glanced nervously at the door. He wasn’t going to stop her, though. Obviously, whatever was pouring out of her had been bottled up for years. Hank was obviously not long for this world, and he knew better than anyone that his wife needed to say everything that had been left unsaid.

Hank was crying now, tears catching in the wrinkles that marred his face. “I didn’t treat you right, I know that, but I did love you, Emma. I did.”

Emma shook her head. “Really? You loved me so much you spent all of the money on liquor while I starved? Loved me so much you spent every waking moment in that damn recliner with the tv on? Do you know how many times I had to clean you up after you’d puked all over yourself? How many times I had to haul trash bags full of empty bottles out to the curb?”

“I know, I know!” Hank was sobbing now, his voice breaking as he struggled to speak. “When Denine and I took you in, we were gonna do it together. We were so excited to give you a home. But then she died, and I . . . she was my life, Emma. I was grieving so badly that I lost myself in the drinking, and -”

“I was grieving too!” Emma shouted. “And I was only ten!”

An awkward silence fell then, the sounds of the hospital machines louder within it. Hank’s gaze trailed to the ceiling, and his hands picked nervously at the thin hospital blanket. He let out a shaky sigh before finally speaking again.

“I’m dying, Emma. My liver’s useless, my kidneys are failing.” Groaning, he struggled to sit up in the bed, his right hand shaking violently as he reached for the blanket across his lap. When he yanked it aside, Killian’s eyes widened in surprise to see legs that ended in blunted stumps where feet should have been. Emma, however, didn’t react at all.

“Look at me,” Hank choked out. “I hated myself so much, I literally killed myself. Didn’t give a shit about my diabetes, so I lost my feet.”

“Serves you right,” Emma replied coldly.

“You’re right, it does,” Hank agreed, awkwardly covering himself back up and collapsing against his pillows. “Denine would be devastated if she saw me now.”

“She was good to me,” Emma whispered, hugging her arms around herself.

Hank nodded, tears gathering in his eyes once again. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was before it’s too late. I hoped that maybe we could -”

“Fine,” Emma interrupted him, “you got to apologize, but if you think that means I’ll forgive you, then I guess you’re gonna die disappointed.”

Emma completely ignored the broken man as he sobbed in the hospital bed, turning instead for the door and striding from the room. Killian followed her, but he couldn’t help glancing back at Hank Gregory with sympathy.

****************************************************************

Emma felt physically drained, yet a buzz of righteous anger still tingled along her skin. Killian, however, had fallen into a melancholy she couldn’t understand. They had decided to get lunch in the hospital cafeteria rather than drive around trying to find a place to eat. They had found a spot to sit next to a window looking out at a courtyard, and Killian seemed far more interested in watching the people walking past than the food in front of him.

“Hey,” Emma said softly, reaching out to grasp his hand, “what’s wrong?”

He gave her that smile that never fooled her because it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing, love, really.”

As if to try and prove it to her, he picked up his fork and speared a piece of broccoli. Not very convincing, however, when it never reached his mouth. Emma sighed and put down her grilled cheese.

“Yeah right, nothing.” She regarded his brooding nervously, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Do you think I’m an awful person? To yell at a dying man like that?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. As difficult as it was, it had to be said.”

If anything, Killian’s words only made him look more depressed. Emma frowned. “But you think I should go back and forgive him?”

Killian shrugged. “I can’t tell you what to do in a situation like this. I confess, I wish you would, but . . . “

“But what?”

He finally met her eyes, dropping the fork with the uneaten broccoli. “Can’t you see it, Swan?”

Her brow furrowed. “See what?”

“Is there really that much difference between me and Hank Gregory?”

Emma couldn’t help it, a short laugh escaped her lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“A one-handed pirate with a drinking problem,” he grumbled.

“What?”

Killian rubbed his forehead, unable to look at her. “It’s what Pan said in Neverland when I told him you were finally seeing me for who I really am.”

Emma rolled her eyes, though she knew Killian was serious. “And you’re going to believe that psychopath?”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong. And here you are, refusing to forgive . . . an alcoholic with no feet.”

Emma’s eyes widened as his words sank in, then her face softened and tears moistened her eyes. “Oh babe,” she told him softly, grasping his hand again and rubbing his knuckles with her thumb, “you’re nothing like him. I’ve seen you drink too much, sure, but you’re not an alcoholic. You’ve never neglected me or Henry or Hope. You’ve done nothing but put us first.” She let out a long, slow breath, relieved when she saw a tiny glimmer spark in her husband’s eyes. “Hank ignored me, neglected me, yelled at me and called me names for two long, excruciating years.”

“Oh Swan,” he told her in a choked voice, “I’m not sure I was much better after losing Milah.”

“No, stop it,” she said firmly, grasping his prosthetic and his hand firmly in both of hers. “That may be true, but I know you, better than anyone. I have no doubt in my mind that if a child needed you, you would have been there. As a matter of fact, you did just that, for Neal - I mean Bae.”

“And then I mucked it all up like I always -”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Jones.”

He gave a small laugh, and ducked his head. Since she didn’t seem to be getting through to him, she got up, plopped right down in his lap and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

“Forget the past, remember? Isn’t that what we said on our wedding day?”

“Yes, but -”

“No buts. Hank Gregory was never a father to me. He sucked, okay? You, however, are the best father I could ever dream of for Henry and Hope.” She punctuated her words with a searing kiss, not giving a damn that they were in the middle of crowded, bustling Maine Medical Center.

****************************************************

Emma rubbed her palms on her jeans nervously as she watched the dying man through the glass of his room in the ICU. Killian put his arm around her and pulled her close.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

Emma nodded. “Yes. You were right, I did need to say those harsh words.” She turned to him and shrugged. “But they weren’t the only words. I guess I have too much of my parents in me.”

He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be waiting right here for you.”

With a steadying breath, she stepped away from her husband and opened the door. She had thought Hank was sleeping, but she had been wrong. He turned towards the door and smiled when he saw her.

“I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Yeah, well . . . “ Emma shrugged as she approached his bed. She stepped to the foot of it and grasped the edge with both hands. “I was talking to my husband, and he reminded me that people can change.”

Hank’s eyes brightened with hopefulness. “I have changed, Emma, and I was hoping maybe I could get to know my daughter again.”

Emma lifted her hand. “Please don’t call me that, Hank. I found my real parents, and they’re wonderful people. My dad and I especially are close. He and I -” she chuckled, surprised when tears rose up in her eyes thinking of David. “Well, we’re a lot alike. My mom definitely says so about a hundred times a day.”

Tears rolled freely down Hank’s cheeks. “Oh, Emma, I’m so happy to hear that. Knowing that, I really think I can leave this world in peace.”

Emma blinked, startled. “What?”

“I was such a horrible parent to you, Emma, and you were so innocent. I never forgave myself, and I tortured myself after children’s services took you away wondering what happened to you. Wondering if you ever found a family to love you the way you always deserved.”

Emma nodded, the tears flowing freely on her own face. “I have. I really have.”

“Anyone else besides Henry, your parents, and that handsome husband of yours?”

“Yes,” Emma said, pulling her cell phone out of her jacket pocket as she came around to the side of the bed, “my baby girl Hope. Here she is on the day she was born.”

Hank’s trembling hand came out to bring the screen closer. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

An awkward silence fell as Emma pocketed her phone. She shifted her feet awkwardly, wondering if she could really spit the words out she had come here to say.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Hank finally said.

Emma’s face softened as she held his gaze. “Yes, I do. Not for you, but for me.” She took another deep breath and reached out to grasp Hank’s hand. “Hank, I forgive you.”

The man let out a long, shuddering breath, his eyes closing as he whispered, “thank you.” He must have been saving that breath for Emma’s words because as soon as it fell from his lips, every machine in the room started beeping. Emma was shoved out of the way as doctors and nurses rushed in to attend to the dying man. She found herself back in Killian’s arms, weeping against his shoulder.

**********************************************************

The drive home was a bit surreal with nothing but silence their companion back to Storybrooke. Emma didn’t think the feeling was grief - she’d known that, and God, she’d never forget it. Yet she did feel emotionally spent, and wrung out of all coherent thought. Killian didn’t seem concerned by her silence, content to watch the scenery go by and hum along with the radio. Occasionally, he would take her hand in his and give her a reassuring smile.

Emma was surprised when she saw the Welcome to Storybrooke sign - it was like she had driven home on autopilot. When they parked outside of their house, her heart flipped to see her dad’s truck. David came out on the porch before they had even exited the vehicle, Hope cradled in his arms.

“Snow needed to take Neal to t-ball practice so I -” David’s words were cut off when Emma launched herself into his arms. His free arm came up to cup his daughter’s head, and he was shocked to hear her crying against him. He looked to Killian with a startled expression and was relieved when his son-in-law gave him a small smile and a tiny nod that Emma was fine. Killian gently took Hope from him, grinning as the two month old squealed in delight. His arms free, David held Emma tighter.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” he finally asked her.

Emma pulled back, a smile lighting her face despite the tears. “Yeah, I am. Better than okay. I just . . . I love you, Dad.”

David swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I love you, too.”

She holds the hand that holds her down / She will rise above.

[thefanficfaerie]

There are still plenty of songs if anyone else would like to participate. 

Here are the rules:

1. One person per song. There are 100 songs so no doubling up this time. Send in an ask with your character and song.

2. You are allowed to pick more than one song. You are allowed to create anything you want. Story, social media edit, mood board, etc.

3. Characters I allow are:

Steve Rogers x Reader Tony Stark x Reader AU Bucky Barnes x Reader Stucky x Reader Jim Kirk x Reader Leonard McCoy x Reader Rafael Barba x Reader Stony, Stony x Reader McKirk, McKirk x reader Bruce Wayne x Reader Ransom Drysdale x Reader Robb Stark x Reader Chris Evans x Reader

4. If you pick a song, please complete the challenge. I have had many take a prompt and then not complete it. If you need an extension, please let me know. I will happily give them or if you cant do it let me know so that I can add it back on to the list.

5. I will leave the list open up to the last week of April.

6. Due date will be April 30 cause thats my birthday month!!!

7. Any questions let me know. AND HAVE FUN. Songs are below the cut.

1980s

Summer of 69 by Bryan Adams

Everything I Do, I Do It For You by Bryan Adams @ladyideal Leonard McCoy

Manic Monday by The Bangles

I Want To Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston @becs-bunker

Push it by Salt N Pepa

Whatta Man by Salt N Pepa and En Vogue

Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins @beccaanne814

Alone by Heart @annathewitch​ Leonard McCoy

Who Will You Run To by Heart

Pink Houses by John Cougar Mellencamp

Jack and Diane by John Cougar Mellencamp

Here I Go Again by White Snake @captain-rogers-beard Tony Stark

Like A Prayer by Madonna

Papa Dont Preach by Madonna

Livin on a Prayer by Bon Jovi @thats-what-i-call-british​ Bucky Barnes AU

You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi @thats-what-i-call-british​ Tony Stark

Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen @catmom1978 Leonard McCoy

1990s

Perfect Fan by The Backstreet Boys

No Diggity by Blackstreet @thatesqcrush Rafael Barba

I’d Do Anything For Love by Meatloaf

Nice and Slow by Usher

Who Will Save Your Soul by Jewel @thatesqcrush Rafael Barba

Dreaming of You by Selena @themusicplayedherlife Steve Rogers

One Headlight by The Wallflowers

Save Tonight by Eagle Eye Cherry

She’s So High by Tal Bachman

The Sign by Ace of base

Don’t Speak by No Doubt @nekoannie-chan Steve Rogers

Underneath It All by No Doubt @locke-writes Rafael Barba

I’ll Make Love To You by  Boys II Men

On Bended Knee by Boys II Men

A Song For Mama by Boys II Men

Un-break My Heart by Toni Braxton @littlecrazyfangirl-98 McKirk

Kiss Me by Six Pence None The Richer @bohemian-barbie Steve Rogers

Hold On by Wilson Phillips

Livin’ La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin

Say You’ll Be There by Spice Girls

Wannabe by Spice Girls

Where’s the Love by Hanson

I Will Come To You by Hanson

One Sweet Day by Mariah Carey

Barbie Girl by Aqua

Bitch by Meredith Brooks @socie Steve Rogers 

The Boy is Mine by Brandy and Monica @fandomoneshots-imagines Tony Stark

Back at One by Brian McKnight

Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Deep Blue Something @locke-writes Tony Stark

My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion @thats-what-i-call-british Bucky Barnes AU

My Way by Usher

Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden @wondersofdreaming Chris Evans

Say My Name by Destiny’s Child @grantsgorgeousgirl Tony Stark

Come on Over Baby by Christina Aguilera @just-the-hiddles Chris Evans

What A Girl Wants by Christina Aguilera

I Swear by All-4-One

Last kiss by Pearl Jam

The Hardest Thing by 98 degrees

2000s

Penny & Me by Hanson @xemopeachx Rafael Barba

You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban

Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney

Sk8er boi Avril Lavigne

Try Again by Aaliyah

Case of the Ex by Mya

First Date by Blink 182 @locke-writes Steve Rogers

The Anthem by Good Charlotte

She’s a Rebel by Green Day @locke-writes AU Bucky Barnes

More Than That by The Backstreet Boys

Fighter by Christina Aguilera @sleep-depiravation Jim Kirk

All About Us by t.A.T.u

All The Things She Said by t.A.t.U

All For You by Janet Jackson

All I Have by Jennifer Lopez

If You Had My Love by Jennifer Lopez

Love Don’t Cost a Thing by Jennifer Lopez @bohemian-barbie Ransom Drysdale

Daughters by John Mayer

Your Body Is A Wonderland by John Mayer @avintagekiss24 Steve Rogers

Survivor by Destiny Child

I Knew I Loved You by Savage Garden @thatfanficstuff AU Bucky Barnes

Thank God I Found You by Mariah Carey

Unpretty TLC

No Scrubs TLC

My Everything 98 Degrees  

Oops I Did It Again by Britney Spears @thats-what-i-call-british Steve Rogers

Toxic by Britney Spears @madpanda75 Rafael Barba

Stronger by Britney Spears

The Two of Us by NSYNC

This I Promise You by NSYNC

Trouble By Pink @kaunis-sielu AU Bucky Barnes

Walk Away by Pink

Always On Time by Ja Rule

Angel by Shaggy

Girl on TV by LFO

Hanging By A Moment by LIfehouse @sippingchai AU Bucky Barnes

Here Without You by 3 doors down

Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira @thatesqcrush Rafael Barba

Ohio by Bowling For Soup

Summer Girls by LFO

Where Is the Love by The Black Eyed Peas

Wherever You Will Go by The Calling @mrsrafaelbarba Rafael Barba

3 am by Matchbox Twenty @locke-writes Bruce Wayne

My Immortal by Evanscence @secondsineternity Stucky x reader

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 31

Catch up on AO3

EMMA

What a crazy fucking weekend.

I watched Sebastian walk through the doors before I drove off. I was barely back on the main road when the weight of the time together really hit me. We shoved a lot into a short period of time, but the short period of time wasn’t that short. Total of four days. Four days isn’t that long to get to know someone, unless during those four days you were apart for maybe ten hours. Two before dinner and eight after. We weren’t apart from Saturday at eleven until just now. Three full days, minus him leaving equals sixty-eight hours of an uninterrupted time, add in fifteen minutes at the grocery and nine and a half for dinner. Now were at seventy-seven hours and forty-five minutes together. I have no idea why I did this math. Usually when you’ve known someone for four days you’ve hung out, talked on the phone, did a few things. We didn’t do that. We spent seventy-eight hours together. Barely any of it sleeping. The problem, which isn’t much of a problem, is trying to accept how I'm feeling about Sebastian after four days and seventy-eight hours sound like more time, which makes the difficulty saying goodbye make sense.

I need to talk to my best friend. My drive isn't nearly long enough. I told my vehicle to call Angie and waited for her to pick up.

"My favorite person!"

I smiled at the sound of her voice, "Even on a long weekend Tuesday morning?" Those are almost worse than Mondays. The short week being the only redeeming quality.

"Always." We both laughed. "I'm dog assed tired. We didn't leave Eli's parents until late. There were too many one last songs. How was your weekend?"

"Apparently it was the weekend for visiting parents. I met a man who was up here helping his parents move."

The excitement in her voice was clear, "Did you? I want to hear absolutely everything. Wait, is this a good meet or a bad meet? I still want details, but need to be prepared."

"Ang, he is incredible. I... he's incredible. It was such a good weekend. I want to flop down on my bed kicking and screaming. He is sweet, funny, and we talked for hours and hours. We had so much fun. And that was before the sex. Parts of my body are still tingling. When I get home my sheets are going to smell like him." I took a shuddering breath. Wow, it felt good to get that out.

"Holy shit!" Angie's laugh was pretty close to the best part of my day and I’d had a really good day. "You're gushing over this man. I can’t wait to hear everything. Why didn't you call me last night?"

"Because I only just dropped him off at the train station."

"Explains your still tingling parts."

Yes, it does. Meet up on FaceTime about four?"

"Sounds good."

We hung up and I felt like I could make it through the day without exploding. There is something about a new romance, especially when it comes out of nowhere, that fills you with so much energy. It's fun and exciting. I walked into school with a ridiculous grin and an idea.

I had to work fast. My kids would be coming soon. I ducked into Mallory's room on the way to mine, "Hey, can you come help me for a minute?"

"Sure. Right behind you."

Mallory was a fifth grade teacher. She would definitely corroborate that age were smart asses, but she liked smart asses. We'd started the same year and became friends going through all the orientation and training stuff together. Mal had clued me in on the gossipy teacher I'd gone out with a few times. I would not have been the first story he'd told.

Mallory caught up to me, "Everything ok? I missed you yesterday."

We were good friends, but not good enough for me to tell her about Sebastian before talking to Angie. "Yeah, I was enjoying the long weekend and wasn't ready to be social."

"I hear you. Felt like a work pot luck."

My day had been much better. "I laid around all day." Truth. We walked into my room and I sat my stuff down, handing my phone off to Mallory. "I want a new picture for my final newsletters. Wanted to get it before all this white got dirty."

Mallory took my offered phone, "You look really pretty."

"Thank you." I wanted a very first grade teacher picture. I went to the bookcase in front of our nearly full word wall. I held one hand out like I was showing off our year, which I was, but I was showcasing the words baby, blue, and boy. She took a few pics, I gave her a quick hug, and told her I'd see her at lunch. I took a couple of close up selfies before sending the full body one to Sebastian with a text saying, "Ready for the week."

I got back, "Damn..."

My kids started arriving and it was lunch before I checked my phone. I had a two word message this time, "Closer, please." I picked the selfie I thought he'd like best and sent it before heading to the teacher's lounge for lunch.

It would be after school before I heard from him again.

Sebastian ~ So pretty

Emma ~ Glad you think so. TY

Sebastian ~ Posting something on IG. Not creepy to follow now.

Emma ~ We're past the creepy zone?

Sebastian ~ More or less. My thoughts about a first grade teacher are more inappropriate than creepy.

Emma ~ Completely different.

Sebastian ~ Good day?

Emma ~ Very! Heading home. You?

Sebastian ~ Meeting with manager. Tell you all about later. Safe drive home.

Emma ~ TTFN

I headed home, skipping my usual trip to the gym. Volleyball practice could count. I was out on my deck with a glass of iced tea when Angie called right before four.

"Start at the beginning."

I went through how we met, dinner, and the festival on Saturday. The falling asleep on the couch got us laughing.

"He sounds adorable, Emma. Tell me about him. Where's he live?  What’s he do?”

Angie knew all about Ed and she was married to a musician, so I wasn't concerned about her reaction to him being a celebrity.

"He's tall and works out. His body his amazing. Gorgeous blue eyes, brown hair with just a little wave, and a beard. His lips ... his smile lights up his face and he has crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He's gorgeous."

"Of course, he is."

The slight sarcasm in her voice wasn't doubting what I said, but the level.

"You think it's the sex haze." We call the tendency to find someone more attractive if the sex is good being caught in the sex haze. It will blur a lot of faults. "Except he is objectively gorgeous. Want to see a picture?"

"You bitch! You should have led with a picture."

I laughed, "No, I shouldn't have." I sent her the silly picture with the bear from the festival. "I wanted you to hear about him before knowing who he is."

Her eyebrows pulled down, "Who he is?" I heard her text notification and watched her face go from confused to wide eyed, "Holy fuck, Em! That's Sebastian Stan."

"I didn't recognize him until we were outside the grocery. I started laughing." I told her about him not wanting to be anything more than a guy on a date and our conversation about Ed. I could see the disbelief on her face. I didn't talk about Ed. "I thought it would make things easier."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. It's just weird how you meet this famous actor, but aren't all that impressed because your second dad is in Pearl Jam. It's like some weird fate thing. Ed's not going to be happy."

I laughed loudly, "Oh, he’ll fucking hate it."

I told Angie the rest of the story, leaving out some of the more personal bits. When I finished we sat silent for a minute.

Angie smiled, "What do you need from me? You already know the complications that come with being famous. Not particularly stable relationships, paps, and fans. He doesn't sound like a paranoid narcissist, which is a bonus."

I nodded. I did know the pluses and minuses. "I don't need anything really." I took a deep breath, "I needed to talk to someone who wouldn't give a fuck about who he is. My dopamine levels have got to be astronomical. I like him. It started in the grocery, when I realized he was lost and not a rehab patient. There was something about him, how he felt. I immediately wanted to know him and the more I got to know the more I wanted to be with him." I paused, smiled and shook my head a little. "There was this connection. It's comfortable and exciting at the same time. I know it doesn't make sense, but it makes perfect sense. He just feels right."

Angie let the fingers over her lips fall away, "Em, if any one deserves someone, something wonderful it’s you." We shared a smile. "When are you going to see him again?"

"This weekend. He’s coming up for the volleyball tournament." Just thinking about seeing him made me grin.

"Hey," Angie's eyes lit up, "I think Eli met him." She picked up her Macbook and started walking. "A party or something." I could see she was in her living room. "Hey babe, didn't you meet Sebastian Stan?"

I couldn't see him, but recognized Eli's voice, "Who are you talking to?"

I yelled, "Hi, Eli!

His face came into view as Angie sat next to him, "Hi, Em. Shit, are you two fangirling over a Marvel movie?"

I said no at the same time Angie said yes.

Eli rolled his eyes at us. A frequent occurrence when we were all together. Still, he answered. "A couple of times. He's infuriatingly better looking in person."

"What's he like?" Angie, not me.

Eli looked between us before answering, "Nice guy. Funny as hell when he's drunk and they start talking shit. Boone's husband, Kirk, worked on Gossip Girl. Seb's been to gig, a couple of parties. He was filming something and couldn't come to the wedding, but he was at the bachelor party."

Angie shoved him, "Where were we at these parties?"

He looked at her like she was crazy, "You could have been there. No one pays any attention to him. If anything, he tries to blend in. He’s kind of an introvert. And really, would either of you recognized him before Civil War?"

Angie smirked, "One of us wouldn't recognize him if she ran into him."

Eli narrowed his eyes at her then looked at me, "What have you done, Emiliana?"

I waved my hands around in front of me, "Why am I getting the dad voice?"

More eye rolling, "What have you done?"

I rolled my eyes right back at him. "I went to the grocery and there was this guy in a baseball cap and hoodie cursing and talking to himself in the baking aisle. Turns out he was Sebastian Stan."

Eli snickered, "Sounds like him." Angie put her phone in front of him. I could see the wheels in his head spinning. "You would never ask for a selfie. Hook ups don’t include photos. You went on a date."

I raised my eyebrows.

Eli copied me, "You're dating him."

"It would seem so."

"And I’m providing a character reference?"

I shook my head, vehemently, "No. I was having a teenage girl moment calling my best friend to rave about the new guy and she remembered you'd met him. I promised not to Google." They stared at me, "I want to get to know him not research. Fuck knows I don't want him to find me on Google."

I guess Eli could till the last bit shook me, "Em, he would never know where to look."

I shook myself out of the mood, "Yeah, so no, I'm not wanting details on him. He’s a good guy. He’s sweet, good to his mom, was nothing but respectful to me. He’s good to me.”  These were my best friends. “I know he partied too much for a while and there was an ugly breakup where they fought in public, said some mean shit. I don't want information unless you need to wave me off."

Eli frowned and shook his head, "I wouldn’t ask your permission to wave you off."

"I love you too, Eli."

[kpoptimeout]

Top 10 Most Underrated K-pop Songs of 2019 (Artist Edition)

2019 has come and gone before we knew it.  

Continuing with the K-Pop Timeout Tradition (see 2018 Ver) of listing the Top 10 Most Underrated K-Pop Songs because all the other sites are just bothered with the Top 10 that pretty much everyone will have heard of/have fan wars over, below are our top 10 picks of songs that did not rank high (and with MVs just around or below 1 million views too) but deserves your attention! 

This is the list for artists’ tracks, so the Top 10 underrated non-idol tracks. Click here for the Top 10 underrated idol tracks of 2019. Unlike usual years where there is a separate post made for Top 10 underrated K-Drama OSTs, this year there is instead posts for the Top 20 most underrated K-Pop songs of the decade.

Some of the non-idol artists have escaped the list in recent years to stardom (for example DPR LIVE, CRUSH and MAD CLOWN) so hopefully, it happens again!

This is in alphabetic order NOT in the order of awesomeness because all of them are awesome. Also, all MVs are linked in the song titles because Tumblr won’t let me share that many videos in one post.

ADOY “Lemon”

It is strange that this song somehow did not make ADOY more well-known in South Korea and among K-Pop fans. They have such a laid-back and fresh sound perfect for CFs and fan edits but somehow this indie electronic rock band still only has 9609 likes on Facebook and their song “LEMON”, has less than 200K views at the point of writing this. “LEMON” is a refreshing and soothing indie rock track with an 80s synth melody loop. It is basically if ice lemon tea was a song and it was a great song. If you like chill 80s-inspired music, you would love ADOY’s “Lemon”!

Colde “Control Me”

One half of RnB duo offonoff and a member of DEAN, Crush and Punchnello and more’s artist collective Club Eskimo, Colde provides an amazing solo song in the form of “Control Me”. The song is a smooth RnB track that hits all the right spots - the somewhat conversational like singing building up to the chorus, and the chorus itself which is extremely catchy. Colde’s rapping is also just as fire as his singing. The MV only just surpassed 1 million views but it really deserves so much more since it complements the song so well, with everything filmed like it was done in one shot as different versions of Colde appear to serenade you on the screen. If you are already a fan of DEAN and Crush, you should also check out this amazing song by their friend Colde!

Crispy Chae “A letter from Wendy” ft. Gato Ray

With how popular lofi study playlists are, it is surprising how little love Crispy Chae’s “A letter from Wendy” received because it would fit perfectly in such a playlist. Maybe it is because this song does not even have a proper MV besides the video made by Mellowbeat Seeker. However, this does not stop this song from being an extremely underrated quality indie track. Crispy Chae has a beautiful voice that is both husky and child-like at the same time, making the transitions between skilled harmonies and the conversational chorus all the more memorable. Additionally, this song was sung predominantly in English and should really be making more rounds in the increasingly global K-Pop fanbase. If you love Suran’s music, you would really enjoy this song by Crispy Chae!

dosii “lovememore.”

City pop is definitely making its comeback in 2019, with Takeuchi Mariya’s “Plastic Love” finally getting its much deserved MV, western city pop acts like PREP gaining more popularity and veteran K-pop stars like Sunmi and Yubin trying out this sound. dosii, an R&B duo comprised of Choi Jonghyuk and Jeon Jihye, also dives into city pop in “lovememore.”, which is definitely one of the best and most underrated indie K-pop tracks of the year. The song sounded both like an authentic 80s city pop jam but also includes distortion effects and producing techniques used more often in current music. Honestly, it is an absolute masterpiece and the less than 800K views the MV has received since February is ridiculous.  If you loved Sunmi’s “Black Pearl”, you would fall in love with “lovememore.”!

ELO, PENOMECO “LOVE?” ft. GRAY

While this song did only come out in early November, I am still confused why such a great hip-hop collaboration has less than 500K views. Like all GRAY involved works, this is classy and catchy. What makes this song stand out from a lot of great K-Hip Hop collaborations is the way ELO, PENOMECO and GRAY’s voices work together. They have three very distinctive vocal colours - ELO has an extremely melodic voice, PENOMECO has a breathy and high-pitched way of singing and rapping while GRAY’s tone is deep and relaxed. This makes for a very colourful and fun song. If you like a strong K-Hip Hop collaboration, “LOVE?” by ELO, PENOMECO and GRAY is the song for you!

Jung Jinwoo “Nowhere”

Ever since K-Pop Star Season 5, Jung Jinwoo has proven to be a phenomenal RnB singer-songwriter and have continued to improve after his signing to Planetarium Records. It is shocking that he and the other PLT boys are still relatively unknown, even though they have only dropped bops. His newest song “Nowhere” is arguably one of the best Korean RnB tracks of 2019 and showcases his further honed production and singing skills - his voice is super light, clear and smooth with a mild tinge of huskiness. Just 71K views for such a superb song makes no sense. If you are a fan of DEAN and Crush, you would be obsessed with this song!

LEEBADA “ㅎㅇ (High)” ft. PENOMECO

This is another K-RnB masterpiece that seemed to have completely flew under the radar to K-Pop fans. Playing on the Korean internet abbreviation for Hi (ㅎㅇ) and High, this song has classy drinks lounge music vibes but is also playful at the same time, fully showcasing LEEBADA’s high-pitched and airy vocals. PENOMECO’s addition in the song is perfect, as his voice and LEEBADA’s work together so well, like the male and female counterparts of the same singing style. If you are a huge fan of HEIZE’s music, you would really enjoy LEEBADA’s “ㅎㅇ (High)”! 

LIM KIM “YELLOW”

Back in 2015, every K-Pop fan knew Lim Kim for her quirky electro-pop sound as she dominated charts and was Mystic Entertainment’s it girl. However, her return after 4 years received little to no attention for unknown reasons. Not only is Lim Kim back but she returned stronger than ever, taking on a much more aggressive and edgy persona while singing and rapping about female empowerment and fighting against the objectification of Asian women. “YELLOW” combines traditional East Asian orchestral instrumentals with electronic beats and Lim Kim’s unique mixture of chanting, singing and rapping, creating a powerful anthem in the process. If you are a fan of Lim Kim from before or is a fan of artsy and experimental music in general with a strong message, you would love Lim Kim’s “YELLOW”!

PRIMARY “Bad High” ft. Jade

PRIMARY is definitely one of the best producers in K-Pop, with ground-breaking and beautiful collaborations with Zion.T, Hyukoh, Beenzino etc., oftentimes before the acts are even known in the mainstream. PRIMARY continues this in “Bad High”, working with Jade, the main vocalist of virtual girl band XGirls. This song is phenomenal not only because it sounds good, but also because it goes in directions you never expect it to go. Starting off, the song sounds like the emotional and slow-paced folk-pop/rock works of Lucid Fall and Hyukoh, then it switches up to a satisfying drop in the chorus, where the aggressive use of hi-hat loops changes the slow-paced song to an exciting ethereal art-pop sound of the likes of Grimes. The MV is also beautiful and unsettling simultaneously. Why this masterpiece has only 97K views at the time of writing this is beyond me when PRIMARY has so clearly outdone himself yet again. If you enjoy PRIMARY’s past works and also experimental art-pop, you would love “Bad High”!

RAD MUSEUM “Dancing In The Rain” ft. Jusén

After Hyukoh and Jannabi’s rise to the mainstream, one would expect more attention to be given to indie artists with unique vocals. However, RAD MUSEUM seemed to have flown under the radar even though the vocalist is all sorts of unique with his piercing and emotional vocals which seems to combine soul, alternative RnB, and indie rock all in one. Maybe it is the lack of an MV and big label promotions but this live performance video would show you the charms of this phenomenal artist who is also a part of Club Eskimo and his amazing song “Dancing In The Rain”. This song is simply art - it feels pop-rock like Sting’s “Shape of My Heart” but the way it is delivered also feels like soul and RnB. If you want to be blown away by talent, you should check out RAD MUSEUM’s “Dancing In The Rain”!

Which non-idol songs do you think were underrated this year? Leave your thoughts in the comments section below and let the song sharing begin!!!