#anyways sorry it’s blurry it was a little photo in the corner of his story post

[sexynetra]

New vintage Anetra dropped lads

[marvel-miscellaneous]

Hey there I really liked your Bucky 40s food fic. I have a fic idea which you maybe could work with. I found out that people took pictures of every building in NY during 1939 -1941. You can look at these pictures online (1940s.nyc/). I imagined that Sam tells Bucky and he is excited about it (Bucky remembers).

Thank you sm!!! That was a cool website actually, I love history, and I had probably a little too much fun looking at it. This prompt was so fun too!

—

“Hey Buck come look at this.”

Torres, the history nerd he is, sent Sam a link to a website that showcases photos of almost every single building in different New York boroughs. Including Brooklyn. He wasn’t sure if Bucky would actually remember these places, but it’s worth a try. Currently he had up a picture of 1940's 569 Leaman Place, aka Bucky’s old place, pulled up on his laptop.

“What’s up?” Bucky asked as he sat down next to Sam.

“You recognize any of this?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide “You know how to blow a mans wig, Sam.”

“I’m sorry, I know how to what?”

“Get me exited,” Bucky elaborated, “Something we said back then. See that street corner?

Sam follows Bucky’s finger to where it’s pointing at the black and white image of the apartment building. “Yeah?”

Bucky’s face split into a large grin, something Sam wouldn’t mind seeing more. “I stole from an old lady there. Back then we were all rationing, so sweet food was hard to come by. But this old lady put down a basket of plums, and you see, she was facing the other way talking to some geezer. And that’s when I snatched it...”

Sam’s going to be completely honest, he stopped listening. He was just taking a look at Bucky’s face, relaxed way more than usual being completely lost in his story. And they way he told the story, with gesturing hands moving about, eyes wide. But he was broken out of his trail of thought by the sound of Bucky’s laughter, which is another thing Sam wouldn’t mind hearing more.

“...And that’s when the third guy came in with a knife, now call me khaki wacky but the guy was a looker. Anyway, he swung at me...” Bucky trailed off here, starring at Sam. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh. Anyway, so, wait can I see this thing?” Not waiting for permission, Bucky took Sams laptop and pulled up a different picture of 1940s NY, “This! This is restaurant I ran too after being chased by the guys, and luckily we all made up by the time we got there. But at this point the plums were long forgotten.”

He’s going going to have to have Bucky retell that story later because he missed most of it, and because what the hell was that.

Sam turned his gaze back to the website, the the heading ‘Outakes’ caught his eye. He took the laptop back from Buck to look through it, and it seemed to be lots of photos that were too blurry, or photos that people were blocking. But his were eyes immediately drawn to one particular photo. “Buck is that you?” Sam pointed to a slightly blurred photo of what looked to be Bucky, running with a basket of (most likely) plums.

“...Yes.”

—

Khaki wacky is 30/40s slang for boy crazy, i just wanted an excuse to use it

[bangtanoneshotsx]

Waiting For You At The Airport-Jungkook

It’s not much but I just wanted to try and write again

Jungkook pulled down his mask, keeping it just under his chin. Cracking his tattooed fingers, he gave a sigh, his neck craning as he tried to look over the crowd. In Korea he was tall, but here, he was average, or maybe just above. He could see Namjoon out of the corner of his eye. The leader was talking to a manager, both staring at the arrival screen. Jungkook couldn’t quite make out the words, though he knew what time your flight was due in. He could hear the excited gasps from other waiting families and friends. The first sound of wheels on the tiled floor made him stand up straight, Namjoon doing the same. As the crowd around the barrier thinned, his heart started to pound. In a moment, all of that disappeared, a grin spreading across his lips as his heart picked up. Ignoring both Namjoon and his manager’s shouts to be careful, Jungkook raced forward.

“Hey, Kook.” You laughed, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck as Jungkook wrapped his arms around your waist even tighter, an audible breath leaving him. With a pause, almost a hesitance, Jungkook stepped back, still peering down at you, his hands on your hips. 

“You okay?” You asked gently, placing a hand softly on his cheek. Jungkook gave a sniffle, nodding. 

“Y/N, nice to see you again. How was your flight?” Namjoon asked, walking up to the two of you. 

“Good thanks, though my legs are stiff from sitting in the same position for hours. I don’t know how you seven do it.” 

“A private plane gives you space and freedom, I guess.” You laughed, nodding. 

“I guess. Do you mind giving us a couple minutes?” Namjoon’s eyes darted towards Jungkook who was still staring at you, his eyes wet. 

“Sure, quickly, though. We think someone might have spotted us.” Namjoon gave a reassuring smile before taking your black suitcase and wheeling it back to their manager.

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

“Tired, missed you. Namjoon’s stressed, everyone’s talking in English, and he’s trying his best, but it’s not good for him. And I wish I could do more.”

“Jungkook, you don’t need to speak English to help him. You have a couple days off, why don’t we try and study a couple sentences. Go exploring and take your mind off of it. I’m here for the rest of your tour. Jungkook nodded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you all this the minute I saw you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s what I’m here for. I love you, you should be able to tell me your problems.” Jungkook smiled shakily, squeezing your hips before placing his lips on yours. 

“Guys we need to go, there’s a crowd growing.” Jungkook groaned as Namjoon interrupted.

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

The video from the fansite was too blurry on your small phone screen. Yet you could still pick him out of the seven. His oversized white jumper covered his arms, a black mask covering half his face. Even from here, you could tell he was tired, his eyes narrowed as he ran his hand through his hair. You weren’t sure what time the photos were taken. He hadn’t texted you so where he was on his way home, was a mystery. Sighing, you decided to try to find a better video, one more close up. Maybe people would consider it strange to hunt for videos of your boyfriend, but it was the one piece of evidence that he landed safely. You wished you could be there to welcome him home. But it was dangerous, more so back in Korea. Anyway, you weren’t so sure if he’d want to share his homecoming with you in front of his fans and paparazzi. As you scrolled, finally finding a video from a fansite that was quite well known, you heard the click of your front door. With the shutting of the door and the familiar padding of feet on the wooden floor, you knew who it was. 

“Welcome home.” You spoke gently, already peeling back the blanket. Jungkook got in beside you, his arm lying across your stomach as he rested his head on your chest.

“Missed you.” Is all he spoke before he fell asleep, soft snores leaving him.

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

You wondered what he would look like. It had been just under two years since you last saw him. He had spent his time off with his parents, sending you pictures of him at the beach. You were with him when he had to cut his hair, just a day before his enlistment day. You remember how he cried. How you both cried. Over 300 letters from him sat in a shoebox under your bed, Was it normal to be nervous? The guys who were back from their enlistment had made a plan to see him tomorrow. Just now was for you and him. He was due any minute, and your heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Wrapping your jacket a little tighter around you, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Finally, your heart dropped into your stomach. There he stood, dressed in camouflage, his hat slightly askew on his head. He was pale, his rucksack heavy on his back. Stepping forward, you made yourself seen, his eyes lighting up as he spotted you. He ran towards you, lifting you up, so your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“It’s so good to see you.`” He almost cried out, his grip tight. You gave a laugh, lightly hitting his shoulder and forcing him to put you down. 

“Let me see it.” Jungkook knew already what you were asking for. With a sigh, he took off his hat, leaning down so you could run your hand through the short haircut. 

“It looks good.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me Y/N.” 

“Kook, it really does. Anyway, I wouldn’t care if you had neon pink hair, as long as you’re home.” Jungkook grinned, his shoulders dropping. You could tell the past couple years had taken a toll on him. You had only heard horror stories of people’s enlistment, and how your heart ached for him. You knew if he wanted to talk about it, he would tell you. Just now, he wanted some normality. “Now, do you want to go straight home, or go for some food?”

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

“Hold on, don’t run!” You shouted after your four year old. Your two year old placed in the pram. Your youngest was asleep, clutching his soft white bunny. The plane ride was long, taking a toll on both you and your children. Jungkook was in America, more than ten hours away. Still, with your eldest on holiday and Jungkook missing home, you both decided a vacation would be good. Sat in between them on the plane, you had to multi-task, your head spinning in all directions. You could tell you looked tired, your eyes were narrowed, your hair in a slight mess as your youngest spent a period not wanting to let it go. 

“Keep holding your suitcase please.” Your eldest was getting tired, the small bumblebee suitcase full of his toys and activities almost being left behind. You didn’t have enough hands to carry everything, all you could hope for was Jungkook at the end of the corridor. Pausing at the side of the passageway, you let the other passengers pass as you took out your three passports, pulling up your joggers and pulling your hair into a ponytail. Your son fidgeted, spinning his suitcase around. It wasn’t his first time on a plane, but the wonder wasn’t lost on him. Retaking the pram and your suitcase, you started to walk towards the double doors, a sigh of relief leaving you, as your son screamed out, running to the familiar figure. 

“Hi.” You sighed out. Despite how you were feeling you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your eldest in Jungkook’s arms, snuggling into his father’s side.

  “How was the flight?” He asked, crouching down to wake his youngest who still slept in the pram. Peering up at you, he kept the grin on his face. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

[duchesschameleon]

what if - chapter 8

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 1929 a/n: Carolyn is here! this is the second to last chapter and we get some happiness and some angst. I’m super, super excited to share this with everyone!! the last chapter still needs some editing, it’ll get posted probably next week! as always, thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo​ for being the best beta

warnings: angst, some discussions of death

what if masterlist

You watch Dave’s face as for the first time in nearly 50 years, he lays eyes on Carolyn Bartolini. His jaw drops in surprise, face full of disbelief and wonder as he takes in the sight of Carolyn approaching on her horse.

“Oh my god,” Dave whispers, slowly moving closer to Carolyn as if being pulled by a magnet. She pulls on the reins, coming to a stop and you finally get a good look at her face. She’s aged gracefully, you can see the ghost of the girl she was from the photos Dave showed you. Right now her face is mirroring Dave’s shock as she slides down from the horse and approaches him.

“Dave,” she whispers, stepping closer to him. “Is it really you?”

“Si, Caro,” Dave says, coming the distance between them and grabbing her hands. “It’s me.”

Aaron’s standing next to you, watching Dave and Carolyn reconnect, watching their eyes search the others’ faces and seeing the changes from nearly 50 years apart. You don’t notice the tension between you and Aaron, the tension still lingering from last night's kiss. You’re too focused on Dave and Carolyn as they smile at each other.

“I’m a little late, Caro,” Dave says, voice thick with emotion and you can picture the tears welling in his eyes.

“You’re here now, that’s what matters,” Carolyn responds.

And then they’re kissing. It’s chaste, but you can see how tightly they’re holding on to each other, needing that contact to believe they’re together again. When they part, they’re still smiling and then Dave is turning, beckoning to Aaron and you.

“Caro, I need to introduce some people to you,” Dave says, shifting so he’s standing next to her, arm around her shoulders. He gestures to Aaron and smiles broadly. “This is Aaron Hotchner, he’s a dear friend and basically family, and he insisted on coming here to find you with me.” Aaron goes to shake Carolyn’s hand and she laughs, pulling him into a hug instead and kissing him on both cheeks. The tips of Aaron’s ears are red and you bite back a laugh, focusing instead on Dave who’s introducing you now. “- a writer, from New York, who wrote the letter that convinced me to come here and find you,” he’s saying, smiling softly at you.

Carolyn kisses you on both cheeks as she hugs you too, holding on to your arms as her expression conveys the thanks she cannot say. You nod and pat her hand, silently telling her you understand.

She turns back to Dave, taking his hand and smiling at him. “You all have to stay for lunch. You have to meet my family, and I want to hear about yours,” she says, nodding at each of you. You smile weakly, and catch Aaron looking at you from the corner of your eye. But you ignore him, instead nodding at Carolyn.

Carolyn’s family comes up to her, trying to figure out what’s going on. She’s explaining in rapid Italian, hands gesturing to you, Aaron, and Dave and then her daughter is nodding, catching on and moving to bring you all to the big house.

There’s a large table out behind the house, on a little covered patio. The Bartolini’s settle around it, leaving space near Carolyn’s spot at the head for you, Dave, and Aaron. There’s an impressive spread of food on the table, plus wine, and you all tuck in to lunch, getting to know each other over the food.

Once you’ve all had a chance to eat and get to know each other, Carolyn stands up and gets her family’s attention. “Mi famiglia, today I went on a ride as an old woman, and came back a teenager.” She pauses as everyone around the table chuckles. “Truly though, it’s been the greatest gift to have Dave come back here and to have him meet all of you, and for us to have met Aaron and their wonderful friend who is responsible for all of this,” she continues, gesturing to each of you as she talks. After a moment, she starts up again, “Dave, you have told me that you lost your Hayden, and you know that I have lost my Giovanni,” she says, voice wavering with emotion, “but destiny wanted us to meet again. Grazie destino.”

Everyone echoes the sentiment as Carolyn sits back down and grabs Dave’s hand. They haven’t let go of each other for more than a few moments since they saw each other. It’s sweet, seeing them reconnect and hang on to one another. Seeing that physical manifestation of love that’s lasted over the years.

“Caro,” Dave says quietly, “I’m sorry I was late.”

She smiles softly at him, “No, no. When we are talking about love, you can never be late.”

You smile at them before turning back to your plate. Lunch finishes not long after that, the younger children congregating in the yard to kick around a soccer ball. You see Carolyn and Dave wander towards the fields hand in hand and you smile as you sink down into a chair, a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

At least someone gets a happy ending, and you can finally finish your story. And then go back to New York, hopefully get your piece published, and move on to the next story. No more seeing Aaron, no more seeing Dave, this whole trip fading into a simple memory. You blow out a sigh, staunchly ignoring the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“Well, there’s your ending, huh?” Aaron says, walking up from behind your chair. You twist to look at him, a confused look on your face. “Just when all hope is lost, she rides in at the last minute on a white horse. Who’s gonna believe that?” Aaron asks, running a hand through his hair. You shrug, still so uncertain what to say to him after last night. After you just walked away. Before you can even open your mouth to attempt to say something, anything, about it, Aaron’s walking around to sit on the table in front of you. He says your name urgently, immediately grabbing your full attention. “Promise me you’ll finish the story. It needs to be shared, and your writing deserves to be seen,” he says, voice full of conviction.

“Of course,” you whisper, nodding. Aaron nods too, wiping his hands on his slacks.

After a moment he lets out a breath and meets your eyes. “So I guess this is it. And I’m sorry it is.”

“I guess it is.” You lick your lips, still searching for the words to explain last night but again, Aaron beats you to it again.

When he says your name this time, there’s a weight to it, sincere feelings behind it. “I, I never should have kissed you last night,” he says, glancing down at his hands. You control your face, trying not to let it crumple and show your disappointment. “I was completely out of bounds, you’re still grieving and I’m-” He clears his throat and runs his palms over his knees. “Well, I shouldn’t have done it.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat and nod in understanding, even passing agreement. Of course, he’s not actually interested in you. It was a spur of the moment thing. Something that never should have happened. No matter how much you want it to happen again, no matter how hard your heart clenches when you look at Aaron.

So you do what you have to. You look back up at Aaron, meet his eyes, and say, “I guess it’s time to go then.” And then you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek and standing, walking away without looking back, again. Ignoring the tears forming, again.

You focus on Carolyn and Dave, who have come back from the fields, and jog up to them. “Hi,” you say smiling tightly at them, “I, uhm, I need to get back to Verona. My flight to New York -”

“Oh, of course! I’ll have Aaron take the car, we’ll get you back, no worries,” Dave says, moving to untangle himself from Carolyn but you’re shaking your head.

“No, no, Dave, I can’t take you away from this place,” you protest, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “You should stay here, you and Aaron. This is what you came here for anyway.”

Carolyn steps forward, putting a hand on your shoulder. “My son can drive you. It’s no worries,” she says and you nod your thanks, finding it hard to speak. She squeezes your shoulder before unwinding her arm from around Dave’s waist and searching for her son.

Dave puts his hands on your arms as he searches your face, noticing the tears in your eyes threatening to fall. “Is something wrong?”

You shake your head, “No, it’s just,” you shrug and glance around your surroundings, “all of this is...” you trail off unable to find the words.

“I know,” he whispers, bringing you in for a hug. “An angel brought you to me,” he says, kissing your cheeks. You smile wetly, and he wraps an arm around your shoulder, walking you towards the front of the house. Carolyn and her son are already there, grabbing your bag from the rental car and moving it into theirs.

You hug Carolyn, kiss her cheeks, and thank her as you climb into the passenger seat. Dave waves goodbye as he wraps an arm around Carolyn again and hugs her close. And then your door is closed and the car is moving, Dave and Carolyn waving to you as they grow smaller in your vision, going blurry as the tears finally fall.

Back at the house, Dave looks around Carolyn to see Aaron walking towards them. He kisses Carolyn’s temple and then stands next to him. “Aaron, we’re practically family so I think you understand why I’m telling you you’re an idiot.”

Aaron whips his head towards Dave, brow furrowed. “Sure, don’t sugarcoat it Dave,” he grumbles, arms crossed.

“I won’t,” Dave says. “You don’t know where this one will end up settling. Don’t wait 50 years to get your head out of your ass like I did.”

Dave’s words slowly register with Aaron. He realizes what Dave is saying, is telling him, and it hits him instantly. He’s fallen for you. He’s in love with you. Aaron springs into action, running to the car and driving off after you.

Halfway to Verona, Aaron thinks about what he’s doing. About what he’ll say when he finds you. He looks around to the empty seat next to him. Or almost empty. There’s a pen there, one that fell out of your bag this morning. He pulls over to the side of the road and picks it up, holding it reverently in his hand. The only piece of you in this car, the only evidence you’d been here at all. 

He sighs, the realization washing over him. He can’t follow you to Verona, can’t think of anything he could say to you. Can’t think of anything except how you’ve already walked away from him twice. He can’t risk you walking away again, not with Jack to think about. You’re heading back to New York, he’s going back to DC and will probably never leave. Even if he had proof that you did like him, that you love him the way he loves you, he can’t risk putting Jack through that, much less himself.

So he sighs and turns the car around, heading back to Carolyn’s.

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner @kelstark @hurricanejjareau @oreogutz @whentheautumnleavesfall​ message me to be added to the taglist!

[maybankiara]

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

01: NICE TO MEET YOU

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.

w/c: 2k

a/n: it’s finally here! the first chapter! this one is written as real life and introduces us to our three main characters. let me know what you think! also, this is in no way affiliated with either drew or creators of obx. if you want to be on the taglist, either shoot me a message/ask, or fill out the tag list form!

series masterlist | tag list

read on wattpad

Addie thinks she must be wrong. Of all places, he can’t be here.

  It all begins with Addie’s roommate waking up to no bread, no milk, no cereal, and an abundance of an alcohol-induced mess. It was the brunette’s rare night off to party, so Marianne woke up to quite literally nothing. Now, it’s almost noon, and Addie’s got a nasty headache right behind her eyebrows, an odd taste in her mouth, and a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

  ‘Food,’ demands Marianne. ‘I’m starving.’

  Addie pokes her head out of the bathroom, holding up two fingers. Marianne just rolls her eyes and drapes herself over the couch with a groan that Addie drowns out with her toothbrush. 

  She splashes some cold water onto her face, rubbing some moisturiser into it afterwards. Doesn’t do much – her eyes are still bloodshot, under-eye circles dark, skin dry and lips chapped even with lip balm on it. Addie just sighs. This’ll require sunglasses which, in turn, will require contact lenses. 

  ‘Two more minutes!’

  Another groan from Marianne. ‘Merde, Addie!’

  First contact in. She blinks it into place, ignoring its dryness. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’ Second in. ‘And I’ll bring you some chocolate.’

  ‘Aw. You will?’

  ‘Yes. For emotional disturbances.’

  Marianne beams at her from the couch. Noon sun shines on her through the window as she basks in the light, looking all fresh and ready to take on the day. 

  Addie envies her. Not like she’d ever admit it, though. 

  ‘You’re a godsend,’ Marianne tells her. ‘When you’re not the devil’s menace, obviously. Today shall be your lucky day.’

  ‘Shall it?’ Addie quirks an eyebrow at her, grabbing a purse from the drawer in the hallway with a smile dancing in the corner of her lips. 

  The blonde-haired girl hmms, her eyes closed and arms raised up in the air. In the tiniest voice, she says: ‘I am throwing my blessings at you now.’ She outstretches her hands in what looks to Addie like a kung-fu move, fully accompanied by a half-breathed half-voiced ‘HA!’

  ‘You done?’

  Marianne grins. ‘Yes. Now please go get me some food.’

  ‘Tea for when I’m back?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. The finest the British Isles have to offer.’

  ‘You’re not even British.’

  ‘Half,’ says Marianne. ‘Half is enough.’

  ‘Yeah, but the other half is French.’

  Marianne just rolls her eyes, and Addie revels in the fact that there'll be a hot cup of tea waiting for her when she comes back with the groceries. Equipped with her iPhone and earphones, a foldable IKEA bag, some money, and sunglasses big enough to cover her hungover mess of a face, Addie leaves the small apartment. 

  Summer in Atlanta is something Addie hasn’t experienced before. People get a lot more vibrant, there’s more joggers than usual, and people with dogs and kids venture out of their homes more often. There’s also the filming aspect, increased during summer, which generally means that there’ll be at least one street blocked for public per day – an inconvenience that made her be late for class more than once. 

  To Addie, it’s starting to feel like home. Warm and filled with a light breeze, the place lively and bright. 

  Or, possibly, it’s just that she starts to listen to music that makes her feel that way. 

  The local Tesco of Rockdale county is on the main road, and it takes Addie five songs to get there. It’s busy as always, and Addie gets herself a plastic basket at the entrance, pulling up the grocery list on the notes app. It’s mostly food – they ran out of almost everything the day before, and drunk Addie finished whatever little was left, so this is going to be half a week's worth of shopping. 

  Addie rummages through the isles with ease, almost on autopilot. Memories from last night resurface, blurry and hazed, and she rubs her temples with the heels of her hands. 

  last night was something else, she thinks. The music in her ears is loud and she glances up as she’s about to turn the corner, basket full of veggies so far, and she makes eye contact with a person that looks vaguely familiar. 

  She looks away. 

  Then she looks back at them, an almost unnoticeable frown on her face. He’s tall, with dark blonde hair underneath a baseball cap, and it’s not until he leans forward to grab something off the canned goods section that she realises who it is. 

  holy fucking moly it’s drew fucking starkey

  Addie freezes in place as her brain computes the visual in front of her and attaches it to the memory of his face, on her projector screen, in her and Marianne’s living room. 

  It doesn’t seem right to see him here, shopping at Tesco, looking so different from the person she’s used to seeing that she almost didn’t recognise him. However, it’s still him, so Addie gathers all her courage and walks into the isle across from hers, until she’s right next to him.   

  ‘Hi,’ she says. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but – you’re Drew Starkey, right?’

  Her voice is hushed, and it’s on purpose – she’s fairly certain neither of them would like a bunch of people to come over here. Addie doesn’t know how big the fanbase is, but if she managed to recognise him (almost) off the bat, it’s highly likely there'd be at least a few more people knowing him. It might be just a few months since the show’s release, but it’s gathered quite a bit of attention. 

  The moment seems to unfreeze, and the guy in front of her nods, almost reluctantly. ‘Yeah, that’s me.’

  ‘Oh, cool. I really liked what you did with Rafe. I don’t know anything about acting and all that, but you gave me chills in the scenes where Rafe is losing his mind, and I can’t even hate him because of how sorry I feel for him.’

  Drew watches her with a bland, cautious expression on his face for a second, until he breaks out into one of the biggest smiles she's ever seen. It’s a nice smile – he looks like the boy next door, or the one guy who would be popular in high school (probably a quarterback), or someone she could just trust. 

  Damn.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says, finally. His shoulders don’t seem as tense anymore despite still being about a good half-foot taller than Addie, the difference doesn’t seem as drastic anymore. ‘I’m glad you liked it. You are supposed to hate him, though.’

  Addie scoffs, shaking her head, even though there’s still a smile on her lips. ‘Come on. His freaking dad hates him, his friends are all sixteen or whatever. No wonder he’s so messed up.’

  ‘But he is messed up.’

  ‘Oh yeah, he should rot in jail, totally.’ Addie makes a vague waving motion with her hand. ‘That’s my point, anyway. I hate him but I feel bad for him and I don't think I would’ve if you weren’t so good at what you do.’

  Drew’s smile just grows and he laughs, a little. It’s a fleeting moment, but Addie likes it. Quite a bit, actually. Shame he doesn’t get to do that often as Rafe. 

  ‘Thank you so much, honestly. I thought people would hate me because of Rafe.’

  ‘Are you kidding? Are people actually like that?’

  He makes a vague gesture with his hand (a lot like the one she did earlier) and sighs. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  ‘Damn.’ Addie shakes her head. ‘Well, um, I should probably get going. It was nice meeting you.’

  ‘We didn’t actually meet,’ he says, with a face that is waiting for her to clock it, except she doesn’t. ‘You haven’t told me your name.’

  ‘Oh! Oh my god, yeah, sorry – It’s Addison. Addie, for short.’

  Drew extends his hand; it’s warm when she takes it, and his grip is as firm as hers. ‘Nice to meet you, Addie.’

  ‘You too, Drew.’

  It’s the moment that their hands fall to each their own side that Addie notices the beginning of awkwardness in the situation. She smiles at him and tells him goodbye, ready to let him go, until she starts thinking about how Marianne is going to flip her shit and won’t even believe her and then—

  ‘Drew! Hi. Sorry again.’ 

  Addie’s got a hand on his shoulder and taps it twice, just enough for him to turn around with the same kind smile. She’s got half a second to wonder if it’s because he knows she’s not some wild fan, or because he’s just like that. 

  ‘It’s okay, don’t worry.’

  She gives him the best apologetic face she can muster. ‘Can we take a photo? My roommate isn’t going to believe me otherwise.’

  Drew laughs, and something falls off of Addie’s chest. He agrees to it, she takes the selfie—cursing the way she’s going to look on it considering she had to put her sunglasses on top of her hair when she entered the store—and his arm’s curved around her shoulder, pulling her close.

  ‘Thank you!’

  ‘It’s really no problem.’ They look at the photo—it’s as good as they get—and Drew lets out a breathy laugh. ‘Shit, we got the same phone.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yeah, look.’

  He fishes his phone out of his jacket and, true to his word, they look exactly alike. It’s just a plain black iPhone, but neither of them has a case or anything attached to it, and the two of them laugh. Drew even takes them both and compares them to one another, showing that the only actual difference are the lock screens. Marianne and Addie for hers, and Chase making a grimace for Drew. Someone walks behind them, eyeing them uncomfortably, and Addie sees Drew tug his hat lower. 

  She really hopes she didn’t disturb him by all this. If he’s to be believed then she didn’t, but she can never know. 

  ‘Okay,’ she says, ‘I’ll actually get going now.’

  Drew nods. He recovers in a flash and there’s not a trace of discomfort on his face. ‘Nice meeting you again.’

  Addie just laughs, takes the phone he’s handing her, tells him bye, and walks away. 

  Without turning back, this time. 

  The rest of her shopping goes smoothly. She wants to message Marianne, but she’s also kind of freaking out, or her hangover is acting up, because she’s feeling nauseous and excited and her heart is definitely about to destroy her ribcage. What she does is just keep going on with her shopping as usual, and focus on the things she actually needs. 

  But when she reaches into her pocket to look at the shopping list, it’s Chase’s face that stares back at her, and her heart doesn’t leap out of her chest – it sinks all the way into the hangover-shaped hole in her stomach, and a wave of anxiety rushes through her. 

  Addie looks for Drew all around the store for a solid ten minutes, but she can’t find him. She asks the workers, all of them, and she’s almost ready to give up, when one of them tells her they’ve seen him walk out of the store, shopping bags in tow. 

  She leaves her things in the store, sets the basket aside, and runs through the checkout and onto the parking lot. She calls his name, over and over again, but he’s not here anymore. 

  He left. With her phone. 

  So Addie does the only thing that will soothe her anxiety to a moderate level – go back inside, take her basket, and continue what she came here for. She’ll only be able to deal with the phone situation when either Drew comes back for it (possibly?), or when she texts the number from Marianne’s phone. 

  Drew doesn’t come back, so Addie comes home with an insane story, a phone to find, and no chocolate for Marianne.

   ◇

02: MESSAGE ME ON INSTAGRAM

tagging. @jjmaybanksbaby @taiter-tots @sacredto @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw​

[candycorncarl]

Right Here, Right Now

Part 3! Sorry it took me so long to get this part out! I wanted to make sure I had a good idea of where this story should go. I hope u all enjoy :)

Warnings: annngstt, mentions of anxiety, alcohol  Word Count: 4.1k

Part 3

Your eyes flutter open, quickly squinting at the sliver of sunshine peeking through the curtains. Taking a moment to gather your surroundings, you sink back to real life. Last night wasn't just a dream. Turning over you see Spencer sprawled out next to you. His chest slowly falling up and down as he lays on his back. His hands that were so hungry for your touch last night are now gently resting over his abdomen. A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take him in. You've never seen Spencer look so relaxed. Not wanting to wake him from his well deserved rest you turn over to search for your phone, luckily it's within reach on the floor. Noticing you had a few texts you started to feel worried that your lie to leave early last night didn't work.

Prentiss: I hope you're feeling better this morning! JJ has some exciting news to share with you ;)

Garcia: You didn't hear it from me but JJ was on a whole other level of wing woman for you last night. She got you a date without you even being there!! Also I hope you're feeling better, I'm sending over a thousand smooches! MUAH! xoxo

JJ: So... I might have set you up on a blind double date with Will and I?

"What?!" You accidentally blurted out. Spencer started to stir and you put your phone down trying to shake the surprise off your face. Turning over to face him you started brushing his hair out of his face. He stretched out letting his arm drape over your back.

"Good morning." You whisper moving to become eye level with him.

"Morning," Spencer grumbled, his morning voice is even better than you thought it would be. He frowns, barely able to keep his eyes open. Still playing with his hair, you try to hide the smile returning to your face. "Did you sleep okay?" He asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't mean to wake you up." You say softly. His eyes close again as he grins, he scoots himself closer to you.

"It's probably time to get up anyway." He mumbles, his face halfway smushed into the pillow.

"Unfortunately... and I still have to go back home." You say under your breath, groaning. You wiggle closer to Spencer and he hugs you tighter. His face now resting on top of your head. The warmth of his body melts your worries away. He gives the top of your head a gentle kiss and starts brushing his fingers over your back.

"We should probably get up." You start to pull your head back. He holds you a little tighter in protest. You sprinkle a few kisses in the dip of his neck. His hand moves to your hip and he squeezes it.

"Spence- I have to go back home to get ready." You stop yourself, pulling yourself away again. Rolling out of bed you pick your discarded clothes up. Walking over to his side of the bed you kiss his forehead. He mimics you from last night and pretends to take a picture. He watches you bounce your way over to the bathroom as you giggle. The only thoughts in his mind are trying to piece out how you're actually real.

After freshening up you step out of the bathroom and the smell of coffee fills the bedroom. Following the scent you find Spencer in the kitchen yawing over the coffee maker.

"Don't worry, I'm making you a to-go cup." A small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he points at his sparkly tumbler. It was part of a matching set Penelope gifted to all of you. His voice is still sleepy. You chuckle and walk over to him, slightly hesitant you play with your thumbs watching the coffee brew. Knowing he feels the same way about you now makes you feel more nervous, more vulnerable. You trust Spencer but you're still scared of getting hurt.

Spencer watches you twiddle your thumbs, clearly deep in thought. Wanting to reassure you, and himself he pours the coffee in the cup for you.

"I'm really happy you decided to come here last night." He says quietly, sliding the cup over to you.

"Me too." You peek up at him. Something about his messy hair and thrown on pajamas made you feel shy, like you were in a teenage romance again. You feel his fingers start to run over your back but suddenly your phone dings. Closing your eyes you feel his fingers disappear from your waist.

"I'm guessing that's your ride home." He says as he brushes your hair over your shoulder.

"Yeah..." You sigh but before you can move he grabs the small of your back, kissing you with a gentle force. Your hands trail over his chest. The grip he has on your hair sends your butterflies soaring. He pulls away resting his forehead on yours.

"I'll see you at work." He whispers letting you go. You take each other in one more time and before you slip out the door you yell "thanks for the coffee!"

Spencer watches you leave and tries to convince himself that he is actually awake. A small spark of nerves ignites in his stomach. Before it was all just passing glances, the closest he ever got to touching you was a brush of a shirt sleeve. It was easy to hide before, and now he felt exposed. It's Y/n though. Getting to feel your touch, being able to kiss you, and spend moments in the morning like that with you made breaking his rules worth it. He was really getting tired of hiding his feelings, especially from you. He makes his way back into his room to make his bed and get ready for work. As he's straightening his pillows he smells the lingering scent of your perfume. He stops messing with the sheets almost as if he's afraid of erasing away a piece of last night.

___

Spencer sits at his desk anxiously waiting for you to arrive. He stopped at his favorite bakery on the way to work to grab a coffee for himself, a donut, and a muffin for you. Unsure of which one you would prefer, he ended up getting both. He quickly hid the box walking into work so no one else would notice. As he glances at the doors for the hundredth time, you finally walk in. He perks up from his crossword puzzle, pulling the pastry box out. When you glance over at him his heart is racing. Especially when he notices the smallest smirk on your face. He sits up a little straighter the closer you get to him, but when you drop off your things and head to the kitchen he tries to brush it off. It would be too obvious for her to talk to me anyway.

Rushing into the bullpen you take a quick peek over at Spencer, his eyes already on you. You can feel yourself starting to blush noticing the small smirk on his face. Breaking the split second of eye contact you drop your stuff at your desk you search the room for JJ, finding her over at the kitchen talking to Emily and Penelope. Penelope notices you subtly storming over and her smile drops.

"She's coming... she's getting closer... she's right behind you." Penelope narrates as you reach the group, eyes locked on JJ. Emily and JJ silently smile at you, guilt ridden smiles to say the least.

"Alright, spill. How did this even happen?" You ask, crossing your arms. Emily and Penelope stay silent as JJ clears her throat.

"Well, he was at the bar last night. Derek introduced us to him and when we got to talking we learned that he was single, he's cute... and you're single and cute so I thought why not? To be fair it is a double date so it won't be that bad." She continues forcing a smile hoping you'll open up to the idea.

"Just show her that picture we took. She won't be mad once you show her what he looks like." Emily nudges JJ's arm and shakes her head yes at you. The worry reads over your face as you wait for JJ to pull her phone out.

"He's in the FBI so he's not just some random stranger." JJ says trying to defend her choice of actions, she turns her phone to you showing you a selfie they took last night. You grab her phone and frown.

"I can't even tell what he looks like! It's dark and blurry." You zoom in on the mystery man hoping to see anything.

"Ok, ok stop. I'm not letting you say no to this date. It's been forever and you're too hot to not be cashing in on free dinners. I'll enhance the photo and you will say yes." Penelope says in all seriousness, ready to get to work. You can feel Spencer glaring over, trying to read your lips. When your eyes meet him he returns to his work. You can't help yourself from smirking.

"Let me think about it?" You give JJ her phone back.

"I mean once we get a good picture of him, you're going to say yes." Emily shrugs. You roll your eyes.

"Just let me know by the end of the day. He's waiting to hear from me." JJ says, giving Emily a look as they walk back to their desks.

You sit down at your desk biting the inside of your cheek. Pulling up your work for the day on your computer you try to work, but you can't focus. You're not mad at JJ, she's just being a good friend. Knowing you need to talk to Spencer you try to figure out what to do. The way you felt last night was something special, but you weren't sure where that left you two. Trying to look busy for a minute you finally pull your phone out. You text Spencer and quickly put your phone down. You're much more nervous than you want to be. You wipe your sweating palms over your pants and begin working.

Spencer tries to shake off the disappointed feeling he got from you not walking over to talk to him. Instead he tries to figure out what you were talking about. The sound of his phone vibrating in his bag cuts off his train of thought and he turns to pull it out. He smirks slightly seeing your name flash on the screen. The smile quickly disappears when he reads the text.

Y/l/n: Well I just found out JJ set me up on a blind date.

His stomach drops and he turns back to his desk still staring at his phone. Almost unable to process what he just read, his nerves grow from a spark to a flame quickly growing. He glances up at you, seeing you typing away on your assignments. Your calm demeanor throws him off even more. His fingers hover over the keys as his tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth.

Spencer: Do you want to go?

Picking his pen back up he glares at his case files, dreading that the answer could be yes. He feels a slight headache forming as his thoughts consume his concentration. He just got you and now you're being whisked away?

"You okay kid?" Derek asks, walking up to Spencer. Spencer frowns and clears his throat before replying.

"Yeah, just a small headache." He says quietly, shooting a glare over at JJ and back to Derek.

"Hmm- so what happened to you last night? You left without saying goodbye to anyone." Derek taps his pen on the edge of Spencer's desk. His eyes shoot to the pen causing his annoyance to grow.

"I had a headache just like I do right now. When I get a headache I like peace and quiet." Spencer continues staring at the pen, his lips turning into a thin lipped smile. Derek frowns at the annoyance in Spencer's tone before taking the hint.

"Alright, alright I'll leave you alone." He holds his arms up defensively.

As you read his text you want to yell 'No, obviously not!' at him. You try to figure out what to say, but before you can think of a more eloquent response you hear Hotch call your name. You spin in your chair to see him watching you before turning back into his room. You make a face at Emily and she returns the 'oh shit' look you just gave her. You quickly type out a response to Spencer and hit send. It's not what you wanted to say, but you could have sent a whole paragraph if you had the time. Making your way up to his office you tap your knuckles lightly on the door.

Spencer hears his phone vibrate again and quickly picks it up.

Y/l/n: I think it'll look weird if I say no.

He stares at the phone slightly confused, his insecurities start to rise. Does she want to go? Did she realize that after last night she didn't really like me? He shoves his phone in his pocket and grabs the pastry box, leaving them at the kitchen. He pushes the door open and feels his insecurities brewing. Rushing into the bathroom he steps into the small stall. How could I let this happen? He rubs his forehead to try ease the headache growing by the second. Everything he was scared of begins to wash over him. His worst fear being that you didn't feel the same way about him, hits him like a wave crashing down. The restroom door slamming shakes him from his thoughts.

"Come in." Hotch says keeping his eyes on the papers he's reading over.

"Is everything okay, sir?" You ask walking in and taking a seat across from him. Crossing your leg you rest your hands on your knee. Hoping the position wouldn't show your slight anxiousness towards his authority, you stared at him with wide eyes waiting for him to speak.

"You were late today." He finally looks up at you, frowning. You can feel your cheeks turning red as you begin to answer him.

"I know, I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling well last night and it carried over into this morning." You try to sit straight, not wanting to show off any of your tells. His seriousness didn't help calm your nerves. He stares at you for a moment trying to pick up on anything you might be giving away.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You're never late so I found it a little unusual when you weren't here on time." He says, still frowning. His tone is more relaxed now, and you slowly let out a breath of relief.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm fine. I think it was just one too many drinks last night." You look down, letting out a small chuckle. "Thank you though, for checking..." You grin back up at him. He actually returns the grin.

"Alright, make sure you get your case report done by the end of the day." He raises his eyebrows dismissing you. Walking back out to your desk you over exaggerate your breath of relief looking at Emily. She smiles in return. You notice Spencer isn't at his desk. You casually walk over to the glass doors to go look for him. Reaching them he walks back in, trying to quickly move past you. You reach out to touch his hand, but miss it.

Spencer could smell the same perfume from last night as he brushed past you through the doors. He stops for a split second, but continues to his desk. His frustration and anxiety stirring in his head and stomach.

You walk into the hallway stopping as you hear your phone ding. You hold your breath in hopes that it's Spencer.

Garcia: I enhanced the image for you, so now you're out of excuses!! Come to my lair, muahaha!

Spencer reads over your text a million more times biting the inside of his lip. He begins to type out a reply.

Can we talk at lunch?

The anxious feeling of paranoia keeps him from pressing send. What if she tells me last night was a mistake? Too afraid to face rejection he erases his text and frowns at his phone a little while longer.

"Oh good you're here! Come, come." Penelope waves you in. You can't help but smile at her.

"Alright, this better be good since you guys keep talking about how cute he is." You say with a slight annoyance in your tone.

"Just be thankful I worked my magic on fixing this picture, and I never said he was cute." Penelope uses her fluffy pen to point at the stranger on the screen. Leaning closer to the screen you scan over the now sharpened image, biting the inside of your cheek. You can see Penelope peering at you in the corner of your eye. He is handsome, but you try to keep a poker face.

"How tall is he? And really, how much did you guys really get to know him? You were drinking all night!" You scramble to find something to pick on.

"Um, did you forget who I am? After JJ brought up going on a date with you I turned into the profiler. He was in my interview chair, and I don't leave any stone unturned." She starts off almost as if you offended her. "He's number one on my most wanted list if he even looks at you the wrong way." She uses her fluffy pen to mimic a knife over her throat. "And he's tall." she whispers, scrunching her nose.

"I don't know... I still need some more time to think about it, but duly noted." You give Penelope a wink as you turn around to leave. Your thoughts immediately shift back to Spencer and you pull your phone out to see if he's replied, nothing. Walking back down the hallway you hear your phone ding and eagerly pull it out of your pocket.

Reid: You should go on the date.

Confused, you try to make sense of his response. Frozen in the hallway you feel yourself overthinking. What? Why does he want me to go? He seemed happy this morning, what happened? You don't reply and walk back into the bullpen, eyes watching Spencer the whole time. He's focused on his work, eyes never meeting yours. Trying to get your work done you can't help but watch Spencer more than normal throughout the day. You can't seem to catch his eye, but you're scared if you did they would tell you something you didn't want to see. Unable to figure out why he suddenly shut himself off from you, you pull your phone out. The one reason you had to say no just told you to say yes, so you let out a deep sigh and text JJ.

You: I guess I'll go.

You see JJ perk her head up and smile at you.

JJ: Great! I've already got everything set up so I'm glad you said yes :)

You: Of course you do. What's the plan?

JJ: I made reservations at that amazing place Rossi always takes us to.

You: Damn, you know me so well. Reservations for when?

JJ: I didn't want you to change your mind so I made them for tonight.

Your eyes widen, what does she mean tonight?! You put your phone down and start your work again, this time a little annoyed. Now you have to rush so you can leave early enough to get ready. Typing away at your computer you try not to think about the date, or Spencer.

__

"Alright y/n I will see you at 9! Don't be late!" JJ says pointing at you making her way out of the bullpen. You grin and nod at her.

"See you later." You try not to sound too frustrated.

You walk your papers up to Hotch's office, thankful that you got your work done in time. Spencer finishes packing his stuff into his bag and heads for the elevator. As you make your way back down you see him leaving. Quickly grabbing your things you try to catch him before he disappears in the elevator. All you want is for him to tell you not to go, and if you can catch him he might just say it. As you push through the glass doors you see him stepping into the elevator. Rushing over you slip inside right before the doors close. Your heart is beating harder and you stare at him begging him to even look at you at this point. You can see him tense up when you move closer to him. The heat pinging between the two of you, you move your hand to brush against his. At the same time the doors open and he urgently steps out.

"Spencer..." You try to find a way to articulate your thoughts before he walks outside.

"Y/n, it's fine, seriously. Have fun on your date." He says, the tight lipped smile returning. He finally looks at you before stepping outside. A sadness in his eyes contradicts the clearly forced grin on his face.

You feel a lump in your throat form as you try to process what he just said. Does he really not care if I go? Does he think I don't care? He can barely even look at me. You try to shake off the feeling of crying as you step out of the elevator to leave.

You're not even sure how you managed to get home, you don't even remember any of the drive. Your thoughts are too consumed with replaying each moment of today. Letting out a long deep breath you kick your shoes off stepping inside your apartment. You drop your stuff on the counter and shuffle to the bathroom to turn your shower on. Now you were determined to look as good as you could for tonight. If you were going to walk into this date feeling doubtful you at least wanted to know you looked hot. You turned your speaker on and blasted your favorite playlist for getting ready. You did not want your shower thoughts to be consumed over how Spencer made you feel today.

Stepping out of the shower you wrapped your hair up and dried off. After moisturizing and throwing on some clothes, you pulled your makeup out and got to work. Finishing the look off with some lashes you unwrapped your hair and began to blow dry it. You decided on soft curls and made your way over to your closet. You already had an idea of what you wanted to wear. Knowing this restaurant was more upscale you were able to dress up a little bit more than usual. You pulled out your favorite black dress. It stopped just below the knee but hugged all your curves. The neckline was just revealing enough. Zipping up the low cut back you looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling a little. You slipped on your strappy heels and your favorite necklace. The final touch of perfume was all you needed. Spritzing some on you checked your phone, 8:42. Luckily the restaurant was just a 15 minute drive away. You locked the door behind you and got into your car. You texted JJ to let her know you were on the way. First date nerves started to take over you, but you were still having trouble getting your mind to switch gears from Spencer. Shaking the thoughts of him away with some music you began to drive.

Pulling up to the restaurant the valet took your keys to park your car. Stepping in you held onto your clutch a little tighter looking around for JJ and Will. Luckily Wills' accent stood out from the crowd at the bar, and you made your way over to them.

"Hey! Oh my god you look good." JJ raises an eyebrow at you as she scans your outfit. She hands you a glass of your favorite drink.

"Thanks, so do you. Is he here yet?" You smile at JJ as a thank you for the drink. You take a sip, praying that it'll calm your nerves.

"No, but he should be here any minute." Will replies and JJ searches around for him before her face lights up. You feel your heart rate start to build as she waves at the stranger. "There he is." She nods towards him approaching behind you.

"Hey, nice to see you again." He greets JJ and Will with handshakes and turns his attention towards you. JJ begins to introduce the two of you.

"Y/n this is Luke, Luke this is Y/n!" She raises a brow at you, the look in her eye saying 'told you so'.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

[sophisticated-creepy]

Lola’s mind was swarming. Although one thought seamlessly bled into the next, there was a supreme lack of a single thread with which to follow, and completely lost in the void of her own mind, she hadn’t noticed she’d walked passed her destination, realizing halfway down the next block she had to double back to reach Curios and Oddities. She was stepping up to the main entrance as Modesta was walking out, holding the door open wide for a customer who had finished purchasing an order of candles and dreamcatchers, the lady’s arms draped in large shopping bags.

“Thanks again, and have a pleasant day,” Modesta told the satisfied shopper. “Lola! I thought I saw you walking by.”

“Hi, Modesta,” Lola chirped, perhaps a tad too sharply to even her own ears. “How was inventory?”

“Fine,” Modesta answered, her eyebrows knitting together in question. Lola’s energy was sporadic and fluctuating, sending out an unsettling vibe despite standing perfectly still in the middle of the sidewalk. Maybe that was the issue: Lola was merely standing. Lola didn’t “stand”, she fluttered, like an overly caffeinated butterfly. If Modesta did find her friend by chance to be in a state of rest, some other part of her was usually moving, whether it were her arms gesturing about grandly during some ostentatious storytelling, or her eyes dancing to absorb the scenery around her. Lola was like the wind, and rarely remained stagnant, so when she noticed the eerie calm in the way Lola remained motionless, staring at nothing, she was immediately on edge and completely creeped out.

“Look, I know Halloween is right around the corner, but you are really starting to freak me out, Lola. Do you need help or something?”

“Sorry,” Lola spoke. She then blinked, her shoulders slouching downwards naturally, shifting back into a more fluid realm of movement and mannerisms. “Sorry,” she repeated. “Yes, actually, I was wondering if you could help me. Are you busy, or can we talk for a moment?”

“I’m not too terribly busy, come on in. What’s on your mind? You were a total zombie on the sidewalk just now.” Lola was ushered into the warmth of the shop, the scent of vanilla and cookies instantly had her relaxing, feeling once more at peace and in control of her rampant thoughts and imagination.

“I’m processing a lot of information,” Lola began as she stepped into the sacred space. “Actually, I’m trying to get some research done on a new story for a writing contest I’m entering.”

Modesta gave a light laugh. “Oh! Another story, huh? That explains your zone-out. What’s your theme this time?”

“The Hobblin’ Goblin.”

“Of course it is,” Modesta laughed harder. “Why did I even bother to ask?”

“Anyway…,” Lola transitioned, giving her friend a look that clearly meant she herself was not amused. “I have a deadline in little over a week, so I need to get as much research done as possible before I can do any actual writing.”

“Do you really need to do research? I thought you knew all there was to your loveable Hobblin’ Goblin.”

“It’s rather quite shocking on how much I don’t know, except for the everyday basics: he’s a goblin, he hobbles, walks with a crutch, and plays pranks. I don’t know the real, tangible origins, so I’m looking for the deeper meaning. I’m looking for his story.”

“I’ve never thought about it from that angle before,” Modesta admitted. “It’s a unique way to portray the legend, that’s for sure.”

Aggrievedly, Lola leaned her hip against a tall table stacked with candles and heaved a sigh. “I want to get some personal testimonies of people experiencing a real run-in with Mr. Goblin as part of my research to get a truer feel of his hauntings, but I’m coming to realize it’s going to be near impossible to sort the differences between a Hobblin’ haunt and a regular haunt.”

“I can help with that!” Jack sprung up from behind the furniture piece Lola and Modesta were talking next to, his boisterous appearance scaring the living daylights out of the two women, having the whole shop of customers stare in their direction as they each let out a scream of fright.

“Jack!” Modesta scolded after catching her breath. “Have you been waiting behind that table this whole time to scare us?”

Laughing, Jack nodded. “I was. But, do you at least get my point?”

“What are you talking about?” Lola asked, still trying to get her racing heartbeat under control.

“I heard you talking about the Hobblin’ Goblin. He pulls pranks, just like me, and like any other prankster, his jokes are mainly for his enjoyment,” Jack informed. “You can’t rely on the typical moans and groans and rattling of chains. You need to look for the fun.”

Lola snapped her fingers in confirmation. “That’s exactly what I said to Stacy. I’m looking for what makes the Hobblin’ Goblin so special, and I believe it lies in the fun. Do you mind if I record you saying that, Jack? From one trickster to another, I’m sure you’ve got some great insight I could borrow.” Eager to get a new perspective on her favorite goblin, Lola began digging around in her purse to renew her quest of investigation.

“Did you hear that, Mo? I get to be recorded,” Jack smugly stated, plastering on a cheesy smile a charlatan of yore would envy.

“I don’t think the world is ready for your mug,” Modesta sarcastically shot back. Lola emerged from her handbag, holding her tape recorder towards Jack’s face, his smile swapping out for a confused pout as he stared down the microphone of the handheld device.

“Tell me again about the motivation of tricksters, Jack,” Lola sweetly requested.

“Yes, Jack,” Modesta agreed, stifling her laughter to the best of her ability. “Tell the audio world all about it.”

“Uh, Lola, when you said ‘record’, I assumed---.” Jack trailed off, not wanting to hurt the wannabe reporter’s feelings, as Lola’s innocent expression at recording him with her archaic equipment weighed heavily against his conscience.

“Oh, shit, hold on,” Lola cursed. “I need to take notes.” Lola’s quick movements to try and free up her hands in order to get a pen and her notebook caused her to jumble and jostle the items in her arm, and she dropped her notepad along with the newspaper straight to the floor in a flurry of commotion. Modesta bent down to help Lola retrieve her items. When her fingertips brushed the newspaper, she hissed, jolted by the sharp sensation, and yanked her arm back, the feeling as if she had touched the coils of a stovetop scorching into her fingers. Looking at the periodical, her eyes fell on the front page, the grainy image of the train yard staring back at her, and Modesta could have sworn she had been punched in the gut.

“Oh, no. Nope. Not okay, and not today. Nada, nope, not happening,” she stammered furiously, and shoved the paper away from her. “I don’t know why you brought that newspaper into my store, but you need to take it outside now.”

Lola reclaimed the newspaper, slowly picking it up off the floor. “Well, that helps answer some of my questions,” she softly stated.

“Everything all right?” asked Jack.

“I was hoping Modesta would take a look at this picture in the newspaper. Even I got a weird vibe from it, and I wanted to get her opinion on the photo, too.” Lola gave the paper to Jack so he could take a look at the cause of excitement.

“Is this the train yard where that attack was made?” he asked, and Lola nodded.

“What attack?” Modesta asked, unconsciously staggering away from Jack as he held the paper out, studying the photo intensely. The residual tingle of being burned lingered on her fingertips, and her hackles were prickling in warry foreboding.

“I heard about it on the radio last night. A security guard was attacked by a demon,” Jack informed, dropping his voice at the end to whisper so as not to alarm nearby customers.

“A demon?” Modesta repeated, crossing her arms and raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Someone approved that statement to be broadcasted all over local radio?”

“Hey, there’s no mention of the demon in the paper,” Jack stated, turning the pages to try and find the rest of the story.

“Why would there be? The article said it was the work of some kids’ prank gone wrong,” Lola interjected.

“What I heard,” Jack began, “was that the security guard was attacked by a hunched over shadow creature he saw lurking just outside the trees of the forest.”

“How would the radio station know that? The newspaper said the guard has a concussion and a fractured skull. He couldn’t make a statement. His partner found him after he fell,” Lola surmised.

“The dates are wrong, too,” Jack continued, his gaze sharp on the paper. “I heard about the attack happening two nights ago, not last night.”

“Maybe the radio got it wrong,” Lola theorized. “Or, maybe the paper has a misprint. Wait!” Jack’s words began to poke at Lola’s mind, helping to fit pieces of the puzzle together from her earlier haphazard thoughts. “Did you say something about a hunched over shadow creature? Here, let me see that again.” Lola reached for the newspaper and turned to the front page, squinting hard once more at the blurry image. “I can’t tell for sure,” she said at last.

“What are you looking for?” Modesta asked, still standing on the outskirts of her friends thanks to the uneasy item of interest.

“I think the photographer caught an image in the forest, but I can’t make it out. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but could you please take a look for me, Mo? I get the feeling something’s there, but I need you to validate it or not.”

“Oh, there’s something in that photo, all right,” Modesta confirmed, not even having to look at the image, refusing to touch the newspaper.

“Let me take a look in a better light,” Jack requested, and leading the others to the main checkout counter, spread the pages out on the glass surface. Leaning over the image, he peered closely at the tree line. “I think I can make out a shape. Here, right?” Jack pointed to the same shape that first caught Lola’s attention. "It looks cut off, but that might really be a picture of some kind of figure.”

“Oh, my gracious!” Lola gasped. “What if this is proof of the Hobblin’ Goblin?” she asked in a burst of delight. “Isn’t he rumored to have lived in the forest? What if, what if,” she stressed, “this is him?” Her heartrate had picked back up several faster beats per minute, and the pleasant prickle of goosebumps began crawling up her arms, her earlier disposition melting to give way to the wash of excitement lighting her features. “We’ve got to check this place out!”

“No, Lola,” Modesta cut in harshly. “Absolutely not.” Lola turned to her sour friend, the brusque declaration confusing, and her expression must have read as much, for Modesta pointedly tapped a firm finger on the counter where they all hovered above the newspaper. “This is not safe,” the consternated brunette stated evenly.

“I don’t understand,” Lola spoke. “Why are you so spooked?”

“You wanted my opinion? This is it: stay away.”

“What exactly are you picking up on?” Jack questioned.

“I’m all for Lola doing her research on the legend of the Hobblin’ Goblin,” Modesta began to elaborate. “Since you’re looking for the ‘fun’, I suggest you stick to that route. This,” she indicated, waving her hand over the newspaper, “is not him.”

Lola’s excitement quelled as she stared down at the shape in the photo, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth in contemplation as she considered Modesta’s words compared to her impulse to investigate. This article was a tangible lead, a jumping point for her story to breathe life and take flight. She trusted her friend’s opinion, but nothing short of her own prodding could satiate Lola’s curiosity once it had been roused.

“I trust your judgment,” Lola began carefully, “but maybe we should check things out for ourselves. Come out to the train yard with me tonight.”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’m leading that workshop tonight and Jack is helping run the store, so don’t even bother asking him,” Modesta replied.

“Sorry,” Jack apologized, shrugging his shoulders in pre-obligated surrender.

“Besides, you’d be trespassing. You don’t have the authority to go traipsing around on private property after hours anyway,” Modesta reminded. If it were anymore possible, Lola’s exuberance and spirits deflated with the realization that she wasn’t, in fact, allowed to do her investigating after hours. A rebellious side of her stayed hopeful, however, and the back of her mind was already formulating plans to get the research she so desperately sought.

“Lola,” Modesta drawled in warning, seeing the gleam of trouble brewing behind her friend’s eyes. “Give me your word you’re not going to go after this figure. Leave it alone.”

Lola rolled her eyes, but still held a smile, always appreciative of Modesta’s caring and cautious nature. “I give you my word I won’t go seeking this figure,” she promised.

“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have customers to tend.” With that, Modesta flicked her eyes upon the newspaper one final time before turning away. A moment passed before Jack cleared his throat.

“You’re going to go after this figure, aren’t you?”

“Now, Jack, I gave my word, you heard me promise,” Lola reiterated.

“Just…please take Raph with you. I know you are more than capable of handling things on your own, but…if there really is something demonic out there, it’s best if you don’t face it alone.” He gave his friend a comforting squeeze on her shoulder before going to help Modesta with the store. Lola remained silent, thankful of her friends’ concerns, however, the desire to figure out this growing mystery of ghosts and goblins staring back at her from a newspaper headline had her solidifying in her mind what she needed to do in order to properly tell a story.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, that Lola. Always getting into trouble.

[revalise]

Afterdate | UshiOi

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Oikawa Tooru

Genre: Fluff, first date

Rating: SFW

Words: 6900+

A/N: This was for UshiOi Week (@ushioiweek2020​) but I wasn't able to make the deadline. I wrote Ushijima and Tendou scenes on a writer's block, phew. Thank you to Risa for beta reading this! I owe it all to you!I have quite a number of Haikyuu one-shot ideas, including thrillers and angst, I still need to write. But uni is taking a lot of my time and I haven't fully surpassed my writer's block yet (hence, why I've been posting less and less). If you enjoyed it, don't hesitate to comment. See you on the next! Nevertheless, I hope you love the story as much as I loved writing it!

Masterlist 

Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be. Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular

It was a terrible date. Until it wasn’t.

The usually loud metropolis was quiet as a wraith as Tendou and Ushijima waited for the bus home. The kiss of smooth, cold breeze enveloped them both, making Tendou shiver.

Tendou rubbed his hands on his arms as the condensation of his breath blew against the low temperature before whipping his head to the side, only to see Ushijima dart his gaze to the road, patiently waiting. He didn’t care at all about the freezing temperature, standing still as the bus finally arrived, making Tendou frown at their differences.

He would always find himself beside Ushijima as it seemed they always came in a pair. And he knew how different they were. Tendou was the lively one, while Ushijima remained as composed as ever. For a moment, he thought he’d never outdo the captain of the team, but Tendou had a girlfriend waiting for him, waiting for a message regarding his whereabouts.

That alone was enough to make him think he was ahead of the stoic captain. And as a serial dater, Tendou knows how girls turn into something else when their boyfriends don't text back in two minutes.

But when he took out his phone, it was dead.

So the horror that produced sweat on his forehead cascaded down from his neck, even in the temperature, was accompanied by a hammering chest. He knew he needed to shoot his girlfriend a message.

He was left with no choice but to ask Ushijima to borrow his phone. As he fumbled through his friend’s phone after he had no choice, something piqued his interest.

Tendou paid a short glance beside him and his mouth formed a sly smile. The shock mixed with amusement on his face was inexplicable when he saw the Tinder app on his best friend's phone. He covered his mouth to stifle a snort, careful not to wake passengers in their slumber in the back row, late at night from volleyball practice.

Ushijima directed his attention at Tendou, who was looking at him maliciously. The moment his eyes landed on the phone, he understood why.

He tried to hide his surprise, but failed miserably as he quickly tried to retrieve his phone back from Tendou.

Thanks to all the blocking techniques Tendou learned from the team, he held the phone as high as he could out of Ushijima's reach. There was no way Ushijima could retrieve his phone without pushing Tendou over and making a scene since he sat on the window side.

"Hm," Tendou teased. "Since when did you have this?"

"I don't know why it's in there. Give it back," Ushijima argued with a straight face, but the falter in his voice was enough to prove that he was lying. And he wasn't a good liar.

Tendou wiggled his brows, tilting his head. From Tendou's above peripheral, the app successfully loads, and he immediately turns his attention to it, raising it further from Ushijima's grasp.

He pressed on Ushijima's profile. Gods above, did it make him cringe, not to mention the photo Ushijima used for his profile taken about four years ago.

Ushijima, 20

Miyagi Region

"Ugh," Tendou released a sigh. "Have you ever dated anyone from here?"

Ushijima sighed, sitting straight as he set his head down, "No, I don't understand it. I only swiped, and then nothing."

So nobody swiped for him, Tendou thought, feeling both sorry and amused for his friend at the same time. He should change his picture on the app. He looks like an annoying know-it-all, 15 year old. Nobody would go for him.

"Well, that's why you have me," Tendou grinned and head-locked Ushijima. "I'm going to help you get a date!"

The volleyball captain slowly looked up at his friend, "How?"

Tendou only smiled, "Leave it to me."

All Ushijima could ever do was sigh and look over the window as the bus moved further away. He kept his eyes on the bright and warm lights of establishments outside that elongated from the bus’s movement.

He knew that fighting Tendou was futile. In all these years, he had known how the redhead always did whatever he wanted, and how he was good at getting all that. Besides, Ushijima felt too tired to argue anyway.

The continuous clicks of the camera brought his conscience back from almost spacing out. Immediately, he turned his head over to the source beside him to see a smiling Tendou holding his phone as if he’d just come up with something interesting of some sort.

“Did you know it's rude to take photos of somebody without their knowledge?”

The redhead only rolled his eyes with a grin, turning the phone over to Ushijima to show the new profile he’d arranged. "And did you know I only did that as a favor?"

His new bio now read:

Ushijima, 20

Miyagi Region

I must be in a museum because you are a work of art

The four year old photo he once had as his profile picture was now replaced with the one Tendou took.

It was Ushijima's side profile looking outside over the window. The lights of the establishments they passed through created a nostalgic aesthetic along with the slight blurriness of the photo, but never missing his straight, high nose and the sharpness of his jaw. Oh, and that aura of both seriousness and mysteriousness that Tendou knew would catch the attention of anyone who’d look at it.

Ushijima stared at the phone closely, reading the new bio Tendou wrote for him, "That doesn't feel like me at all."

Tendou ignored his friend's remark, giving the phone back to him. "Now try swiping again."

Ushijima took his phone back, observing what buttons to press as he had forgotten how to use the app between the long months since he used it. Finally, the profiles load and he's greeted with a certain boy with light brown hair looking rather cheerful in his picture.

Oikawa, 20

Miyagi Region

If nothing lasts forever, can you be my nothing? ;)

Ushijima scrunched his nose, making Tendou roll his eyes as he grabbed the phone back from him.

“You don’t just stare at it, okay?” He swipes right and a match appears, “See? You swipe and then that will appear if they like you too.”

“Why would they like me if they don’t even know me yet?” the captain asked, tilting his head to the side.

Tendou grimaced, looking a little funny at the innocent question asked of him. “They like your face, okay?” he replied. “Okay?”

*

Oikawa couldn’t remember how long he’d been talking to the brunette he met on Tinder. Yes, Ushijima was a dry texter, but for some reason, for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from talking to him. Not even when every topic shifted to thinking if they’d ever had milk from the same cow. Because Ushijima took him to a place where he only knew two things: that he couldn’t stop smiling and couldn’t stop looking forward to all his replies.

The smell of sweat and the sounds of bouncing balls and shoes scraping against the gym floor sang around Oikawa as he made himself comfortably seated all alone on the bench, taking advantage of the fifteen-minute break the coach lent the team.

He laced his phone around his nimble fingers while the other danced around the clean, white towel he used to wipe his forehead before setting it down beside him, placing it along various colored tumblers that belonged to his teammates.

Iwaizumi watched Oikawa from a distance, gulping down on his tumbler, rivulets of water running down from his lips to his Adam's apple, all the way down to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the flamboyant big shot as he lowered his drink.

He didn’t know why exactly, but there was something different about Oikawa today.

One could say that there was something quite off about the confident captain of the team. Usually, he’d be socializing with the team, or annoying Iwaizumi during breaks, but today he chose to confine himself in the corner, craving what little quiet the noisy gym could offer. Of course, underneath the winks, smiles, exaggerated swagger, and childish antics lies a much more serious persona for when a situation demands it, channeling all that bravado in his pursuit.

But what was so important that could possibly bring Oikawa’s tenacity and attention completely locked on his phone, which he hasn’t put down since the first minute? What could possibly have Oikawa on edge that he couldn’t keep his right heel from lifting and dropping over and over, restlessly?

Oikawa couldn’t stress how long he’d been waiting for Ushijima to ask him out. He wished to have Ushijima beside him, wished he could inhale his scent—and how he probably smelled of dark wood with a hint of vanilla, wished Ushijima’s fingers threaded his hair, and how he wished they were something more.

Truthfully, he couldn’t explain why he’s so intoxicated with the man. He couldn’t determine or distinguish the weight of various reasons why, as if translating them into words would be translating symbols into letters.

Perhaps, the first time Oikawa let himself be swayed by the awkward and dry texter was after he had only slipped into his blanket. Ready to go into a deep slumber after reviewing tapes of his enemy team a day before the match to chalk out strategies, when his phone lit up, the light coming from the screen illuminating a halo around the corner.

From: Ushijima (sent at 9:43pm)

No. You’re the only one I talk to.

His breathing hitched, and he rose as quickly as he laid on the bed. In the small light, his bronze eyes glittered. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he wondered, Only me?

Oikawa had teased Ushijima about staying up late to reply to others. Vague, but just the right words to get the exact answer he wanted from the male: if he’d been talking to anyone else other than him. But he found himself kept up by the lingering messages from Ushijima.

A few weeks after that conversation, and at the mention that Ushijima also played volleyball, here he sat anxiously alone on the gym bench, trying the same scheme yet again.

Another word, another hint that he was interested in meeting Ushijima.

To: Ushijima (sent at 4:30pm)

Yeah, volleyball is good! But I miss hanging out sometimes >_<

Oikawa bit his bottom lip, anxiously staring at his phone that had just shifted to a black screen as he waited for a reply. He sighed, dropping his eyelids as he slumped his shoulders back from all the tension he didn’t know had been building up.

His phone pinged, almost sending his body into a full gallop, immediately raising his gaze to the screen. His heart jumped at the sight of the text preview, Do you want to…

This is the moment. He’s finally going to ask me out. Oikawa smiled to himself, regaining his composure as he sat upright. He inhaled slowly, swiping his fingers to unlock the message. Nevermind the smell of sweat. This is the moment.

From: Ushijima (sent at 4:32pm)

Do you want to play volleyball?

Oh. The corners of his mouth dropped just as soon as they pulled upward at the reply. His shoulders sagged, setting his head down in disappointment. Oikawa couldn’t quite make it up, but sometimes, Ushijima seemed to be out of place.

Sometimes, he’d read signals as fast as he misinterpreted others.

This is hopeless, Oikawa laughed to himself. The array of possibilities he set for himself and Ushijima smeared like oil in the air, drowning out his suave as he tried to shut them all down. Then he tipped his head back, breathing in deep. Breathing in the disappointment, taking it into his head that Ushijima was most likely not at all interested in that way. Anxiety and embarrassment mingled into his chest.

But his phone pinged another time, and it sent his body into another jolt.

From: Ushijima (sent at 4:33pm)

I mean, do you want to go on a date?

And for a moment, he couldn’t breathe under the crushing weight that pushed in on him.

*

“Are you going on a date or to a Sunday morning service?” Tendou cackled as he watched Ushijima put on his necktie over his deep violet long sleeves he paired with black slacks, sitting comfortably on the bed.

Ushijima reciprocated Tendou's gaze through the full body mirror, his eyes squinted, fingers securing the knot of his tie, “What's wrong? Isn't this presentable?”

“Formal. Too formal!” he said as he raised his hands up to stress his remark, barely unable to stop the wide, malicious smile.

“Then tell me,” Ushijima sighed in defeat, realizing that his friend might be right. “What should I wear?”

He was so hopeless that Tendou wondered, What would he do without me? What would have become of him if it weren’t for me guiding him in the big world out there?

Tendou could go on and on about teasing Ushijima with the kind of clothing he chose to wear. Who goes to a date wearing a church outfit? But he saw how Ushijima needed genuine help and pushed his remarks to the side, lending his friend a helping hand on his first Tinder date.

Actually, his first date in general.

“You sound like that time when you finally asked your match out on a date,” Tendou chuckled. “Oh, it was thanks to me.”

Ushijima turned to face Tendou, “I thought it was obvious.”

“Obvious?” Tendou’s hand reached for his stomach as he laughed at his best friend’s words. “How is asking someone to play volleyball flirting? How is that considered flirting?”

Thanks to Tendou, Ushijima was able to make a correction. He was fast to take the latter’s phone in his hand and send another reply. The shock that reverberated into Tendou’s body only dispersed once they received an enthusiastic reply. A feeling that Ushijima would never have felt because of his inexperience.

“But I don’t just ask anyone to play volleyball,” Ushijima replied, tone low and neutral, completely clueless. If he was embarrassed, it didn’t show. Rather, his face remained distant as usual.

The red-haired cleared his throat. It was one of those rare moments when he thought he should be honest with Ushijima before he ventured into a world he hadn't stepped into: dating.

“You’re hopeless. But there’s one thing I can tell you,” Tendou clicked his tongue, eyes shifting left and right trying to search for the perfect words.

He weighed in the list of possibilities that could happen to Ushijima and his date. Of course, there was already a high probability that both of them would be as awkward as ever. But Tendou took notice of the amount of emojis Ushijima’s date uses, so he couldn’t be that boring.

Sometimes, there are just people who could make everything boring. Unfortunately, Ushijima was part of that.

Tendou chuckled inwardly at his thoughts.

Ushijima was intimidating, and he doesn’t speak much. But when he does, he can come off as blunt. He was the kind of man who spoke no lies. He didn’t hesitate to speak what’s on his mind. He didn’t have any concerns. Only that he disliked things he didn’t understand.

He had the oozing air of confidence and reliability about him. He was a fantastic player on the court, but he was just a regular person outside of that. And sometimes, Tendou wondered if Ushijima had any fun at all.

His scrutinizing gaze brought Ushijima’s eyes to meet his through the mirror as the lad unbuttoned his shirt to change. “Have fun.”

*

Oikawa’s blood pumped through him in a strange rhythm. With every step he took, his feet felt heavy, lightweight, soft, and hard all at once, dragging them to move. He was tizzy as he approached the cinema—where he and Ushijima agreed to meet, biting down on his bottom lip.

The man walking in front of him paid him a short glower as if he’d been suspecting Oikawa for his stalking gait. Oikawa reciprocated the man’s hostility with an apologetic smile, halting his steps and embracing the frigid weather around him.

He took in a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes. Then he opened them, and the big ‘CINEMA’ sign glowed red in the light of the dark and the busy streets and youth passing by.

The first snow still hasn’t touched the ground, but it was felt in the frigid cold. He posted himself beside the entrance. He could feel the warm temperature coming from inside the hall whenever the doors opened. There was that burning need to invite himself in, but he stood outside, patiently waiting in the cold.

All around him, there were laughs and smiles from people around his age. Mostly couples, but he spotted friends who came in groups. Some were buying tickets from the booth manned by a straight-faced fellow, who impassively bid goodbye by saying, “Enjoy your movie.”

Some, he guessed, were waiting for someone. The restless tapping of their foot against the ground, the constant checking of time, and the biting of their lips. All of which Oikawa recognized. Because he was doing the same thing.

He raised his left hand, pushing aside his long, blue sweater sleeves to reveal his leather watch, “6:47…” he whispered.

There were still thirteen minutes left to see Ushijima for the first time. Thirteen minutes to hold on to his dear sanity.

He tapped his foot restlessly against the pavement once more, releasing another breath that condensed in the air, making him push his khaki scarf upwards to cover his mouth.

As soon as he raised his gaze towards what’s in front of him, he saw the man he’d been yearning to see. Behind the screen. Behind all those words. Behind all the smiles. And on that cold night, he saw him for the first time.

Oikawa’s eyes widened as he watched Ushijima from only eight feet away.

Ushijima’s body was turned to the side, giving Oikawa only the picture of his long coat, cropped light-colored trousers, and loafers. His side profile boasted that high nose and that brown hair—and Oikawa wondered if it was as smooth as it looked.

It’s literally unfair how attractive he is, Oikawa groaned in his thoughts. He knew how strange it was to look at Ushijima. But he found difficulty in not staring at him. He couldn’t find the courage to tear his gaze away from him. Not when Ushijima had that mesmerizing aura about him.

He was all too aware of how cliche he sounded, and he smiled like a fool when he realized that, maybe, he liked it. And he was still smiling like a fool when Ushijma whipped his head in his direction, locking their gazes.

Ushijima narrowed his eyes, making Oikawa’s smile drop as soon as he realized. But Ushijima was already walking toward him, and Oikawa couldn’t breathe.

“Good evening,” Ushijima greeted as soon as he was in front of Oikawa. If he was nervous, if he was shy, it didn’t show.

Oikawa noted the aura Ushijima emitted. He was, perhaps, more than what he had expected. A little too unreal, maybe. He swallowed, but his throat was too dry. “Hello…”

Ushijima’s lips twitched a little upwards. Even as he smiled, there was still something serious left in the air. “Have you been waiting long?” he checked his watch then returned to the speechless Oikawa.

He’s so pretty. I think I’m gonna faint, Oikawa thought before he realized he was asked a question. He shook his head to disperse himself of unwanted thoughts, creasing his brows as he leaned a little forward. Ushijima’s scented soap caressed his nose, a touch of wood… and is that baby powder? “I’m sorry. What was that?”

“Have you been waiting long?” Ushijima repeated.

“Oh. No,” Oikawa retreated. “No, I haven’t. I just got here,” he chuckled, trying to conceal the awkwardness in his tone. Feeling a little anxious, he asked, “And you?”

“I also just got here,” Ushijima answered dryly. Then his eyes went past Oikawa, and both felt the warm temperature from inside the hall, the noises sounding louder as the door swung open before it shut on its own and the noises died down with it.

Ushijima brought his gaze back to Oikawa, “Would you like to go inside? I’ve got the tickets.”

“Sure…” Oikawa smiled awkwardly.

Ushijima pushed the door open for Oikawa, to which he thanked him for. As soon as Ushijima couldn’t see his face, he closed his eyes in frustration. Say something!

Oikawa found himself speechless around Ushijima. It seemed like all of his confidence had died at the very sight of him. There was something intimidating about Ushijima that he couldn’t quite explain.

Yes, he’d been waiting for this moment for so long. And he hated himself for feeling as if he wasn’t even trying hard to connect with him.

The thundering drum in his heart pulsed through his ears, drowning out the sound of talks and the smell of popcorn invading his nose. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another as they waited in line for the cinema room, pocketing his trembling hands as he started at his feet.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, then lifted his head as he smiled at the staff that manned the entrance to the cinema room before following Ushijima ahead. His throat was tight in nervousness—a feeling he wasn’t very much familiar with—even as they sat in their seats.

Oikawa shifted his gaze over to Ushijima, and found he kept his eyes on the big screen, the flickering light from the changing scenes illuminated the planes of his face. He could watch Ushijima the entire time. Nevermind that Romeo and Juliet movie using the original dialogue. He couldn’t even understand it.

Then his eyes shifted towards his hand that rested on the recliner, making him frown. Since the movie started, he already placed his hand where Ushijima could hold it. But the movie was probably half over already, and nothing.

A child’s cry drowned the actors’ voices and shook the whole cinema, turning everyone’s attention to the source in the row behind them. Only Ushijima did not bother to pay a glance towards the disturbance.

Oikawa thought, Why make a child watch Romeo and Juliet?

He stifled a laugh and his hand flew to cover the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards as cheese popcorn fell from right above Ushijima’s head.

That was all it took to have Ushijima turn his attention to the annoying child. The audience expressed annoyance through angry muffles, but Ushijima remained calm and collected, politely accepting apologies from the man, whom Oikawa guessed as the father, as he tried to soothe the crying child.

Ushijima caught Oikawa’s attention, but it was too late for him to hide his smile. Oikawa laughed awkwardly, then hoisted his drink he hadn’t touched from the recliner to hand over to Ushijima.

“Drink water,” he said even as he himself was dehydrated.

*

Musicians took up spots inside the restaurant that Ushijima booked for the date. The room was filled with a blend of soft conversations, the clang of plates, and violins. Such a beautiful sound, if only that one musician knew how to carry a tune.

Oikawa and Ushijima kept straight faces, looking at each other as if they could tell what the other was thinking.

It was grand, but terrible. The dishes were too small. Certainly not enough to satiate their hunger. And that music? Gods above.

He registered the change in Ushijima’s face as he watched him intently across the table that separated them both. His ears were turning a little red, his forearms braced on the table. While Oikawa, on the other hand, leaned on the back of his chair, sitting like a king.

“How do you do it?” Ushijima asked quietly, his eyes almost pleading.

“Do what?” Oikawa grinned, raising his head high, teasing.

Ushijima gave him a slow smile and a flicker of light moved across his eyes, “How do you ignore that irritating sound?”

“My teammates are louder, and much more annoying than that,” Oikawa laughed, stealing another glance at the stressed-out musicians who wasted no time in poking at the one who couldn’t play the right strings. He would’ve felt sorry for him, really, had it not sparked an interesting conversation between him and Ushijima.

Ushijima traced the rim of his glass, “Louder and annoying?” his brows narrowed slightly.

“So,” Oikawa tilted his head, keeping a smile on his face as he recalled moments he spent with the team. “There was this one time when we went to a training camp. And I couldn’t sleep on the bus because they were all so obnoxiously loud and kept singing.”

Oikawa was the leader of that fiasco, but he would never admit to it.

“I had to snap their foreheads one by one to make them stop,” he shrugged. “It was fun though.”

“You have a very different definition of fun,” Ushijima chuckled, so soft and so mellow. The sound was better than the horrible quartet playing in the background, and Oikawa wanted to hear it again.

“Well,” Ushijima started, “do you want to get out of here?”

Somehow, it didn’t seem like goodbye.

*

“Wait!” Oikawa laughed when the tail of the scarf around his neck got caught in between the restaurant door they walked through.

Ushijima took a step closer, opening the door for Oikawa to pull out his scarf. A slash of a grin spread across his face, “What are you doing?”

Oikawa could only laugh as Ushijima stared at him with the same intensity. They stood in front of each other. No words, just stillness. But they were sure something changed. Even when they’ve only had a short time to get to know each other.

From the short distance that separated them, Oikawa watched as Ushijima’s brown eyes turned molten from the warm lights all around them. He couldn’t brush off the rush of having Ushijima look only at him, trying not to get lost in those strange, enticing eyes.

Oikawa winced as a gust of icy wind blew the tail of his scarf and froze his ears. He took that sign as an opportunity to pull it tightly around him.

“Walk with me?” he asked gently.

“I would love to,” Ushijima nodded. “But I’m afraid you would have to lead me instead. I’m not quite familiar with the road down there.”

Oikawa smiled even as he rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets picked up?”

Ushijima tucked his hand behind his back as they strode forward through the cobbled streets. He fumbled for words, but he did not drop his grin as the golden lights twinkled across the city, “Not really.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Do you have a reason not to?”

“Okay, you’re good,” Oikawa complimented when he couldn’t counter his quick remark.

“Thank you,” Ushijima chuckled, deep and slow.

Oikawa frowned, “You actually look more handsome with honesty on your face.”

“I do?” Ushijima grinned, boasting those white teeth, brows knotting.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa waved him off. “You’re cute. Stop smiling at me like that,” he added, averting his gaze from Ushijima. “Your lack of self-awareness is deeply troubling.”

Ushijima pocketed his hands, “And you? Are you honest?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Oikawa shrugged and smiled roguishly, keeping his gaze on the lights ahead. From a distance, he could see the head of the illuminated fountain by the park they were nearing. “Maybe I’ll just be straightforward about taking advantage of you.”

Ushijima laughed but said nothing. No one spoke as they realized that the space between them felt strangely intimate.

“What about the violin in the restaurant earlier, huh?” Oikawa followed with a tease.

“What on earth,” Ushijima drawled, sounding exasperated, “is all I have to say to that.”

With a turn around the hedge, the gush of water from the fountain park enticed them both. A strong gust of wind made them feel that the air had turned colder with the time, ripping through them as they observed the golden lit decorations surrounding the park.

“Do you want to..?” Ushijima didn’t finish the words, extending his arm and pointing his index towards the brightly lit fountain.

Their date should have ended the moment they stepped out of the restaurant. But the beautiful fountain in the center illuminating their faces signaled that it had only just begun.

Before Oikawa could sit on an empty bench—only a few feet away from the fountain, Ushijima dusted it with his hand, making his date smile appreciatively at the effort. In the touch of freezing cold, it became their spot to just sit and watch the fountain as a silent acknowledgement that neither were ready to part ways just yet.

“So,” Oikawa said as he crossed his legs, turning to Ushijima as the latter sat down. “Tell me more about you.”

“About me?” Ushijima’s brows creased, setting his eyes on his hands that rested in his lap. Oikawa realized how there was no progress in terms of skinship between them, but he wasn’t complaining. “There’s nothing much about me, really.”

“Impossible,” Oikawa shook his head. “There’s never nothing about anything or anyone.”

Oikawa’s eyes glittered as he stared at Ushijima’s hand, and his heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to his face.

“How about us?” Ushijima asked.

A flush of pink bloomed on his cheeks as his heart hammered against his ribcage. He hadn’t been expecting such an honest question, such a question that flushed all the bravado he tried so hard to muster.

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Ushijima tilted his head.

Oikawa kept his gaze averted, biting his full bottom lip. Because of you!

“Oikawa?” Ushijima called.

He tried not to let it show what it did to him to have Ushijima remember his name. Or to hear him say it. To have him let out the words from his lips.

“Are you okay?” Ushijima asked, but made no move to touch him.

Good. Because Oikawa wasn’t entirely certain he could handle his heat hovering against him. He took a breath, and that same impish grin swiped back. “You should know by now,” he teased.

The silence that followed after didn’t lay as heavy as it used to be. Instead, Oikawa straightened himself, resting a hand on the bench in the short distance separating both, gazing at the fountain that kept them company.

“I like mushroom risotto,” he said out of the blue.

“Mushroom risotto?”

“Mushroom risotto,” he repeated, still keeping his eyes averted.

There was a short pause before Ushijima spoke, “Did you know that mushrooms are made up of 90% water?”

Do you want to go try mushroom risotto next time? Do you want me to bring that for you one day? Do you want me to cook that for you? Such questions were what he thought would’ve followed next. Questions that would make them meet each other again. Never a random fact he didn’t expect.

Oikawa turned his head towards his date. “What?” He choked on a laugh as he asked it.

“Yeah,” Ushijima gruffed, completely unaware of what left Oikawa in disbelief. “They’re also a fungus. Did you know?”

“No,” Oikawa shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“We should forage for mushrooms next time.”

Next time, the words rang in Oikawa’s head. Next time.

“And you?” Oikawa followed. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Curry,” his date answered plainly, his free hand discreetly traveling towards Oikawa’s hand on the bench.

A faint warmth bloomed in his chest. The brief touch of Ushijima’s fingers through Oikawa sent a pang of desire through him so strong he wanted to pull him in closer. It had taken all of him, all his self control to keep his breathing steady as he gazed back at the fountain.

That was all it took to have Oikawa’s gaze back at the fountain again, “These lights are familiar,” he started. “From my recitals from those years ago. It’s kinda nostalgic.”

When Ushijima didn’t say anything, he took it upon himself to turn his head back towards him. With the look written across Ushijima’s face and those eyes, he understood.

“I will pretend I haven’t heard the question in your eyes,” he groaned.

“No, tell me,” Ushijima leaned a little forward.

“It’s nothing, really. I just took up dancing a while back. Then I shifted to volleyball,” he eyed him, searching for any sign of mockery.

“Dancing?” Ushijima pondered, running a finger along his lips—the sight making Oikawa swallow—before returning his gaze to the other, “Could you, perhaps, show me?”

“What?” Oikawa asked in disbelief, turning left and right. “Here?”

Ushijima nodded.

“What?” he shook his head. “No!”

But Ushijima stood up and offered his hand. Oikawa stared at it for a moment, creasing his brows, but a ghost of a smile remained plastered across his lips. He looked around, searching for prying heads.

“There are people,” he argued in a whisper.

Ushijima shrugged, “People are too busy to care about anyone other than themselves.”

Oikawa let out a long sigh before he took Ushijima’s hand. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Fine.”

He cleared his throat and lumbered, positioning himself in the center from where they stood. Ushijima could never tell him, but he looked like a perfect decoration in front of the fountain behind him.

Oikawa gazed across the stone pavement. Sliding his foot back and the other forward, he extended his arms in front in a smooth motion that truly suggested he had some background in the art. He was dancing, then his arms were flailing in the sky with feline grace. His scarf spun around him as he whirled, and he was thankful for the cold that he wouldn’t sweat. He felt like flying, until the ground was beneath his feet again.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. And why did he stop?

Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be.

Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular.

Oikawa picked up his scarf that fell on the ground. Then his eyes rested on Ushijima, whose hands were pocketed in his coat. A tug on the corner of his lips issued the bravado he’d been keeping.

“What? Amused?” he teased with a conspirator’s grin when he closed the final distance between them.

Ushijima just stared at him, taking in the warm gleam in his eyes. He said nothing, but his hand flew to Oikawa’s scarf. Both said nothing as Ushijima wrapped the it around him, “It always becomes loose when you’re the one putting it on.”

A delicious heat kissed its way down Oikawa’s neck to his spine as if there was some warmth left despite the winter.

“Perhaps I will take up dancing again,” he said in a little more than a whisper, his throat constricting at the moment.

A hush had fallen between them, but Oikawa felt as if there was something inside him that found it to be a perfect piece in their merriment. It went beyond his expectations. He enjoyed his time with Ushijima.

“Let’s take you home,” Ushijima said and Oikawa only nodded.

The streets were too quiet this time of the night—so quiet that only their footsteps and chuckles and moments of conversation lingered in the sleeping city. They were still talking and laughing, and it had been that way since they left the park, stepping forward with the wings of conversation.

“What was your favorite part?” Ushijima asked, his eyes not on the streets before him but on Oikawa. Such wild ecstasy, he noted.

Oikawa paused, his brows creasing as Ushijima waited for his answer, thinking. Then his eyes widened and met Ushijima’s, “Oh, you mean the movie?”

Ushijima only chuckled, “Yes, the movie.”

“Not the baby?”

“Yeah, and maybe that too,” a faint smile stretched Ushijima’s lips.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Oikawa looked forward, brows knotting yet again as he acted. His finger tapped on his lip in a way that forced Ushijima to remind himself to keep his focus on Oikawa’s eyes, “I like the part where the dad,” he stared back at Ushijima, “picked up the baby and they went outside. That scene was amazing!”

Ushijima chuckled, looking away from him and Oikawa realized how manly Ushijima’s voice was. Then Oikawa’s eyes scanned the street before him, how the establishments and the crooked, dark streets were becoming more and more familiar to him.

“You laughed at me earlier,” there was a hint of a smile on Ushijima’s lips.

Oikawa felt a little embarrassed, but he laughed, “You’ve gotta admit. It was kind of funny.”

“It was fine,” Oikawa answered seriously.

“Same here.”

“No way. I thought you liked Shakespeare,” he said in disbelief.

“I thought you liked Shakespeare,” Ushijima countered.

He assumed that Oikawa was interested in Shakespeare because, sometimes, he would post quotes from Romeo and Juliet. What Ushijima didn’t know was that: it was Oikawa’s literature teacher who originally posted those, and he only wanted to get on their good side.

“It took me some time to understand the words,” Oikawa admitted.

Ushijima’s smile widened, revealing his white teeth, “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

Oikawa’s hand flew to his mouth that went agape, “How did you memorize that?” he asked with amusement in his eyes.

“Say your lines,” Ushijima urged him.

“You are reciting Juliet’s lines,” Oikawa narrowed his eyes in thought, but the grin didn’t disappear from his lips.

“Say your lines,” Ushijima repeated, ignoring his remark.

Oikawa rolled his eyes, his brows knotting trying to remember the right words, “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“You’re annoying. Mine is long,” he frowned at how fast Ushijima replied and how long he remembered the next line was. But it took only one grin from Ushijima and he started speaking.

“Something. Something,” his eyes almost bawled upwards trying to remember the words. “Let lips do what hands do. Uh. They pray grant thou, lest faith turn to despair..?” he finished with uncertainty. “Wait. How do you even memorize these?”

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake,” Ushijima continued.

“Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take,” Oikawa grinned with how fast he recited the lines as he halted in front of his house and Ushijima did the same.

“Thus, from my lips,” Ushijima said hoarsely. Oikawa didn’t mean to, but his eyes went down to Ushijima’s lips, “by thine, my sin is purged.”

His heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to Ushijima’s eyes, “Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” he said in a little more than a whisper.

The night was honest and his eyes whispered of how they met, how there was an unspoken understanding between them. And being with Ushijma was like staying in the rain, he still wanted to be in it one more time.

Through a clearing in the skies, clusters of stars could be seen and the sliver of the crescent moon shone above them as they stepped into the pool of moonlight.

“Good night,” Ushijima said. “You’re probably tired.”

But he was not tired, he was not done. There was still greed and want inside of him that made him want to pull Ushijima closer. The longing for a wave of touch and friction of joy that only grew bigger and bigger by the minute.

“Good night,” was all he replied, his voice so soft and mellow.

Oikawa turned his back on Ushijima, his steps feeling heavier by the minute as he trudged away from him. But he looked back, and the greed must have shown because Ushijima stood there, watching him, thinking.

He grinned and crossed his arms, “You do realize what time it is, right?”

Ushijima shrugged and pocketed his hands, “I just want to see you walk in.”

That was all it took for Oikawa to do the opposite. He went closer to Ushijima, closing the gap between them. There was only the absence of conversation and how much he wanted to touch Ushijima.

“It was enchanting to meet you,” Ushijima said quietly before his ears filled with the softness of Oikawa’s laughter.

“Do you know how cliche you sound, Romeo?” he teased.

Oikawa watched the way Ushijima’s lips widened in a smile and died down slowly.

“I think,” Ushijima started, the words were barely more than a strangled whisper, “I like you a lot.”

The longing blinded him, and he flung himself on Ushijima, breathing in his scent and the slight trace of cheese in him. He memorized the feel of him and the heat of Ushijima’s body hovering over him.

“We probably should just go to McDonald’s next time,” he teased.

“As long as I’m with you,” Ushijima chuckled against Oikawa’s lips. “I would like that very much.”

It was only that, and their lips touched.

[stray-kids-in-your-area]

The Death Of Me

“Despite the pain, I think our story was beautiful for what it was.

I love you dearly Christopher Bang. 

Goodbye.”

warning: Angst and death

word count: 14.7k 

|M.list|

A/N: i just want to give a huge shoutout to @depressed-philosophers-daughter​ without her this entire piece would not have ever come together like it did. i love you so much honey. 

6:45am, your alarm started screaming for you to wake. Groaning, you quickly grabbed your phone and dismissed the obnoxious noise. You slowly opened your eyes only to squeeze them shut again. The sun was just beginning to rise and was shining directly through the barely opened blinds. “Bitch.” You rasped with your groggy morning voice. Giving yourself a few more minutes to fully wake up you decided to scroll through some of your notifications, smiling as you came across a spam of late night/early morning texts from your best friend Chan.

You and Chan had been friends ever since you transferred to his school in grade 7. He was the only person who’d stuck by your side when things got heavy and you felt like you were losing your mind and vice versa. You took care of each other mentally and physically. Constantly checking to make sure neither of you were overworked as well as eating and drinking enough.

Blinking your eyes a few times, you got them to focus on the last picture sent. The longer you stared at the photo of him the more your stomach began to churn. What started as simple butterflies soon turned into a flurry, and then into a full blown monsoon. Saliva gathered in your mouth as you gagged, tossing your phone to the side your hand flew to your mouth as you bolted to the bathroom. You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet, flinging the lid open and dry heaving into it, no liquids would escape you. Black dots appeared in your vision as you gasped for air between the heaves. You looked down, expecting to find some kind of bile, even a wad of saliva. Instead there was a single white flower petal floating in the water. You swallowed harshly even blinking a few times to make sure the sight before you was real. Placing a hand around your throat, you rubbed lightly. It felt like something had planted themselves inside your airway. “What the fuck?” you wheezed out, shaking your head. “This must be a hallucination,” you thought to yourself. There was no way you could actually cough up a plant. Looking back into the bowl and seeing the same white floral leaf shook you to the core. With shaking hands, You slammed the lid shut with whatever strength you could muster before running into your room. Bringing your clammy hands to your face, you touched your burning cheeks and took a deep breath to calm your nerves. The most you could do was try to forget about it and get ready for the work day ahead of you. 

Arriving at the pet center right on time, you went into the backroom and grabbed your apron, slipping it on before heading to the floor. Your coworkers Seungmin and Hyunjin were seated at the front desk conversing. Seungmin’s chair faced towards the doorway you had walked through. Weaving his body around the man perched on the edge of the desk in front of him, Seungmin waved at your disgruntled figure. “Morning y/n!” he beamed, barely lifting your head, you nodded back, giving him a half hearted smile. Seungmin cringed at the weak hello and Hyunjin turned around to see what his coworker was making faces at.  “Oof looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Hyunjin mumbled to you. “Sorry” you responded, fiddling with the strings behind you, in an attempt to hide the sheepish smile creeping onto your face.

 “Not really feeling too good” you said quietly, your eyes still looking at the ground. “You do look paler than usual” Seungmin joked as he stuck his tongue out at you. Smiling lightly for the first time since you woke up, You flicked him off and rolled your eyes. Hyunjin nudged him, kicking the rolling chair he was seated in aside before jumping down and rushing to your side. His hands quickly lifted to feel your forehead and cheeks. “Do you have a fever? Have you been drinking enough water? Did you get enough sleep last night?” Hyunjin questioned frantically as he continued his small checkup on you. Placing your own hands over his, you grabbed them gently and lowered them back to his sides. “No, yes annnnd yes” You answered, the small smile stretching into a grin. The taller nodded, his tense posture relaxing with your reassurance. “Well I don’t see anything wrong with you. Just having a rough day?” He asked sympathetically. You nodded “Yeah, I think so, i’m sure i’ll be back to myself tomorrow.” Waving to both men, you smiled once more to reassure them and went to start on your daily tasks. Things had begun to look up for you, the mood that had consumed you earlier in the day was almost gone, the incident from the morning seeming almost like a fever dream, maybe it really had been a hallucination after all. 

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself anyway. About four hours into your shift, the bell on the front door rang. “Y/N, CHAN IS HERE FOR YOU!” Seungmin shouted from the desk. The grip on the broom you held in your hands grew tighter at just the sound of his name. Your stomach immediately twisting in knots in response. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ you asked yourself. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to calm down as much as possible and made your way to the door.  “Y/N!!” Chan threw himself on you as soon as you appeared. Shocked at the sudden contact, your throat closed up and you began coughing. You couldn’t really understand why you felt so flustered, it wasn’t as if the contact was anything new. Furrowing your brows, you could only chalk it up to it being an off day for you. The blonde released his grip and took a half step away before patting your back. “You okay puppy?” 

The concern on his face was genuine as he looked you over. You swallowed hard, “Puppy”.. the nickname Chan had given you when you first met, a day you were sure you couldn’t forget even if you wanted to ‘not that you did’, You thought offhandedly. 

It had been your first day at a new school and navigating the maze of interconnecting Halls had been a lot harder than you thought it would be. You were tired from hunting down your classes, and started to wonder if the counselor who put your schedule together had a personal vendetta against you. It seemed as if all your classes were the furthest they could possibly be from each other and your legs were about ready to give in from the impromptu walking marathon they were being forced to endure. When you met him, you were in the middle of looking between your schedule to the number plaques placed next to the doors in a last ditch effort to find your class before calling it quits and going home for the day. ‘So much for the perfect first day’ You grumbled audibly in frustration. You were so caught up in what you were doing, you didn’t notice the broad backside of the dark haired boy walking out of a classroom, until you slammed straight into it. Effectively dropping your supplies and the textbooks he held in his hands. 

If you think hard enough, you can still recall how worried you were. The way you braced for the scolding you were sure he had been itching to deliver and how embarrassed you felt for not paying attention and hitting someone on your first day. However, after a few seconds of total silence, you chanced a look at him, apologies still flooding from your lips as your eyes trailed upwards. Though, much to your surprise, the only thing present on his face was a soft and utterly amused smile. Instead of scolding you, he opted to help you gather your things and walk you to your next class, which coincidentally, you both shared. (“To avoid accidents.” He said jokingly, but you begged to differ) He always said when he turned around to yell and you looked at him with those wide eyes full of confusion and mumbling apologies you looked just like a kicked puppy. So he had no choice but to help the little lost puppy find their way. From that day forward you were attached at the hip and the rest was history. 

Thinking about the memory had your heart buzzing with an uncomfortable warmth you found hard to ignore. Your heart felt like it was about to burst through your chest, the pace alone was more than enough to alarm you. Although, the feeling of something shifting around inside you is what sent you over the edge. Placing a hand over your lips, you held back a harsh gag, little beads of water forming at the edge of your eyes before you shoved Chan away and made a Beeline for the restroom. Leaning against the door, you gasped for breath. You felt like you were on the verge of passing out from the amount of pain rolling through your body. You could taste the blood collecting in your raw throat, all it took was one last cough and you were sent straight to the floor, scratching at your neck. You could physically feel the blockage of your airway, black spots gathering in the corner of your vision had you scrambling to pull yourself up. Grabbing the cold ceramic of the sink, you pulled yourself to your feet and with what little strength was left, you held yourself up to the mirror. Your Jaw dropped open as you tried to see what was stuck in your trachea. Despite your efforts your blurry vision could only capture a small blurb of white. Squinting at your reflection, you slowly creeped your hand up to your lips, and took a shallow shaky breath through your nose before cramming your fingers down your esophagus trying to grab at whatever it was. Tears spilled from your eyes and after a few seconds of struggling you grabbed ahold of the object. A bundle of soft petals touched your fingertips as you began to slowly pull it out. You whimpered, letting out a somewhat garbled noise of agony while you tugged on the offending object. You inhaled once more, only to have the air cut short by a loose petal. ‘You can’t wait much longer, you need to breathe’ Your brain was in alert mode, you were seconds away from losing consciousness. Gearing yourself up you wasted no time yanking it out like you were starting up a lawn mower. Hot tears spilled from your eyes and the pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It was indescribable, you weren’t even able to make a noise. White hot and searing pain tore through your body in waves. Worse than the pain was what hung from your mouth. A white flower..not a single petal...a whole Daffodil, splattered in blood was hanging below your chin. The stem was still lodged in your throat but at least you could breathe again. 

 Frozen in shock you could only stare at the plant through its reflection. You were broken from your trance by the sound of the opening door. A slightly annoyed Hyunjin appeared in your sights as you scrambled to pull the remaining evidence from your mouth. “y/n i’ve been knocking for like an hoouur, are you oka- Holy shit!”  Panicking at the volume of his voice, you quickly grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside before closing and locking the door. “What happened, why are you eating a flower?” He asked with alarm, you placed a finger against his lips to shush him as you grabbed the base of the flower and pulled out the last of it.  The flower landing in the sink with a resounding splat. Hyunjin winced at the pieces of coagulated blood that stuck to the stem, his brows furrowing further as he took in your haggard appearance. You couldn’t even speak, your legs felt like jelly and could no longer hold your weight either. That had become apparent when they began to wobble from lack of support.

Hyunjin noticed and right as your legs gave up completely, grabbing your arms, he secured an arm around your waist and gently sat the both of you on the floor, his hand reaching out to caress your hair. “Hyunjin” you rasped out. “I- I don’t know what's happening and I'm terrified.” You whimpered, hands shaking in shock at your close brush with suffocation. Pulling you closer, he rocked you back and forth, running his hands through your hair as tears trailed down freely.  “We’ll figure it out y/n, okay?” He cooed in your ear. “Maybe Chan will know?”  He mumbled in contemplation. Your eyes grew wide at that, and you attempted to sit up. However, your weakened state had other plans, fighting your brain's orders to move. Your body could do nothing more than shift a little. “NO!” You rasped, you winced both at your tone and the strain on your throat when you spoke. “I-I don’t want to worry him. He has enough on his plate as it is, this has to stay between us..please?” You pleaded, he looked away from you, before reluctantly sighing and nodding his head. “How long has this been happening?” He asked, keeping his head facing forward. Unable to look at you without hurting. 

 “It started this morning, I felt sick and coughed up a single petal and somehow it’s bloomed into an entire flower within hours of sprouting.” You said softly, biting your bottom lip in nervousness. “Have you looked anything up?” He asked, his face twisted in concern and confusion. You were quickly coming to find that you didn’t like serious Hyunjin as much as you loved relaxed Hyunjin.  “He doesn’t look good with a frown.”  You thought to yourself before answering. “No, not yet anyway. I was going to when I got off.” You lied easily, though you had an inkling of what it was and you were afraid of what you would discover if you looked it up. “Want me to come over and help? I’ll bring pizza” He offered with a warm smile. Despite wanting to say no, You also knew having some kind of support would help more than hurt. So with some hesitance, you nodded and smiled at your friend. Hyunjin was an angel in the truest form, he was the only other person you could trust with your life and this moment just proved that. You met him when you first started working at the shelter. His parents owned it, so he was there all the time before he was even officially employed. The two of you bonded over your love for dogs and music, though he could dance and you had two left feet, which you learned from your late night dance battles when you closed the shelter together. Hyunjin helped you clean up before the two of you went back to the front. Chan was talking to Seungmin with a worried expression plastered on his face. The pure love and fear in his eyes when he turned to you made your heart pound. You gulped, suppressing another cough as you gave him a tight lipped smile. “Y/n what happened?” You waved him off, quickly changing the subject. “Just caught a stomach bug, you know how it is sometimes. I think I might leave early if that’s okay with you two?” Seungmin and Hyunjin nodded. “Take care of yourself y/n, I don’t wanna catch your diseases.” Seungmin playfully scolded while patting your head. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I need to cough, Thanks.” You quipped sarcastically, while knocking his hand off of your head. “Want me to come take care of you?” Chan asked softly. You shook your head in response, “I don’t want to get you sick. I’ll call you when I feel better.” You mumbled while pulling your apron over your head as you pushed through the doors. Tossing your apron into your locker, you left without another word. You remained that way even after you finally arrived home, as soon as you opened the door, you went straight to your room and threw yourself onto your soft mattress releasing a deep groan. You let yourself relax into the softness of your comforter and slowly drifted into a much needed sleep. 

Your ringtone blasting throughout the room caused you to jolt awake and look around frantically, your eyes adjusting themselves to the glow of the moon setting high outside your window. “Oh shit it’s dark outside already?” After a few seconds of peering into the darkness and allowing your brain to process what was happening and you grabbed your phone and answered it. Grunting out an irritated Hello into the receiver. “Hello?” Hyunjins strained voice could be heard from the other side. “I’m actually gonna kick your ass. I’ve called you 7 times in the past hour, what the hell were you doing?” guilt hit you, you had no clue you slept that long. “Sorry Jinnie, i was really tired...what’s up?” Figuring he teased you enough, he chuckled lightly and answered, “Well I'm outside of your house with 2 large pizzas waiting for you to let me in so I can help you figure out this whole flower ordeal!” Jumping up from the bed you raced down stairs to the front door. “Shit, shit, shit sorry I forgot!! I'll let you in, bye!” Hanging up you yanked open the door and behind it stood Hyunjin, pizza in hand and an amused look on his face. “Hiiii Hyunjin” You smiled and let out a fake laugh. “Long time no see, are you drooling for me or the pizza?” He teased. The tall boy laughed at your embarrassed face while you wiped the corners of your lips with your sleeve. Slipping past you he went straight to the living room and set the pizza on the coffee table. Planting his bottom on the floor, he pulled the laptop out from his backpack. “Go grab yours and let's get to work.” He said in a no nonsense tone. You pouted and he laughed as you ran upstairs and grabbed your laptop before heading back down. 

Placing your laptop on the coffee table, you turned to him, kicking his leg out of your way with a chuckle. “Want a drink?” you asked, making your way to the kitchen. “You have coke?” He asked. “Of course I do, who do you think I am?” You quipped back playfully before disappearing in the kitchen and emerging with two drinks in hand. 

“Well, let's get started!” You said, tossing him a can and powering up your laptop. Hyunjin nodded, a slight smile on his lips as he began to type. After several hours of furious typing and comfortable silence, you both could agree that the two of you were either on the verge of permanent back problems or carpal tunnel. (According to jinnie, either at this point were possible) When you looked up, you realized not only was it almost 3:00 am, but the two of you had finished both pizzas and a case of soda. Glancing across the table, Hyunjin didn’t seem to be any better off. Exiting out of the website you were on, you pushed the laptop away from you. “I didn’t think it would be this hard!”  You whined letting out an exasperated sigh before throwing yourself back. Hyunjin looked up from his screen, rubbing his tired eyes before focusing on you again. “Come on Y/n we can’t give up. What if this kills yo-” his voice trailed off as he stared at the screen on his computer. “Oh my god” he mumbled under his breath. You sat up quickly, shuffling over to his side of the table and looking at his screen. “What, What’d you find?” You asked. 

He remained silent, only turning his head to look at you with eyes full of sympathy. “Y/n, I think I found the answer to your problem...it’s called Hanahaki.”You did a double take, looking from him to the screen, “What the hell is Hana-ki-ki?” You asked, confusion written across your face. “Hana-ha-ki.” He corrected as he turned his face back to the laptop clearing his throat. “It's a disease stemming from a one-sided love..it’s cured when the affected person’s love is returned.” You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, cold sweat building in your hairline from your heart rate skyrocketing. “..a-and if it’s not returned?” you managed to squeak. Hyunjin’s voice grew soft as he turned his body towards you. “If it’s not returned by the time the petals turn black, it becomes fatal.” Tears fell from his eyes as he listed off the symptoms that awaited you. “It begins with a sprout, usually there’s a dirt or grassy aftertaste you barely notice, oftentimes you don’t get it at all. Then, the stomach pains begin, it says here that’s caused by the roots and budding stems settling within your body. Once they begin to bloom, you cough up petals and the person’s health begins to rapidly deteriorate. Which is what I assume is currently happening to you right now.” He mumbled, pausing to look at your blank face before continuing once again. “Y/n. Eventually, you’ll grow an entire garden inside of you and it will completely cut off any airways, your lungs will collapse and your heart will give out under the stress, effectively shutting down your entire body.” Hyunjin’s voice cracked, his hands trembling as he stared at you. Your face was still blank, body unmoving as you took in his words. “There is a silver lining though,” He whispered, gently grabbing your hand. Your face remained blank as you waited for him to continue. “There is a surgery available for Hanahaki. You can get it removed  however, your memories of the person you love will be completely wiped from your mind...you’ll forget about them all together and it’ll be like he never existed.” You sat there deathly still, attempting to collect all the information that was just hurled at you.

After a few moments, you shook your head in disbelief racking your brain for any possible love interests that entered your life recently. Looking at Hyunjin quizzically and sighed out in frustration. “But Jin, I..I don’t have romantic feelings for anyone?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow incredulously, blinking his eyes in tandem. “You’re seriously that oblivious to your own feelings?” He breathed out. He could almost see the giant question mark floating over your head. “Y/n, It's Chan. Yaknow, that one australian fellow? His hair sounds like a bag of lays potato chips when the wind hits it? Nose is kinda big but so is...his feet, He’s got a dimple. He’s always attached to your hip, ring any bells?” There it was again...the small flutters in your stomach. The information was too much to process. You’ve never thought about him that way...right? 

You couldn’t help but give Hyunjin a disgusted look. “WHAT? NO WAY IN HELL. I DON’T LIKE HIM LIKE THAT, HE’S LIKE A BROTHER TO ME!” The flutters grew stronger the more you denied it. “Yeah, if you’re from Alabama.” He finished with a click of his tongue, shaking his head in faux sympathy. Your thoughts were all over the place, the fluttering wreaking havoc on your insides. “What do you want me to say? I’m not in love with hi-” a small cough escaped your lips. “I'm not talking about this anymore.” You gently closed his laptop before getting up and walking outside, trying to get a hold of your emotions. “This is absurd..I don’t like him like that.” you said, running your hands through your hair. “I mean, Sure he’s handsome...a-and kind and sweet and talented and just all around a perfect human, but I don’t...I’m not in love with him.” You spoke to the empty space around you, silence it’s only response. The increasing pressure in your stomach told you that you were only trying to convince yourself. You knew deep down what you felt for him but you were always terrified to admit it..too afraid to lose the person closest to you. 

After that night with Hyujin, you did everything in your power to avoid anything that had to do with Chan. It was hard, Every thought that graced your mind was tainted with his presence, what he was doing or how he was feeling. He would message you every few hours just to check on you but you couldn’t will yourself to reply. At this point the sound of vibration was making you sick. Finally giving in, you grab your phone and read through some of the messages, eyes widening at the last one that had been sent. 

“Please feel better soon, love”

“I miss you *pouty face*” “Stop ignoring meeee i wanna talk to my best friend”

“Do you need anything?”

“A n s w e r m e e e e” “I'm coming over” 

“Im here”

Scrambling off your bed you bolted down to the front door. Just as you reached to lock it the door began to open. “Shit fuck” turning you went to charge back upstairs when you felt a grip on your wrist “Y/n..” You slowly turned your body to face him. He looked just as exhausted as you, his hair was messy and he had bags under his eyes. Was he worried or just overworking himself again? Maybe both? Your stomach made a disgusting noise. “Let go, let go, let go.” You wiggled your hand free from his grip and ran up into your bathroom, locking the door and reeking havoc on the porcelain bowl. Not even thirty seconds later there was a knock on the door 

“Puppy just let me in...let me help you” Chan sighed as he rested his head against the door making a soft thud “Please stop with that fucking nickname, it’s not making this any better!” you wailed. Another harsh round of coughs hit you, making you squeeze your fists so tight they became pale. Everything seized and you laid back against the wall gasping for air..that’s when you heard the door knob wiggle and a click signaling it had been unlocked. The door opened and there stood your best friend in all his glory. “(y/n)?” 

The boy looked at the floor confused as he saw gray flower petals littering the tile. He looked to you with an indecipherable expression. “How long?” He asked sternly, You looked back at him , returning the same unreadable expression. “What do you mean?” Your voice was hoarse but still fairly stable. “How long have you had it? Don’t play dumb Y/n, I know exactly what this is.” You gulped and tore your gaze away staring at your hands. “A little over a week..” He sighed and crouched down in front of you, examining the scattered flower on the floor. “Who is it?” His features were gentle as he asked. “I don’t want to say..” you began to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, avoiding eye contact. 

 “Now isn’t the time for you to play coy, this is serious..i’m not gonna make fun of you ...unless it's Hyunjin.” He added just trying to lighten the mood (although failing).  “I said I don't want to tell you. Just leave it alone and I'll figure it out how to fix this myself.” You spat as you stood up, Chan followed suit and sighed. “If you don’t tell me I can't help you fix this! By the time you get this figured out on your own, you'll be a lost cause.”  He threw back, your brows furrowed at his remark “You really have that little faith in me?” You asked, voice small. “That’s not what I’m saying! You just have too big of a heart and you’ll brush this off as an inconvenience. So just tell me, so we can try to get whoever the fuck this is to see you and love you the way you love them.” Your head dropped forward, “He never will and I can never tell him” you rasped, with your head turned away from him. You couldn’t see the frustration that laced Chan’s face or the pain that had begun to take over after days of avoiding him. Seeing you in such a state, had him petrified but more so than that, was the terror he felt at the thought of losing you. Anger and frustration had reared its ugly head and he was trying his best not to let his emotions get the better of him. Why hadn’t you told him? Your sole confidant, your best friend, your family? and Why the fuck weren’t you being more serious about this!? These thoughts plagued his mind, until he could no longer focus, confusion, anger, pain and frustration clouding his judgment until he burst.

 “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT Y/N” Chan’s subconsciously clenched fist connected with the smooth surface of the white cabinet next to him “STOP BEING SO GODDAMN STUBBORN FOR ONCE! THIS IS SERIOUS. WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE SERIOUS?” His voice boomed against the walls of the small bathroom, his chest heaving as he fought to control his emotions. The ringing in your ears amplified as you tried to ground yourself for the inevitable fight. You stumbled back and gulped, hands trembling in the aftermath of his wailing. In all the years of your friendship not once has Chan raised his voice like this, never has he ever called out your enigmatic personality, you had always been difficult to read for others but he never failed to read you like an open book, just another reason for the ever growing list of things you love about the man in front of you. His compassionate nature even in such a bleak moment causes your insides to flutter, petals peaking at the back of your throat forcing their way up. Doubling over in pain, you brought your trembling hand to your neck and massaged your throat as a fit of coughs attacked your lungs. Leaning over the toilet, you allowed the floral contents of your stomach empty itself, seemingly endless streams of grey petals falling from your lips as you heaved. “Y/N!” Chan yelled, momentarily forgetting his anger and striding over to help your pitiful form. “Y/N, Please..” He whispered, voice cracking slightly after catching sight of the blood riddled saliva that had gathered at the corners of your mouth. Taking great care to not set you off again, he brushed the fallen strands of baby hair from your forehead, caressing your face gently as tears began to stream from his eyes. “P-please..just tell me.” He pleaded, a tone of finality lacing his voice, as if to say it would be the last time he would ask..and so, as You looked back into the eyes of the man who meant far too much to you. You allowed your legs to give out, falling to the floor to prepare yourself for what could possibly be your demise. Bringing your knees to your chest, you held out your hand for him to take, and gently squeezed it, causing an all too familiar fluttering to claw at the back of your throat. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes once more, whether it was from the petals inside or the weight of what it was you were about to do, you didn’t know.

“I-..” fighting the urge to cough, you squeezed his hand tighter and made eye contact, instantly melting into the warm chocolate pools that brought you safety. “I didn’t want to tell them, b-because It's you.” Your voice was unstable and wavered, your bottom lip quivered as you fought off another coughing fit. “Fuck Christopher, it’s always been you.” Unable to suppress it any longer, you let out a cough, three petals falling from behind the cover of your hand and fluttering to the floor. His eyes followed them, almost in a state of disbelief, and then back up at you, those beautiful brown eyes glossed over with tears that you knew you had caused, there was no turning back. “P-please just hear me out.” You pleaded, afraid that you were going to scare away the fragile man before you. “From the moment you looked at me with those stupidly warm brown eyes that I swear hold galaxies-” Chan smiled tiredly, recognizing your joking demeanor poking through. “and flashed me that damned smile that felt like home, I tried so hard to stop these feelings from growing. I wanted them to stop so bad-” Another cough slipped past your lips, more petals falling as the unshed tears began to make their way down your face. “I wanted to just be with you, to be your best friend.” A sob escaped you, and so did more petals as you forged on with the words you had withheld in your heart for years. “Y-You’re just so unapologetically you. You’re so gentle and caring, you wear your heart on your sleeve and you’ve always t-taken care of m-me from the first day to now, even though I was being difficult and confusing. You still helped me!” It was then that you had become a sobbing, stuttering mess, the words and petals fighting against each other, waging a war within your throat.

 ”Y-You’re just p-perfect and I can’t s-stop l-loving you even though I-I s-should and that’s w-why I couldn't tell you because I-I knew you’d never feel the same way.” You coughed once more, the remaining petals falling from your mouth as you sobbed into your open hand, heaving and gasping for air on the floor. The two of you sat in tense silence, interrupted only by your sobbing, waiting only for a moment for your confession to fully settle, the weight of your words crashing over the both of you. Letting go of his hand, you sniffled and wrapped your arms around yourself, clearing your throat before looking back to him “You should leave.” You said, voice cold. Chan outstretched his arm, reaching for your face. “Y/n please we ca-” You cut him off by shoving his hand away from you. “I said Leave Chris.” The tone of your voice telling him you were serious, his head fell forward as a sigh escaped him. “I’m sorry.” with his final words he stood up and left, leaving you to suffer on the cold linoleum floor that you had become all too comfortable with over the past few days.

It had officially been an entire week since you last spoke to Chan. He had distanced himself from you thinking it was for the best. Despite his efforts, your petals were still rapidly darkening, the ones you coughed up were no longer white, instead, they were peppered with petals colored a dark graphite. His absence was felt immensely. You missed Chan, however, every moment of your free time was dedicated to finding a solution. You spent hours upon hours researching and binge watching videos, trying (read: hoping) to find some way to reverse the disease that plagued your life. 

Focusing was nearly impossible when all that was cycling through your head were the last words you and Chan shared. You not only had to deal with Hanahaki, but the strained relationship between you and your best friend and the  emotional toll it was taking on you was starting to become apparent. Your main source of comfort came in the form of Hyunjin. He would join you intermittently to keep you company and try to console you; He knew how hard it was for you to feel like you were losing your other half. The constant presence in your life was greatly appreciated, it was like a rock that kept you anchored to the ground. His endless patience, confidence and constant reassurance were the only things keeping you together some days, especially on the days you felt like giving up. Hyunjin had grown to be one of your favorite people in such a short time, You knew that if you survived this, (you could already hear Hyunjin’s voice saying “It's not a matter of “if ” it’s when!”) you could never repay him for his help and even if you tried he’d refuse it, stating only that it was what friends did for one another. You would try your hardest to pull through, which was why you were currently knee deep in an article on a sketchy website that talked about different teas you could drink to temporarily halt the process. 

When suddenly, your door flew open hitting the drywall with a dull thud as Chan stormed into the room, his face unreadable. There was no greeting, no asking how you were, and you hardly had time to react to his intrusion before the first words you had heard from him in over a week left his lips..“Get the surgery.” It threw you completely off guard, it felt more like he had punched you in the gut, and for a moment you swore all the air had left your lungs. You jumped to your feet, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and hurt. “What the fu-? No! Chan I'm not getting the surgery, there’s no way in hell I'm going to voluntarily forget you!” You choked out, turning away from him to mask the pained look you were sure had crossed your face. A moment of silence settled between you before he let out a frustrated sigh, running his fingers through his already distressed hair.

 You heard his feet pad across the living room floor, stopping just shy of where you knew the couch was placed. His voice was soft when he spoke, almost pleading, “Y/n, i'm not going to sit here and watch you destroy yourself because of me.” You shook your head slightly, shoulders curling farther in as if trying to block his words out. “ Y/n, please, get the surgery. Forget about me, it’s what's best for the both of us.” You clenched your fists, teeth gritting from trying to hold your tongue. Although, you couldn’t help but let a scoff slip past your lips, your stomach churning in pain from the flips it was doing being in such close proximity. “How dare you, Chan.” You managed to spit out. “I never took you for the “Best for us” type.” you spoke, pain lacing your venomous tone. Chan took another step forward, his hand habitually reaching out to comfort you. “Y/n that's not what I-” Turning back around, you brushed his hand away from your shoulder before looking back at him. The tears streaming down your face momentarily stunning him. Rolling your shoulders back, you wiped your eyes before speaking once more. “Best for us Chan? Are you sure? Or is that what’s best for you and your well being? Because what’s best for me is letting this run its course, if you have to be the death of me then so be it.” You said, voice unwavering as you took one step closer to him. He looked away, his eyes slightly watering from how quickly you saw through him. “Look, I get it. You’re worried and you’re entitled to your opinion, but what you don’t get to do is barge in here after a week of avoiding me and tell me what you believe is best for me. You don’t get to take thinly veiled “damage control” and disguise it as “Tough Love”, That’s not you Chris and I won’t let it be either! ” You yelled. 

The room was silent and still, neither of you could look at each other. Your heart was at its breaking point, you were losing everything at a speed faster than light, and all semblance of control was slipping right through your fingers. Your friendship was crumbling right before your eyes and all you could do was watch. Finally, Chan broke the tense air. “You know what y/n? You’re right, It is best for me.” You bit your lip, holding back tears of grief. “I-I just can’t find it in myself to love you the way you need me to. I’m sorry but you could never be anything more than a friend to me.” You clenched your jaw, the whimpers effectively dying in your throat. Chan let out another frustrated sigh before continuing, “I don’t even know what to say to you anymore, knowing how you feel about us makes things weird and tense. I mean, I can’t even be around you without you losing a lung and I especially can't stand that it’s my fault!” His voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, the resolve and gusto he had arrived with slowly leaving his body as he spoke his harshest words yet. Convinced that this was the only way, he grabbed your shoulders and made sure to make eye contact with you before speaking again. “So get the surgery, forget me and I’ll make sure to forget you too.” He said quietly, his voice breaking slightly at the sight of the tears streaming down your face. 

He wanted nothing more than to hug you, to fix everything and be what you needed but he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t force himself either; It wouldn’t be fair to either of you. You closed your eyes and let out a short shaky breath. “F-fine Chris. If that’s what you really want then I’ll do it.” swallowing down the lump of petals that sat in your throat, you shook yourself from his grasp. Without another word you left, brushing the boy's shoulder as you walked past him. What you didn’t know was as soon as you shut the door the boy fell to his knees and began to weep. His body shaking from the force of his wails, of course he didn’t want you to forget him, a fate that cruel he didn’t even want to imagine, but that was his reality now. The only thing he was certain of at this point in his life was that watching you walk away would be better than having to watch them lower your casket. 

Navigating through the dark streets with blurry eyes was hard enough but alas, life loved to fuck with you. Soon after you left the apartment, a light drizzle had begun and rapidly turned into a full storm, accompanied with high winds and thunder.  Which led you to where you were now,  standing in front of an apartment door with no phone, no keys and no wallet. You didn’t think to grab anything before you left and now your only option was to go to Hyunjins since his place was fairly close to yours. Now completely drenched from head to toe, you were standing at the door of Hyunjins apartment. You raised your fist and knocked weakly waiting for a few moments before dropping your head against the door. It was taking everything in you not to fall to the ground and release every pent up emotion you had been keeping in. Although, apparently your head made a loud enough noise for Hyunjin to hear it, because you could feel the door begin to open. You quickly stood up expecting to see your lanky friend standing in the doorway but instead you had found Kim Seungmin, his hair was slightly ruffled and his shirt was on backwards. It took a second before realization hit “Oh shit, i’m so sorry..I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The younger boy rubbed the back of his neck with a shy smile. “No you’re fine!! I promise. Sheesh you’re soaked, come inside. I’ll have Jinnie go get you some towels.” You heard a muffled voice from the back of the apartment scream “ALREADY ON IT!” Moments later Hyunjin appeared with towels and a dry change of clothes for you. You thanked him before going to the restroom and changing. Taking a minute you stared at your reflection. Your eyes had begun to sink in, your lips were chapped and your skin was pale. You were merely a shell of a person at this point. Chewing on the peeled skin of your lower lip you hung up the wet towel and made your way to the living room. The two boys were sitting on the couch, enough space in between them for you to sit and a steaming cup of what looked like tea.

Hyunjin patted the cushion next to him and smiled. “Come sit, what brings you here at this hour?” You silently sat down and stared at the steam escaping the mug on the table. “Why do you look like the embodiment of death?” Seungmin joked, Hyunjin reached behind you and shoved him. “Not a good time to joke about that.” A small smile graced your lips. “It’s okay he doesn't know..” Seungmin pursed his lips in confusion “What don’t I know?” Hyunjin laid a hand on your back and gave you a sympathetic look. “Do you want me to tell him or?” You nodded your head, afraid that if you spoke anymore your voice would give way. “(y/n) is sick...and it’s not the kind of sick you can just spread or catch. It's a disease and unless she gets a certain surgery well it’s...it’s terminal.” You buried your face into your hands, hiding the tears prickling at your eyes.

 You completely zoned out of the rest of their conversation, not wanting to hear it. Only snapping back when you felt a warm embrace surrounding you. You peaked through your fingers to find Seungmin hugging you. “I'm so sorry (y/n)” You rested a hand on his arm and lightly patted it “It’s okay Seungmin.” You dropped your hand and clasped it together with your other. “Chan came over earlier...He was so..so angry. He told me to get the surgery.” Both Hyunjin and Seungmin looked at each other, their faces twisted in disbelief. You gulped before continuing, both boys patiently waiting for your next words. “He said it’s what’s best. He can’t stand seeing me kill myself over him b-but,” You voice cracked the sound alone was enough to cause water to gather in your friend’s lashes “I-I don’t want to forget.” You whispered, your body trembled as you finally allowed yourself a moment to process the complex emotions that had gathered over the last week.

 Seungmin gently gripped your shoulder and pulled your shaking body towards himself. You clutched onto his shirt  for dear life, your sobs overtaking the silence. Neither of them had ever seen you so fragile before, Hyunjin’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he sat quietly, staring at your vulnerable form. Marveling at how fragile you had become in such a short amount of time. He was in a tricky spot, he loved you and Chan like family, but hearing the way things had turned out..he just couldn’t see past how poorly Chan had dealt with matters concerning your heart. He couldn’t understand how to help you both, and it frustrated him to no end..it broke his heart too. Swallowing down his feelings, he steeled his resolve, he had no business crying when you needed him to be strong. “I know it’s not what you want to hear but we think surgery is the best option too. Though we don’t want to force our opinion onto you, ultimately it's your life and your decision.” Hyunjin spoke softly, his hand still on your back only now rubbing small circles into it. “We don’t want to see you this way either honey. Yes Chan is very important to you I get that but...throwing away your life for him, like this. All he wants you to live and thrive. Did he execute those feelings properly? No and even though he won't be a part of your life anymore you know all he wants is for you to be happy and succeed.” Your sobs became quiet hiccups as your body was running out of tears to shed “I know.” you whispered softly. “So how about you stay here for the night and I'll call a specialist tomorrow and see if we can get you in for a consultation? At least talk to them and then you can decide what you want to do.” You nodded in agreement, Seungmin slowly retracted his arms and grabbed the mug that had been sitting on the table. “This should be cool enough now, drink it up and get some rest okay? You can take Jinnies bed and we’ll sleep in the guest room, his bed is way more comfy.” you sipped the tea and let out a deep breath “Thank you guys…” you said, bringing the tea cup to your lips.  “No need to thank us. We’re your best friends too, don’t forget it!” Seungmin chirped. “We’ll always be here for you!” After finishing your tea you slipped away into Hyunjins room and covered yourself completely in his soft blankets. It took a while but you eventually fell into a somber sleep.

The next morning you woke to the smell of pancakes filling the air. Groaning in discomfort you stretched out your limbs and let out a massive yawn. Sitting up you stared at the crumpled sheets around your lower body. It had been a little while since any flowers had erupted from your body, you couldn’t help but feel hopeful that maybe this curse was reversing and you would be free to revel in your unrequited love in peace but you knew that was too good to be true. There was a knock on the door breaking you from your thoughts. “Hey (y/n)” Hyunjins voice spoke through the wood. “We made breakfast and I called about a consultation. They said we could come in later today and he would take a look, see how far it’s progressed and all.”

“Yeah, okay...after we eat i’ll run home and clean up.” After taking a few more minutes to collect yourself you made your way into the dining room to be met with a full plate of breakfast bread and sticky sauce. Breakfast was silent but it was nice and comforting. After eating Seungmin decided he would stay and clean up while Hyunjin drove you home, he sat on the couch patiently while you got ready for one of the biggest decisions of your life. 

The sterile setting of the hospital sent your nerves into overdrive. Flashbacks of your rough night bombarded your mind, your breathing growing shallow as your hand flew to your chest and clutched onto your shirt. “Fuck Jin, it hurts so bad…” You whimpered, your voice trembling as you stumbled over your feet. Hyjunjin reached out, gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders to stabilize you and sighed. “I know but it’ll all be over soon, I promise.” He said softly, as he led you to the empty waiting room chairs. You were thankful for the desolate area, your fragile state desperately needed the silence. “It’s just a consultation love, you’re going to be okay! I'll be here for every step.” He cooed, softly patting your back. Nodding your head in silence, rolled your shoulders and took a deep breath, willing yourself to relax. “It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay.” You kept repeating to yourself.

 A few minutes later, a young man walked through the door. His head downcasted as his body rushed past both of you and towards the exit. You watched him go before a nurse in blue scrubs with a clipboard in hand caught your attention. She stopped in the door frame, flipping the page up. She looked up with a bright smile, “Y/n Y/Ln, the Doctor will see you now.” Nodding your head, you stood up and made your way to the door. Hyunjin lingered in the waiting room, hands in his pockets as he watched you walk over. Stopping you turned around, “Will you come with me?” You asked softly. “Of course.” He said, walking up to you. The nurse nodded her head and ushered you both into the back room. “Here,” she said, handing you a blue garment. “Disrobe, the Doctor will be here shortly. He’s going to ask a few routine questions concerning your condition and after that, he’ll begin the exam to confirm your diagnosis. Okay?” She asked with a comforting smile, waiting for your response. “Okay, Thank you.” You replied and with that, she left you to your own devices.

Five minutes later, there was a heavy knock at the door, “Are you decent.” The deep voice asked. “Yes.” Hyunjin called out for you. The door opened to reveal a tall man with a heart shaped smile, his curly brown locks draping nicely over his defined face, scribbling something down on his clipboard.. ‘God, did everyone have good looks and a blinding smile here, you thought offhandedly’  He looked up from his clipboard, reaching his hand out to shake both yours and Hyunjin’s. “Hello Ms.L/N, I’m Jung Hoseok. I will be your attending physician for the remainder of this process. I have been practicing and learning about this disease for a little over 8 years. Rest assured, you are in good hands.” He gave you a comforting smile, the tension in your shoulders you hadn’t realized was there slowly left your body. 

He continued speaking, “If at any point you would like me to stop or you would like to withdraw from the surgery, you are more than welcome to do so. We only ask that you give us a notice 24 hours prior to your scheduled date.” You both nodded in unison, you tried your hardest to focus on what he was saying, but remaining engaged was proving to be almost impossible for you. “Now that the formalities are out of the way, lets see what we’re working with.” He mumbled while putting on gloves. Everything felt slow and the world to you seemed dull and colorless. You were..numb. You could barely even focus on the doctor's words while he pressed on your stomach with the acoustocam, all sound around you was drowning into a hollow ring. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to Chan, how things were left off...You wanted to fix it, to see him but you knew you wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to him. Maybe you could call him? Furrowing your brows you quickly willed that though away. No, hearing his voice would make it worse and texting him seemed too insincere. What would you even say to him? How would you sum up ten years of friendship..how would you say goodbye for the last time? 

 “Chan This is the last time I'll ever be able to say anything to you. It’s pretty bittersweet huh? I always thought we would be in eachothers lives forever, I guess fate had other plans for us.

  Hyunjin nudged you, pulling you back into the present and looked at you expectantly. You blinked a few times, taking a minute to refocus before responding. “I’m sorry, what happened? I zoned out.” He softly sighed and placed a hand on top of yours. Dr.Jung offered you a sympathetic smile before he cleared his throat and spoke again. “Ms.(L/n) I know things are very difficult for you right now, but I need your full attention for the moment. As I was saying before, The procedure will not be easy. Because of how long you’ve allowed it to linger, it’s become a high risk surgery, however,  it can still be done. If you look here.” He moved the small medical device across your stomach, stopping just next to your liver and pointed to the small black and white screen. “You can see where the roots have begun to embed themselves into your organs. Now, I know that seems scary but that’s not what we’re worried about.” He tilts the control slightly and shows you a new part of your body. “If we look behind the mass, we can see your spine. The roots have started to climb up your vertebrae and have attached themselves to your neurological stems.” Placing the control down, he swiveled around to face you. “Essentially the plant is gaining its nutrients from sucking your memories and strong emotions into the roots, down to the plant base” He explained, you swallowed hard, the reality of the situation finally sinking in, your mortality was being presented to you on a black and white monitor.

 Suddenly his voice turned serious, “Ms.(L/n), I need you to know the full extent of the removal risks. This ranges anywhere from permanent paralysis, brain damage to amnesia or in the worst case scenario, death.” He allowed the severity of his words to sink in before he continued. “Had you come in sooner for removal the roots wouldn’t have been so intertwined with you. The survival rate at this point of growth is about fifty four percent. The point of the warning is not to discourage you from getting the surgery. However, I like for my patients to be thoroughly informed about what they are getting themselves into.” He said gently as he wiped the cold gel from your abdomen with a napkin and stood up to throw away his gloves. “If you’re wanting this done it’ll need to be soon, I have an opening for the day after tomorrow if you still want to go through with it. I can’t say I would blame you if you chose not to, we’ve had a couple patients decide that it was the better choice for them.” You stared up at the fluorescent lights, watching them flicker as you weighed the options once more. “Schedule me for it. I want it gone.” 

By the time you read this I assume I'll have already had the surgery. It’s sad to think that someone I knew so well will become a distant stranger. I won’t lie. I was hoping you would show up so we could reconcile and say our final farewells in person but I don’t think I would be able to handle it if we did anyway even though I hate that we’re leaving things off on such bad terms. 

Dr.Jung nodded as he rolled his stool over to his desk and picked up his tablet, after tapping a few things he looked back to you. “Alright, I have you scheduled two days from now. We’ll just need you to fill out some paperwork first, my nurse will come in and finalize the dates, finish up the paperwork and answer any questions you have left. We’re also giving you a packet detailing how to prepare your body for the surgery, such as no eating 12 hours prior, plenty of rest, etc. There will be two packets, you’ll have one for the surgery aftercare as well.” He nodded his head, waiting for your acknowledgment. You sat up, pulling your robe closed and let out a small puff of air. “Thank you for all your help Dr.Jung, I leave it in your experienced hands.” He flashed his dazzling smile as he took your waiting hand and shook it. “I promise Ms. L/n,  this surgery is the best of the two options.” You stopped shaking his hand and for the first time since your visit, you looked him in the yes. “I sure hope it is.” You whispered softly. His smile faltered slightly, taken aback by your desolate look. Schooling his features once more, he nodded to Hyunjin and took his leave. A nurse came in dropping off the papers, “Once you've changed, I can speak to you by the nurses station.” She said, while walking out of the door and shutting it behind her.

It was just you and Hyunjin in the small off white doctor's office, the silence palpable. “(Y/n)..” He spoke softly, like if his voice was any louder you would break. “Don’t.” You said quickly, voice empty. “Please just.. don’t say anything Hyunjin. I know i was so adamant about not doing this.” You said, your shoulders curling in as you slid off of the table. “I just want to make sure it’s what you really want.” He said, moving towards your fragile frame. “What I want is to be here and to be able to see my best friends smile and to eat junk food while singing beyonce at the top of our lungs at 3 in the morning. I want to go back to the time when i didn’t have this fucking garden blooming inside me and I could suffer in love like every normal person does but we don’t all get what we want do we?” You spat bitterly, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as he hugged you. “So I'll suck it up and make the adult decision and get this thing removed and start over. I’m gonna spend the rest of today and tomorrow planning what the hell i'm gonna do after this and where i’m gonna go because i’m not staying here.” The boy didn’t say anything else, he just let go of you and sat silently while you filled the rest of the paperwork. 

I wanted to start off with a thank you, for everything you’ve done for me. You constantly picked up my broken pieces without any complaint. I wish I could repay you for everything you’ve done for me. You always made me feel like I was worth something, like I had a real purpose in this world, you helped me flourish and I hope even with this surgery the lessons you taught me will still remain.

Once you had finished Hyunjin had taken you home telling you he would pick you up for your surgery in two days. Once you had entered your apartment, the day's events had caught up to you. Saying you were exhausted would be an understatement. The physical and mental toll you’ve taken in the past month has been enough for a lifetime. You decided to just crawl into bed and let yourself revel in your feelings and let the emotions overtake you. You thought about your first time meeting Chan, all the amazing times you spent together and the fact you were about to lose that or even more so your life.

You’re really a force to be reckoned with, a one in a million person. i know you said you wanted to forget me too but i want to reminisce one last time. We’ve made such incredible memories together. I feel like it’s a disservice not to think about them, like when we were on facetime and i had just sat down and spilled the entirety of my instant ramen on my bed and still to this day cannot get the stain out. Our late night car jam sessions where we drove to nowhere and just simply enjoyed each other's company. The time we made pizza rolls and sat on the kitchen floor and you somehow poured ranch over your hand and the smell stayed for two days, going to playgrounds at midnight to sit on the swings and talk about what was on our minds. Those are things I've always held so close to my heart. Maybe this will help you realize why it was so hard for me to agree to the surgery.

 The fact that you might die was a terrifying thought in itself, but the scariest thought was that, You had always assumed you and Chan would be in each other's lives forever. Now here you were, planning an entirely new life without one of the most important people you knew. What had the world come to? You took a deep inhale and then another, and soon...you were weeping. Who were you without your best friend by your side? Who were you going to be when it came time to leave Hyunjin and Seungmin behind? All of those thoughts had jumbled up in your head and weighed you down. You felt like Atlas, the weight of the world on your shoulders and yours alone. 

There are so many things I don't want to forget. I think i’ve always loved you deep down inside, it took me so long to realize but you were encrusted in every part of my mind. Every moment, every smile, every single second spent in your presence were the happiest moments of my life. Thank you for sharing them with me, trusting you with my heart is something I'll never regret. Thank you for loving me even if it was only a little bit.

You cried as hard as you could, to the point where our head hurt and your face was red. You cried until there were no more tears, because you knew that this would be your only real chance to do so. After about an hour-long crying session, your heavy body was begging for some sort of relief. You pulled yourself up and made your way into the kitchen, grabbing a quick snack and some water before heading to your bedroom. You sat down at your desk, the plush computer chair offering you a place to relax yourself. You pulled open the drawer, starting at its contents for a second, as if you were contemplating your decision. Picking up the notebook that was in there, you pulled out your pen and sighed heavily. It was time to start planning for the next step in your life.

 I hope you keep pursuing your dream. I know music has always been your biggest passion but please remember to take care of yourself, okay? I won’t be here to remind you when you need to eat or sleep. I won’t be constantly nagging you to take breaks. Just...stay healthy and happy for me. Keep spreading the positivity that flows through your veins and helping others see that they are worthy of happiness and love too. 

Two hours had passed in the blink of an eye. You had written down everything you could think of. Everything you needed to remember that didn’t involve Chan just in case something went wrong and things you needed to do as soon as it was over. After all, you could never be too sure. You also found that you had enough money in your savings to put a down payment on a new apartment a few towns over. After everything was said and done, you were finally ready to put together your last letter to Chan. You had so many things to say to him but you couldn’t bring yourself to put it all on paper. After an hour of erasing, crumpling up tears stained papers, brushing stray petals that fell from your lips to the floor and scribbling down words you finally had it complete. Your last goodbye to your best friend. You carefully folded it up, placed it in an envelope, sealed it and wrote down his address.

I want to say i’ll miss you but i know that i won’t due to the unfortunate circumstances. I also wanted to apologize. I’m sorry I fell in love with you but as humans it’s not something we can stop, I'm sorry I ruined things between us and caused such pain for you.

Laying back in your chair you took a deep breath. “Let’s get this shit over with.” Something inside of you must have been tired of being so broken, so lost and vulnerable because after you dropped the letter at the post office you were on a non stop move to get your life back together.

It was weird..you felt sad not just for Chan, but for the fact that once this was all over, you would never remember how you felt during this time in your life. It will seem like one hazy memory somewhere in the back of your mind and somehow, that thought just didn’t sit right with you. “How many other people have felt like this?” You thought to yourself. You had bought a couple plastic bins and some boxes before returning home and began to pack your belongings. Somewhere along the way, Hyunjin had stopped by, his calming presence always welcomed. You both talked as you helped you pack up box after box. “So how were you able to afford the new place?” He asked curiously. You smirked, “Well I already had quite a bit of savings in my bank, mainly from working at the shelter but I also had some side gigs from time to time.” Hyunjin nodded, content with the answer. You turned to wrap a picture frame in an old newspaper before speaking again, back still turned. “Well that, and I recently invested in Blockbuster, you won’t have to worry about me anymore jinnie, Now we just have to wait for the money to start rolling in.” You said carefree, as you placed the frame into the box on the floor. There were a few seconds of silence before Hyunjin realized what you had just said. “B-blockbuster?” He stuttered out, sticking his finger in his ear to clean it out and make sure he heard you right. “Yup!, The guy who sells DVDs from a box outside of the chinese restaurant on  Sundays said we’re set for life!” He sat down at the edge of the couch, taking a deep, much needed breath. “Y/n..oh buddy..have I got news for you.” He said sympathetically patting the spot next to him.        

After a few hours of explaining the demise of Blockbuster and not trusting guys who sell you the Bee movie for a discounted rate, Hyunjin took his leave from your apartment. There was little to nothing left, all the walls were barren and the only thing remaining in the apartment was your furniture. While packing the last of your belongings you couldn’t help but keep wondering how many others had been in this position, How many had forgotten a chunk of their lives, living with a gap in their memories from falling in love with the wrong person? ..How many had chosen to die in silence? You sat at the edge of your bed, your fingers working tirelessly at the keyboard that sat on your lap, the laptop screen glowing brightly. You sat there and documented every single moment, every emotion, every decision, every memory, from the time when you first met, until you fell in love to when you finally realized your feelings and decided to move forward. You documented your doctor’s visit, your hardships in trying to find out what was killing you, almost giving up and what it took for you to decide to live on. All the little things you didn’t ever want to forget you wrote down  in explicit detail and when you were done, you had a masterpiece. All the things this version of you held dear were sitting on the screen in front of you. You hoped someone else out there would find solace in your words, that maybe Hanahaki would be more talked about, and more Doctors like Jung Hoseok who dedicated themselves to saving the lives of those who had given up, would be recognized for their tireless work and research. You could only think this as you sent out almost a dozen emails to Magazine editors and newspapers in hopes that the freelance story would be picked up. With that, you shut your laptop screen and fall back onto your bed, sleep overtaking your body in minutes.  

You woke up not so bright and early, stomach growling loudly as you hadn’t eaten in the past twelve hours, it was a “pre surgery requirement.” You rolled away from the comfort of your bed and sluggishly made your way to the bathroom to shower. You turned the water on a little too hot and sat on the floor of the tub, letting the water cascade down you as you reveled in your thoughts. Today was really the day you would lose such a huge portion of your life, it was scary no doubt but you had finally accepted it and you were ready. After what you could only describe as an eternity, you finally gathered the courage to get out of the shower and finish getting yourself ready. Hyunjin and Seungmin showed up, only minutes after you had completed your morning routine. Their faces trained to look bright and chipper despite the circumstances. “Good morning Sunshine.” Hyunjin giggled at your tired form as he gave you a light hug. “Morning” you mumbled out, after he pulled away you were yanked into another hug. “Hi Seung.” You mumbled into the shoulder of the man that held you captive. He gave you a small squeeze before stepping back  “You ready for today?” He asked cautiously, as if he were afraid to rile you up. “Yeah..yeah I am. Let’s go.” You said quietly, gathering your belongings before walking out of the apartment. The ride to the hospital was full of laughs and obnoxiously loud singing. It was nice, it had a sense of normalcy to it, which you were grateful for as you hadn’t had a normal day in a while. From the moment you stepped out of the car everything passed in a blur. It seemed like it was only seconds before you were laying in a bed with a gown on, barely conscious. You locked eyes with Hyunjin who sent you a smile and grabbed your hand. “We’ll see you on the other side, yeah?” You nodded once before your eyes rolled back and you were out.  

Maybe in this life we weren’t meant to be but i can always hope for the next, right? I’ll make a wish on the stars to meet you in our next life and bring you the same feeling of home you brought to me. 

What seemed like the blink of an eye for you, was an excruciating four hours for the boys in the waiting room. Your surgery had been a complete success and they were just waiting for your anesthesia to wear off. By this time Chan had gotten your letter, his eyes scanning over it a million times over feeling a wave of nausea hit him as he realized how much he fucked up.

Despite the pain, I think our story was beautiful for what it was.

I love you dearly Christopher Bang.

Goodbye.” 

Chan tossed the letter onto his coffee table before rushing out the door, he wanted to fix it, he wanted to hold you one last time and to bring a smile to your face.Why did he listen when you said to leave? Why hadn’t he visited you one last time? He kicked himself in the ass as he prayed to anyone who would listen that he wasn’t too late, but there was something in the back of his head that told him he was.. 

You on the other hand had woken up dazed and confused. “What goes on?” You rasped, your eyes darting all around the room trying to take in your surroundings. Your throat was incredibly dry causing you to let out a small cough, your body tensing as it subconsciously braced for the petals that never came. In no time there were two smiling faces by your side. One with a styrofoam cup that had a bendy straw poking at your lips and the other with a giant teddy bear and a balloon. “Welcome to the world of the living (y/n)!” It was Seungmin, you chuckled at him as he shook the bear a little. “This is water I promise, drink up” The straw poked at your lips again as he tried to force it into your mouth. You could only roll your eyes as you parted your chapped lips and took a giant sip of water letting out a satisfied sigh.

Dr.Jung entered the room with a soft knock, surprised to see you awake, a smile overtaking his confused features. “You woke up quick,” He said, amusement crossing his features at your sheepish smile. “It usually takes patients an hour minimum.” He offered up one of his dazzling smiles before moving to pick up the chart at the end of the bed and reading it.      “As you can see, the surgery was a success. We were able to remove the flowers and their roots without injury. Although, please keep in mind that you may feel some slight tingling and discomfort as the painkillers and anaesthesia wear off in the next few hours. Patients have also complained about the faint taste of dirt or grass. That should go away over the next few weeks as your body regulates itself. Right now, I’m just going to run a quick test on your vitals and if everything comes back clear, we’ll discharge you. You’ll have to be very careful and use a wheelchair for the next day or two until your body fully regains its strength. This surgery takes a lot out of patients but seeing how well you’re doing already, I’m assuming you’ll be back to full speed in no time.” The boys moved aside letting the handsome doctor take front and run his tests. It took maybe a total of thirty minutes before everything was said and done and you were sat in a wheelchair ready to leave.

The boys talked animatedly about what it was they wanted to eat. After Dr.Jung cleared you, he said you were okay to eat as soon as you left. You were all planning on catching a quick bite before heading to the house to rest, it had been well over 24 hours since you had eaten. You were a man starved. They began wheeling you to the front doors, Seungmin pushing you as Hyunjin opened the front door of the lobby. It wasn’t until your friends stopped talking and gasped mid sentence, that you looked to where they were staring. Turning your head, you saw the disheveled head of a blond boy. He stared at you with tears in his eyes, a look of pain and desperation displayed  across his handsome features. “(Y/n)” the blond boy stood in front of you muttered, he was out of breath and his hair was a mess. He was attractive no doubt but how did he know you? “Oh, did you need to use the door?” You asked meekly. He shook his head and repeated your name. “Who are you?” you asked, head tilted to the side in confusion. “I’m..too late?” He stated but it was more like a question. Seungmin wheeled you to the side, placing you behind him. Hyunjin moved to stand behind you and locked your wheels. “Chan, what are you doing here?” The younger boy asked, his hands were balled into fists confusing you further. You were completely lost, your mind still reeling from the anesthetics, your body still sore from surgery. The anonymous boy, Chan spoke again. “I came to fix things, I- I read the letter and I..I realized how blind I’ve been to how I feel, to how (y/n) feels..” Suddenly the boy was on the ground, laying on his side and holding his jaw, you had thought it was seungmin until you saw your raven haired friend standing over him. He had punched this random dude in the face only fueling your confusion further.  “HYUNJIN WHAT ARE YO-” He cut you off before you could finish, his voice laced with venom  “You mean how they felt.” He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. “You pushed so hard for (Y/n) to get this surgery and now here you are trying to fuck it up?” He stepped closer using his foot to roll the boy onto his back. “You know you’re so fucking selfish Chan, so selfish. I never realized until now how much of a dick you were. You had your chance to change things but you blew it because of what? You were scared? HOW DO YOU THINK (Y/N) FELT HUH? WHEN SOMEONE THEY LOVED SO MUCH PUSHED THEM AWAY LIKE IT WAS NOTHING AND NOW YOU WANNA SIT HERE AND TELL ME YOU WERE IN LOVE WITH THEM TOO? I DON’T FUCKING THINK SO.” He seethed, the veins in his neck popping out in anger. “I’m so sick of this, I watched (y/n) pine over you for years, you strung them along like it was a fucking game and as soon as things get serious you just dipped out and left them out to dry. Some fucking best friend you are huh? I used to look up to you, you know? But after all this, I can’t even stand the sight of you.” You reached out and tugged on Sungmin's sleeve who was frozen in shock. “M-minni” Your eyes were full of unshed tears as you were completely overwhelmed.  “What’s going on?” Breaking him from his stupor, the boy turned around and coddled your fragile frame. “Hey hey calm down it’s okay, it’s nothing, he’s nothing. Let’s get you to the car, yeah?”  You wiped the few stray tears from your face and nodded. “Please, I don't want to be here anymore, i’m scared.” Seungmin nodded and pulled away before unlocking the brakes and wheeling you to Hyunjins car. You looked back for a moment to see the blonde man holding his jaw in tears, watching your face as you drove off, before storming away from the scene.

No one said anything, choosing to ignore what had just happened. You were all too happy to put the incident of the mystery boy behind you, his memory quickly fading as you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex. They unloaded you from the car and made their way to the door, both of them gushing about what they wanted to eat. Pulling you inside, Seungmin made a beeline for the kitchen, yanking open the drawer you had jokingly dubbed the “ take-out drawer” because of the takeout menus overflowing from it. Ordering from your favorite restaurant, you were told that the wait time was 30 minutes. Allowing the silence to settle around all three of you after the hectic day you all had, you pulled your phone out of your bag and switched it on. It immediately lit up with dozens of notifications. Missed calls and emails chiming out as you tried to gather what was going on. “What's wrong?” Hyunjin asked, voice deeply concerned as both boys leaned over your shoulders to read the messages. “Y/n..Did you send something out?” Seungmin asked in confusion. Every single notification was from some sort of editor, countless asking for the rights to publish your article in either a sectional or as a cover story for their magazine. “I-I mean yeah, I wrote about my experience with Hanahaki disease. I didn’t even expect anyone to pick it up.” You whispered in amazement. Your heart swelled with happiness and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you breathed a sigh of relief. The future didn’t seem so bleak anymore.   

(Five years later) 

It had been a little over five years since you moved to New York, you had made it quite big in the journalism industry and  at this point you were pretty much a household name in the western hemisphere. You lived comfortably, your life had changed so much after the surgery. You always think back to the person you were when you had written the story that started your career five years ago, you wondered if you knew it would take you this far. You rarely visited your home town, a little out of fear of regaining memories and partly because you just didn’t have the time. However, on a recent business trip to Amsterdam for a publishing deal when you got a thinly-veiled threatening phone call from your best friend and his new Fiance, you were left with no choice but to visit.  

You had taken an entire week off of work so you could fly back to your hometown.  Hyunjin and Seungmin were getting married in a few days and you, in Hyunjins words, HAD to be there since you were his best (man/woman). So far, your day had been filled with nothing but shopping. You had tasted all kinds of foods and cakes, as well as tried on what you assumed to be every available piece of clothing in the mall. If only for a moment, you wanted nothing more than a moment to breathe. So you told Jin that you had to get something from your hotel and you would be back. Although, you knew you wouldn’t be missed too much, because he had been elbow-deep in a conversation with the wedding planner concerning the creme color of napkins and tablecloths. You were only a 10 minute walk from your hotel, so you decided to forgo the vehicle. You could use the fresh air anyway. 5 minutes into your walk, you found yourself reminiscing, all the places you visited with your friends. The moments you had with them and the ever mysterious Chan, the man you had fallen in love with but couldn’t remember the face of for the life of you. Although, judging from the story, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

Eventually, you found yourself nearing a cafe, you smiled at the familiar scent. You still remembered it after all those years away, you and your friends used to frequently visit when you still lived there. After a light growl erupted from your stomach from the scent of the pastries, you decided that a cup of coffee and a good book in your hotel bed didn’t sound too bad. Stepping into the cozy cafe, you quickly ordered and paid, stepping off to the side to wait for your food. Looking around at the few people scattered throughout the cafe, you noted that not much had changed since your last visit. While looking around you couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching you. Turning your head slightly, your eyes instantly connected with a par that had already been fixated on you. The boy attached to them was attractive to say the least, his curly blonde laid on his forehead softly and his chocolate brown eyes were full of mystery and secrets. That almost made you want to know more but at the same time he felt...familiar. A pair of chunky headphones rested on his neck, a laptop with way too many external harddrives attached to it set in front of him. He looked stunned for some reason, his face visibly pale like he had seen a ghost. You couldn’t help but tilt your head and furrow your brows, something about him seemed all too familiar, neither of you making any move to stop staring. It was as if the world had stopped, both of you in a little bubble. You had no clue that the boy sitting in front of you was going through a painful turmoil. His brain was flooded with memories he had suppressed for quite some time, memories of a person he once knew. He turned away slightly to clear his throat a little or so he thought. The feeling of something stuck in his throat caused harsh, abrupt coughs to erupt from his throat. He felt something come to  the front of his tongue, reaching up he grasped it and stared in horror. A petal black as the night sky sat between his fingers, his eyes grew comically wide and his head was pounding. The memories of a person he once loved..but he never realized until he had lost them. The sound of your name being called stole both of your attention, moving to the barista you grabbed your drink and thanked her before turning to leave. A strong sense of sadness fell upon you as you walked away. Only remembering the same pain he must be feeling, you could only give a sympathetic smile before walking through the door. It was too late for him anyway.

[frangipanidownunder]

So you simply can't post a list of kiss prompts and expect me NOT to ask you for one. Do you not even KNOW me? Please consider a ficlet (or more!) for #11-Reunion kiss. But maybe pre-breakup. A reunion after being apart for some other reason? This could easily be combined with another kind of kiss - first, shy, etc. (And I am holding my breath for your maid/master AU!) Fic is Medicine Anon

A Lifetime Ago: Fic

Fat blossoms, serrated petals, marshmallow pink, weighted the branches on the tree in the courtyard of her block. Sun heated the top of her head, lifting the hair from her scalp, and the interior of the car smelled of warm leather and dust. Motes danced as she laid her jacket on the passenger seat. 

When Mulder got in, he moved the jacket. Of course. She’d become so used to driving alone. More dust sparkled in the shaft of sunlight that shot through the glass. A glitter welcome party. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, lost in the weird sense of the strange and familiar, the old and the new. He looked at her oddly. 

It made her blush, the intensity of his scrutiny. But the house looked pretty in the rearview mirror. Climbing vines over the fence, vivid green leaves bushy on the trees and shrubs. She could see a row of stakes just by the shed.

“Tomatoes?” she asked, nodding over her shoulder.

“Dirty Girl, Super Snow White and Ruby Gold.”

She drove over the gravel towards the road. “Sounds like one of those movies you used to watch.”

His chuckle was chesty, and she caught his full smile out the corner of her eye. He looked well. He looked good. He’d been looking better each time she’d seen him over the past few months, as though he’d turned some corner in his mind and life was no longer the bitter drag it had been. If tomato plants with exotic names were the key to this change, she’d take that over Prozac and desperate, begging midnight phone calls.

Years before she had loved those quiet, murmured conversations. When they meant connection, trust. But the FBI was a lifetime, a lost child and a break-up ago. Now, phone calls were made in office hours, more recently, she realised, when she was already on her way to see him.

“Where are we going again?” he asked, winding the window down and resting an elbow on the sill. “I admit I was surprised when you called. It kind of felt like you were asking me on a date.” He looked across at her and the fresh blast of air saved her from blushing again. “Is this a date?”

Chuffing, she fixed her eyes on the road. “When was the last time you went out, Mulder?”

“I go out,” he said, indignant. 

She snorted. “Running at three in the morning does not constitute going out.” 

“I’ve become friendly with the guy at the nursery.”

“Friendly?”

“Don’t give me that look. I can be friendly, Scully.” She remembered his friendly as either empathetic, nerdy or flirty.  “He orders heirloom produce for me, teaches me about companion plants and has a fascination for UFOs. Funny how life works out, huh?”

“Huh,” she said. Nerdy.

A colleague at the hospital had married at the winery last fall and Scully had been struck by the setting, the ambience. Now she looked around and saw its precise beauty, high vaulted ceiling, wide landscapes on the silvery walls, starched white linen, gold embossed menus, cut crystalware. It was over the top. God, she’d misjudged this. Why didn’t she just go for Clint’s Diner where the talking point was the font used to spell the name, so that the L and the I were joined to form what looked like a U. Asking for the cunt’s special was Mulder’s favourite joke.  Even the Italian bistro with the red and white checked plastic tablecloths and fake tealights in jam jars would have been a better choice.

“So it is a date,” he said, but behind his broad grin there was a look of trepidation. He went to hook his thumbs in his belt loops but he wasn’t wearing shitty jeans. Instead, his fist curled into his pants pocket and he stood, uncharacteristically insignificant, in the magnificent room.

Guilt flared in her chest. Mulder had been a recluse for years, pummelling his chest with his self-hatred and lacing all their interactions with accusations and blame, and now, because he was growing fucking tomatoes, she’d decided he could cope with a three-course degustation lunch and two glasses of Pinot Gris?“This is not what I…” But she was cut off by the Maitre D who swept over and checked the booking. “Dr Scully, yes, that’s right.” Why had she chosen that salutation when she called. It made it sound like a business lunch.

Their table was on the terrace under heavy-scented purple wisteria. The waiter unflapped serviettes like he was cracking a whip. He placed glasses, crockery and cutlery with the precision required for surgery. Mulder remained quiet the entire time, but regarded her, not the waiter. His expression softened when the waiter left and dappled light filtered over his skin.

“This is not what I expected, Scully. But it’s a step up from chilli dogs and Shiner Bock.”

Ugh. Now she was craving an evening on the couch watching him watching the game. “I’m sorry, Mulder. This feels all wrong.”

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward, sliding his hand over the table top, but careful to leave his fingers just an inch from hers. “It’s fine. I kind of love being wined and dined. It makes me feel special.” His fingers crept closer, close enough for her to see the white fleck on his left index nail, the light abrasion on his ring finger knuckle, close enough to remember what those elegant digits used to do to her.“As long as you don’t expect me to put out, Scully.” He grinned suddenly. “You should know up front that I’m not that easy.”

No, she thought, you’re not. We were never easy, you and me. She laughed at his joke anyway, his smile urged her to indulge him. The waiter brought the wine and Mulder sniffed, swirled and sipped it before giving it his approval. They chose entrees and mains and he chatted amiably, telling stories about the nursery dude and his collection of blurry photos of cigar-shaped crafts.

“I hadn’t the heart to tell him it was all BS, Scully. Why burst his bubble? He gets a lot of joy out of it.” Ah, empathy.

“And you get free seeds. Sounds like a fair exchange.”

He sat back, arms behind his head, before realising where he was and sitting upright, hands on his lap, much more respectable. “I’ve missed you,” he said, out of nowhere. “But this was nice. Unexpectedly so. A nice date, if I may be so bold as to describe it so, Doc.”

Flirty. She chuffed, cheeks aflame. The wine, she thought. It was always the wine. “It’s good to see you so relaxed, Mulder. It’s been a while.”

“Was I ever relaxed, Scully?” he asked, genuinely. “I look back now and see how tightly coiled I was. Have been.” His head bobbed down, but his eyes lifted to hers. “Am.”

The first time she visited him after she left, he was cowering under the kitchen table, shards of glass and ceramic scattered across the floor. He didn’t speak for an hour. She sat at a chair six feet away from him, listening to his tight sobs, watching his shoulders bunch, while she embraced her old friend, guilt.

“You’ve been through a lot, Mulder. We both have. It’s been a difficult…”

“Life?” he supplied.

“I was going to say time, but yeah. That too.” She laughed and so did he. His fingers edged forward again, touching hers this time. Heat sparked. He felt it too, he almost recoiled in shock, but pressed on, covering her hand with his. He clasped it gently, lifted it, nuzzled her knuckles, eyes closed so she could admire the length of his lashes and the furrow between his brows. A lifetime of pain in two creases. She had an urge to kiss them, run her tongue along the downy lines of them, taste his familiar skin.

“We should go,” she said, after a time. 

He held the door open for her and stooped inside the car, dazzling her with his smile. “Just remember, I don’t go all the way on first dates.”

“What about first base?” she said, after he’d already shut the door.

They drove back, listening to an 80s radio station that Mulder found with ease. He belted out Living on a Prayer and other big ballads, air guitar and all. She smiled all the way to the house. When she parked, Sinead O’Connor’s singular voice introduced Nothing Compares 2 U. She went to turn the radio off but he held her wrist.

“I love this song,” he said. “Prince’s masterful lyrics. And that video clip.”

“It was a powerful statement,” she replied and let his fingers curl around hers. 

“I really did enjoy this, Scully. Going out, you know, where people are…out there. It’s hard sometimes. I…don’t…I haven’t done it often because it feels like I’m a trespasser, that I don’t belong.”

“You never did. We never did, Mulder. We were always on the outer.”

“But with you,” he said, snugging her single hand in both of his. “I always felt braver in company.”

Heat spread in her chest, her heart pinged. She didn’t know what to say. Literally no words formed, despite her mouth falling open. Tears burnt at her eyes but she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. 

“What about that first base, Scully?” His smile was a little hopeful, a lot wobbly.

She nodded. He captured her open lips and closed them between his. It was strange and familiar, old and new again. Sparkles glittered behind her eyes, just like those dust motes. When was that? Just a few hours ago? Surely not. That glitter welcome party was a lifetime ago.

[bestillmyslashyheart]

Inked

Happy Birthday @bisexualalienblast!! I hope you are having the most wonderful day and that this little bit of fluff makes you smile

also on Ao3

“Wait, wait, wait!” Liz called over everyone. The room was slow to settle, too much alcohol involved to keep them quiet. “Mikey, you didn’t answer.”

Everyone turned to Michael who merely drummed his fingers on the table and stared Liz down. “Gimme a shot.” He crooked a finger at the bottle in the middle of the table as everyone groaned.

“C’mon! You can’t drink,” Isobel cajoled. “Just tell us about one.”

“Just one!” 

“Please?” 

Michael stared around the table at each of his friends and siblings, each of them craned forward eagerly, hoping against hope that Michael would finally answer the question. Each of them but one, that is. Alex leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow in a dare. Michael wasn’t sure if he was daring him to talk or to keep his mouth shut.

He reached for the bottle.

“You’re no fun!” Rosa griped. “You have multiple tattoos, man, why not explain one of them?”

“It’s no use,” Max grumbled. “He’ll never tell. He’ll just show up one day with a new one and never mention it no matter how many times you ask.” Michael grinned as he threw back his shot. 

As the turn passed to Kyle and his regrettable decision to choose Dare, Michael slowly ran a finger along the outline of the guitar on his arm. It had faded with the years and the long hours in the sun but it was still readily visible, bold against the pale skin of his forearm. A foot nudged his and Michael looked up to see Alex smiling, his eyes moving from the guitar to the other tattoos Michael had hidden under his clothes. 

Max was only mostly right when he said Michael never explained his ink. Alex knew what each of them meant, even if Michael had never actually said the words and the reverse was equally true. Their friends might not know but Alex had his own fair share of tattoos hidden under his clothing and only Michael knew the story behind each one.

Kyle took a shot instead of doing Isobel’s Dare and the game continued. Michael stopped paying attention, lost in thought as he continued to stroke the tattoo.

2008

“I want to do something stupid.” 

“Like join the military?” Michael scoffed. Alex smacked him lightly on the stomach. They very carefully weren’t talking about Alex’s pending departure, even as it crept closer by the second.

“I want a tattoo,” Alex announced.

“Oh yeah?” Michael turned his head. “What of?”

Alex studied the stars overhead. “Would it be stupid if I said I wanted to get the UFO Emporium logo?” His voice was quiet but the night was so still, Michael heard him as clearly as if he’d been shouting. His heart skipped a beat.

“That depends, I guess. Do you just really love your job?”

Alex turned to look at him. “No.”

Michael didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if it was arrogant of him to assume that Alex meant their first kiss was so noteworthy that he wanted to permanently mark his skin as a reminder but he wasn’t sure what else would make Alex get that logo as a tattoo.

Alex pulled away when Michael didn’t say anything, a few inches of space suddenly appearing between them. Michael’s side grew cold and he rolled over until he was perched over Alex, his good hand bracing him next to his head. “Would it be stupid if I got a tattoo of your guitar?”

A smile slowly inched its way across Alex’s face. “No logo?” Michael shook his head. No way was he getting a fake alien head put anywhere on his body. Alex ran a hand down his hip. “I think a guitar would look pretty cool.”

“Michael!” 

He leaned back just in time to avoid Kyle’s ‘friendly’ punch to the arm. “What?”

“Truth or Dare?”

“Again?” He groaned. 

“Yup,” Maria popped. “So, which is it gonna be?”

He knew she was going to ask about his tattoos again, he just knew it. For some reason, it had been the topic of the night, what ink people had and why and what ink they’d consider getting in the future. Somehow Alex had managed to stay out of the discussion altogether, Michael thought as he glared at him across the table. Alex smiled innocently and motioned to Maria who was still waiting for an answer. “Truth,” he forced out, wishing he was a bit more drunk and willing to do whatever madness Maria came up with.

“Why the hell would you get a tattoo of your own hat?” Alex choked on his beer as the rest of the group stared at Michael incredulously.

“You have a tattoo of your hat?” Kyle asked.

Michael rolled his eyes and ignored Alex as he died silently on the other side of the table. “I like my hat and I didn’t want to lose it. I figured if I ever lost the actual thing at least I’d always have a bit of it with me.”

2012

“Is that what I think it is?” Alex stopped in the middle of what he was doing, Michael’s jeans hanging by one leg as Alex stared at his now naked limb.

Michael propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at Alex perched between his legs. “What?”

Alex ran a finger over the inside of his calf. His touch was light enough that Michael had to stop himself from flinching as it started to tickle. He knew now what Alex was staring at. “I didn’t want to lose it,” he admitted quietly. “You gave it to me.” Alex surged up and kissed him.

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo of your own hat,” he laughed into Michael’s hat.

“You bought it for me,” Michael repeated. “It’s the first gift anyone’s ever given me and it came from you. Why wouldn’t I want to keep it forever?” Alex stared at him, mouth agape, for a moment before he kissed him again.

“Well,” he panted when he pulled back. “I feel less dumb now.”

“Oh?”

Alex grinned and tugged off his shirt, Michael helping him as soon as he realized what Alex was doing. As soon as the offending fabric was gone, Michael pressed a kiss to Alex’s sternum. He started to move towards Alex’s nipples but Alex grabbed his hair and gently pulled him back. Without a word, Alex turned slightly and directed Michael’s head down until he focused on the black ink scrawling up Alex’s right ribcage. 

stole the guitar right outta my hands

stole my whole heart too

who knew we’d be lost forever

“Is that-?” Michael’s hand shook slightly as he ran a finger over the words. They were his. He’d written them the last time he’d seen Alex, the other man plucking at his guitar strings as they made music together.

“We didn’t get to finish it but I didn’t care,” Alex told him softly. He chuckled. “It’s our song.”

Michael had to kiss him then so he did. “You’re a sap. I’m a terrible song writer.”

“You are,” Alex agreed instantly. “But I don’t care.”

Michael kissed him again then ducked his head to kiss the words. His words. 

“That’s a dumb reason to get something inked onto your body forever,” Rosa was saying as he tore himself from the memory. “I approve.” Michael grinned and reached out a fist for her to bump. She did so with minimal eye roll. 

“Alright,” Michael shifted in his seat. “Alex.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.” He grinned even as their friends shot him down. Michael even stood up and was halfway across the table before Liz shoved him back.

“That doesn’t count. Do something else.”

“Why doesn’t it count?” Michael protested with a laugh. “He said Dare, I gave him a dare.”

“It’s not a dare when you two make out all the time anyway,” Kyle rolled his eyes. He’d been happy for them when they got their shit together for about one day before he’d quickly tired of their PDA. “Do something else.”

Michael hummed. “Ok,” he grinned at Alex. “I dare you to show them a tattoo.”

Utter silence. And then-

“You have a tattoo!?” Liz and Maria yelled in unison, whirling around to stare at Alex as Rosa whooped with delight.

“Since when?” Liz asked.

“What happened to the guy who hated tattoos with a passion?” Maria followed. “You’ve always hated tattoos.”

Alex shrugged and grabbed a shot. Rosa was across the table in a second and pinned his wrist to the table. “Nuhuh, Manes. Show us the goods.”

“Don’t you think if I’d wanted you all to know I had a tattoo, I’d have shown you before now?”

“So your boyfriend’s playing dirty, tough luck,” Isobel was entirely unsympathetic. “Show us!”

Alex glared at Michael before sighing and nodding. “Fine. But I need you to let go.” Rosa held up both hands with a ‘who me?’ expression plastered on her face.

With his arms free, he slipped his jacket off his left side and quickly rolled up the sleeve to expose his shoulder. There in bright colors, only lightly faded from time but not the sun, was a pride flag stretched across the width of his shoulder.

“Huh,” Liz mused. “For some reason, that was not what I was expecting.” Alex rolled his eyes and put his jacket back on.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Liz huffed. 

“I was expecting some old school emo reference or something,” Maria laughed. Michael snorted and quickly covered it up with a fake cough.

“I got it after my first Pride,” Alex admitted. “Seemed like the thing to do.” He met Michael’s gaze, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he tried to hide his smile.

2014

It was the first time they’d gone to a tattoo parlor together. Both of their first tattoos were done on their own to be shown later but this one, this one they wanted to do together.

Michael chatted happily with the artist as the woman got set up while Alex sat nearby, his phone in his hand as he scrolled through his photos.

“Is this good?” The artist asked as she placed the stencil on Michael’s arm. She held up a mirror and Michael gave her the okay to go ahead. 

“Anything good?” Michael had to speak a bit louder to be heard over the gun as she got started. Alex shifted without a word, angling his body and his phone so Michael could see the screen.

“We’ve got a couple of good ones in here,” Alex told him even as he deleted a blurry photo. “I still can’t believe you bought that hat.”

Michael glanced at said hat in the corner, the sparkles catching the light and sending little rainbows around the room. “I felt naked without mine.”

“So you got the least subtle thing available?”

Michael nodded slowly, careful not to jostle his arm as the artist switched colors. “I like that one.”

Alex stopped, his thumb poised to swipe to the next one. “Really?” He looked awful, his hair a sweaty mess and his make up smeared.

“We look happy.”

Alex looked at it again, this time ignoring the make up and the sweat and instead focusing on their smiles. They really did look happy. Without a word he sent it to Michael. 

“First Pride?” The artist asked with a smile. Both of them nodded. “Is it going to be your last?”

“No,” Michael told her immediately.

“Definitely not,” Alex echoed. 

“Good.” She switched colors again, this time etching the purple stripe onto Michael’s skin. A few more minutes and she deemed him good to go.

Alex took some photos of his new tattoo, the bi flag colors stark against his skin, while the artist cleaned up and got herself set to do Alex’s flag. 

“Which shoulder?” She asked as Alex settled in the chair. “Right, like his?” She nodded at Michael. Alex followed her gaze and considered him briefly before shaking his head. 

“Right.”

“Who’s next?” Alex got the game back on track and diverted their questions away from his tattoo. Michael marveled at the ease with which he did so, envious at how Alex neatly escaped the endless questions Michael was forever subjected to. Max looked like he wanted to ask another question but Alex stole his attention with a dare for Liz to give Maria a lapdance. 

Michael pulled out his phone to record as Isobel queued the music. Liz rounded the table and pulled Maria’s chair back from the table to give herself room to work.

“You okay with this?” Maria pulled her hands away from her face laughing and nodded for Liz to go ahead. Liz grinned and got to work. The first few seconds were graceful but Liz quickly lost her composure and the dance turned into utter silliness. At one point she leaned back too far and Maria had to grab her waist to stop her from falling onto the floor. She didn’t quite stop her in time to prevent Liz from hitting the glasses on the edge of the table. 

“Oh shit,” Liz laughed as Maria helped her sit back up. “I’m sorry!”

Alex waved her off even as he held up his dripping sleeve to protect the rest of her clothes. Kyle grabbed the overturned glasses as Isobel hopped up to grab napkins. Michael helped Max clear the table so Isobel could wipe up the spilled tequila.

“I’ll throw those out,” he took the dirty napkins from Isobel as she switched to a wet rag to make sure the table was sticky.

“Well hello there,” Michael leered as he entered the kitchen to find a shirtless Alex hunched over the sink. “You okay?”

“It soaked through my jacket to the sleeve,” Alex explained as he scrubbed at the stain. Michael tossed the napkins in the trash and grabbed Alex’s shirt to help out. They worked in silence for a minute before Isobel interrupted.

“Holy shit, you’ve got ink,” she stared at the five tattoos littering Alex’s upper body. 

“Iz-” Michael warned as Alex turned away from her. He’d always been a little shy about his ink.

She tossed the dirty rag at Michael and retreated to the living room without another word. 

“It’s fine,” Alex waited until she was gone to speak.

“Yeah, it is.” Michael answered, responding to the concern Alex hadn’t voiced. “She won’t bring it up.”

Alex ran a hand down his chest in thanks and Michael grabbed it. He dropped the shirt to cup Alex’s hand and press a kiss to his wrist, his lips caressing the numbers inked there.

2019

“Guerin,” Alex panted as Michael attacked his neck. Michael hummed. “Where’s your truck?”

“In the parking lot,” Michael mumbled as he pressed open mouth kisses to Alex’s collarbone, the top buttons on his shirt suddenly undone.

“Guerin,” Alex warned when Michael didn’t move. “I’m not hooking up with you in the back room of our high school reunion.”

Michael finally lifted his head. “You hate the Airstream.”

Alex rolled his eyes as he tangled his fingers in Michael’s hair. “I don’t hate it. It’s not the most comfortable, sure. But it’s infinitely better than this.” He looked around the store room they’d found themselves in. 

Michael sighed and took a step back, grinning when Alex let out a low whine at the separation. He jerked his head. “Let’s go.”

Alex grabbed his crutch and quickly followed. They didn’t talk during the walk to Michael’s truck, dipping around the edge of the room to avoid Isobel and Maria. The drive to the Airstream was also silent except for the faint sounds of the radio, carefully tuned to Alex’s favorite station. The closer they got the more the nerves settled in between them. 

They’d spoken since Alex’s accident but this was the first time they’d seen each other. Michael’s hands ached with the need to touch Alex, to prove to himself that Alex was real and here and alive. But Alex was home for good now and it felt like there were things that needed to be said that weren’t and the words hung heavy in the air. 

“Hey,” Alex grabbed his jacket as they stood awkwardly in the middle of the Airstream. It was the first thing either of them had said since leaving the reunion and Michael feared for a moment that he was about to leave but he just pushed it off of his shoulders. Michael tossed it to the side the second it slipped off his wrists. Alex fingered the buttons on his shirt, an uneasy look on his face. 

Michael cupped his face slowly and Alex sank into it. He leaned forward and kissed Michael before Michael had a chance to move. They lost themselves to it for a few minutes, only separating when Alex pushed Michael’s shirt over his head, Alex’s shirt already on the floor.

“What’s this?” Michael grabbed Alex’s hand as it moved back to his hair. There was black ink on the fine skin on the inside of his wrist, ink that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen Alex.

Alex didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed Michael gently until he fell back onto the bunk. Alex sat next to him to remove his jeans and leg and Michael shucked his own pants and boots. 

“What’s that?” Alex pointed at his ankle as it was bared to him. Michael eyed his own new ink and kissed Alex instead. 

Later, the sweat cooling on their skin as they lay tangled together in the small bed, Alex cupped Michael’s face with his right hand, angling his wrist so Michael could read it. 

“They look like coordinates,” Michael rubbed a thumb over the numbers.

“They are,” Alex’s voice was soft. “For here.”

“Roswell?” Michael raised an eyebrow.

Alex hummed. “After the- well, after, I wanted a reminder of where home was.”

“You hate Roswell?”

Alex nodded. “But you’re here.” He shifted and started to pull his arm back but Michael held tight. “Home’s not always a place.”

Michael didn’t offer any comments, just pressed gentle kisses along the tattoo. After a moment he sat up and tossed off the sheet covering them.

“Michael?”

Michael turned his leg so that Alex could see the new ink on his ankle. Alex looked at him for permission before reaching out and thumbing the six numbers. 072318

“What do they mean?”

“It’s the day you called me from the hospital,” Michael admitted. “I’d heard about the incident in Iraq since it was on the news and I had the worst feeling that you’d been involved. It was only when you called me that I felt like I could breathe again. It was the day I knew I hadn’t lost you. That you were safe.”

Alex couldn’t quite reach his ankle with his lips so he rubbed the numbers again before pulling Michael’s head down to kiss him.

“I’m safe,” he promised. “I’m okay.”

“And you’re here.”

A loud throat clearing pulled them apart. “You have to come back to the table at some point,” Isobel admonished.

Alex glanced over his shoulder at her. “Says who? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Isobel arched her eyebrow. “You’re not having sex in my kitchen.” Alex turned to Michael and they shared a conspiratorial look that made Isobel groan. “I’m disinfecting this whole place.”

Michael handed Alex his shirt, the tequila stain not coming out but at least it wasn’t sticky anymore. “We could always go home.”

“We could.” Alex tugged his shirt on. “We shouldn’t, though. We promised a group night.”

Michael nodded. “We did promise.”

They stumbled through the front door of the cabin 20 minutes later, Liz and Maria’s jeers still ringing in their ears. They got ready for the night individually, coming back together in the bed. 

“I still can’t believe you got this,” Michael fingered the old alien logo tattoo on Alex’s hip. A year prior, Alex had gotten it touched up and added a cowboy hat to it.

“Well I’m not just gonna have any old alien on my body for forever,” Alex teased as he kissed the mark over Michael’s heart. He’d had mixed feelings about it when Michael told him what he wanted to get but he’d come to love it. His time in the Air Force had had its drawbacks, particularly for their relationship, but it had been a huge part of Alex’s life. After he’d received his discharge papers, Michael had gone out and gotten his rank tattooed on his chest. Captain Alex Manes was forever a part of him, now, just as it would forever be a part of Alex himself.

Michael rolled him onto his back and kissed his way through Alex’s tattoos before ending on the large mark on his left ribcage, the skin still healing. It was the alien map that had haunted Michael since he was a child. Michael had teased Alex for getting the same tattoo as his brother but he’d been not so secretly touched that Alex had wanted a map to Michael’s home. 

“You think we’re done getting tattoos?” Alex mused, his fingers carding through Michael’s hair as Michael continued to explore.

“Maybe but I doubt it,” Michael leaned up to kiss him. “I’m sure we’ll have more moments we want to remember forever. Personally, I’m looking forward to adding another date somewhere.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex laughed. “You got one picked out already?”

“Not yet. Figured we could pick that one out together.”

Alex hummed, a small smile on his face. “Is this what I think it is?”

Michael shook his head. “Nope. When I propose, you’re gonna know it.”

“I look forward to it.” Alex leaned up and kissed him, long and slow. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” Michael agreed, chasing Alex’s lips as he leaned back. “We’re busy tonight.”

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty One, “Timing”

Find all chapters to this story here! 

Check out the character survey from Becky’s POV I did recently! :-)

Warnings: Very brief mention of IVs (needles)

Song Inspo: My My Love by Joshua Radin (Click to listen)

                                    Sneaky Peeeeeeeeeky!

“A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one inch mark.

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats.”

“No. W-what are you doing here?” I stutter, unable to control my words. Or my thoughts. Or my emotions.

At the drop of my words, Harry’s face falls. His eyebrows. The budding smile on his lips. And the brightness in his eyes. But he masks it quickly. And it escapes my mind when he crosses the distance between us. His black slacks, teal geometric-patterned button down, and curls are a blur in the seconds that follow. Suddenly, his arms are around me and pulling me into him. With sleep still clinging to my mind, and unsure of what to do, I freeze. 

“Please don’t tell me you left work to drive 3 hours to come to Madley,” I confess quietly into the damp shoulder of his black peacoat. Shivering, his fingers run trails up and down my back. 

“Shuddup, I ‘ave a case t’morrow nearby in Wolverhampton . . . Jus’ lemme do sumthin’ nice fer ya,” he says, his soft words drifting over the top of my head. 

“I-I’m sorry. I just woke up and you caught me off guard,” I apologize meekly, feeling myself relax. My arms wind around his waist and lace themselves together over his coat. 

“‘s okay,” he hums. His hands pause and I feel them brush my hair away. “I know ya hadda rough night- well couple o’ days,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. My lungs still and I wait, wondering if he’ll kiss my head. But it doesn’t come, and I try to will away the disappointment beginning inside of me. I’ve become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t want to leave this time. Then it’s joined by the happy disbelief appearing wet in my eyes. 

“Couldn’ stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, an’ figured I had t’ come up ‘ere t’morow mornin’ anyways. Wha’s an extra night hurt?” The first few words do it for me, and there I am spewing tears all over his shoulder. They’re not a waterfall, but the emotions growing inside of me feel that way. And they’re here, because he is. 

He holds me tighter against him, and I feel his cheek rest on my head. Holding on tight to his coat, I let myself and everything I’m feeling melt against him. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here,” I confess in a trembling voice interrupted by sniffling. 

“I think I do do, ‘coz you were there fer me tha day o’ tha funeral when I needed a friend. An’ at tha hospital. Ya showed up fer me, Becks, an’ I wanted t’ do tha same fer ya,” Harry reveals softly from above me. My lips bend into a happy smile amongst the tears that come harder at his words. “I brought dinna, ‘cuz I knew ya prolly hadn’t eaten. ‘s luck that I found ya atta vendin’ machine.”

His precious laugh greets my ears as his fingers tickle up my back. The bunches of fabric leave my hands, and I step away to search for those green eyes. After a few seconds, I find them staring down at me. They’re blurry behind the tears, but soon his smiling face sharpens. 

“No mo’ tears, ‘kay? Le’s go eat some dinna an’ find  sumthin’ good on tha telly,” Harry whispers, running the pad of his thumb along my cheeks. Nodding, his hand envelopes mine and we go to find a sitting area.

The halls are deserted besides a few nurses checking in on patients. Familiar medical-sounding beeps sound throughout the hallway. After guiding the way for Harry as I wipe my cheeks, we soon find our dining table. Or rather a sofa with a little table. 

“I hope fish an’ chips ‘s alright,” he says, doubt filling his words. 

“Of course they are. Did you get them from Maggie’s over on Fifth?”

“Yeah, I think so. Li’l shop with photos coverin’ tha walls?” he questions as he unpacks the brown paper bag. 

“Yep, that’s the one. They make the best fish and chips I’ve had. And I would know, because I grew up eating these ones my entire life.”

“Well I guess ya would know then,” Harry relents, shrugging his shoulders with a toothy smile. 

Whispered ‘thank yous’ float between us as we pass each other food and napkins. With two cups of water from the cooler a few steps away, we dig in. 

“No kiddin’, these are good. ‘s always tha family owned shops that make tha best ones, innit?” Harry mumbles with a mouth full of food. I reply with an ‘mmmhmm’, trying not to laugh at the crumbs speckling his chin. 

The crispy, buttery cod melts on my tongue. With my free hand, I grab hold of the gray remote sitting on the table beside me. 

“Hey, ‘s my turn t’ pick what we watch,” Harry whines, stealing the remote from me. 

“Rude!” I retort, but any words I had left to say collapse into laughter. Licking his thumb, he peeks over at me. A sly grin stuck to his lips. 

Shaking my head, I look away and pick up a chip from the paper tray in my hand. When my eyes return to him, a ketchup-covered chip sits in his hand. Meanwhile, his face is screwed up in concentration at the telly. I smile, and then notice his reflection in the dark window on the other side of him. Kicking his foot with my right, he turns to the left to look at me in confusion. 

“Just pick something!” I tell him, my palm turning up to help me talk. His dark curls dance atop his head as it goes from side to side. 

“Oh hush, you. Cantcha letta man think?” he quips before feeding the chip past his cherry lips. 

“No, not when it takes you an hour to pick what to watch,” I reply, yanking it from his hands. 

“Heeeey! I was jus’ gonna pick that episode o’ Friends!” 

“Wait, you like Friends?!” I nearly yell, my head snapping to look at him. 

“O’course! Who doesn’t? I grew up watchin’ that show with me mum an’ sista,” he answers. With those words, my heart does a somersault in my chest. Oh my fuck, I’m falling again. “Wha’? Do ya not like it?”

“No, I-I love it. I grew up watching it, too. It’s like my comfort show - I watch it when I’m happy, sad, mad, excited- you name it,” I reply slowly, engrossed in gathering ketchup onto my chip. When I hear his murmured ‘me too’ from a mouth full of food, the devil and angel inside of me go crazy. For once, they seem to root for the same team. 

“Favourite characta?” his words greet the air effortlessly. He licks the salt and grease from his thumb, and I suddenly regret looking up. The things you do to me, Styles. 

“On the count of 3?” I ask, and his chestnut ringlets bounce with a nod. 

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3.”

“Phoebe!” we both say in unison, sending us into fits of giggles. 

“There’s nuthin’ betta than her on dat show. She’s hilarious, plays guitar, ‘s a surrogate fer her bloody brotha, an’ ‘s gorgeous,” Harry explains, and I’m following with every word. And with each one, I feel the butterflies in my tummy flutter again. For possibly the tenth time already tonight. 

“All of the great jokes and catchphrases from the show are from her: Regina Phalange, Smelly Cat, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, ‘I don’t even have a pla’, Gladys the framed doll, and that stupid taxi. She’s blunt and so funny, but she’s so sweet and would do anything for her friends,” I continue, watching him nod emphatically as he picks up another chip. 

“Couldn’ ‘ave said it betta meself. Oh I love dis episode where they’re stuck at tha beach house. Poor Phoebs findin’ out tha truth ‘bout her mum dat way, tho’,” Harry comments, his mouth falling into a delighted and then sad O. My eyes follow his to the screen of the telly where our attention is held for the next twenty minutes. 

My shoes only stop squeaking when I stop in front of the garbage bin. After tossing the greasy paper bag, I rub a pump of hand sanitizer into my hands. I wince at the awful sounds my shoes make as I try to walk quietly down the tiled hallway. The snoring greets my ears before I see him, but when I do, I smile. With careful steps, I pluck my backpack from the couch before leaving the room. 

“He still sleepin’?” Harry asks, looking up from the Friends marathon from the telly. We scored! 

“Yep,” I answer, plopping down onto the sofa beside him. 

“Good,” he answers, slumping down further into the gray cushions. My backpack drops with a thud to the floor after I got what I needed. “What’re ya doin’? ‘s eleven-thirty, love. Tha’s no time t’ be doin’ homework.”

“I know, but I need to submit an assignment before I forget. It’s due at midnight,” I answer, seeing his nod out of the corner of my eye. 

My laptop wakes with its usual jingle, and I watch my browser load. The audience laughter fills my ears at a humorous line from Chandler. Surprise, surprise. The maroon and navy blue colors of my uni’s website appear in front of me. Within a few moments, I’m on the web page for my course. 

“Wha’s tha assignment?” Harry inquires, his eyes never leaving the telly. A laugh creases his cheeks, making me smile. But I’m not very sad I missed what’s so funny, because he makes up for it. 

“Um, it’s an essay about Thomas Cromwell and his theories and stuff,” I reply, opening the page for assignments. 

“Ah, I see they ‘aven’t changed coursework much from my day. Cromwell ‘s bloody obvious when ya start talkin’ ‘bout British law.”

“I know, it’s like the professor didn’t even try when drafting this assignment,” I comment with a small titter. Relief washes over me when I get a message saying my submission was successful. And something else too from being able to talk to him about law so easily. Something akin to how a hot chocolate makes you feel on a winter’s day.

I glance up and find Harry losing it with laughter. There’s a fleeting temptation to ask him to clue me in. But a laugh tingles on my lips when I find what he’s laughing at. Monica’s crying as she holds onto Chandler’s arm, an ocean scene in the background. 

“Can’ believe Joey actually peed on Monica.” The words leave Harry’s mouth in between chuckles rather sloppily. 

“He was just trying to help!” I comment, unable to stop laughing either. 

“But it doesn’t even help! They say it makes it worse even,” he laughs, rubbing his forehead.  

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to my laptop screen. After a few clicks, lines of text cloud my eyes. My eyes roll into the back of my head at their appearance. I find it nearly impossible to hold back a groan. 

“What’re you gripin’ ‘bout ova here?” Harry questions with teasing in his tone.

“I have to read the entire case of Haughton v. Smith for a test, and it’s so confusing. I mean, working with you brushed me up on a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. But still, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me,” I huff, my chin falling into the palm of my hand.  

“Alright, lemme see what part yer at,” he says in a quiet voice. I try to ignore the regret budding inside of me at what I said about working at his firm. And how it makes me feel, and probably him, too. I don’t know why I ever bring it up, because sometimes it feels like when somebody else brings up the ex-boyfriend, or something. The sofa cushion dips as he closes the space between us. The angel and demon inside of me erupt into synonymous cheers when his arm goes around me. 

“God, did you forget your glasses or something, Grandpa?” my question sputters from my lips in a cackle, watching him squint at the screen.

“Oh shuddup, an’ I mean it,” Harry quips, looking away for a moment. When I see the reason why, instead of a laugh consuming my thoughts, something else does. For some fucking reason, my heart warms at the sight of him unfolding a pair of mottled brown Pantos glasses. He tucks the brown case into the inside of his blazer, his peacoat on a chair. “Ya ya, laugh all ya want at me an’ me readin’ glasses.” 

But when he looks down at me with them settled on his nose, I don’t laugh. “Why aren’t ya laughin’ anymo’, hmm?” he questions. 

“I think they look really nice on you. They make you look handsome and sophisticated,” I tell him slowly, and it’s undeniable the pink that pinches his cheeks. 

“Well ‘s ‘bout time fer dat t’ happen, only took me twenty-nine years,” he jokes, bringing a smile to my lips. My head goes from side to side as I close my eyes, my cheeks bunching from happiness painting my lips. Yeah, it’s about time for a lot of things right about now. “Alrigh’, lemme look what part yer at fer real now.”

I nod, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. Pitching my head back, I feel it bump into his arm. Nevermind my fucked neck, I return my eyes to the screen to try and forget that his arm is around me. But they immediately refuse and slowly trail to Harry, his face mere inches away from mine. 

Okay, no, stop thinking about his lips and what they could do, I tell the demon inside of my head. 

Becky, you could. You so know you could do it. 

Shut up! He’s just helping me with my homework, that’s all this is. 

Oh yeah? And when are you going to let yourself think about the real reason he’s here, huh?

I can’t do that right now. 

Yes, you can! Maybe if you think about it, you’ll realize how good of an idea it would be to let yourself kiss him. I’m sure he’s thinking about it too.

Just stop!

His thumb and forefinger knead his bottom lip. It bunches together in little waves as his eyes flit across the screen. Whiskers the shade of his curls are scattered across his face. They’re dense atop his upper lip and around his chin. And God, I can’t stop thinking about them. Wanting to touch them. Feel them on my face- okay stop it, Becky. 

“Well yer mostly at tha end, so wha’ doesn’t make sense t’ ya?” Harry finally says, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me. 

“I know, but I feel like I don’t know what I just read. And the verdict is contradicting to me,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders. 

“Well maybe it’d make more sense t’ ya if ya weren’t lookin’ at it at almos’ midnigh’, love.”

“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only time I have lately with everything. I’m afraid to email my prof again saying I need an extension when it’s due tomorrow. I’ve needed a lot of them lately. I just wanna get it done,” I respond quietly, looking to the telly awkwardly. It’s always hard when the truth comes out, and the emotions that hang on to it. 

A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my left eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape. 

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one-inch mark. 

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats. 

“Kids used to make fun of it when I was little. They’d call it a worm under my eye, because of its shape. It used to be more pronounced and bigger when I was little, but it’s still pretty noticeable,” I answer, adding in an eye roll that he laughs at. 

“Aww, poor Becks. But if it counts, I don’ think it looks like a worm. ‘s cute on you,” he adds seriously, pinching my cheek. That makes me look over at him, and I already know that I’m blushing. 

A small ‘thanks’ leaves my lips before my eyes dip to my laptop. Close to a minute of silence grows between us before he breaks it. “‘Kay, so Haughton vs. Smith found that ya can’t commit tha crime o’ handlin’ stolen goods, if tha goods they’re talkin’ ‘bout weren’t actually stolen. ‘s an important case t’ know, cuz it was ‘ventually ovaturned by tha Criminal Attempts Act o’ ‘81. Ya’ll neva be able t’ forget tha connection between tha two, issa given. Ya don’ need t’ worry ‘bout that law now tho’, they basically mean tha same thing.” 

“Thanks for explaining it, I hope it’s enough to help me pass the test on it,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly. 

“Open tha test, an’ ‘ll help ya with it.”

The second my eyes land on Joey’s body covered in sand on the telly, they whip back to Harry. “Really, you’d help me?”

“‘Course I would. Tha’s what ‘m here fer. An’ it wouldn’t hurt t’ see if I still got it.”

“You’ve been a lawyer for years, and this is pre-law, so of course you do. And not to mention, ranked as one of the best in London,” I reply smiling, clicking open a new tab. I suspect how my words will make him feel, because they fill me with the same emotions. Pride. Happiness. Astonishment. And more pride. 

“Well, I do me best,” Harry titters proudly. A cocky hum leaves his lips as he brushes off his chest. A laugh sputters from my lips that I can’t contain. “Heeeey, don’ be laughin’ at me.”

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself when you start dropping dad jokes,” I respond nonchalantly, clicking on the tab labeled ‘Assessments.’

“Just pull tha bloody test up an’ le’s get it ova with,” he huffs, amusement still lacing through his words. 

“Awww, is it past your bedtime already?” I pout, turning my eyes to him. His lips smush together and I hear the smallest of squeaks get past them. “You know you like my grandpa jokes, don’t lie.”

“Shuddup, li’l one, an’ open tha goddamn test already,” he huffs. If anybody else heard him, they’d think he was mad at me. But even as my eyes cast over the column of tests from this course, I know different. I can hear it in his voice - the joking, the molasses, the affectionate teasing, and the friendship. 

Wow, nice choice of words there, Ms. Denial. 

Shut up, devil. 

“I am not little!” I retort in a high voice, making my two tabs appear as two windows on my screen. Side by side. Cheating time!

“Becks, yer like 5’5, if that.”

“No, I’m not! I’m 5’6, you liar!”

“Ya, cuz that one lousy inch really does a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Harry counters, his voice melting into a goofy one. I respond to it with a hearty laugh that is soon accompanied by his. “Yer still a li’l one t’ me, love.” 

“Fine, Grandpa Harry.”

+

The annoying sound of a laugh track pricks at my ears. Blinking hard, the room around me is blurry. But after a groggy minute of blinking, it begins to sharpen. I don’t remember the lights getting turned off, but the telly screen burns my eyes. Rubbing them, I moan from tiredness. Dropping my arm, I feel it hit something. Looking down, I’m confused. When I lift my head from whatever it was resting on, I find what I was laying on. And well, what was also laying on me. Still is. Her face scrunches adorably before relaxing, nuzzling her head against my shoulder once more. 

Becks. 

After combing my hair off of my forehead, the lock screen of my phone wakes me up a little more. Especially when I see that it reads 1:18 am. Fuck, I need to get to my hotel and go to bed. I have my case tomorrow. But when I hear a noise and find the culprit, all of those thoughts wash away. An incoherent sound runs off of her lips, ones that are so close to me. Fuck, again. But when my eyes scan the rest of my body, I realize that she’s all over me. Well, almost. Her right hand rests on my chest as she leans against the back of the sofa. But her pretty little head of dark hair is laying on my shoulder. My arm is around her, holding her close to me. I can feel her other arm tickling my side. 

Memories float to the surface, and suddenly I’m back at the hospital in London. In December. A phone call woke me from my slumber beside her on the sofa. The both of us curled up on opposite sides. Sleep clinging to my eyes and begging to me to return to it. Her shoulders rising with every soft snore, but it was the most daintiest one I’d ever heard. It felt like my heart was being squeezed tighter with every move I made to leave her. When I draped the second blanket over her. And how much it hurt to move the hair off of her face. To press a kiss to her unknowing head. But nothing compared to the anguish I felt grow with every step I put between us. 

Blinking hard, the dark room materializes around me again. Her precious snores welcome my return to the moment. A smile brings my lips upwards as I watch a crease grow between her eyebrows. She’s too goddamn adorable. And that’s why I came, isn’t it? Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist her. I can’t say no to Becky. When she called me crying and a mess worrying about her dad, I didn’t know what I was doing until I was putting the town of Madley into my GPS. I guess The Beatles were right with that one song, and plenty of others. She’s really got a hold on me. And before I could begin to stop myself, her skin is like velvet under my thumb. I rub the crease away with the pad of it, and suddenly my head dips. My lips barely brush her hair when she groans below me. 

“Harry?” she murmurs, lifting her head from my shoulder. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

She yawns, moving away to look around sleepily. But soon she returns back to my arms, cozying up to me once more. And I couldn’t be more thankful, or conflicted. The latter word drills into my mind as I rub a hand down her back, sleep trying to coax me back in, too. 

“We fell asleep,” she mumbles, her honey voice coated in that very word. Fuck, does it make me feel things. Things that I’d much rather not. 

“Yeah, ‘s one in tha mornin’.”

“Shitttt,” she sighs, sitting up fast. Her growing locks pour over her shoulders covered by a crewneck jumper. Faded pictures of balls from different sports are scattered across the heather gray fabric. Like something my dad wore when I was a tot. “You have your case tomorrow.”

“‘m fine, I already dropped me stuff off at tha hotel an’ got me key,” I tell her, missing the warmth of her against me. And I miss the fact in those words alone of what I’m missing. Her in my arms. “But ya should prolly get sum sleep, too. Seems like ya’ve been missin’ it lately.”

“I’m okay, just lots of homework,” Becky says, running her long fingers through her wavy hair. 

“‘d offa me hotel room, but ‘s half an hour ‘way in Wolverhampton. An’ there’s only tha one bed,” I tell her, unsure of why. I blame it on the sleepy brain. 

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll just sleep on the couch in his room. It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” she assures me. Her arms crack as she stretches them toward the ceiling. I can’t help myself when the baggy jumper rides up, exposing the slightest of her milky white tummy. Fuck. But just like that, it’s gone in a flash. If only my feelings worked that way. 

It’s like she has some sixth sense that I’m thinking about her, because her eyes cast over to me. It’s hard to make out their ocean blue in this dark, but I know they’re there. I can picture them if I need to, because I do it all the time - trying to make myself remember what they look like. The exact shade. The speckles of darker blue amongst the color. 

“Yer welcome,” I return. The tired smile I get in return melts my insides like butter. But that’s how I feel when I’m around her, and that’s how much of a hold she’s got on me. 

Shocks of electricity dance across the back of my hand. I don’t need to look down to know her hand is on top of mine. And how it’s making me go crazy. She’s only a few inches away. I could do it. Before I stop myself, I begin to lean in, and she watches me do it. But with only a few seconds left, we jump apart at the sound of a ringtone. 

Embarrassment covers me like a dark cloud, among other nasty emotions. My head falls, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Pulling out my phone to distract myself, it doesn’t do that great of a job as I hear her talk to somebody on the phone. Dammit, I was so close. With a hand in my hair, I scroll through emails. Deleting some and saving others. 

“Sorry, that was Robbie. Just checking in, since I forgot to update him, I guess,” Becky tells me, lifting my head with her voice. 

My head only goes up and down, avoiding eye contact. Because I can’t muster it after what just happened, or what didn’t. 

“‘s late, ya should get sum rest,” I announce, getting to my feet. Picking up my coat, I slip it on before I dare to look at her.

She smiles shyly at me, sleep hanging around her eyes. Even rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her jumper is precious. And her legs jittering in her faded blue jeans. Vans the shade of her favorite color donning her feet. 

“Yeah, you too,” is all she has to say.

Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. For a mere second, I entertain the thought of trying again. But fuck it, she’s so far away right now, figuratively and literally. I can catch a hint of her scent sticking to me, and it makes me sad to realize. 

“Go get sum sleep, ‘kay?” Are the only words I can think of as I walk up to her and pat her arm. 

“Yeah, you too, Harry. Careful driving.”

“Thanks, Becks, I will. Sweet dreams, love,” I mutter, looking at her over my shoulder. 

And I keep walking, and leave her behind. Regrets coursing through my ears, and emotions tugging at my seams. The tiredness coating my every thought and action, only make it all the worse. I’m not sure if I want to wake up more for the car drive to the hotel, because then it will all feel even more real. And discouraging. 

“Harry?” stopping in my tracks, I hear her call my name. Spinning around, I feel her before I see her. Her arms surround around my waist and her head comes to lay against my chest. All within seconds. “Thank you . . . for coming.”

A pain sounds in my chest when I hear the emotion in her voice. And it takes all of me to not echo it, because I know I could. And that I would. Instead I say, “Yer welcome, Becks,” and I do at least one thing I wanted to do tonight. Dipping my head, I smooth down her hair and press my lips to her hair for more than a few seconds. 

The sweet smell of orange blossom greets me, and my smile is havoced by pain. Her warm breaths tickle the skin at my neck as my hands lace together at the small of her back. Her arms squeeze me around the middle before releasing, and she lets go of me. I think about trying again, but the thought is fleeting when she begins to walk away from me. 

And I let her do it. Once again. 

+

The burbling of the running water fills my ears. Well, besides the sound of the football match. Surprise, surprise. And the next sound. His cheering. It makes me smile as I wipe my hands with a paper towel. 

“What’s the score now?” I ask, walking back into the room. His eyes don’t go to me at the question, instead they remain on the screen. 

“Six-two. It doesn’t look too good for ‘em,” my dad replies snarkily, a devilish glint in his eyes. But it’s there, and that’s all that matters. It’s what makes the smile stick to my face. 

“Don’t let your food get cold,” I say, bending over to dig into my backpack. 

“I’m done eating. You can have the rest, Ree,” he replies just as I feel the smooth handle I’m searching for.

“I’m okay, thanks. I was probably going to check out the special in the cafe.”

“Oh so only I have to eat the hospital food?” my dad whines, pouting at me when I look at him. 

With a laugh, I remark, “I’m eating their food in the cafe too, you dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, chemo brain,” he replies, tapping a finger against his head. A striped green hat keeping it warm. His arm returns to the white blanket pulled up to his waist. Light shines in his eyes and his arms lift into the air when they make yet another goal. 

Whoops and hollers leave his chapped lips. But this morning, they’re pinker. And so is his skin. If only in the slightest, I notice them. Running the brush through my knotted hair, I yawn as I watch him. A patterned hospital gown covers his upper half, with the sleeves just coming to above the IVs in his left arm. Fluids and meds. The antibiotics. Yippee. 

But the thoughts are mulled over when I look to his plate sitting on the moveable tray beside him. It was scrambled eggs, toast, applesauce, and milk this morning. And he ate nearly half of it, even if it took about half an hour. But I want to blame part of that on the football match his eyes are stuck to. 

“I’m going to see if I can find your doctor. I had a question,” I tell him, dropping my hairbrush back into my backpack. 

“Ree, don’t worry about it. He’ll come by later,” my dad insists, but I stand from my chair regardless of his answer. 

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways.” 

He hums a reply I can’t decode, but I hear his teasing about blocking the telly when I walk by. Over my shoulder, he flashes me a small smile before returning to yelling lazily at the referees. Nurses and doctors pass me, going to and from rooms to the nearby nurse’s station. Tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, I search for the shock of white hair of my dad’s doctor. 

But no such luck. 

As I approach the nurse’s station, sounds of beeping, call lights, and murmuring voices fill the air. But another sound stands out from the rest. And I hear my name, or well my last name. It takes me a second to locate where it’s coming from, but when I do there’s a flutter in my chest. And I know I’m in trouble, or maybe that I’m just realizing it now after all of this time. 

But I don’t save him right away, and instead I observe. Confusion sews his eyebrows together over those misty green eyes. One lone curl tickles his forehead, breaking free from his damp hair. His black peacoat is draped over his arm clad in a warm violet blazer. A dusty rose button down peeks out from its collar, and I smile. I don’t even know why. But as the seconds tick by watching him talk to the nurse, I think I know why. 

“Looking for me, Styles?” I pipe up, stepping forward with my hands hidden away in my hoodie.

Harry’s eyes fall from the nurse and pan over to me. A lazy smile works its way onto his face quickly, only interrupted to thank the nurse. 

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, turning to walk towards me. 

“What are you doing here? You have your case today, you said,” I respond, playing with the sleeve of my black hoodie. The cracked decal of Robbie’s old band covers the front. 

“Came t’ bring ya out t’ brekky. Me case doesn’t start ‘til tha aftanoon, bug,” he responds with half of a smile, pinching my arm affectionately. And there’s that nickname, again, I think as my insides turn to mush. “Well jus’ down t’ tha cafe if tha’s alright. I saw sumthin’ ‘bout biscuits ‘n gravy, an’ sumthin’ smelled mighty delicious when I came in.”

“That sounds great,” I say, a smile inching its way up my lips. The wet ends of my hair knock against each other, and my chin. “I’ll just let my dad know,” I tell him, turning around to walk away. 

But after only a few steps, a sudden thought brings me to halt. It wills my feet to turn around and look at Harry. “Would you like to meet him?” I ask tentatively in a meek voice. “He’s doing a little better this morning, but I think that’s thanks to the Arsenal match on the telly.”

With what appears to be a shaky smile, he replies, “‘d love t’. Hope ‘s not me Manchester United boys playin’ ‘gainst ‘em.”

Waving a hand towards me, he closes the distance between us. His leather boots squeak from the last bits of melting April snow. It’s only a few moments before I peek my head into his room, and low and behold, he’s still transfixed by the match. 

Rapping my knuckle against the door, I get his attention before saying, “Hey, can I steal you away from your precious game for a few? There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, adjusting his blankets before the telly’s volume falls. Over my shoulder, I shoot Harry an encouraging smile. He returns it, but I can see the nerves showing through. 

Pushing open the door fully, I walk in and he follows from behind. 

“Dad, this is Harry Styles. My uh, former boss I’ve told you about,” I fumble for words, giving a magician-like wave to him. Well, the right words. “He stopped by last night and brought me dinner. He has a case today in Wolverhampton, and we’re going to get breakfast downstairs before.”

A weary smile curls at the corners of my dad’s lips. Nodding, his dusty pink lips part, “Ah, so this is the fella you were with until all hours last night,” he jests, pulling nervous laughter into the air. “Yes, it’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you, son. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Becky, and for your well wishes. It’s meant a whole damn lot to me, and I know for her too.” 

Okay, dad, let’s not board the emotional bus yet. Or maybe, ever.  

Happy laughs float around the room as Harry steps forward, rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands. “‘s a pleasure t’ meet ya as well, sir,” he rasps, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand firmly. 

“Call me Chuck, Harry. I’m not that old yet, although sometimes it feels that way,” my dad jokes, widening the smiles on all of our faces.

“Yes, ‘course, Chuck. I’ve also heard loads ‘bout ya, all good things, so no worries. Ya’ve been in me prayers an’ thoughts ova tha last 7 months. Sure raised a great daughter, ya should know.” 

A permanent smile warms my cheeks as I shyly look over to Harry. He meets my eyes and smiles back at me. Winking, he shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Thank you, son. That’s mighty good to hear, although I’m not too sure about that son of mine sometimes,” he laughs, soon getting a scoff from me. 

“Oh I mean Robbie, too. I’ve only met tha bloke once or twice, but I was impressed. Certainly since I was surprised t’ find out Becky hadda twin,” Harry comments, his eyes burning a hole into my cheek. 

“Yes, I think I’ve heard that story. Their mother and I were pretty surprised to find there was two, also,” he chuckles. “But Ree likes to do that sometimes.”

Shaking my head, I look away and to the Spring sunshine. It seeps in through the cracks in between the window shades. Their soft laughs fill my ears before Harry’s voice does again. 

“Yeah she’s a spitfire, alright,” he comments, and finally I meet his smirking eyes before they return to my dad. “But ‘m glad t’ hear yer doin’ a bit betta. Hopefully they can get a good handle on dis soon, an’ you lot can go home.”

“Thank you. We hope so too,” my dad nods, running his thumb along the buttons of the tv remote. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to be here with Becky . . I know it means more than words to her.” 

Looking away to the floor, his words find the chink in my armor. I feel the lump rise in my throat along with memories of last night. Luckily, the tears stay away and I get away with it. 

“‘Course, ‘m glad I was able t’ come an’ be with her. Dunno if she told ya, but she was there fer me when my grandad was in tha hospital befo’ he passed. An’ well, I know how much it means t’ ‘ave sumbody there,” Harry murmurs, almost giving a reason for the tears to make an appearance. But they don’t, and I’m repeating ‘thank yous’ inside of my head. 

“I’m pretty proud of my little Rebecca Ann, and it only grows more every day,” my dad comments, flitting his eyes over to me. His words make my cheeks tingle with a new blush and because I know another pair are on me, too. 

“Yeah, she makes it ratha easy,” Harry agrees softly, pulling my attention to him. The gentlest smile sits atop his lips, and a sad sweetness twinkles in his eyes. 

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your match. We’re going to grab breakfast before everybody else gets the same idea,” I pipe in, unsure of when and how to sever the moment. But the look in Harry’s eyes does something to me, and I don’t know what to do with it. 

We exchange short goodbyes before I’m following Harry out of the room. The rising volume of the football announcers voices send us on our way. 

“Rebecca Ann, huh?” Harry smiles beside me, the nurse’s station in our rearview mirrors. 

“Go ahead and make jokes about it. It doesn’t even sound like my name, I don’t know. I’ve only ever went by that for forms, when I got in trouble, or like on the first day of school and graduation. And the Ann is just my middle name, I don’t have a two parter,” I explain hurriedly, surprising myself when I don’t hear one of his delightful giggles. Tearing my eyes away from the poster at the end of the hallway, I look to him. And he isn’t laughing, which confuses me. 

“There’s no jokes t’ be had. I think ‘s pretty, yer name. Figured ya were a Rebecca, but wasn’t sure. Nor did I know yer middle was Ann. Tha’s my mum’s name, ‘ve always loved it,” he tells me, coming to a stop in front of the gunmetal colored doors of the lift. The sickeningly sweet look on his face sends the butterflies in my tummy to flight. Again.

“Oh thanks,” I almost blurt, pressing the button to go down. But then as we step into the welcoming lift, more come to me. “It was my grandmother’s name. It always made me feel closer to her, like I always had a piece of her with me.”

“Tha’s nice. ‘ve always liked it when parents carry on family names like dat. It makes me think ‘d like t’ do tha same with me own kids one day,” Harry continues as I watch the doors shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. If only for a few minutes. But still. 

“Me too.”

“So nobody ever calls ya Becca?” Harry inquires, catching my attention. 

“Eh, not really. Maybe Skye sometimes, and my grandma Ann did, but not much anymore.”

“Hmm maybe ‘ll hafta use it then,” he quips, but then he wears a confused smile he pulled out of thin air. “Eh I dunno, actually. Ya’ll always be me Becks,” he finishes, making my heart do a dance. And fueling the angel and demon having a party inside of my head. 

“Yeah, I agree. Anything else would sound weird.”

“Ya look like ‘im, ya know. Tha eyes, tha hair, and tha shape o’ yer face - bloody spitting image ya are. ‘Specially Robbie,” Harry acknowledges.

“We get that a lot, but thanks, I like to hear it. Sometimes I can’t see it, though,” I recall. “Which parent do you look like?”

“Um, dunno. I get comments ‘bout lookin’ like both o’ me parents. I guess I mostly ‘ave people say I look like me dad with sum o’ my mum’s features. Which sounds wild.”

“Yeah, I can relate with people saying I look like my dad. It’s like, oh thanks for saying I look like a boy,” I laugh. Turning to look at him on my left, a small one sputters from his smiling cherry lips. 

“I know, ‘s weird.”

“I can see it, though. How people think you look like him,” I tell him. When I watch his lips settle into a silent, straight line, I feel instant regret. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, ‘s okay. Jus’ hard hearin’ people say ya look like sumbody ya don’ like.”

A small ‘oh’ passes over my lips before I can stop it. My eyes leave him and go to the changing red number above my head. Words bubble up inside of me, and I tell them to stop. But then I can’t. 

“I think I know how you feel,” I murmur, daring to look over at him, her face flashing in my mind. His far away eyes lift from the floor and pan over to me. 

I try not to lose myself in their infinity of green, but it’s worthless. And soon I am, and thoughts of last night leak from my memories. 

I know it’s at the back of his mind too. That almost kiss. The one he tried to initiate, and the one I want so bad. Five months ago, I don’t know if I would’ve. But now in this moment and in this elevator, all alone with him, I couldn’t want something more. 

Or somebody. 

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 2- College

Haven’t used this AU in a while! It’d Daryl/Venom, so obviously I made it mostly for @mama-nana, I hope it turned out okay! It’s a scenario we’ve talked about a bit before, I just loved the idea of Venom being the mysterious library man, but he’s actually just a huge nerd who manages to look cool.

‘Mastering the Mental Game of Billiards.’ ‘The Celluloid Closet.’ ‘The Last course: The Desserts of Gramercy Tavern.’ ‘Emotional Intelligence.’

Eclectic tastes, but that was exactly what endeared Daryl so much. He never caught the contents from so far away, but he was always close enough to catch the various covers as the object of his attention carefully pulled them off the shelf to peek inside. He didn’t especially care, anyway. He was always too transfixed at the way sapphire-blue eyes scanned the pages with keen interest, features gradually shifting until lips turned into a content smile or dissatisfied frown, and the man moved to either take the book to the checkout desk or to place it in a return bin.

Venom. That’s what they’d said his name was. The mysterious library man who came in nearly every day to skim the shelves in near-silence. Plenty of people used the library, of course, but most of the people who came so often spent time studying at the computers or taking a nap in the corner, rather than traipsing the bookshelves like a longing Victorian housewife.

It was that peculiarity that had drawn his attention. There were rumors around Venom, but he couldn’t say for sure which had any merit to them. A few aspiring frat boys had allegedly attempted asking him out, but had been rejected. Daryl was half-convinced those stories had been cooked up by cowards too hesitant to interrupt him in the first place.

At least the concept reassured him slightly, while his stomach did flip-flops inside him. Daryl styled himself as being pretty unflappable, but something about actually making himself step forward and attempting to introduce himself was...not quite frightening, but somewhere close.

“Daryl?”

It took all his self-control to not jump five feet in the air and scream in shock. He’d been so distracted by his own thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the footsteps approaching until a hand had put itself on his shoulder. The brunt of his surprise was channeled into biting down on his lip as he turned around, only to be greeted with a too-friendly face.

Just his luck, he had to worry about Ky Kiske, student council leader with the world’s biggest stick up his butt and a habit of pushing himself into other people’s business. The last thing he wanted or needed at that very moment.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry about that.” The man smiled, and stifled a chuckle behind his hand. “Lost in thought? What were you staring at…”

“I-I just happened to be- I was only looking for-”

“Ah.” Ky glanced over his shoulder, and spotted Venom nose-deep in a pastry book. “Engaging in a bit of spying, are we, Daryl?” His voice dropped into a hush.

And of course Ky just had to make this his problem. “I’m not spying, Kiske.”

“Right. You’re just staring very intently at the baking shelf.” Ky looked at him with a thinly-veiled expression of disgust. “You do know someone your age probably shouldn’t be spying on freshmen?”

“He’s a sophomore, actua-” Daryl cut himself off, realizing how he sounded. “That’s not what I mean. He’s twenty-five. And I’m not that old!”

“I see…” It was hard to tell if Ky really believed him, but he dropped the accusatory tone. “I don’t often see students spending time in the library on a friday afternoon. How long have you been following him?”

This was utterly humiliating. Daryl covered his face with a hand, trying not to grow flustered. “I just came to find some books of my own, honestly. He just happened to be there when I came in.”

The other man shifted his weight back and forth as he thought. “You know, it would be easiest just to talk to him. Worst thing that happens is a simple ‘no,’ no?”

He felt his frustration flaring up.“With all due respect,” Daryl said, not at all respectfully, “perhaps you should worry more about what your son is up to, than what I’m doing?”

Ky blinked for a moment in shock, before turning the color of a ripe peach. “W-wh- are you telling me Sin is getting into trouble again?”

“Possibly. But I’m not his father, so it isn’t my business to snoop.”

That finally seemed to get to him. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you be...maybe I should call and see if Sin is up to anything…”

Daryl let out a relieved breath as Ky turned and left, mumbling to himself about Sin’s homework. As soon as he tried to turn around, he found his heart jumping out of his chest for the second time in ten minutes as he found Venom staring back at him from only a few feet away.

“That was one heck of a thrashing. I didn’t know anyone could get away with talking to Mr. Kiske like that!”

He struggled to process everything at once. All the chatter must have gotten Venom’s attention, but he didn’t seem furious with him? Actually, his voice sounded impressed? As he glanced around, Daryl noticed the man holding a familiar wad of leather. “Wait, is that my-”

Venom offered it to him. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just saw your wallet fall out of your back pocket and wanted to make sure you didn’t leave without it. Trust me, it’s a nightmare trying to get another ID card from the help desk.”

“That’s- that’s very kind of you, I appreciate it.” Daryl tucked it back into place, still reeling from the fact that holy shit, Venom of all people was talking to him. “I’m Daryl.”

“I know. I saw your ID. Unless there’s someone else on campus who wears a cravat?” Venom gave a wry little smile, and Daryl’s heart immediately melted. Yep. He was an absolute goner. “I’m Venom. I haven’t seen you in any of my classes, so I’m guessing you’re not a culinary major?”

“Uh, criminal justice. I do a little baking in my spare time, though. Mostly just pudding and pastries.”

Venom immediately lit up. “Pastries? Those are my specialty. I’ve been trying out a new flan recipe, too! I love it when they let me make pudding, it’s difficult at times, but really rewarding.”

Gorgeous, mysterious, and he liked pudding? Daryl was half-convinced he was dreaming. The other man pulled out his cell phone. “Is it okay if I get your phone number? I suppose I could use a ~pudding connoisseur~ when I finish the flan.”

Code red, code red, earth to Daryl. He had no idea how he managed to remain at all composed, when mentally he was practically having a full-on freakout as his internal voice screamed in nonstop fright. “Sure! I’d love to!”

In his panic, he almost managed to forget his own phone number. When he handed it back over, Venom tucked a thread of white hair behind his ear and smiled again. “Alright, got it. It probably won’t be done until tomorrow, but I can offer some pictures of my roommate’s cat if that helps?”

Daryl grinned. “I love cats!”

Venom chuckled and turned away. “I guess I should head home and get to work, I’ve been here a while. I’ll text you later! It was nice to meet you, Daryl!”

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAA-’

++++++

‘-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’

As soon as he rounded the bookshelf and vanished out of sight, Venom pressed himself against the wall and let out a shaky breath. Good lord, he had no idea how he had managed to stay so calm. Had he looked like an idiot? Had immediately talking about pastries made it weird? Arghh!!

It had taken all his willpower plus a bit of reckless stupidity to manage walking over to him in the first place. Venom didn’t know anything about the guy, aside from seeing him a few times across campus, but man was he cute. It seemed like a pipe dream that he’d even be able to start a conversation with Daryl without coming across as an absolute loser.

Venom pulled out his phone again. He’d manage to snap a photo right before he left. It was a little blurry, but Daryl looked just as pretty, with an adorable smile on his face.

Feeling the heat rise to his face, he rifled through the rest of his photo gallery, until he found a photo of an extremely fluffy tabby cat asleep on the couch that he’d taken a few days ago.

“Just like I promised!” He wrote and sent to Daryl’s phone number with the picture, immediately second-guessing if it had come across as too silly or cheesy. Venom buried his face in his knees, only to be interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Adorable!”

Yep. That was it. Venom was a goner.

[mldrgrl]

Last First Kiss

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: This is for all the Ed Jerse Anons sitting in my inbox who all want a variation on the theme of Scully not being satisfied that Ed would be the last man she was with.

The appointments were on the calendar for the third Thursday on the month for six months, not a secret, but they were simply marked “Scully - doctor,” like they were run of the mill check-ups and not aggressive chemotherapy.  Every third Friday was marked “Scully - out of office.”

Mulder did his best not to be too solicitous, wished her well when she packed up her things before lunch, made lame jokes about how much he’d get done without her ripping apart his theories for a day.  He didn’t know how she spent her weekends after those appointments, she could be intensely private about certain aspects of herself, her health being one of them, but it was obvious from the paleness of her cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, and the constant tremor her body seemed to have come Monday, that she suffered.

He wished she wouldn’t push herself so hard, but then again, she was a fighter.  He had to admit he was a bit in awe of her determination not to let such a grim diagnosis stop her from doing anything.  It had certainly stopped him.  Though she didn’t know it, his free time was mostly devoted to finding answers.  He didn’t care who he had to go through to find the men who gave her this disease.  If they knew how to give it to her, they knew how to take it back.

As the months went by though, the nosebleeds only got worse and at a certain point, she’d even stopped demanding that he not look at her when she did her best to clean herself up or given him dirty, ungrateful glares when he brought out the packet of tissues he’d started carrying around in his breast pocket and slipped them into her hand.  She’d stopped locking the connecting doors of their motel rooms or trying to disguise the sound of her retching in the middle of the night by running the sink at full blast.  The last two times, she’d even let him kneel beside her and dab her cheeks and the back of her neck with a cool washcloth as she limply clung to the side of the toilet.  

If he wasn’t scared before, he was now.  He could persevere as long as she was, but the moment she looked up at him with a tired, resigned gaze that told him he was finally allowed to see her like this because it didn’t matter anymore, he knew she had given up.  And now, he was desperate for those answers.

Appointment number five loomed like a thundercloud.  Mulder was tense all week and Scully was quiet.  Time moved like molasses Thursday morning.  He tried to focus on the expense report for their last case, but his mind kept wandering to ways he might offer his services to help her through the weekend.  Even with the minutes dragging by, suddenly she was shutting her computer down and he hadn’t come up with anything better than, “if you need anything, you know you can call me.”

Scully left with a murmured “see you Monday,” and he chickened out on saying anything more than a soft goodbye.  He bit his lip and as soon as he heard the elevator ding and the doors close, he choked on a quiet sob he’d been reigning in.  As quickly as he let his emotions overtake him, he pulled himself back together and pounded a fist against the top of his desk.  Scully was out there bravely fighting a losing battle alone and he wasn’t helping her by crying at his desk.  It was time for his check-in with the Gunmen, who were following up on leads in his stead.

But, the boys had nothing for him.  Nothing new, anyway.  Mulder cursed.  He was pretty sure his best bet was the black-lunged sonofabitch that seemed to pull all the strings from every direction and he’d been trying to lure the old man out of hiding for weeks to no avail.  There had to be something he could do.

He stayed at the office well into the evening, poring over his files for some connection he might have missed.  There was so much there and yet nothing at all.  He was just digging deeper rabbit holes with every file.  He finally went home when he felt like his vision was becoming too blurry to ready anything further, but he was back at it again before the sun even came up.  Strewn across his desk and the floor was Scully’s abduction file, the files on Max Fenig, Duane Barry, the women in Allentown, the personnel file he’d poached on Alex Krycek, and others bearing the slightest hint of alien activity.

Halfway through the day, it dawned on him that maybe he should change his tactic.  He wasn’t a religious man, but Scully was a religious woman, and there were examples of miraculous recoveries all over the world.  He gathered up the mess he’d made and made another printing out reams of research on holy sites and unexplained recoveries from illnesses.  Amongst them all, he found one that appealed.  In fact, it excited him so much that he found himself grabbing he jacket and driving to Scully’s apartment with a hopeful flutter in his chest.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking though, knocking on her door that Friday evening.  He hadn’t even gotten a good look at her before he was asking her if she’d ever heard about the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes.  She answered his knock in a pair of snow-white flannel pajamas that were rolled up at the sleeves and ankles.  Her face was almost as white as her sleepwear, aside from the hollow grey smudges under her eyes.  Her eyes themselves were so thoroughly bloodshot it looked like it might be painful just to keep them open.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, taking her in.  “I didn’t mean to...to…”

She blinked slowly at him, like a sleepwalker still in a dream.  “Our Lady of Lourdes,” she repeated in a quiet slur.  “In France.”

“Yeah.  Yes, France.”

“What about it?”

“Um…”  

“Sorry, I need to sit down.”

“Don’t apologize,” he answered, following her to the couch.  

He glanced around.  There was a blanket waterfalling off the couch, crumbled tissues scattered across the coffee table, and a basin strategically placed on the floor beside the couch, just below the spot where the impression of her head still lingered on a pillow.  Scully pushed the blanket out of the way and folded herself up like a sheet of origami into the empty corner of the couch.

“I should go,” he said.

“Are you going to tell me the story of Saint Bernadette?” she mumbled.

“You know it?”

“Of course I know it, Mulder.”

“Oh.”

“You can tell it to me anyway.  I like your stories.”

“You do?”

“Sit down.”

Tentatively, Mulder took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.  He surreptitiously slid the basin away from his feet and picked up a closed photo album that was wedged beneath the back cushion.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Photo album.”

“Well, yeah.  Are they of you?”

She nodded.

“May I?”

She nodded again.  He opened the book and on the first page was a black and white mugshot of a swaddled newborn with a pinched face.  Next to it was the classic, naked baby on a bearskin rug photo that every parent seemed to think was necessary.  He had one of his own somewhere.  He chuckled to himself.

The next pages were a hodgepodge of Scully family photos.  There was a pensive looking toddler Scully on the lap of her smiling sister, both with loose red curls and matching baby blue dresses.  There was all four Scully children, the boys in sailor suits, the girls in navy blue pinafore dresses standing in front of a docked ship.  There was Scully blowing out eight candles on a birthday cake.  There was a professional photo of Scully from the waist up in a white lace dress and a white veil, looking upwards with gloved hands clasped in prayer.  

He turned to a page of school photos, all eerily similar, the progression of time marked only by the changes in Scully’s face and the length of hair, but the constant being the dark blazer and plaid skirt of a Catholic schoolgirl.  She only smiled in one, which he guessed to be about third grade, the rest a study in concentrated seriousness.

And then there was a photo that made him stop and bring the album closer to his face.  “Scully,” he said, squinting.  “Was your mom a triplet?”

“No,” she said, with a quiet laugh.  “She was the middle of three girls.  All a year apart.”

“I mean, they look...identical.”  And they really did.  He saw three Margaret’s in a line with their arms around each other, same dark curls, same shape of the jaw and brow, same red lipstick, even.

“The one on the right is Aunt Kate, the one on the left is Mary Pat.”

“Kate.  Katherine?  Is that where your middle name cames from?”

“Nope.  Mary Kate, Mary Margaret, Mary Pat.  Only Aunt Mary Pat uses the Mary.”

“Wait, so your mom and her sisters are all named Mary?”

“Technically, sort of.”

“What was your grandmother’s name?  Mary Magdalene?”

“Angela.”

“Oh.”

“Mary Angela.”

Mulder chuckled.

There were a few more pages of family photos and then they changed into pictures of places and people who he assumed were friends from high school or college.  There was a photo of Scully with long wavy hair holding a sleeping baby as a priest touched its little bald head.

“Your godson?” he asked.

“Mmhm.”

He flipped a few more pages.  There was photos of a cabin in the snow, of Scully in cold weather gear holding a string of fish, of a silver Volkswagen Rabbit, and a slew of photos of a beach and a lighthouse.

“Where’s this?” he asked.

“Point Loma.  It was one of my favorite places as a kid.”

“And who is this?”  He turned the photo on the next page towards Scully, of her pressed cheek to cheek with a fair-haired man with freckles across his nose and forehead.

“His name is Ethan.”  She sat up a little reached out to touch the photo with her fingertips for a few moments and then she curled back into the corner and made a small noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

“Ethan was the last relationship I was in.”

“Oh.”

“It didn’t last long.  Three months, I think.  I don’t know, it just occurred to me that...I guess I always thought I’d have more time to…”

“To what?”

“I don’t know.”  She shook her head.  “Nothing.  Ethan will have been the last man to love me, even for a short time.”

A protest formed on Mulder’s tongue, but he held it back and looked at the picture of Scully and her ex-boyfriend again.  Maybe if things had worked out with this Ethan character, they never would’ve even met.  Or with that other guy, that Jack Willis guy from that case a few years ago.  Maybe if it had worked out between them, she wouldn’t be here now, though he can’t imagine Scully and Jack as having ever been very good together.  He really didn’t want to think about it, either.

“And Ed Jerse,” she said.

Mulder snapped to attention at the mention of that name and looked over at her.  “What about Ed Jerse?”

“Ed will be my last first kiss.”  She snorted softly and closed her eyes, brows knitting together slightly.  He took a glance at her mouth, at the dry, cracked lips that bastard had been lucky enough to touch.  It made him sad and angry.

“You do have time, Scully,” he said, emphatically.

“No, I don’t, Mulder.”

“Yes, you-”

“I don’t.”  She opened her eyes and leveled her gaze at him.  “Mulder, I’m dying.  You know it as well as I do, you just don’t want to face the truth.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.  I’m not getting better, I’m getting worse.  The tumor hasn’t changed and the chemo has just made me sick.  There isn’t anything left to do.  I know this is hard for you, but it’s just a matter of time.  And I won’t be making a pilgrimage to France to pray to the Virgin Mary and drink from healing waters, if that was your bright idea.”

“Why not?  Why not try everything we can?”

“I would rather spend the time that I have left doing the things I love.  I love my job and that’s what I want to do for as long as I’m able.”

“I can’t accept that this is the end, Scully.”

“You’re going to have to.”  Her eyes welled with tears, but didn’t spill over.

Mulder looked away and closed the photo album.  Scully slumped against the couch and shivered.  She hugged her arms across her chest and curled up even tighter.  If she got any smaller, she’d disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder whispered, slipping off the couch to his knees.  He shuffled over to Scully’s side of the couch and put a hand on her arm, leaning close.  “It’s not over until it’s over.  Ethan isn’t the last man to love you, I am.  Maybe you don’t think it’s the same, but I do.”

“Mulder…”  She unraveled enough to put a hand on his cheek.  “You don’t have to.”

“I love you.”

“I know.  I...I know.”

He leaned into the palm of her hand for a moment and then reached up to cup her face with both hands.  “You’re not dying,” he whispered, just before bringing his lips to hers.  “There’s time,” he said, pulling back before moving in again.  “Don’t give up.”

The three kisses he pressed to her mouth were soft and chaste, but they’re the most heartfelt and tender kisses he’s ever shared with anyone.  He felt her tears running down between the webbing of his fingers and he brushed them away with his thumbs.  She held his wrists as he placed whispersoft kisses against her closed eyes and wet cheeks.

“I’m going to do everything I can for you,” he said.  “Everything.”

“I know.”

“Fight.”

She nodded.  He stroked the back of her head once and kissed her temple before rising.  As much as he wanted to stay, he had work to do and he needed to get to it as quickly as possible.  Maybe he could get her to hold on a little longer, but in his heart he knew he was running out of time.

The End

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Burn the Ships, Chapter Three

A/N: This is twice as long as the previous two but, hey...It was...sort of necessary, lol. And somehow I also managed to crank it out in half the time! *shrugs* lol. It’s also, like, 93% dialog I’m sorry, lol. ...I also feel like I should point out that it’s, like, 1:30 in the afternoon by this point in the story and it was, like, a little after 7:00 in the morning when Steve tasked him with this, so Jerry has had plenty of time to put this all together. :P

To any UK readers: It came to my attention while writing this chapter that Alex’s alias in Scorpia Rising is different between the UK and US editions. The UK edition has it as Alex Brenner, while they changed it to Alex Tanner in the US version. Why they would change that is beyond me, but they did. Since I’m American myself, I stuck with the US edition’s alias for this story.

. . . . .

Chapter Three

Steve took a deep breath as he stepped out of the elevator. He needed to find Alex; they had to talk about what happened, and he wanted to apologize for flying off the handle. When he’d gone back to the truck to find the kid gone, he’d panicked. His worry had manifested as anger, and he needed to make that right. But he also had to get Alex to understand that it wasn’t okay to put himself in harm’s way like that.

Rounding the corner, he pushed through the door into HQ and headed for Chin’s office. He paused outside the door; Alex’s back was to him, and Chin was focused on whatever he was saying, a smile on his lips. They were apparently getting on very well, and Steve was loathe to interrupt that, but all the same, he knew he’d have to eventually.

“Steve?”

He turned his head to find Jerry staring at him, leaning against the holotable. Ah, yes; the other reason he’d come back to the Palace. “Yeah, you get something?”

Jerry hesitated. “Yeah, and you were right that you probably weren’t going to like it.”

Steve sighed as he approached. “Alright. Let’s have it.”

“For the record, this is one conspiracy theory I’d hoped I would never prove.”

“Conspiracy theory?” He raised an eyebrow. Sure, they’d proved a couple of his theories true, and Jerry had certainly been helpful in numerous cases, but Steve wasn’t ready for him to reduce this kid to that just yet.

“Also for the record, it didn’t start out that way,” Jerry tacked on quickly.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “Fair enough. What’d you find?”

“Okay, well, I took the liberty of pulling security footage for the Place to get a photo to help, and then I ran him through missing persons like you asked. No hits. I thought at best, no one filed a report, and at worst, no one even noticed he was missing. Working under the assumption that he’s possibly in the foster care system, group homes are notoriously understaffed, after all, so either one would be plausible.

“Anyway, when I didn’t get a hit there, I moved on to the DOT. Interestingly enough, no hits there either -- not even a learners’ permit even though he told you he’s fifteen. But, again, not really unprecedented if he’s in the system.

“Next, I ran him through the UK’s database as well as the Department of State’s database to see if he has -- or ever had -- a passport. He had to get into the country somehow, after all. Now, brace yourself, because this is where it starts to get weird.” Jerry brought up a file on the holotable and flicked a set of images up on the screen. “Between the UK and here, I got a grand total of five separate passports.”

“And you’re sure they’re all the same person?”

“Facial rec confirmed it. These all belong to the same person.”

“So what are you telling me, Jerry? That this teenager has forged documents?”

“If they’re forges, they’re incredibly good as they all appear to be standard government issue.”

Steve took in the documents more thoroughly: British issues to Alex Rider, Alex Friend, and Alex Tanner; American issues to Alex Gardiner and...Alex Rider? “Wait -- there are two issued to the same person.”

“Right you are. I’ll come back to the whole ‘multiple passports’ thing later, but that was the lead I followed first, so. The British-issued one is the one that’s been used the most frequently and was invalidated this past July -- the same time the American one was issued. As it turns out --” Jerry swiped an image up on the screen of two sets of legal forms -- “he was also granted citizenship at that same time. Coincidentally -- or not so much -- that also happens to be when he was adopted by Edward and Elizabeth Pleasure of San Francisco, who are also former residents of England. According to the forward of his book on Damien Cray, they moved there after Mr. Pleasure was badly injured while on vacation with his family in the South of France. He also revealed that that attack was the result of the research he was doing on Cray. He moved his family to California for a fresh start shortly thereafter.”

“Okay, well that makes sense then. Did you reach out to them?”

“I would have, but that’s impossible.” Jerry pulled up a news article from September 17th, the black letters in sharp contrast to the white background: Three Killed in Car Bombing: Journalist Edward Pleasure and wife among the casualties. “Turns out they had a daughter as well, but she wasn’t with them; the third casualty was a by-stander. According to social services, she went back to England to live with an aunt and uncle, but Alex went into the system. He was in and out of foster homes, never staying in one place too long, until early November when he was sent to a group home in Sacramento. He was only there for about a week, though, before this guy --” he brought up a photo of a man with dark hair and darker eyes -- “showed up. Supposedly he’s still in this guy’s custody.”

“Possibly human trafficking?”

“Central Intelligence Agency, actually. His name is James Branning. Fifteen years of service to the CIA. Lives and works out of DC.”

“So -- what? They come out here for vacation and Alex somehow gets caught up in drug trafficking? I don’t buy it. Not to mention, what was this guy’s interest that he went all the way across the country just to foster a kid?”

“I agree with you, and I’m getting there. I did say there’s a conspiracy theory here, remember.”

“Right.” Steve gestured towards him with one hand. “Please, continue.”

“I ran those names against the flight manifests for all inbound flights from the DC area from November through yesterday. Surprise, surprise, I got no hits on either name. On a hunch, I ran Alex’s aliases through as well, and while there is no record of Alex Rider coming to Hawaii, there is an Alex Gardiner who arrived through Kahului Airport on Maui on December second. I pulled airport security footage for that day and found this.” Jerry brought up a still shot from said footage of Alex walking along next to a man who was clearly James Branning. “Branning came onto the island under the alias Mike Wingert, and given that they both traveled under an alias, I don’t think either of them were here just for a vacation.”

“Whoa, hold up, Jerry,” Steve interrupted, holding up a hand. “Are you trying to tell me that Alex is working for the CIA? Because you are aware of how crazy that sounds, right?”

“I know -- I do know how it sounds, but it all adds up. Look, I started off saying that I never wanted to prove this right, but… the teen spy out of MI6 has always been the most credible conspiracy theory out there for one simple reason: anything and everything relating to this disappears from the Internet within hours -- even on the dark web. You can talk about JFK and Area 51 and everything else you want, but not the teen spy from MI6 because it’ll disappear. Everything I had on this prior to today was from a few dedicated individuals willing to ship FedEx. I know it sounds crazy, but I honestly don’t think it is -- especially now.”

Steve sighed. He had to admit it was brilliant even if terribly unethical. No one would ever suspect a kid, after all. Part of him didn’t want to hear any more of what Jerry knew, but in the end, he said, “Okay. Help me understand it then. Tell me everything you’ve got on this prior to his arrival in the US.”

“Well, I won’t bother with everything,” Jerry admitted. “A lot of it is still just conjecture, but I will tell you about the stuff that’s most relevant.” He paused bringing out a newspaper clipping from a folder sat on the edge of the table. The photo was blurry but showed a person dangling from a parachute through the roof of the science museum in London. “This is where it all started. An unidentified individual broke through the skylight and shot both the Prime Minister and Herod Sayle.”

“I remember hearing about that. There was never a formal press release of any kind about what actually happened. There was speculation it was a terrorist group, but no one ever took credit for it.”

“And the high-tech Stormbreaker computers never launched. To this day, no one knows why.”

Steve frowned. “Okay, but why is this attributed to some ‘teen spy’?”

“Eyewitnesses. I mean, MI6 tried to tamp down on it obviously, but…” Jerry shrugged. “No one could confirm without a doubt that it was a kid but, like I said before, all the chatter disappeared within hours. We all knew then that clearly we were on to something or they wouldn’t be trying so hard to cover up any mention of it. So we all kept our eyes and ears open for anything else in the news that could prove our theory.”

Jerry pulled all of Alex’s alias passports up on the screen again as he continued. “All of these passports have something in common: they’ve all only been used once. That by itself is strange because there’s record of them leaving England -- or, in one instance, America instead -- but never returning. On top of that, the dates they were used all line up with major events that myself and my fellow theorists previously attributed to the Teen Spy. For example, Point Blanc Academy in the French Alps. It was exposed as being a cover for experimental cloning within weeks of Alex Friend’s arrival in France.

“And, according to his real passport, Alex was in France with the Pleasures when Edward was injured when their vacation rental exploded. Not too long after that, Damien Cray -- the very man he was researching and whom he himself revealed was the reason for the attack -- is killed in England aboard Air Force One while the president is having tea with the queen. Seems a bit too coincidental to me.

“Moving on from that --” he pulled out yet another newspaper clipping -- “we have the first ever space hotel -- the Arc Angel -- that explodes in orbit before its completion.  You wanna know who entered the US right before that happened with the guy who was funding that project? Alex Rider. And the next place he pops up is Australia only days after that -- only days after a pod is seen entering orbit immediately after the Arc Angel was decimated. Based on trajectory, that pod was estimated to set down somewhere in the Pacific. On top of that, I don’t know what he was doing there, but he didn’t get back to England for almost a month.”

“Gotta be honest, Jerry,” Steve cut in with a sigh. “Right now all I’m hearing is that this kid is well-travelled. Outside of the multiple passports that may or may not actually be his, you’ve got nothin’ solid.”

Jerry nodded once. “Yeah, I’ll give ya that, but this last one is a doozie, so hold onto your hat, Commander.” He pulled out another article, this one from only six months before.

“Back in July, the American Secretary of State traveled to Cairo, Egypt, to give a speech on education but never got to finish it because halfway through shots were fired inside the venue. But it didn’t stop there, and the firefight continued outside, in the midst of a traffic-jammed street. The only reason we know this is because of amauter phone camera footage taken from one of the cars. Thanks to my connections, I am one of the few people who has that footage. It was uploaded to YouTube but, just like everything else, was quickly removed. Before it was taken down, one particular person had the presence of mind to download it, so here we are.”

Jerry connected a USB drive to the table’s system and played the short video. It was unfocused -- the person recording jumping at every gunshot -- and blurry from the evident torrential rain, but the person crouched behind a car and firing at someone off-frame was unmistakably Alex. He turned from his cover and ran, dodging between stalled cars as the rain continued to pound down, and a second later, the person pursuing him appeared as he rushed passed the car.

Steve felt his jaw drop. “What the…”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jerry continued as he disconnected the drive. “Remember how I mentioned he could have been involved with Point Blanc Academy? What if Dr. Grief had actually been successful in his attempts at cloning?”

“Because I currently don’t have a better explanation of...that, let’s just say that’s true. Why? Why would this supposed clone go after the American Secretary of State?”

“Because if Alex really was working for MI6 and someone pinned that assination on him and could prove he was working for MI6 at the time of the assination --.”

“It would have torn relations between us apart.”

“Exactly. I think the whole thing was a set up from the start.”

“I don’t know, Jerry --.”

“Don’t make a judgment call just yet. I have more you need to see.”

Steve rubbed wearily at the back of his neck. “Alright. Continue, then.”

“In all the hub-bub surrounding the failed assassination, most people would have overlooked this much smaller article that appeared in the same issue.” Jerry took out a small article from the folder, the headline reading American Killed near Siwa -- Local authorities still investigating. “Apparently the vehicle exploded, killing the woman driving instantly. We were never sure how exactly these two events were connected, but we were sure they were, so I thought it worth looking into further. I ran the name from the article, and it came up empty, but I thought if Alex was there under an alias -- which he was, by the way, under Alex Tanner -- then, if it’s connected, maybe this woman was too. So I looked for obituaries with the same date of death and found just one that fit the bill.” He put it up on the screen. “Meet the late Jack Starbright. According to the obituary, her parents are still alive and well living in DC, so I took the liberty of reaching out to them since there’s not much info here to work with. It took a bit of persuading, but they eventually told me about their late daughter.

“She went to London not quite ten years ago to study Law. In order to help make ends meet, she started looking for a job she’d be able to manage around her studies. She ended up answering an ad for a sort of live-in nanny-type thing. It was absolutely ideal because not only was it within a reasonable distance from campus, but room and board were provided and expenses covered on top of a modest paycheck. The man who offered her the position said he had to travel a lot for the bank he worked for and he needed someone to look after his nephew when he was away. That man was Ian Rider, and his nephew was Alex Rider.

“They went on to tell me that even after she finished her degree, she stayed at the Rider’s. She spoke very highly of them both, and Alex is the reason she never moved back to the States. When Ian died almost two years ago, that was just more incentive for her to stay so Alex wouldn’t be left alone.

“But here’s the kicker: I dug into it a little more after I hung up with them and found that, during that time between completing her degree and Ian’s death, her visa lapsed and wasn’t renewed until almost a month after Ian’s passing. On top of that, when it finally was renewed, it was permanent.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. If her visa expired, that means she was there illegally. They would have prosecuted her instead of granting a new one -- much less a permanent one.”

“And this is where my new and improved theory comes in.”

“I’m all ears, Jerry.”

“I don’t think Ian Rider was a banker like he claimed. I think he was a spy, too. He wasn’t killed in a car accident as his obituary states; he was killed on the job. The day he died and the day Alex parachuted through the skylight are barely a month apart. Based on that, I think whatever happened with those Stormbreaker computers is what got Ian killed, and his death is the reason Alex got involved. Moreover, they convinced him to do it by offering Jack a permanent visa rather prosecuting her. The visa situation had been previously overlooked because, of course, Ian knew the right people through his employer, so they just looked the other way until it was convenient not to. Alex, then, proved so useful that they kept finding ways to convince him to work for them.

“Then Cairo happened. Jack went with him for whatever reason and ended up dead. Between that and fighting someone with your face, the end result was probably pretty traumatic. Maybe they realized how unethical they were being, but more likely they realized he wouldn’t be bouncing back from that experience any time soon and decided it was better to let him go. Enter the Pleasures who offer to adopt him and give him a fresh start out in California. But then that goes sour, and he ends up in the system instead.

“Because he had an American alias prior to this, it’s possible that he had also worked for the CIA previously, so when he went into the system, they saw that as an opportunity. They sent an agent to take legal custody of him, and that brings us all the way up to this morning when the Coast Guard fished him out of the bay.”

Steve leaned back against the holotable, silent for a moment as he tried to process the last twenty minutes. “I gotta admit, that was a wild ride from start to finish.”

“Then you don’t think it’s true.”

“When we first met, yeah, I probably wouldn’t have bought a word of it. Now…” Steve trailed off with a sigh. “Now, I don’t know. It all sounds pretty crazy, but I feel like dealing with the crazy is kinda part of the job description at this point.” Steve pushed off the table and started back for Chin’s office.

“So what are you gonna do?”

Without missing a beat, Steve replied, “I’m gonna go find out the truth.”

. . . . .

Tag list: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @ghostly-homo 

(Let me know if you’d like added/removed!)

[ca1e70-deactivated]

a list of my entirely way too niche headcanons ive actually implemented for everyones imagination:

name options ive used and refuse to retire: david elizabeth strider (sometimes i dont feel like being a douche to others and saying thats not his name), harley davidson strider, and david james strider for the sake of simplicity

im not gonna tell yall the like. oc exes ive given him bc thatll take eighteen years. 

i dont rlly have an explanation on the ghost thing besides the fact he just can? ive occasionally pulled from family ghost stories and experiences bc i somehow got landed with family members who lived in a haunted house for a decade and enjoy scaring me with all the stories (including the time my cousin literally died on the kitchen floor from a bronchial spasm and one of the friends that was over asked my aunt later what was up with the old man she saw in the corner of the room that night - my cousin is fine btw shes just a huge bitch and a third grade teacher and i dont like her)

whether or not hes done drugs is based on absolutely nothing besides how im feeling in that moment. either hes the designated driver and sober friend forever or he got fired from his job after doing a line at work during graveyard with some random customers theres no inbetween (this absolutely happened @ waho. if dave works at waho hes a mess of a person and thats on the diner itself.)

ok look i hc dave w/schizophrenia besides when i was 14 i had a hyperfixation with learning about it and then at 16 was prescribed a medication and had side effects so wack my therapist genuinely thought 14 yr old me was onto something and its a weird way to cope with the idea that lady put in my head that i might “develop it in my twenties” which i turn 20 this year and i havent been able to stop obsessing and panicking over the prospect so PLEASE dont come in my inbox calling me ableist im not out here all harley quinn in suicide squad with the voices ok hes medicated, he goes to therapy, the hard fast delusion that lil cal was nearly sentient and informed bro of every single thing dave did no matter how asinine it was is no longer a debilitatingly affecting him ANYWAYS

i actually use the chicken/egg farming family pretty often just because its hilarious to me to give dave like. an actual mom and dad. hes literally an uncle to like three different kids he just never visits because they make fun of his skinny jeans and he hates one of his (incredibly bare-bones ocs all of them) brothers who threatened to bash his head in with a little league bat after dave broke his star wars lego set apart on accident (but not rlly) so their parents were like “why dont you stay with your brother in the big city for a lil while champ” and then they just never picked him back up? and thats on favoritism 

the other one is that his name is actually david reed and hes the middle child of a family of three who literally live the standard golden retriever white middle class life only they went to disney land or something equally as dumb one year when dave was like 6 and he wandered off so bro literally just went “huh free game” because frankly he was an idiot who thought maybe i should take this kid home because its real dangerous in parking lots and then it was too late to NOT have it seem like a kidnapping and thats why daves never had a summer job, seen his birth certificate, or gone to school. but vaguely remembers what kindergarten was like and having a pet dog and calling someone mom as a kid. 

im not making a bullet point about his sex life headcanons just use your imagination and acknowledge the fact bro essentially worked within the sex industry and i enjoy putting dave through trauma as a catharsis 

i stopped doing this one usually but if he did go to school hes been in percussion since fifth grade and played the drums in his high schools jazz band as well as various edgy teenager garage bands he likes to pretend dont have a youtube presence and that hes absolutely never been shirtless in front of plenty of his classmates because he wore a hoodie to a show like an idiot. idk occasionally ill put him in an actual band he doesnt hate but keeps separate from his lil turntechGodhead internet persona (which i will ALSO touch upon in a sec) until they wind up getting looped into a tour with some bigger named band that has a show in *insert beta kid here*’s city and hes gotta come clean solely so he can visit his online friend. sorry derseasterous thats the one time weve ever run into each other and i made him have a crush on one of his bandmates i was in my anti-daverose phase where i made dave a hoe and also didnt want to admit i still loved the ship all these years later 

i hate it so much but you know the whole vr loli trap voice shit that was popular a while ago? hes fucking baller at it for some reason. he did it as a joke while talking to bro and they both about shat their pants. if im feeling real ambitious, hes got a separate soundcloud solely dedicated to doing dumbass rap covers or making his own but in the voice under the pseudonym elizabeth “beth” davids that he will never admit is his. well, he will, but hes gonna be really fucking embarrassed about it. irony or not.

talking abt seperate soundclouds and stuff ive always had it where turntechGodhead was his like. essentially internet fucking persona facade shit he used because we all had that phase where we wanted memorable urls and stuff but also didnt want to totally ignore the nagging fear of people finding you in real life, until it turned into real life ppl finding you on the internet. so he also has basically an adjacent set of social media under the same name but its just a boring username i havent decided on so everyone he knows irl doesnt mix up with what hes made for himself as TG and the people he knows as TG dont know what highschool he goes to. (this occasionally comes with the territory of ppl on parp being pissed that daves “lying” or “hiding things” from his friends as if he was doing it out of spite instead of just keeping embarrassing tagged photos and videos from football games or when he ate shit at the skatepark from fucking with his “rap career”)

every once in a while i get on a kick where hes just german. like, i just replace houston texas with hamburg germany and have him apply to a university in whatever state is applicable for whoever im chatting with and it goes from there? sometimes he moved when he was little and went through the whole visa thing, sometimes he didnt go through the visa thing, sometimes hes a dual citizen because of family and shit, its all dependent on what suits the situation best. 

one that ive been fucking with for a while but hardly break out (until recently with like 5 roses in the span of one day hell yeah) is that he has a neighbor at the end of the hall who is like a thousand year old witch lady that hes basically adopted as his mother figure in lieu of not having one and shes totally cool with it, especially bc when she kicks the bucket she fully plans on giving dave all her occult stuff so her figure-skating coach and realtor daughter doesnt sell it at a garage sale and lets it all go to waste. she also once brought rose up by name in a conversation without any prompting of her existence which dave didnt realize for days, and then one time cryptically stopped and stared at an empty space in the wall, went “she has potential, you know.” then looked at him sitting on her kitchen counter with a smile “lots of it” and hes thought about that weekly ever since. (it is important to note one of the occult items he leaves her is literally her own personal book of shadows shes been filling out for decades its like a 600 page leatherbound book dave has no idea what its used for but the sheer amount of homemade spells and etc in it is like. gonna murder rose the second this chick gets her hands on it i promise you.)

theres the standard strife shit? im not rlly gonna get into those theyre all basically cookie cutter bullshit. its just standard bro and dave abuse talk. i like to inclulde the whole 24hr live cam up in the apartment that definitely watches dave in every room besides his own and the bathroom, but that quickly delves into the prospect of middle-aged men stalking him online and basically sexually harassing him in his own god damn home by talking about how they can see him just trying to take his shoes off in the living room after getting home and frankly? its not one of my best takes! but once you throw it into the headcanon bin, its there forever. 

he actually really does do something with his photography but not enough to warrant anything exciting, but he has his own branding for it and regularly takes pictures of his friends or anything else he thinks is moderately interesting enough to take pictures of, but those are just thrown into shoeboxes under his bed in favor of posting genuine shots because he wants to keep his image intact and blurry photos of jade smiling in the tree they climbed up together while bec paws at the base of it while whining isnt exactly something he wants the whole world to see.

i also pretty often but him into either paleontology OR i put him down as trying to become a mortician because he thinks handing roadkill once he graduated from museum giftshop specimens to doing his own taxidermy on the side has prepared him enough to perform an occasional autopsy and start embalming real human corpses. (sometimes i put my own desires in and make them his bc i have to project at some point and put him through the same EMT course i dropped out of bc it was one semester and he already has pretty decent first aid skills, but he definitely didnt expect it to be as fucking wild at times as it is, but whats he gonna do? get a job back at waffle house? the company hes working for just offered to pay like half his associates in paramedicine tuition and hes already got all his pre-recs done when he started for paleo. at least its a stable job and hes got the ability to be compassionate in the moment) 

im running out of things that ive done to the poor kid. OH 

hes not a virgin he had a girlfriend all four years of high school (shes also one of his optional and designated exes plz keep up) and their relationship ends in one of two ways: she dies in a car accident a week before their high school graduation, or she stops talking to him entirely a week after their high school graduation until a couple years later she gets into (guess what) a car accident with her current wife/girlfriend and dies which leaves behind their daughter. who just so happens to also be daves daughter. her name is hannah and i love her like my own but no one ever likes her and thats on the conditioning of dirk. does dave end up taking her in? yes. shes awesome and the first time he takes her to the park to like run off some fucking steam she disappears for two minutes and dave is moderately terrified until she comes back holding a dead baby squirrel and thats the moment he realizes huh maybe things really do be genetic.

ok at the bottom of the list im gonna add the couple of times hes been a camboy which usually coincides with the live apartment cam thing and the amount of people in his dms calling him hot or whatever, but typically its more of a started the day he turned 18 and basically dipped around 20 in favor of showing up randomly with no warning to complain about a video game dick in hand because it gives him an outlet that wont annoy his friends bc this is the fifteenth time hes had a lot to say this week about a certain boss battle and also the comments fuel his ego and daddy issues.

the last one wasnt the bottom but literally unless its explicitly proven otherwise every time anyone rps with me there is the underlying fact dave strider was a goalie on his high school lacrosse teams all four years and (shocker another one) definitely had the hots for one of his teammates like major hots like first gay experience hots. like it was painfully obvious that teammate also liked him back hots. like one night at a team sleepover one of the other guys was like can yall just makeout and get it over with were fucking tired and dave really had the balls to be offended and ask what the fuck they were talking about while literally sitting halfway in the mans lap bc for some reason they had to share the same chair. 

he is also guilty until proven innocent of being the worlds biggest loner outside of that sports team and even though hes literally a jock he still opts to eat his lunch alone in the hallway or something like that and has a tendency to leave girls on read, but bc hes got an in with the rest of the jocks hes basically drug around to plenty of parties and since hes conventionally attractive enough and popular in the aloof way that he is, hes got plenty of tagged insta posts and twitter directs and snapchat streaks going. 

THESE WERE ALL NO GAME AND DONT INVOLVE SHIPS BC I LIKE TO KEEP MY OPTIONS OPEN AND THEYRE LITERALLY ALL BASED OFF RPS IVE DONE I HOPE YALL JUDGE ME ACCORDINGLY