#but october always coincides with a lot of school and life bullshit for me

[underwhelmingalchemist]

When I say I'm bad with fanfic deadlines, I need you to understand that it is May 10th and I'm working on my kinktober fic (unofficial prompts) for this year. And it's still not a guarantee that it'll be done by October

[tscmu]

- double unrequited

- the second years argued. a lot. youd think the lot of them were conjoined at birth. so it wasnt surprising when a girl came into the mix, and tore their hearts into pieces, huh?

w/c- 1717 pairing/s- atsumu x fem!reader, suna x fem!reader and a lil bit of osamu x fem!reader ;) genre- idk lmao but theres a lil angst ig warnings- secondhand embarassment, TINY mention of pornography, heartbreak a/n- THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE EHEHEH anyway my writers block’s kinda over????anyway read 2 da end for a surprise twist ;))) 

as the sun started to set over the small area of the hyogo prefecture, all was calm. birds chirped every now and then, flying through the cold skies, enjoying the october buzz in the air. trees’ leaves were littered over the pavement and roads, crunching whenever they were squashed by an oncoming boot. however, if you were to wander through the inarizaki high school grounds on that day, you would hear a buzz of arguing from a specific gym.

“for fucks sake! samu, help yer dear brother out here.. it's pronounced gif, not whatever this ‘jif’ crap is!” the blonde haired, tall setter of the volleyball team leaned backwards on the bench, staring at someone behind him. the latter was the similar looking, gray haired opposite hitter, who just rolled his eyes at the comment.

“first off, yer no calling me yet ‘dear brother’ again. you’re getting zip from me.” he said, taking a glug out of his bottle as the blondie yelped in shock. the slightly taller, brown haired middle blocker giggled to himself. “plus, its technically jif anyway, everyone just says gif because its what society projected onto us.”

“oh, shut up with all that logical bullshit.” the blondie rolled his eyes, standing up and slamming his bottle down onto the space that was left. “oi, kita, ‘s break over?”

“i mean, technically ‘s over whenever ya want it to be. just go spike some balls or something if you’re bored.. oh, hi!” the shorter, white-and-black haired captain slowed down talking, turning to look at the door. all the boys turned around shortly after him, staring at whoever was there.

as you stood against the door, your hair blowing slightly with the wind behind you, your face slightly sweaty having run all around the school, most of them were mesmerised. your face flushed a deeper shade of red after seeing all their eyes glued to you, and you laughed a little.

“oh, sorry, i’m trying to find the girls basketball gym!” you smiled, tilting your head a little. “is this volleyball? sorry, i’m new, i just got told to go to the basketball gym after school for the first practice, but i have no idea where i'm meant to be going!” you giggled slightly, making atsumu and suna go pink. “sorry for disturbing you!” you waved slightly, hopping back down the stairs up to the doors. however, you stopped after hearing footsteps and voices behind you.

“it’s oka-” kita started to say, before sighing, seeing what was happening before him.

“i’ll help you!” atsumu shouted after you, grabbing his jersey in case you were cold.

“i can show you!” suna also shouted, pushing atsumu out the way and grabbing his bottle.

“simps..” osamu and aran both said, shaking their heads as the two boys continued to shove each other.

“no, i will.” the former's voice turned serious, slowing down as they reached the top of the steps. suna frowned, and opened his mouth to say something else, but they both got distracted as they heard your mesmerising laugh again.

“you can both come, if you want, i really don’t mind!” you smiled, doing that little head tilt again. they both nodded instantly, before frowning at each other as soon as your back was slightly turned. “okay, so i’ve walked in on about ten other clubs..”

ever since that moment, it was just a competition of who could win you over. the rest of the boys had moved on, teasing them both for their pure urge to beat each other. all of the boys argued, but nothing was ever as heated as atsumu and suna’s debates. there was a new one every time they went to practice, from something as big as the death penalty to something as tiny as how much diluting juice you put in the glass before you add the water. it was stupid, but they‘d been like that for years now.

but with this argument, it appeared neither of them were actually ahead of the other, like it usually ended up.

suna went for a more romantic approach with you. offering to walk you home, waiting for you after classes, walks through random forest paths on sundays. it wasn’t what he was used to, he’d never paid that much attention to girls. they all seemed to fawn over the miya twins anyway. but it was when you seemed to pay genuine attention to him, it caught his interest. 

obviously he found girls attractive, but the girls he saw online were never the same as girls in real life. not even just porn or anything, even in romance films, they were all so secretive. he didn’t really have the charm either, so he found himself just waiting for a girl to make a move, and if she didn’t, he’d just.. give up. you were unique to him, though. it got to the point where you’d wait for him after class too, wait at the front doors for him to come out so you could walk home, texting him at 9 in the morning asking if he wanted to go on that one walk again you did about a month ago. it took him by shock a little, but he didn’t want it to stop.

whereas atsumu, on the other hand..

to be frank, girls weren’t a big deal to atsumu. he’d always had that blessing of girls fawning over him, so he’d never had to worry about ‘winning over’ a girl. but it hit him when he met you.. he was gonna have to fight for you, wasn’t he?

he visioned you as a more.. modern girl. he assumed suna would go more traditional, the man had no experience with girls, for god's sake. he basically assumed he would win you over.. who wouldn’t pick him over anyone? and so he started. he did with you what he did with every girl, midnight drinking on a random roof, random shopping trips into town, secret lunchtime conversations behind the school. he didn’t think much of it at first, why would he? you were just another girl he’d probably date for what, a week or so, then you’d dump him after actually realising what he’s like. he couldn’t picture himself settling down. but.. you changed him, in a way. he finally found something he wanted to work for.

what was the one thing in common with these stories though?

you never actually showed any form of romantic interest in either of them, throughout this whole ordeal.

so then, after what felt like years, two days before atsumu left for the training camp, they decided it was the day. the day to confess.

neither of them actually knew about the other's plans, it was just pure coincidence they saw this as the opportunity. atsumu because he could try to sweep you away with him to tokyo, suna because he could tease atsumu about it while he was gone. it was a good plan, on both sides., you had to admit, after hearing it a while later. 

“the fuck’re you murmuring for?” atsumu frowned, turning around to look at suna, whose head was in his hands.

“mind your business..” the latter muttered, murmuring under his breath again, making atsumu shake his head. he wasn’t scared, why would he be? you were bound to say yes, for the past few months you’d been spending time with him. you knew what he was like, as he did with you.

“eh, suit yourself. i need to find y/n..” he said, picking up his jacket.

“what? y/n? but i need to find her!” suna snapped back into reality, his eyes wide as atsumu glanced at him

“..yeah. well, you can speak to her tomorrow or something, this is important.” he said in a careless manner, starting to walk towards the door, but stopping short, seeing the door slide open.

“oh! hey, tsumu!” you appeared from outside, your faux fur hood tickling your neck as your beaming face came into the light from the slight darkness behind you. it couldn’t help but make him smile.. god, he couldn’t wait to call you his. suna, from behind him, felt himself smile too, you were stunning. “you ready?” you looked behind atsumu, but as he whipped his head around, he realised you weren’t actually looking at suna either.

“yeah, your place tonight?” oh. oh no. as atsumu realised what was happening, his mouth dropped open. osamu stood up from the bench, his jacket slung over his shoulder as he crossed past both suna and atsumu, kissing you on the forehead.

“you bet! god, my mum’s been so excited to meet you.. bye boys!” you waved at both suna and atsumu separately, going back to chattering to osamu.

“what.. the fuck?” suna said, frowning. atsumu joined him, still in a state of shock.

“yeah, what the fuck?” he turned around, mouth still open.

“oh, you didn’t know? they’re dating, have been for what, a month or something now?” kita smiled, while aran tried not to burst out laughing to his right. “during the christmas holidays, they hung out a bit. i think y/n came looking for atsumu, but he wasn’t in, so she decided to chat to osamu instead. did you seriously not know?” kita laughed a little, and atsumu’s shock turned to anger. ths, of course, made suna burst out laughing.

“what the fuck? no, what the actual fuck? how did i not know the girl i was in love with was dating my brother?” he looked around a little, looking for assistance, but all the boys were snickering at him.

“now i think of it, that was extremely obvious.” suna said, laughing more by the second. he was sad, of course he was! the girl he was falling drastically in love with had a boyfriend, and he had no idea, that would break anyone's heart. but.. this was extremely funny.

“fine, lets just go then.” atsumu humphed, dragging his feet as he walked to the door. “to be fair, she was looking for me. probably liked me more.” he said as they reached just outside the door, and suna shoved him into the wall. “oUCH! THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” he yelled, making kita chuckle to himself.

these idiots.

[octothorpetopus]

I Forgot That You Existed (Part 1)

Link to part 2

"Yeah, we're not so worried about you not 'getting some.'" Frank put air quotes around the words.

"Well, we kind of are. It's just that the 'some' we're worried about you not getting is emotional fulfillment."

"True." Richie looked back and forth between his friends.

"Guys, I'm not getting a fucking online dating profile. I'm not forty. Stop bugging me."

"Richie, we're worried about you."

"What the hell are you, my mother?"

"Just download the fucking app, Tozier." Frank snatched the phone out of Richie's hand and held it just out of reach. Nina held Richie back as he reached for it.

"You motherfucker, give me my phone back!" Frank didn't respond.

"Say cheese!" He snapped a picture of Richie, who had sat sullenly back down. He typed speedily for a few moments (Frank's typing skills were the envy of all rapid-fire texters), then pressed a button. There was a soft whoosh as the profile was posted, and Frank tossed Richie his phone back.

"Fuck you, Frank." The phone chimed and all three of them gathered around to look at it.

"Holy shit," Nina said softly. "You got a match."

Meanwhile, in an LAX waiting room, Eddie Kaspbrak's phone buzzed in his back pocket. He ignored it, focusing instead on the pitch he was mentally writing and the steady sound his suitcase made as he rolled it back and forth in short paces. He hated investor meetings, but it was his company, and he had to get it off the ground if he ever wanted to be anything more than a 34-year-old asthmatic business major with no friends, no life, and no idea where he was going. Metaphorically. Literally, he was going to the Los Angeles Hilton, if his cab would ever get here. His phone buzzed again. He sighed and pulled it out.

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MATCH read the notification. He swiped and opened the phone. The wheel in the middle of the screen spun for what seemed like hours. Shitty airport WiFi. Finally, a profile popped up. The guy in the picture was... alright, he guessed. There was something a little oddball about him. And a little familiar, too. But then, maybe he just had one of those faces. Or, he realized, maybe he was a stand-up comedian that he’d seen in New York last year. Eddie smiled to himself, amused by the coincidence. At the time, he had no idea just how deep that coincidence really went.

“He’s kinda cute,” Nina offered and shrugged.

”I don’t know. He’s got sort of a sad puppy look. It’s a little off-putting.”

”Nobody asked you, Frank.”

”Nobody asked you either, Nina.”

”Both if you shut up.” Richie held up a hand to silence them. “Look, if I go on this one date, will you promise to get off my ass about getting a date?” Nina and Frank looked at each other and nodded.

”Deal.”

”Fine, then.” Richie’s thumb hovered above the LIKE button. “But what if-?”

”Oh, just shut up!” Nina exclaimed, and pushed the button for him.

Eddie considered it briefly. He was only in LA for a few days, maybe a week. There would be no second date, no relationship to come from this. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the voice in his head telling him yes, that this was important. And besides, what was the harm? Lots of people only went on one date. He pressed the LIKE button too.

”Fuck me,” he whispered as a message popped up on the screen.

CONGRATULATIONS!

Both of you liked each other!

Now you can start chatting.

Make a date, and hopefully, a connection.

Eddie rolled his eyes. This was the exact kind of cheesy bullshit he hadn't wanted when he had signed up for this app a year ago on a whim. A chat window opened up.

This is the start of your messages with RICHIE TOZIER

RICHIE TOZIER IS TYPING...

Richie had sent Nina and Frank away. He was tired and annoyed and frankly, talking to strangers on the internet (something he vaguely recalled his mother telling him never to do) sounded far more appealing than trying to deal with his friends at the moment. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. What could he... say? "Hi, you're kind of hot?" "You ever date a comedian?" Maybe he'd just skip words and go directly to emojis. And then it came to him, a line he used to use on girls all the time back in school (girls who were well-above his league, and he knew it).

This is the start of your messages with EDWARD KASPBRAK

RICHIE TOZIER: I could use some spare change, and you're a dime.

He felt stupid even as he wrote it, but he pressed send before he had a chance to give it a second thought. Well, he thought, there goes that idea. And then, Edward Kaspbrak started typing.

Eddie was in his cab now, staring down at the absolutely asinine pick-up line he'd just been sent by a man who was at best a 6 and a half. But once again, he had a sense of déjà vu. Not just like he had heard that line before, but like it was somehow meaningful. If it had been anyone else, he was sure he would've ignored the message and moved on. But it wasn't just anyone, and even if Eddie didn't quite know why he remembered Richie Tozier, he wasn't giving up quite yet.

EDWARD KASPBRAK: You use that line on all the boys?

RICHIE TOZIER: I've got a whole library full of them, I don't need to reuse that one.

EDWARD KASPBRAK: Hey, this might sound weird, but have we met before? I have the weirdest feeling that we have.

RICHIE TOZIER: I'm pretty sure I would've remembered meeting you, dude.

Eddie flushed scarlet in the back of the cab. He couldn't remember the last time someone had said something like that to him. Truly, he couldn't.

EDWARD KASPBRAK: I'm probably wrong. Anyway, are you free tonight?

Richie thought for a moment. He was supposed to go get drinks with some other comedian buddies of his, then maybe crash an open-mic night that they had frequented in their early comedy days. But then he looked back at the man on his phone, the one who looked just a little bit sad even though he was smiling as widely as can be in his picture, and typed out a quick reply.

RICHIE TOZIER: I actually am. I know a good place, pretty quiet. I'll text you the address. You eaten yet?

EDWARD KASPBRAK: Yeah, why?

RICHIE TOZIER: The drinks are good, but the food... it's good that you already ate.

Eddie fussed with his hair one last time in the hotel mirror. It just... wouldn't sit right, even though it looked exactly like it always did. And his clothes, all he had was what he’d brought for business meetings and casual dress, nothing like what he’d normally wear on a date. He checked his watch again. He had given himself fifteen minutes to get there, even though the concierge at the hotel told him it’d take maybe ten, if traffic was bad, and since it was a Wednesday it probably wouldn't be.

To say Eddie hadn't been on a date in awhile would be an understatement. He hadn't been on a first date in seven months. He hadn't been on a second date in a year and a half. He hadn't been on a third date in three years. And as for his last real relationship... well, Eddie had never been in a real relationship. Not that he could remember, anyway. In college, there had been a four-month thing with a girl, but that was mostly just to please his mother. He and the girl (Rosa was her name) had been good friends, and still were, but their whole relationship had been something of a friendship with a few awkward makeout sessions thrown in for good measure. The fact that he didn't like women was probably a factor in his disastrous relationships, both with women and with his mother, but she had been dead for three years this October and he was finally living the way he had always meant to. He just... hadn't gotten around to it when she was still alive.

He took one last look in the mirror. He wasn't satisfied, but then, when was he ever? It was a warm early summer night, so he thought he'd walk. Or maybe he shouldn't. There would surely be people smoking outside, and with his asthma...

Similarly, Richie was trying on his third outfit. He had tried just the Hawaiian shirt, then just a T-shirt and leather jacket, and then all three simultaneously. Funnily enough, the multi-layered look was his favorite.

"You got this, Richie." He looked himself in the eyes (through the mirror, not any kind of crazy witchcraft shit), and cracked a grin. "Except that you're talking to yourself. Fuckin' weirdo." But he grew sober, and his fingers tapped nervously against the side of his leg.

Richie didn't date, per se, but he went out a lot, and then went home, usually with a different guy, although he had been known to call up an old flame from time to time. He had dated, and he wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea, but he was, not to toot his own horn, famous. And usually, famous guys, especially ones that weren't classically hot, didn't get dates. They got laid.

His Mustang was parked in the driveway, and even before he started it the wind off the ocean whipped his hair into a frenzy. As he sped off into the Santa Monica sunset, the butterflies in his stomach began to dissipate. This was going to be different. He could feel it.

Eddie had been waiting outside the bar for almost ten minutes. It was his fault, of course, for getting there so early, but the pacing outside the front door did nothing to calm his nerves. Nor did the gentle roar of the cherry-red Mustang that pulled up next to the curb, nor did the profoundly familiar face that got out of it. Richie Tozier walked two paces towards him and stopped in his tracks, his eyes even wider behind his fishbowl glasses than usual. Eddie spoke first, his vocal cords hardly functional.

"Holy-"

"-shit," Richie finished. All of a sudden, everything clicked into place. Why the name had sounded so familiar, and the face had been even more so. Why he had been so nervous in the first place. Eddie fumbled in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a gray piece of plastic. His inhaler. He took two quick puffs of it and shook his head, as if in a stupor. Richie, who had screeched to a halt upon seeing his childhood friend (and first love, but that was another story), started again, and hugged Eddie with a force he didn't know he had in him. Eddie hugged him back, just as tightly.

"Holy shit, man," Eddie repeated.

"Yeah." They finally released each other and Richie took a step back, looking Eddie up and down. "Damn, Eds. You're looking good."

"So are you." Richie shook his head.

"I feel like such a fucking moron, but... I didn't even realize it was you until I saw you just now. You're going by Edward now?"

"Not... not really. And to tell you the truth, I only thought I recognized you because I saw one of your shows when you were in New York last winter." Richie laughed, deep and warm.

"Shit. Was it any good? Wait, don't answer that."

"It was great."

"Well, um... since we're here..." Richie gestured at the bar's frosted glass doors. "Want to get a drink?" Eddie smiled, and his dimples were craters in his cheeks.

"Yeah. I really do."

[harrygroves]

#78 and #63 😋

#78 “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you” + #63 “Stop running from this, I know I’m not the only one whole feels it.” 

just boys being stupid with their feelings

There was no booze involved, no weed, nothing to excuse it. It wasn’t under the protective cloak of night, it was in the early afternoon, sun glaring from where it was slowly descending, spotlighting them through the window.

Most importantly, it was a mistake.

They’d been fighting, arguing over something stupid. Billy doesn’t remember that part. The whole thing seemed like a weird fever-dream.

Billy was on the Student Council, he was elected president. Steve was the treasurer. Nothing was forgiven, nothing was forgot, but they were civil, amicable in their duties.

They were sitting in a classroom with other members but one by one they trickled out until only Steve and Billy remained.

Maybe they had been discussing the budget, something about how the Prom Committee wanted, like, three-hundred dollars over what they had been allotted.

Maybe it was about figuring out how to fundraise for new uniforms for the basketball team.

Maybe it was leftover spite from the fight that only happened months prior.

But somehow Billy and Steve were in each other’s face, standing and yelling until they were both red and wild-eyed.

Billy, unsurprisingly, had lashed out first.

He didn’t mean anything by it, but Steve was right there, eyes bright with fire and brimstone and mouth working through words faster than Billy could process.

Billy reached out and pushed him back a little.

Steve had both hands up in a heartbeat, palms flat against Billy and shoving him back harder.

And Billy knew this wouldn’t end well, but he didn’t know it was going to end like that.

Steve was taller, and yeah, he was strong but Billy was all muscle and had Steve crowded up against the blackboard after some more squabbling.

Wrists in his hands, squeezing till Steve let out a gasp, Billy’s attention was on his eyes, his beautiful and big eyes, earthy brown with flecks of green.

Steve was yelling at him, swearing and berating him and Billy, god, he just wanted it to stop, the litany of bullshit spewing from those lips he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for months.

So he just pushed, in and in until they were kissing, until Steve was shaking in his hands. Their lips moved harshly, Steve faltering as it went on. Billy bit and licked and Steve gasped, whimpered hotly into Billy’s mouth.

Billy never would have thought that someone could taste so sweet.

He’d seen Steve chewing on bubble gum during the meeting, so that had to be it.

When he pulled back, separated their mouths, he knew he wouldn’t get that chance again.

He let Steve go like he was made of flames, like his skin was burning Billy every place they were in contact.

Steve sagged a little against the board and his eyes were wide and full of new understanding.

It made Billy’s stomach tighten.

He wanted to vomit.

*

Billy got blackout drunk that night. He took his car and went to the quarry and stared out at the abyss and drank until he couldn’t see straight, wanted that darkness to take him and swallow him whole. He slept in his car and lost the feeling in his fingers.

School was hell the next day. He was wearing the same clothes, reeked of booze that seemed to drip from his pores and his head was pounding well through the second half of his classes.

He thought about going to the nurse and charming her into letting him pass out in one of the beds but right when he was going to go, Steve intercepted his path.

“Billy.” He hissed, and he was blushing and it was beautiful.

Billy grimaced, looked away so he wouldn’t stare, slack-jawed at how pretty those crow’s feet under Steve’s eyes made him look, tired, pillow-creased, soft. “No. Don’t talk to me.”

Steve pushed. “We need to talk about what happened.”

“Not in the middle of the goddamn hallway. Now move.” Billy growled, shouldering past him.

The nurse could tell Billy was a mess and she let him sleep for two hours, until the final bell rang and the stampede of kids woke him up with a start.

If possible, he felt worse but he thanked the nurse and left, rubbing his eyes to wake himself up.

Steve was waiting at his car. There were kids walking around, talking in groups, and Steve fucking Harrington was leaning against his Camaro like it was no big deal. In another lifetime Billy could picture Steve wearing his jacket, a mark of pride, a claiming.

This was not that life.

“Are you stupid?” BIlly grumbled.

Steve shrugged. “We’re on Student Council together, it’s not exactly weird for people to see us talking.”

“Okay, well maybe I don’t want to see you.”

Steve stands up straight, meets Billy’s gaze head-on. “I don’t buy that.” He says fiercely.

Billy lowers his voice. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you. There, now get the fuck away from me. Other than Student Council there’s no reason for us to talk. So just. Stay away from me.”

And he got into his car, made sure to lock the doors, started the car and pressed hard on the gas to make Steve jump back.

*

It was because Billy was born under a full moon, yellow and daunting in the middle of October, hanging low like it wanted a ring-side seat to the birth.

It was because he was cursed, he had to have been, touched by a demon with a thirst for emotional pain. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, how bad Billy’s life was. He refused to believe it.

Something was in the water, had infected his blood, coursing hot beneath his skin at all times, making him jumpy and overcompensate for the terror that always sat in his belly, dormant but active like a volcano.

His life wasn’t fair or just.

Because Steve Harrington was everywhere.

A magnetic force that pulled Billy in, causing him to orbit around Steve across most of the shitty bum-ass town they had to call home.

At the drugstore, waiting outside the arcade, passing him in the hallway between every single one of his classes, Steve was there.

He would stare at Billy, across parking lots, down the aisle, from his Beemer. It was distracting, disorienting, sickening. And Billy knew it was all his fault. He was the one with the problem, the crush, the disease.

Steve was innocent in all of this. And Billy had inadvertently gotten him involved.

Student Council loomed the following week, and most of the members had come up to him with reasons they couldn’t be there.

“My cat’s sick.”

“I have a major History test I need to cram for.”

“Dude, my parents are out of town and I want to throw a wicked party. You’re totally invited.”

One by one, Billy told them to do whatever they had to do, and there would only be him and Steve and one other girl at the meeting.

So he cancelled it.

He told the girl, Molly or something, that the meeting wasn’t happening and she looked like she couldn’t care less.

He asked if she’d tell Steve.

That made her frown. “He’s not in any of my classes.”

“Sure, okay.” Billy nodded. “I’ll figure it out.”

He didn’t figure anything out, he just didn’t show up to the meeting. Let Steve come to his own conclusions.

But Steve caught him on his way out the front door, grabbing his shoulder and pulling Billy back.

“What the fuck, Harrington?!” Billy yelled at him, shaking Steve’s hand off.

But Steve only got a better grip on him, pulled him harder until they were in an empty classroom and Billy didn’t want to cause a scene, didn’t want eyes on them, so he let himself be pulled.

Steve shut the door behind them and crowded Billy up against the door.

“What?” Billy asked passively, eyes on the floor.

Steve snorted, half-laughed and put his hands on his hips. “You’re a real pain in the ass, ya know that?”

Billy didn’t answer and Steve slammed his hands hands on either side of Billy’s head.

Steve’s breath came out in staccato, like he was nervous. He leaned in close, mouth brushing Billy’s ear and Billy felt his body tense, something warm coil around him. “Stop running from this, I know I’m not the only one who feels it.”

“Get the fuck away.”

Steve pulled back. “You gonna hit me? Do it.” He challenged.

And then he waited.

Billy wanted to punch him, make that pretty face black and blue, mottled purple and rusty red. He wanted Steve to taste blood for days.

Truthfully, Billy wanted all of that for himself too.

But Steve’s scent and his eyes, his goddamn eyes, his lips, those stupid moles on his cheek.

He shuddered a little as Steve leaned in closer, let himself be kissed, made a sound against Steve’s mouth, an agitated grunt like he was trying to work this all out in his head.

Steve kissed him hard, biting at his mouth, poking with his tongue to get Billy to open. He put his hands on Billy’s face and angled it so Billy felt like he was being consumed. He was surprised at how gentle this all felt when he was normally used to pain, too fast, too brutal to actually enjoy.

Steve pulled back, panting, eyes bright.

“Feel that?” He asked shakily. “You can’t keep denying it.”

Billy wanted to reply, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t like that, exuberant with his emotions. Billy shoved Steve back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and left the classroom before Steve had a chance to pin him again.

[sometimesimawriter]

The Day He Died (pt 1)

Hey everyone! This is my first imagine: basically you were a late addition to the Academy and you control blood! Pretty cool! Lots of mentions of Ben and switches from past to present back to past. You talk about how you met the academy and what happens leading up to the reunion of the Academy. Let me know if you like it and feel free to reblog it, or don't read it- whatever.

Warning: description of blood; minor language

You first came across the Umbrella Academy when you were 16. Your (step)father was a high-ranking politician, a US Ambassador, who married your mother, a famed social justice fighter. Together, they made a great team that aimed to change the world, and you as their prodigy. So, it was at this boring, A-list, political "party" you came across the Umbrella Academy. The party itself was impressive. A large ballroom with giant, shiny, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A pianist struck away at some chords, filling the room with a sweet melody that blended beautifully with the roar of chatter from the hundred or so politicians that flouted about the room. Men were dressed in their finest of suits, eager to shake one another's hands. Women wore elegant dresses that fluttered as they walked. Their earrings reflected the bright light of the paparazzi's cameras. Gentle laughter floated through the air and voices overlapped one another. It kind of sounded like the relentless crashing of waves along the shore. You were sitting on a decorative, high backed leather chair, that stuck to the royal blue silk of your ball gown dress. Your mother forced you to dress your finest at these events, saying that one day "you'll be a professional in this field, Y/N!" Your father insisted that you left your phone at home, saying it was "unprofessional" and you had to "socialize", and so you were people-watching.

So far, you had seen some senator walk in with his wife and leave with his mistress, a really old Democratic presidential nominee get very drunk over two shots of whiskey, and a Republican House Representative make fun of a Democratic Representative's ugly yellow blouse. Really professional. What an exciting life these people led, one that you wished never to be a part of.

But you scanned the room one more time and noticed a group of kids around your age walk in, following a man that seemed old as dirt, who was wearing a monocle.

Who the hell wore monocles anymore?

Five kids walked behind him in a single line, each wearing what looked like a school uniform, along with a mask that hid their eyes.

The paparazzi left their respective scandal of the night and swarmed the school children. Cameras clicked away and the flashes looked like fireworks had erupted around the mysterious group.

What really peaked your interest was all the major political heads came rushing over to shake Monocle Man's hand.

"You know who they are, right?"

You jumped a bit and looked over to the only other guy around your age here. Jackson was 18, but he acted more or less like a 40 year old. His brown hair was always shaved to a militant buzz cut, but he was fairly attractive- all cut features and soft brown eyes, and he towered over you. If you two weren't so close, you'd call him cute. You two met years ago when your parents decided you were old enough to attend events with them. Jackson had three years under his wings by the time you joined him, but he was ecstatic to have another kid there with him. Together, you two grew up, surrounded by press conferences, political affairs and bombshells, and both experienced what little of a normal childhood you could have.

Back to the present.

"No, but it looks like the Speaker of the House is about to start squealing like a little girl."

Whoever these guys were, they attracted lots of attention. All eyes in the room looked at them and the journalists swarmed them, snapping pictures at every angle.

"That is the Umbrella Academy," Jackson said, flourishing his arms.

You gave him a blank look. "That's a comic book, Jack."

He clenched his jaw at the nickname. He hated it, so you used it to tease him.

"It's not just a comic book. All those kids were born on October 1st, and get this- their mothers weren't pregnant before they gave birth. Total mystery."

"It's total bullshit. That's not possible."

You looked over to the kids again. They seemed to be around your age. October 1st was your birthday as well, and you never knew your biological father, but that was all coincidence.

You felt Jackson nudge your leg. "I think one of them noticed you."

You looked closer and saw one of the kids, a boy with messy black hair, was staring at you. Well, it looked like he was. You couldn't really tell with the mask covering their eyes. What a weird thing.

"You should say hi."

You looked back up at Jackson. "Why would I do that?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. Make some friends. You cling to me way too much anyway."

"I do not!"

He gave you a bland look. "You haven't spoken to anyone else here."

"Because they're all old and political and boring."

He smirked a bit. "I'm glad you think that." He grabbed you arm, lifting you up. "Come on, lets go make friends."

Jackson dragged you across the room towards the Academy kids. He stopped ever so often to shake hands with a senator or stop to playfully flirt with some old governor's wife. Gross.

Eventually, you both made it to the other side of the venue. Before Jackson pulled you over to the group, he turned and faced you.

"For President's sake, fix yourself."

He fussed with your hair, patting down the strays, and pulled your dress down a bit to flatten out the wrinkles.

"There. Presentable."

Again, he ushered you over to the Umbrella Academy. Jackson approached the tall, blond guy first and playfully tapped his shoulder. The blond turned around and his impressive stature made Jackson look tiny.

Jackson extended his hand. "Hello! My name is Jackson Henderson. This is my acquaintance (Y/N) (Y/L/N). We wanted to formally meet you all!"

The blond smiled a bit, and quietly said hello, then turned back to the curly haired girl he was previously talking to. She was utterly gorgeous and she made her uniform look fashionable. You were a little jealous.

You saw her huff at the blond and she moved past him, extending her hand towards you.

"Hi Jackson and Y/N, my name is Number Three, but you can call me Allison."

I shook her hand. And she continued.

She jabbed her thumb towards the guy, "This is Number One, but we call him Luther."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

She moved down the line.

"This is Number Two, or Diego."

He intrigued you. He was around your height and he was your age, but the scar on the right side of his head and his eyes made him seem way older. Like an old soul. Diego said nothing and just nodded at you. You returned a small smile.

"This is Number Six, Ben."

Ben seemed very timid, raising a hand to you in a small gesture. He kept his chin tucked and shied away. The poor kid was probably freaked out by this boring political party, you thought.

A boy with the ruffled black hair ran up and flung his arms around Ben's shoulders. Ben winced at the touch.

"Who's this, Benny Boy?" He asked.

You extended a hand to him, putting on your diplomatic face. "My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). And yours?"

He released Ben and looked you up and down. His eyes settled at your hand and he shook it. "Name's Number Four, but please, call me Klaus." He bowed his head towards you, unable to conceal his grin. "It would be an honor to know you." He put on a fake British accent, his tongue rolling with the words.

He was funny. You liked that.

Klaus's goofy smile quickly faded as he looked behind you. A cold hand clasped itself over your shoulder. It turned you around and you were face to face with the man with the monocle. He looked angry- unless that was just his neutral face- and his eyes studied you.

Your father popped out from behind him, all cheery and kind like he normally was.

"Y/N! So happy you decided to join the party! This is Sir Reginald Hargreeves, and Sir this is my daughter: Y/N!"

Hargreeves continued to stare at you, his hand tightening around your shoulder.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Now please, you are beginning to hurt my arm." You nodded your head towards his grip. You hated unsolicited contact.

Your father's mouth gaped at you. You could just hear him bitching at you in the car later:

Be nice. Be friendly.

His cold hand slowly released you. "Your father has told me much about you. Your birthday and lack of resemblance to him is remarkable."

What?

You glanced towards Jackson and he shrugged. This dude was weird.

Hargreeves continued, "I think it would be beneficial if you returned to the Academy with my children and I."

You stepped back from him, shocked. "Excuse me?"

He began to repeat himself, "I said, I believe-"

He was cut off short by the ringing of a loud bang, like a giant balloon had popped. The chatter in the room stopped and you frantically looked around the room. Everyone stood still, wide eyed.

Then, a second shot. You heard a woman scream and people began to run. You tried to take a step forward, but something felt hot on your stomach.

You looked down and saw the front of your blue dress begin to turn black with blood. Your father pushed Hargreeves to the side and grabbed you, lowering you to the ground. His hands pressed into your stomach and he was yelling something, but the ringing in your ears drowned him out.

Jackson appeared above you, concern drenching his face.

Your head lolled to the side a bit and you saw Hargreeves staring down at you, as if he were studying you, and he calms adjusted his monocle.

What the fuck was he looking at?

Anger pierced through the fear. Your father tugged your head back towards him. His eyes were pleading, and you reached up to him.

Before you could reach his face, he was thrown to his side. Your head slammed against the floor from being dropped, and through your daze, you lifted yourself up a bit. Jackson sat on his ass, staring at your father, who lied in a puddle of his own blood that was seeping through the white of his suit, eyes fixated on nothingness.

No no no no. This wasn't happening.

Panic flooded through your veins. Jackson pushed you back down onto the floor, his body pressing down on yours. He yelled into your ear.

"Stay down!"

Life was going by in a blur.

Jackson suddenly was off of you, landing a few feet away.

A man in a mask stared down at you. The lower portion of his face was covered by something that looked like a skeletons mouth, all teeth poised in an eternal smile.

He held a military grade gun and pointed it down at you. You stared down the barrel, remembering a similar gun that hung on the wall of one of your father's business associate's office. Time felt like it slowed down. The chaos in the room subsided, and all that was left was the barrel of the gun, the man in the mask, and the blood surrounding you. Who would have known your final moments would be so tragic? A politicians daughter, who died in a dress she hated, at a party she hated, but died next her father whom she loved. You closed your eyes, and an image of your father's puddling blood appeared in your mind. So much blood. So much...blood.

Why hadn't he pulled the trigger?

You opened your eyes and the man still stood above you, shaking violently. Whenever he shuddered, it felt like some ripple of it went through you. So you embraced the ripples, like it was natural. The ripples crescendoed into waves, and the man shook even more violently. Blood began to drip from his nose. Then his eyes. And finally, through red tears, he looked down at you and red dripped through the skeleton teeth of his mask. He finally collapsed, the gun clattering next to your head. The waves came to a halt, and the pain you should have felt earlier came crashing down on you like a tsunami. Your stomach was on fire, but the rest of you was cold. Screams of politicians wives pierced your ears, and the glaring lights of the banquet hall grew brighter. Then, it all turned black.

You awoke the next morning. Early sunrise flooded through the slated blinds and your eyes blinked open, adjusting to the light. The bed you slept on was very soft and molded itself to your body. Silk pajamas rubbed against your skin. Perfume flooded your nostrils and you felt like you woke up in a Bath and Body Works. You tried to sit up, but pained stabbed at your stomach, forcing you back down.

"Oh don't move too much, darling. It will ruin the stitches."

You whipped your head towards the doorway of the room. A blonde woman, dressed in 1950's housewife attire, stood there. Her red lips turned upwards into a dazzling smile and sweetness and kindness emanated from her. She took a step into the room, her heels clicking off the wood floor. You tried again to prop yourself up on your elbows, but the woman moved to your side and propped pillows behind you.

She brightly smiled again and patted your head.

"My name is Grace, but feel free to call me Mom, all of my children do."

You were still dazed from sleep. Did she just offer for you to call her "mom"?

"I apologize, but where am I?"

She clicked her tongue in a playful way.

"You are at the Academy, home, whatever you would like to call it. I don't believe I got your name?"

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N. Why am I here? What happened?"

She sat on the bed next to your legs and crossed her legs. She then clasped her hands together above her knee.

"Oh darling, there was an accident at that party you were at last night. Some bad men came in and hurt you and some others. The other children fought off a bunch of them, but from what I hear, you have some abilities! Yay!"

Her cheeriness was soothing, yet something didn't sit well with you.

"Abilities? What does that-"

You cut yourself off. An image raced through your mind. Your father. The blood. The man. The man's blood. The gun. Jackson.

"My father- is he okay? Where is he?"

[mirroredtranslations]

Tsuzura Human - Chapter 3

Musubimonogatari – Nisioisin p. 178-193

Towards the end of Musubimonogatari, 23-year-old Araragi comes across a certain lover of mathematics for the first time in a while. Here’s how it goes... [Warning: Minor spoilers for what becomes of Hanekawa, Senjougahara, and Kanbaru.]

“A... Araragi, why are you here...?”

That's my line.

Actually, it wasn't me who ought to be talking like they were meeting a corpse—without a doubt, that really was Sodachi Oikura's line.

It was an unexpected, chance meeting with a childhood friend with whom, yet again, I'd been separated. Yet again.

Just how many times in my life are this girl and I going to separate and reunite?

The location was Town Hall.

I'd left the Rumor Department as part of the work I'd been given, and part of that process involved visiting each of the departments at Town Hall in turn to submit various documents—it was a similar process to what happened when Hanekawa erased her personal history.

But, Oikura was working at one of those departments.

She was working—tightly tying up her hair, putting on glasses with a flash, wearing a face like an ordinary public accountant. Well, I know that's what she'd studied in college, and she actually was an ordinary public accountant, but even so, it was as if she was acting an accountant's role in a play.

Standing at the counter wanting my documents accepted, I was dumbfounded by the sight.

Huh? Why do you have a serious job? And in a public office in a sense even more honest than the police—

“I... I was worried. I thought you might be out on the street...”

“Don't put me out on the street in your head. I'll kill you.”

She may look like an accountant, but it seemed her personality hadn't changed very much—no, maybe just toward me. I see; after graduating college she came back to our hometown—hrm.

Even so, to think she'd then proceed to take the civil service exam... no matter her age, she still loves studying, huh.

“What. Araragi, you became a police officer...? Assistant inspector? Career? So compared to me, a local government employee, you're a national government official? W-why must you always be one step ahead of me...”

“Well, it's not like I'm trying to be one step ahead of you... And I was the one who gave up on the accountant certification.”

Actually, about that, we'd studied for the exam together. For some reason I lost motivation—long story. To put it frankly, well, before I became 20 my mathematical talents all but dried up.

I can't quite call Oikura a mathematician, but since she became a certified accountant, I honestly think that she's the winner of the mathematics race.

“Hmph. I'll even call you Euler now.”

“Bullshit. Didn't we separate for the fourth time on October the 13th, two years ago? Don't try to slowly reconcile with me. I hate you.”

“Whoa there. I didn't come to fight in your workplace. ...Want to eat lunch together? There's something I'd like to discuss.”

“I'll go along with that. You can wait over there until lunchtime.”

She answered in a tone like she was accepting a challenge.

In a way, there's no use breaking off with her... I've parted ways with Oikura more times than with my girlfriend Senjougahara.

I couldn't hold back my surprise at the coincidence of it all, but now that I think about it, Oikura was probably working here at Town Hall in the town we grew up in ever since graduating college—since we're both government employees, there were lots of chances for us to run into each other during my training period.

These last four months, I'd come to Town Hall dozens of times for various reasons—we might even have passed each other in a hallway and not noticed. No matter how low the probability might be, if there are enough chances, we'd eventually meet—that's basic mathematics.

The probability of meeting Oikura was overall much higher than the probability of meeting Kanbaru in the hospital, so the fact that my latest reunion with Oikura came just before I left town must mean it was rather overdue.

Fateful—perhaps.

Fortunately, I had a huge pile of documents I had to submit to other sections while I waited for Oikura's break time.

I don't remember the exact date, but it was two years since I last had lunch with Oikura.

This was the first time since “the incident”—a long story.

To put it as simply as I possibly can, it was when Senjougahara and I first broke up—though, strictly speaking, would that be our second breakup?

My third reunion with Oikura took place in a classroom at college. I'd thought something was up with such a coincidence, but it turned out to be Hanekawa's arrangement of sorts—it seemed Hanekawa was still worried about Oikura in many ways, even after she transferred out of Naoetsu High School; apparently, Hanekawa had encouraged Oikura to go to college using the various means available to her. Oikura's overall scholarly ability was far higher than mine, but she was limited to colleges that had a math department. So to put it bluntly, our third reunion was in a sense inevitable.

At the time, I was commuting to college from home, but Oikura was searching for a place to board. She seemed to be struggling, because she didn't have a guarantor and couldn't make rent—when I spoke to my parents about it, I was instructed to “invite her to our house again”.

I still hadn't slipped past my rebellious period, so I can't say I simply followed the instruction.

Although I was partly aware that things were completely different from when we were elementary school students, I still felt indebted in various ways to Oikura, and couldn't ignore her suffering—but if I asked her she'd defy me, or, well, decline, so I used a backdoor method and had my little sisters invite her instead. And so, Oikura began living in the Araragi house once again for the first time in seven years.

That's when we studied bookkeeping together.

We made a study group, something we hadn't done in a long time—then, Hitagi-san found out.

By my standards, lending an eave(1) to a childhood friend—whom I didn't at all think of as the opposite sex—was just barely safe, but by Hitagi's standards it seemed it was completely out of the question.

Well, in this case I was in the wrong. I was absolutely awful. It was the worst thing I did in all my teenage years.

And I suppose it led to our first breakup.

That we were able to reconcile was thanks to Oikura herself—she made quite an effort to get us back together. When I say “effort”, I mean she threatened us with, “If you don't make up, I'll jump off and kill myself”... But in addition to that, she coordinated with Hanekawa—who, at the time, was still an “ordinary celebrity” as a girl who did volunteer work, and not yet an activist—to mediate our relationship.

She left the Araragi house right away, too.

Since Hitagi hadn't been moved by Oikura's suicide threat and ended up essentially stealing a working student's place to live, she started to feel guilty, and while that wasn't exactly the reason we got back together, it was the reason we began talking again.

As a result, Hitagi and I returned to normal after all was said and done, and for a while the three of us, including Oikura, lived a chattering and fun campus life—until we reached my and Hitagi's second separation, it truly was fun.

The second separation.

The reason was super trivial.

Feeling like her do-or-die effort, so rarely shown on behalf of others, had been ruined, Oikura was the one who got the most angry about that separation.

It might not have been anger, but despair.

I somehow managed to make up with Hitagi, but after that, Oikura exchanged no words with us at school through graduation.

Our fourth breakoff of relations.

We went independent after college, so despite lingering unease, after that I had no reason to know where Oikura's life had taken her—until today.

She's got a normal job, hasn't she.

Well, I hadn't quite thought she was out on the street, but... I'm relieved.

I definitely have to tell Hitagi about this—or, so I'd thought, but Hitagi and I were currently in the middle of a big fight.

We were in the middle of our third breakup.

I should tell Oikura... hm... or should I...

Damn it, why did it have to be at a time when Hitagi and I were separated. Awful timing like this is most definitely Oikura's style—well, I shouldn't make it sound like it's Oikura's fault.

“Sorry to keep you. Let's go. I've set aside thirty minutes for you, Araragi, nothing more.”

“Thanks for that. Is there a place you usually go? I don't know this area very well.”

“How thoughtless. Even though it's your hometown.”

“The landscape's completely different from before, isn't it? They even built a shopping mall... I'll treat you.”

“I'd rather die than get treated by you.”

She's still saying stuff like that even at age 23... Might have been too early to feel relieved. But, we're both working adults, so splitting the bill is fine.

Oikura led me into a cafe next to Town Hall. The prices were reasonable, so I thought it might be a place she regularly went to, but when I asked she said it was her first time there.

“I don't want to take you somewhere I usually eat.”

I was told.

She must really hate me, huh.

Let's hope this is a place Oikura had wanted to come for a while, but one that it was difficult to enter alone—betting on that possibility, I left the ordering to her.

“So. What. What do you want. From me. From the likes of me—”

“No no no, apologizing for what happened two years ago—is not why I came.”

“Of course not.”

“To be honest, I don't think it was anything to break off over... Really, I asked you to lunch because I was surprised you were aliv—I mean, that you were working at Town Hall.”

“Don't be surprised I'm alive. Who's dying here.”

“Who's dying here... It makes me happy from the bottom of my heart to hear you say that.”

“Hmph. Well, it's not like I awoke to a love of my hometown and made a U-turn to come back; I've moved house from place to place so much, this place doesn't really feel like a 'hometown' to me anyway... And don't have any good memories of it either.”

Oikura continued.

“But when I thought about becoming an adult and going out into society, I could only come up with a single role model.”

Role model.

For me, I had my parents. Oikura's parents were not those kinds of parents—rather, I'm sure she felt strongly that she didn't want to become that kind of adult.

Having said that, other adults... looking up to teachers at school, for example, would be out of her character. Considering the circumstance that led to her become a truant, school was not at all an enjoyable place for her.

Thinking about that, something suddenly came to mind.

“Oh, that's right. When you were living in that apartment complex, you were taken care of by staff from Town Hall, right? And after you transferred from Naoetsu High School too... so—”

“I resent being judged so simplistically.”

She gets mad no matter what you say, doesn't she.

Has she still not managed to grow up?

Is it all right for her to be out in society?

“Let me just tell you, I don't have one whit of a laudable goal like making myself a caregiver in order to help pitiable kids like I was. It's part of self help, you know.”

“Why would you lower your own likability by saying that...”

She's an easy-to-understand tsundere.

Well, a tsundere who's over 20 is nothing but a nuisance, but even so I couldn't help but wish Hitagi was as easy to understand as this.

“Sigh. If only I liked you.”

“What's with that unpleasant line. Go die, to apologize for hurting my feelings. I'm glad I hate you, always, from the bottom of my heart.”

Seems she can be honest once in a while. When she's hating me, at least.

But I'm glad she had a generally sound reason for getting a steady job.

She probably reunited with the Town Hall staff who were in charge of the Oikura household—it'd be wonderful if she'd found a mentor relationship through that, but well, asking about it would be prying too far.

Let's save that for another opportunity.

“Where are you living now?”

“Why do you want to know my address? What are you planning to do to me?”

“Don't be so candidly wary. I don't know about now, but after you left the Araragi house, didn't you move around from place to place? Do you die if you don't keep moving?”

“Something wrong with that? I was desperately trying to avoid you and Senjougahara and Hanekawa-san's stalking.”

“'Something wrong with that', well, if that's the reason, then there is. And who are you to only add 'san' to Hanekawa's name?”

“You can't say 'Tsubasa Hanekawa' without honorifics, can you? Town Hall was in an uproar last month.”

“Ah. Right, yeah.”

Must have been even more hectic at Town Hall than with the police.

They're the directly affected party.

“Did Hanekawa come to see you?”

“She wouldn't. When you two and I separated, I also cut ties with Hanekawa-san.”

“Be glad you didn't get tangled up with her again.”

“Why? I'm sure she doesn't remember me.”

“Oh, nothing. I'm just jealous that you were able to break off like that.”

Although, it didn't seem like she had forgotten about Oikura. I wonder if she was just playing dumb, and really did know Oikura was working at Town Hall.

“So, Oikura. Where do you live? Where are you renting?”

“Why are you so concerned about my address—are you planning arson? I'll report you.”

“I am a policeman, you know. If you like, we can install a police box nearby.”

“That won't be necessary.”

“Really, I can ask to have a policeman from a local station patrol the area. I have the connections for something like that.”

“To protect me? Or to keep an eye on me?”

“Seriously, I'm concerned.”

“Shut up. Suspend your cardio-pulmonary function.”

Even with that abuse, it seemed as though the fact my worry was genuine had come through.

“I'm not renting,” she told me. “I bought. With a civil servant loan. They say in the long run, it's more advantageous to purchase a house...”

“......”

Is that alright...? No, wait, it's too early to make judgment...

Both sides have merit in the debate on whether it's more advantageous to rent or to own a house, so I can't speak to that, but hearing that Oikura had bought a house (and hearing that she used a loan), the impression of steadiness all but vanished—well, let's hear her out.

I might end up collaborating not as a childhood friend but as an actual police officer, but I'd do anything for Oikura, if it meant this idiot finds happiness...

“Wh... what kind of property did you purchase?”

“It was a dilapidated old haunted house, so it was cheap... It's all right, don't stand up. I did the proper renovations.”

“You might not know this, but nowadays there's these things called 'renovation scams'...”

“Don't treat me like I'm the world's biggest idiot. You know where it is. It's the house I lived in when we were in middle school.”

“......”

I—know it. I visited many times.

It's the place where Oikura and I spent our most tranquil time—no doubt it was Oikura's most agitated time, however... She purchased that house, huh...

I see; even in her early twenties she could easily buy a house if it's in that condition. Or rather, plainly speaking, it was like she was helping to solve the vacant house problem—Town Hall ought to have given her a bonus.

I'm sure the renovation wasn't that simple, though...

“Even so, you're always hurting yourself like this... Surely this isn't self help. Why would you try to return to where you started? Do you like going back to square one that much?”

“I'm the opposite of Tsubasa Hanekawa. I live by swallowing up the past.”

Oikura spoke as if making an oath.

“I'll repaint those memories in my own colors. I'll build a happy family in that house. Unfortunately, I don't have a partner quite yet—speaking of which, Araragi. How are things with you and Senjougahara lately?”

“Well, if you'd like to keep the renovation expenses down, call me over. Let's try to finish it with DIY as cheap as we can. I don't know if this is a shameless thing to say, but I also have memories there. I want to leave my own colors too.”

“Don't pretend you didn't know that was a shameless thing to say. Didn't you two come back together?”

“You may have misunderstood, but I haven't actually come back to my hometown; I'm in a training period...”

“Did you think I'd already forgotten how to use a fork?”

Oikura said, tightly clutching her cutlery—I'd only thought it was about time I learned how to use a fork.

There's no helping it, the time to tell the story has finally come.

Right as the mood of this unexpected reunion had started improving as we talked about old times, this might cause us to break off once again, but I'd known from the start that it's a story I had to tell... So, I briefly told Oikura about my own current situation, Hitagi Senjougahara's current situation, and then, the situation between the two of us.

The three of us, who'd formed a trio for a time, were now scattered.

Ultimately, when she'd finished listening, Oikura didn't aim her fork at me and throw it like a dart.

Instead, as if amazed, she laughed.

“You're a fool, aren't you.”

As if she was actually enjoying herself.

Thank goodness; by the graces of Oikura's terrible personality, we avoided a breakoff of relations.

It might've been good that I emphasized how different this latest case was compared to the first time, when Oikura was the cause. Regardless, she really hates when things are her fault.

I know my childhood friend's personality very well.

“But that might just be how it goes. It may just be a commonplace story. Oddly enough, more couples might break up when they get jobs than when they leave for college. He pe pe.”

“An inhuman laugh is leaking out.”

“Didn't you talk about it? When you were looking for jobs. Surely you could see that you'd end up estranged if one of you was aiming for an overseas corporation and the other was aiming to be a government official.”

“Curiously enough, we encouraged each other at the time. Especially since she was so well-qualified for the financial industry. She wanted to find a job where she could leverage that the most.”

“It's wonderful to be progressive. I cheer on working girls too. No matter how much that woman who's stretched her wings overseas might look down on someone like me, who returned to her hometown.”

“I don't think she'd look down on you... She was worried too, you know? About what became of you after graduation.”

“Worried about me being out on the street, more like.”

“I can't deny it...”

“Deny it, will you.”

After saying that, Oikura kept laughing for a while (what a person), then, finally,

“...But, what do you intend to do?” she said, as if, just a little, she was concerned for us.

Too late, that reaction.

Just a bit. Half smile and all.

“Isn't this dispute rather fatal? Either you or Senjougahara needs to give up on their current job and change their location, isn't that where the situation is? Right? How about it, how about it?”

“Stop making it sound like you've driven me into a corner. If that's how you consult with citizens, what an awful government official you must be.”

“Citizens? That's fine. Even I know how to separate official and personal business. 'Hello, I apologize for the wait, what matter brings you here today?'”

“Such a difference...”

If she can do a proper business smile, let's just deem it acceptable.

“You should quit your current job, immigrate overseas, and then break up...”

“Your secret wishes are pouring out.”

“I'm saying them to you to make sure they don't come true.”

Well, no need to keep emphasizing it. It would be troublesome to have a half-hearted reconciliation—either way, a big decision has to be made.

“You should just separate.”

“Don't wish anything for me. Don't even wish me well.”(2)

“If I must say, Araragi. Senjougahara's path is quite clear, but your path is still ambiguous. What you want to do... whether you'll come back to your hometown, or whether you'll launch yourself into the big city... Since you're a government official, as long as you think inside Japan, your footing hasn't yet solidified, right? I'm in local government, so I decided to lay roots and live here. Even bought a house.”

Don't make me feel like you're above me because you bought a fixed asset and became a homeowner... Well, honestly, I'm surprised; Oikura's situation is even more solid than I'd thought.

Though unlike with Kanbaru, I don't feel like I've fallen behind.

“That's why you think I ought to immigrate.”

“No. I think you ought to die.”

“I can't help but enjoy talking with you. Can I come by Town Hall every day from now on?”

“If you do, I'll abuse my authority and erase your personal history.”

“Don't do any serious abuses of power. You're not just abusive, you're deranged—like normal.”

“To tell you the truth, my wish is that you immigrate overseas, break up, and then end up on the street.”

“If that's the truth, it's getting serious. Your personality, that is.”

“If I grit my teeth and consider your future, all I can say is take care to not get swept away in  transient emotions. Like when you took pity on me and made me live with you.”

“Yeah...”

If I write a letter of resignation, it's not unlikely Hitagi would find that a reason to break up with me.

Even if she's not as thorny as when she was a teenager, as expected of an old friend of Hanekawa's, she's still strong in her convictions.

“Although, if you talked it out with her logically, I think that woman would be willing to return to Japan and find a new job in our hometown. She's starved for affection, after all.”

“That's harsh. I don't want her to quit her job because of me. I feel it's not good in this world that we can use that as an example.”

“It's a way of thinking that suits a local government employee. I want to be an exemplar of the world. But if that's so, Araragi, isn't you being out on the street for Senjougahara's sake is just as bad an example?”

“Stop trying to put me out on the street at every opportunity. Have me working overseas. I can live with my sister at first.”

“That's pretty lame to say... But set the world aside and think about Senjougahara too. She's not Tsubasa Hanekawa—mm. Come to think of it, now that she's erased her past, I wonder if that name is invalid as well... What's that honor student going to call herself from now on?”

“She's a cat, after all. She'll go by 'no name yet'—or maybe 'no name anymore'? About Senjougahara, I don't think she'd want to come back to Japan.”

“Then break up.”

I was flatly shut down.

Oikura didn't seem to be saying that to hurt or rebuke me, but rather, she was just pointing out the obvious as obvious.

The words of a Town Hall staffer.

“Well, finding jobs and careers and such, whether it's you or Senjougahara, neither of you are kids anymore.”

“Not kids, huh. That's right.”

If we're 23-year-olds who can't consider our partners, then we ought to break up right away. Teenagers breaking up for their partner's sake smacks of hypocrisy, but now that I think it over, I can't say that as a rule.

“You consumed Senjougahara's adolescence, and making her sacrifice her twenties too would be gravely irresponsible. Just saying.”

Oikura took out her cell phone, fiddled with the screen, and held it out to me.

The screen showed an address book.

It appeared to be a request for me to register my personal information... I suppose, with this, our fourth separation is officially rescinded.

“Don't come to any conclusions here, please. I'd end up feeling responsible. Tell me about it afterward. I want to smile again. Give me my smile, my Mr. Clown.”

“......”

“What. I can gather your personal information by abusing my authority too, you know. Do you want to make me a criminal?”

“I don't. I can't help but foresee a future in handcuffs for you. Please, submit your letter of resignation now to avoid that.”

“Actually, you shouldn't take my comments into consideration very much. Like I said before, it's not as if I have a partner myself yet.”

Oikura said, as if she'd suddenly thought of it.

As if it had suddenly struck her.

“If we're both single by the time we reach our thirties...”

“If we are?”

“Let's strangle each other to death.”

An excellent idea. If I can keep bickering with her until we're 30, that is.

Footnotes: (1) “Lending an eave” is sort of an expression referring to lending someone a small area in your house (eaves are the part of the roof that overhangs the walls of a building). (2) In the Japanese, a play on よろしくお願いします (yoroshiku onegai shimasu). The verb 願う (negau) means “to wish/to desire/to implore”. Araragi tells Euler 僕について、何も願うな。よろしくさえお願いするな (boku ni tsuite, nani mo negau na. yoroshiku sae onegai suru na). “Don't wish [negau] anything about me. Don't even yoroshiku... etc.)