#but the second thing were her long-fingered wide-knuckled heavily calloused hands

[lvllns]

it don't matter to me (wherever we are is where i wanna be) [2/3]

the wayhaven chronicles. felix hauville x kincaid anderson (nb detective). teen and up rating for language. established relationship, mostly fluff with some angst. 2300+ words. (3700+ words total.) — i can be your lucky penny, you can be my four-leaf clover, chapter 2 of 3.

notes: horses! felix! kincaid! somft!

[ao3 link]

—

The walk to the barn doesn’t take nearly as long as Felix expects, it’s not as far from the house as it looks.

Kincaid chatters the whole way, mindless nonsense about the ranch mostly. Felix learns that they breed beef cattle in addition to horses, and some cows specifically for roping. He didn’t think there were specific cows for roping and when he says as much, Kincaid obliges him by explaining the importance of docile cows for rodeo. But apparently, they need to be hazed and seasoned too? They have to get used to horses and people milling about.

Really, maybe the walk doesn’t take as long as he thinks because Kincaid refuses to stop talking.

(Felix is so grateful for him. For the way he seems intent on filling the quiet with whatever he can.)

(He keeps squeezing Kincaid’s hand, grinning when the taller man pauses for a second mid-sentence to look at him with a smile.)

“Anyway, that’s—” Kincaid is cut off with a soft noise. Felix is jerked to a stop as Kincaid freezes in place, eyes going wide as saucers.

“Babe?”

Kincaid shivers. Breaks out of whatever weird trance he’s in and says, “I think that’s Leo.” He whistles. “Mare?”

Another sound, louder this time. A whinny, if Felix remembers right.

And then a red head pokes over a nearby stall door, fuzzy ears straining forward. Her face is mostly grey, but a big white star in the middle of her forehead is still clearly visible.

Felix starts toward her. Ends up dragging Kincaid along because he seems shocked to see her. They get close enough to touch and she immediately, without hesitation, whacks Kincaid in the chest with her entire head. He grunts at the impact but just leans down to touch his forehead to hers.

“You seem surprised to see her,” Felix says quietly, not wanting to break the moment.

Kincaid exhales heavily. Doesn’t lift his face as he starts scratching her neck. “She’s thirty-one years old. It’s just...a lot, to see her again.”

Ah.

That’s it.

Felix slips an arm around Kincaid’s waist. Leans into his side and kisses his shoulder before resting his head against his bicep.

“Anyway,” Kincaid says as he clears his throat. His eyes are shiny with tears and Felix reaches up to wipe a few from his cheeks. Leo has clearly had enough because she whacks Kincaid with her head again, ears flicking back and forth. He rolls his eyes. “Felix, Leo. Leo, Felix.”

Despite all the new white hairs, she looks almost the same as she does in the pictures scattered around Kincaid’s apartment. Where she’s shiny as a copper penny with saddles, buckles, and ribbons around her. Where she’s belly deep in a river, Kincaid sitting on her without any tack. An entire life story between the two of them laid out in photographs on apartment walls, and now Felix is able to meet her.

She extends her nose, nostrils flaring as she sniffs Felix. He chuckles. Reaches out and pets her muzzle.

“Oh, she’s soft!” Felix steps closer, hand moving to scratch at her forehead. She presses into his touch with a quiet snuffle, upper lip wiggling. He can feel Kincaid’s thumb moving over the back of his neck, something repetitive and soothing. “I like her.”

Kincaid laughs. “Good, ‘m glad.” Leo, apparently tired of being pet, snorts and then turns back to the hay in the corner. Kincaid leans on the stall door, elbows crossed. “Real glad you got to meet ‘er.”

Felix slips a hand into Kincaid’s back pocket. “Me too.” He bumps his hip against Kincaid. Grins up at him when he looks over.

“Come on, let’s go put our bag upstairs,” Kincaid says, voice gone soft. He reaches out. Takes Felix’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles. His palm. His wrist. Right over his pulse where it thunders against his skin. “Someone’ll come lookin’ for us soon I’m sure.”

He nods. Tugs and pulls until Kincaid leans down and kisses him, smiling into it. One becomes two and then three before Felix pulls away. He can hear footsteps, the crunch of gravel underneath boots, and he tells Kincaid as much. They slip into a room full of various pieces of tack, saddles and bridles hanging neatly along the walls, and then he’s being led up a set of stairs. The door at the top swings open and—

“Holy shit,” Felix mutters, eyes wide. Kincaid snorts, head tilting to the side. “It’s as big as your place.”

“Were you expectin’ a closet?” He tosses the bag down on a dining chair.

Felix looks around and shrugs. “Nothing like this, that’s for sure.”

It’s huge. Bright. Modern even. It’s an actual apartment above the barn and not some tiny room with a cot. The windows are open, fresh air and sunlight streaming in, and he takes another deep breath.

Somewhere below, a horse whinnies. Kincaid hums and takes Felix’s hand again, lacing their fingers together. “Ready to meet everyone else?”

“Hell yeah.”

Kincaid grins, dimples visible, and they head down back into the barn. They’re barely out of the tack room when: “There he is!”

An older man, hair and beard gone mostly grey, is standing in the middle of the aisleway, a grin on his face. Kincaid’s face breaks as he smiles wide, so wide, and Felix half expects him to rush off alone but he keeps Felix close to his side.

“Good to see you, kid,” the man says. He shifts, leans his shoulder against the wall. “Been a bit.”

Kincaid snorts. “Month or so, yeah.” He finally drops Felix’s hand so he can all but swallow the other man in a hug. It’s brief, a few pats on the back, and then Kincaid is back at his side, hand finding his once more. “Jason, this is Felix. Felix, Jason.”

Jason nods. Holds out his hand and Felix isn’t the tiniest bit surprised to find it rough and calloused, when he takes it. “Glad to finally meet you. Kincaid never stops talkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Oh?” He turns, brow arched, and finds Kincaid looking straight ahead, cheeks pink. “Good things, I hope.”

“Never a bad word.” Another smile but it’s...something. Knowing, Felix thinks. Like Jason is seeing things Kincaid and Felix are too close to each other to notice. It makes his heart trip in his chest. “Anyway, everyone else is grabbin’ horses, and we’ve got some steers that need seasoning. You wanna bulldog, kid?”

And oh, the way Kincaid lights up. Every bit of him flares like a firework. Still, he squeezes Felix’s hand and shakes his head. “I’m happy watchin’, don’t wanna leave Felix by himself.”

Felix blinks. “Oh no, nope.” Kincaid startles. Looks at him with wide eyes, confused. “We drove all the way out here, you have all those pictures hanging up, I want to see you in action.”

It’s delightful the way his partner goes bright red from the tips of his ears down his neck. Felix knows from experience he’s a full body blusher. Knows that his chest is red with it, freckles vanishing beneath the flood of color.

“You sure?” Kincaid shuffles his feet. “I really don’t want you to feel left out or—”

“God you two,” Jason mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You wanna ride, Felix?”

“What?” Now it’s his turn to be confused. “Like...a horse?”

Jason snorts. Rolls his eyes to stare at the ceiling for a moment before he meets Felix’s eyes. “Yeah, we have broke horses here. If you want to, we can get one tacked up for you.”

“Yes!” Felix smiles wide, grip tightening where he’s still holding Kincaid’s hand. “Please!” He rocks on the balls of his feet.

“That’s settled then.” Jason turns to Kincaid. Squeezes his shoulder briefly before letting go. “Sailor is two stalls down from Leo, grab him for Felix. You get French Fry.”

Felix is so stuck on a horse being named French Fry that he misses the last part of the conversation. Kincaid tugs on his hand and they head down the barn aisle until they reach a stall with a big grey horse in it. It’s quick work, a soft cluck and the creaking of metal as the stall is unlocked, and then Felix is holding a rope in his hands with Sailor on the other end.

Kincaid gets them both situated near the tack room, Felix’s ride for the day standing quietly with one hind leg cocked, eyes half-closed, as he brushes him. He watches as Kincaid mutters to himself. Picks up different bits of tack before setting it back down. There’s a pile growing outside near where the horses are tied up. Boots, blanket things to go under the saddle, really confusing tangles of leather that Felix thinks goes on the horse’s face.

It’s a lot of stuff he doesn’t quite understand yet, pieces of Kincaid’s life that remind Felix he’s new here. A recent development. Part of him is yelling that he’s an interloper, he shouldn’t be here and he’s only making it more difficult for Kincaid.

He shakes his head. Grits his teeth and chases that train of thought far, far away, as he focuses on listening to Kincaid’s explanation of each piece of equipment. Kincaid’s own horse is alert, ears pricked forward and eyes tracking the taller man. He’s also a gleaming gold with bright white hair, a big white stripe down his face, and white on all four of his legs.

They talk about everything and nothing as Kincaid gets both horses tacked up. Felix wolf whistles when he throws the saddles up onto the horses, and is rewarded with one flying right off the opposite side of Sailor, hitting the dirt with a thud. By the end of it, Kincaid’s face is pink, his eyes blown, and Felix knows he’s been staring at his arms for too long. There’s a thread of tension, something wavering just a little, and it almost snaps except someone yells Kincaid’s name and the moment is gone.

Felix is walking around the arena on a big grey horse, and he feels...he feels like he belongs here. That part of him insisting that he should be back in Wayhaven is silent now. Kincaid is at his side, helping Felix adjust his position so his feet aren’t sticking way out in front of him, and he’s grateful for the boots Kincaid had bought him a few months ago. Jason had smiled at him. Another younger man, Jordan, had waved. Someone else had given him a thumbs up, and he’s trying to keep names straight with faces but he can’t help getting distracted by the warm feeling at how quickly he’s been accepted into this family.

He reaches down to pat Sailor’s neck before he turns his head to look (up, it’s still up) at Kincaid. “Shouldn’t you go, I don’t know, run around a little bit?”

Kincaid snorts. “Yeah, I gotta warm ‘im up, but I just want to make sure you’re okay first.”

Felix flaps a hand at him. “I’m fine. Sailor’s no unicorn, but he likes me so I don’t think I’ll get kicked off.”

“You need me, just holler,” Kincaid says.

It takes another nod, another promise to tell him if he needs anything at all, before Kincaid speeds up and leaves Felix to himself. It’s nice, really, being able to slowly meander around and observe. He’s always enjoyed that. Watching. He’s Unit Bravo’s infiltration expert for a reason after all. There’s a flow to everything here. Horses moving around each other, cattle banging around in the pens and gates. People shouting back and forth, good-natured ribbing. It reminds him of Unit Bravo. Of the way they’ve all come together over the last few years.

He’s watching Kincaid lope around, smiling and laughing, and Felix is so lost in him that he doesn’t even realize Jason is riding next to him until the older man clears his throat. Felix jolts, careful not to yank the reins, and flashes the man a sheepish smile.

“He’s a good person,” Jason says with a nod toward Kincaid.

Felix can’t stop his eyes from drifting back to his partner. “He is. He’s something really special.”

“I don’t know what he’s all told you about his childhood, but he...had a time of it.”

“He’s told me a bit. Not all of it, I don’t think, but...enough.”

Jason hums. “He used to drive out here every chance he could after we moved the family here.” Felix blinks. It’s hours to get here. Hours. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’, and yeah. Hell, he’d show up on Friday evening and wouldn’t leave until late Sunday night. Then he left for college and he still drove out here once a week, at least.” Jason turns in his saddle to look Felix in the eyes. “He’s a part of this family, a big part, and he’s never brought anyone here. Ever.”

Felix swallows as he pulls Sailor to a halt. “I…”

“This ain’t me tryin’ to scare you, son, this is me tellin’ you that you’re part of this family now too.” Jason eases his horse to a stop, a gentle smile on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that kid this happy.”

Well.

He doesn’t know what to do with this. Felix looks down at his hands. Finds them shaking, just a little bit. He curls his fingers around the reins and nods. “Thank you.”

A hand claps down on his shoulder. Squeezes and stays put as Jason says, “‘Course.” He grins, wide and toothy. “Now, come on. They’re gonna start throwin’ steers and you need a front row seat for this.”

Felix smiles up at him. Squeezes his legs until Sailor dutifully follows after the other horse. He watches Kincaid haul himself up onto his horse from the ground, eyes watching his shoulders and back, before he blinks and settles in to watch.

When Kincaid winks at him from the chute, cheeks a little pink and heart racing beneath his ribs, something settles in Felix’s chest, and he feels at peace.

[hiskniight]

@dansiere said: “ the memories hurt the most, I know. And it will feel like you cannot breathe but... what matters is that you... -- you have to stay on top of it, Connie. ”

          Since Connie had STARTED, more or less LIVING AT the beach house, they started a TRADITION of WATCHING the CHEESIEST MOVIES Connie ( && Greg could find. ) Sometimes she’d set up VOICE CHATS so she && Steven would watch a movie / TV show together, ALONE, in her MAKESHIFT BEDROOM. Tonight it was a BLACK && WHITE MOVIE, but Connie was DAZED && UNABLE to FOCUS ON IT, Connie could NEVER seem to QUIET her MIND, ( or RELAX her body ) sometimes it would get so LOUD, even around Steven, ( SWEET, SOFT, CALM, Steven ) she was always THINKING / PLANNING / WATCHING for THREATS-  always being TWENTY STEPS AHEAD of ANYTHING / EVERYTHING && EVERYONE at all times. 

          She should be STUDYING, honestly, CAUGHT UP on her SUMMER READING &&--- thoughts cut short by a sudden COLD CHILL in the air, the room DRAINED of all COLOR / GROWING into hues of WHITE / GREY / BLACK. The taste of blood FILLED her mouth. No no no no no please- ‘ MY DARLING LITTLE STARLIGHT, ‘ She went STIFF, a TIGHTENING in her shoulders && down her spine, her CONSCIOUSNESS started FLICKERING IN && OUT, SUBMERGING her BRAIN with SINISTER FLASHBACKS / MEMORIES in a NIGHTMARISH kind of SLOW MOTION. A c h i l l TRICKLED DOWN her spine like ice water, a GHOST OF A WHISPER in her ear. ‘ YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER. ‘  THIN, BONY FINGERS curl around her shoulders, nails STABBING into tender flesh, breath on the back of her neck as COLD AS DEATH, himself. She’s not here she's not here she's not here ! SNAP OUT OF IT ! 

          Please… Pl- Tears well up in her eyes, BLURRING her vision with a WATERY HAZE, chest TIGHTENING with FOREBODING that SPREADS throughout her body like a FOREST FIRE. && a few, SLUGGISH SECONDS / it seems to LAST an ETERNITY, she’s PARALYZED, ROOTED to the floor. She QUICKLY excused herself, handing the bowl of POPCORN onto Peridot’s lap, standing up on legs made of RUBBER. ❝ Would you like us to pause the movie, Connie ? ❞ Pearl asked. The brunette gave a small wave of her hand. ❝ No, It’s okay. I’ve seen this a million times. ❞

‘ DID YOU HAVE FUN ? ‘ 

          The WORLD is CRUMBLING under her, bits CRACKING, PIECES BREAKING OFF, the EARTH is SWALLOWING her, PANIC / FEAR grips her, RIPPING her beating heart from her chest, blood turns to ICE WATER in her veins. Everything is BEGINNING to sound MUFFLED / DROWNED OUT, VOICES fading, shaking hands- curling fingers into TIGHT balls, digging nail into CALLOUSED PALMS. She makes it into the bathroom before her WORLD is totally SWALLOWED UP, TREMBLING fingers reach for the LIGHT SWITCH, a BURST of DIM LIGHT floods to life, STUDYING herself in the MIRROR, fingers DIGGING into the COLD PORCELAIN of the sink, NAUSEA washes over her. 

‘ THIS LITTLE GAME OF YOURS IS OVER. ‘ 

          BLINDING WHITE LIGHT, room GLOWING, LONG, JET BLACK TALONS, reaching out towards her, only to PLUCK Steven OFF THE GROUND, an ECHOING, SING-SONG VOICE. ‘ IT’S TIME TO COME OUT, PINK. ‘ The echoes of her voice FLOOD her mind, she’s back there, the COLD HANDS of her mentor WRAPPED TIGHTLY around her, fingers against her mouth, nails DIGGING, PAINFULLY into her cheeks. Making her teeth ache with the need to BITE DOWN. Watching HELPLESSLY / PITIFULLY / USELESSLY as his GEM is RIPPED / TORN OUT so easily out of his stomach, his PAINED EXPRESSION, ( a GAPING HOLE, blood spilling onto MARBLE FLOORS && coating PURE WHITE SKIN a DEEP CRIMSON. ) sweat && tears rolling down pale, hollowed cheeks, a SCREAM trapped between CLENCHED teeth. A COLD HORROR ripples through her stomach. 

          Then he’s FALLING FALLING FALLING FALLING, heart POUNDING in her ears. PINK LIGHT washing out the WHITE, ‘ ST- STEVEN ! ‘ His COLD, DYING BODY is heavy in her arms, skin GRAYING && ICE COLD against shaking hands, his BEGGING && PLEADING WHIMPERS, his TEARS STAINING her jacket. THICK, RICH, BLOOD oozing from the gaping hole where his GEM should be. She’ll never FORGET the COPPER TINGE of blood on her tongue, SICKENINGLY DRY, SWEET METALLIC TASTE / SCENT, vile pungency that SMOTHERED her SENSES && SUFFOCATES the air from her lungs. && no amount of HOW MANY TIMES she brushed her teeth / DRINKING MOUTHWASH like it was WATER, it won’t seem to LEAVE. It lingers in her nose, a lump in the back of her throat that she can NEVER swallow down. Had there really been blood ? No. No. He hadn’t bled. Had he ? 

She’s going CRAZY.

          Her eyes were WILD / UNSEEING, && she struggled to hold herself together. ‘ NOW TO DISPOSE OF- ‘ An ANIMALISTIC SCREAM / DISGUSTING, THROAT-SCRAPING SOB, curling a TREMBLING hand into a fist && SMASHING it AGAINST the BATHROOM MIRROR, again again again again-  SHATTERING her GEM, silencing her MOCKING LAUGHTER && SING-SONG VOICE once && for all; a jolt of ADRENALINE surging through her veins. It was better than any HIGH she’d ever EXPERIENCED. Blood FLOODING down her knuckles, broken glass FALLING Like STARS. She STUMBLES BACK, a HITCHED, UGLY sob escapes between CLENCHED TEETH, falling against the wall, the MIRROR was just a SLIP of the LIGHT that was all. Just her stupid MIND PLAYING TRICKS, showing her FLASHES of things she thought she had CONTROL OVER. No, that she DID have control over ! She wasn’t Steven, the gems, Lars... ANYONE. She didn’t FALL APART. The sound of fists THUNDERING DOWN against the THIN WOODEN DOOR, shaking it, ❝ What was that, Connie ? Did you hurt yourself ? ❞ 

          ❝ Unlock the door. We need to get the glass out before it can cause permanent damage. ❞ A MONOTONE VOICE ( Garnet ) spoke through the HAZE of ERRATIC of Pearl, Bismuth && Peridot. Of course, her FUTURE VISION saw a GLIMPSE of what could / would HAPPEN... Did she see she FLASHBACKS ? Shit ! Scrubbing a hand through dark curls, getting blood in her hair, biting the INSIDE of her cheek. ❝ Her hand ?! ❞ A SHRILL / PANICKED voice, shouts over all the other voices, a prickle of IRRITATION crawls under her skin... Pearl. That’s her MOTHERLY TONE, the same one she’s HEARD whenever it INVOLVES Steven. ❝ What happened to her hand ?! ❞ Before the TALLER GEM can open her mouth to REMEASURE Pearl that EVERYTHING IS OKAY. Connie braces herself against the wall, legs SHAKING like she were a NEWBORN LAMB.

          ❝ I’m not going to sat idly by when one of my babies is hurt !! ❞ The PORCELAIN GEM is about to KICK THE DOOR IN, when SUDDENLY it BURST OPEN. Then the panic let loose && she began CLUMSILY RUNNING / PUSHING PAST the gems && YANKING the door open almost HARD ENOUGH to BREAK the front door off its hinges, bare feet against WOODEN FLOORS, chest BURNING, the smell of SALT WATER, tears STINGING her eyes. DROPPING heavily onto the beach, catching her breath as the wet sand crunched beneath her. Fingers CLUTCHING / TWISTING her shirt, HEART threatening to BURST from her ribs. Is she DYING ? Why is her chest so TIGHT ? Dread is CREEPING UP her spine, SQUIRMING between her ribs, making its HOME in her heart. 

          Heat CRAWLS across her skin && a RUSH of UNKNOWN FEELINGS, of something STIRRING to life, like someone LIT a MATCH inside her && FLAMES engulfed her, SWALLOWING her, urgent && molten. SHAME festers in the pit of her stomach. A shaky breath in through her mouth && back out her nose, calm down. It’s okay. Everything passes in a blur. Soon Connie found herself sitting in the sand, watching the tide ROLLING IN. Connie doesn’t REMEMBER how she ENDED UP sitting on the beach, it’s GROWING COLDER / the sun is being SWALLOWED by the sea, the sky BURNING yellow, orange && red. She chooses to IGNORE the footsteps, she already knows who it is.

PEARL.

          SHRUGGING OFF her COMMENT. ( Garnet must have told her... ) She was okay, she was MANAGING, could FUNCTION just fine. She wasn’t going to FALL APART like Steven had. She’s too NUMB / DRAINED to even bother CARING why Pearl is standing there AWKWARDLY, hands FUMBLING in front of her. Almost like she’s WORRIED / FEARFUL that at any MINUTE Connie would JUMP UP && SHATTER her gem like the MIRROR sitting in SHARDS in the sink. ( && EMBEDDED in her knuckles. ) She doesn’t want Pearl’s HELP, her LACKLUSTER ADVICE that Connie’s read from SELF HELP BOOKS. SHUT THE FUCK UP, PEARL ! Is what she wants to say / to SCREAM- lingering on her tongue, between clenched teeth && choking sobs. 

          Begging to be set FREE. But Connie KNOWS she’s NEVER going to let those HORRIBLE, STUPID, TRUTHS crawl from a weakened tongue && TREMBLING lips. ❝ I- ❞ She swallows heavily, shoulders SHAKING. ❝ I’m not Steven. I don’t need to be babied ! ❞ Words are COMING OUT more && more AGGRESSIVELY, more FRANTIC. It's almost SICKENING how the BITTERNESS is SLIPPING IN, invading her heart. Cheeks flushed SCARLET with UNBRIDLED RAGE, teeth CLENCHED && chest HEAVING, gasping breath.

          This SICKENINGLY SWEET, OVERBEARING ( S ) MOTHER. Who was CARING, voice DRIPPING with CONCERN, WIDE, DOE LIKE EYES- shimmering with a NEED to HELP / to PROTECT. Who seemed to want to CODDLE her like a NEWBORN BABY. It leaves a BITTERSWEET TASTE that fills her mouth, like SWALLOWING a HOT BED OF COALS, BURNING her from the INSIDE OUT. She wants to SCREAM. The brunette glare DAGGERS at the gem before turning her ATTENTION back towards the ocean. Biting back the URGE to just start LAUGHING ( or start CRYING ) in her face, JEALOUSY crept up her spine, Steven had gotten the Pearl she should’ve gotten. ( He needed that SIDE OF HER more than you ! You asked for this when you CHOOSE to pick up a sword. ) A LINGERING urge to PUSH HER AWAY && close herself off from those feelings. 

           Because she doesn't know how to handle it, because she NEVER heard those words from Pearl before. ( Steven’s SOFT HEARTED, LOVING Pearl ) so it feels ODD / UNNATURAL / UNCOMFORTABLE when she does, this is WORSE than hearing a  HARSH LECTURE from her ( or her MOTHER ), but this was coming from the mouth of a NICE, CARING Pearl. Her WORDS of RECURRENCE felt like a SLAP across the face now. It sat her TEETH ON EDGE. Connie felt a familiar TWIST of JEALOUSY in her HEART, acid rushed up her throat, this wasn’t the same Pearl who TRAINED her to DIE for the boy she LOVED / the son of a DIAMOND. She was RUTHLESS, COLD, CALCULATED, Pearl / The Renegade would NEVER TALK to Steven THE WAY she SPOKE to her on the SKY ARENA. Had she wanted to think Steven ( Pearl ) was to BLAME ? Was she REALLY that jealous of her BEST FRIEND ? No, of course not… right ? ...Right ?

          Head SWIMMING with an awful ball of anger that sat HEAVILY atop her heart, she was DRUNK ON it. The words ‘ The memories hurt the most, I know. ‘ pounded in her skull as fast as her  rapid / frantic, HEARTBEAT, ‘ But… what matters is that you… — ‘ it just kept REPEATING itself OVER && OVER as every WORD from Pearl CRAWLED under her skin, surged in her veins. This was becoming as close to an APOLOGY Connie knew she’d ever get from Pearl ( from any of the gems. ) ‘ You have to stay on top of it, Connie.’ The hair on the back of her neck rose, mouth dry. Why did she KEEP talking ? She LOVED the SOUND OF her own VOICE, Connie knew Pearl could talk for HOURS ON END without taking a single breath ( not that she needed to breath. ) Hands balled into fists at her sides. ❝ I said I’m fine… I have this… myself under control, what happened in the bathroom was just a slip up. I should probably cut back on the coffee. ❞ She won’t. 

          Yet another L I E gracing her lips. it was GROWING harder each day to DISTINGUISH the LIES from the TRUTH. How would EVERYONE know ? All she does is LIE LIE LIE LIE- LYING to Steven, Pearl, friends, her own PARENTS. LYING TO HERSELF. All fake smiles && forced laughter so no one sees how BROKEN INSIDE she really is. But keep lying. It’s what you're GOOD at. The PHRASE - ‘ I’M FINE. ‘ Turns BITTER, ROTTEN on her tongue, MASHING the words between teeth, swallowing them down a BLEEDING, RAW throat. But over TIME those words STARTED to sound HOLLOW, DEVOID of any MEANING / WORTHLESS words that fall EFFORTLESSLY from lips each time the phrases are SPOKEN to life again.

‘ Are you okay ? ‘

‘ You look tired. Have you been sleeping ? ‘

Or her FAVORITE- ‘ I’m here if you need to talk. ‘ No, you’re NOT !  

          Silence creeps across the two, chocolate hues watch with GLAZED OVER eyes, tears drying on cheeks, CRIMSON DROPLETS roll down her hand && laid on wet sand, the tide SWALLOWS UP the blood, like she never EXISTED, just another drop in THE ENDLESS && vast DEEP BLUE. Glancing up from her bleeding hands, towards the water, waves crashing, tickling her bare feet, soaking the bottom of her shorts. For a SPLIT SECOND Connie’s mind FLICKERS, GLITCHING- taking her back to the SECOND TIME she almost LOST HER LIFE from DROWNING. 

          Oh, how UNFORGIVING the sea ( Lapis ) is / was, the cold, HARSHNESS of it, the salty taste of water filling her lungs / a BUBBLE wrapped around her head. The MEMORY fills her with a SOUR TASTE of DREAD in the back of her throat, a PIN-PRICK of TRANQUILITY lingers in the back of her SKULL- whispering SWEET NOTHINGS like the VOICE of a LOVER. She didn’t see her LIFE FLASH BEFORE HER EYES like how its always described in BOOKS or MOVIES. It was just this LIFELESS, HEAVY WEIGHT was lifted from her shoulders && she could finally BREATHE ( METAPHORICALLY ) for the first time in her life. A inky BLACKNESS, muffled voices && the slowing of her HEART BEAT.

          After all the VEIL between LIFE && DEATH is PAPER THIN, having ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE on that fateful day she PLUMMETED to the BOTTOM of the SEA in a PINK BUBBLE all those years ago. She’s been greeting THE GRIM REAPER with open arms / the two were like OLD FRIENDS. ( waiting / longing with BATED BREATH for his KISS OF DEATH. ) She no longer FEARED it. Feared H I M. It gave her COMFORT knowing the sea would SOMEDAY, once again claim her BODY, cradling her SOUL && taking her HOME. She WISHES those THOUGHTS scared her. ( She still gets this TWINGE of ANXIETY when she has to shower or goes to the pool ) but that DEEP LONGING for the cold embrace of saltwater in her BURNING lungs && WEIGHTLESS FEELING, unburdened by the BATTLEFIELD that is her life. The UNENDING WAR in her BROKEN MIND.

          She WISHED Lapis ( White Diamond / Topaz / Jasper ) had KILLED her, she would have GIVEN her own life for STEVEN. The boy she LOVED so much her HEART ACHES, flutters between her rib cage. && like Pearl with PINK DIAMOND- she would do it without thought for herself. Steven was her life, her EVERYTHING. Her FIRST FRIEND / LOVING BOYFRIEND. ( FOLLOWING in Pearls PATHETIC, CLINGING, FOOTSTEPS with DEEPLY ROOTED NEED for a LOVER who would GIVE themselves up in a HEARTBEAT whether it's to SELFISHLY turn to STARDUST / BECOME A BLACK-HOLE && create a NEW, BRIGHTER STAR CHILD, made from LOVE && TRAGEDY / to self-sacrifice himself to the ENEMY GEMS thinking it's the right thing. PUSHING PUSHING PUSHING PUSHING THEM HER AWAY. Like he ALWAYS DOES ! )

          Keeping her gaze straight, tears simmering in RED RIMMED eyes, mouth set in a TIGHT FROWN. A small hiss through gritted teeth, pulling a slightly bigger shard out. She doesn’t want to talk about it, && doesn't want to think about HER. About any of it. She feels like she’s SUFFOCATING, she’s been DROWNING for years && no one seems to hear her CRIES, her pleading screams. Thrashing && trying to keep herself afloat in an ENDLESS VOID OF NOTHINGNESS, emptiness. So she built a GRAVEYARD inside her GUT, she’s been BURYING the DYING && ROTTING CORPSES of HERSELF in THE DIRT for YEARS. The WEAKNESS, FEAR, LONELINESS, her slowly crumbling MENTAL STATE, everything she deemed unfit to FIGHT by && PROTECT Steven. 

          She needs to be the PERFECT BEST FRIEND / GIRLFRIEND, STRAIGHT A STUDENT, QUIET / OBEDIENT DAUGHTER, PERFECT SWORD FIGHTER. So many DIFFERENT PEOPLE for everyone in her life. ( The one who can SHATTER White Diamond ! ) Needs to be SMARTER, STRONGER, SCARIER. She needs to be what THEY ( he ! ) need her to be. && she’s ready to bury her SOUL for it. COUGHING UP black dirt && swallowing STONES / where no words reach the surface, crying out for HELP even though she's not sure she even WANTS / NEEDS or DESERVES it.

She knows she doesn't.

          With a head FILLED with GHOSTS, parts of herself that refuse to stay BURIED IN THE GROUND, crawling, UGLY, BEGGING, LITTLE THINGS / mouths open in SILENT SCREAMS. Clawing, ripping with BLOODY, BROKEN nails TRYING to rip OPEN her throat && FREE THEMSELVES from this PRISON she’s BUILT in her HEART. ❝ It’s not a big deal, really. ❞ Biting down hard on her bottom lip to STIFLE the sob TRAPPED in her throat, don’t cry ! Don’t you DARE cry ! ❝ I just need to get over myself. It was one little memory, nothing to worry about, Ma’am. ❞ She forces a TIGHT SMILE, a laugh BUBBLES UP from a dry throat, wincing as she pulls the last bit of GLASS from her WOUNDED HAND. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE IT BE. 

          This STORM has been BUILDING UP inside her for years, on the cusp of her CHILDHOOD she’d been BRANDED with a METAPHORICAL SCARLET LETTER against TENDER SKIN with the ROLE OF ADULTHOOD, while still SEEN / TREATED like a HELPLESS CHILD. && in the AFTERMATH wears her TRAUMA like a NECKLACE of RUSTED CHAINS, wrapped TIGHTLY around a soft throat && slumping shoulders, GROWING heavier with each YEAR. A GALAXY / RAINBOW of bruises peppered her hand && DARK CRUSTED BLOOD RINGED around her knuckles. 

          The LOUD ACHE was COMFORTING && SAFE, Connie UNDERSTOOD IT- the PAIN, the BUDDING ANGER. Flexing her left hand to make sure her fingers weren’t BROKEN. Chocolate hues glance down at the BLOOD STAINED GLASS, with slow, steady fingers, she picks up the bits && stuffs them into her pocket so she can THROW IT away in the beach house. ( Couldn’t risk a SEAGULL getting injured because of her MISTAKE / OUTBURST ) curling inward, pulling, shaking legs to her chest.

          TERRIFIED of opening PANDORA’S BOX && letting all those GHOSTS && ROTTING CORPSES of herself, her TRAUMA out. But it keeps LEAKING OUT through the CRACKS, ( NIGHTMARES, smashing the bathroom mirror, && so much more it HURT her head to even THINK about them ) she’s SCARED that she’ll NEVER be able to UNTANGLE IT, it'll come RUSHING OUT like WATER in an OVERFLOWING SINK. So she keeps PUSHING IT DOWN, filling up that GRAVEYARD. 

          TELL ME IT GETS EASIER ? That she won’t always feel this TIGHTENING IN her chest, PANIC flooding her VEINS when she hears the name WHITE DIAMOND, that even just WALKING around Beach City makes her want to RIP her skin off. That she can’t take a SHOWER without having a PANIC ATTACK for an HOUR… PLEASE SHE NEEDS TO HEAR THAT ! She needs to hear from the ADULTS in her life to say SORRY. SORRY SORRY SORRY- Steven ALWAYS SAYS he’s SORRY, even if it’s not his FAULT ( it’s NEVER his fucking fault ! )

‘ WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU HERE IS FOREVER ! ‘

[dekusaladbowl]

Streetcars and Sunken Submarines

Rating: M (may go up later)

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Shinsou Hitoshi

Ch 2/4

Welcome back to Shindeku in Canada!

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

It’s still dark out when Hitoshi wakes up. Izuku is awake. Again. He’s talking, trying his best to keep his voice as quiet as possible but clearly it hadn’t stopped him from waking Hitoshi. Still though, the transition from sleep to wakefulness is admittedly a lot less awful than it usually is when he’s carried over by Izuku’s soft murmuring so he can’t bring himself to really mind.

At first Hitoshi thinks he’s done another deep dive into a hero forum again, muttering about whatever hot topic has the internet riled up these days until what Izuku’s saying finally starts trickling through the fog of sleep.

“It’s okay really, I mean, it’s early evening there right? I haven’t been asleep that long. I know, I know. I’m okay though. Are you?”

Opening his eyes takes a bit of effort but Hitoshi manages after a few hard blinks. His vision is still blurry but through the gray dawn filtering in through the curtains he makes out the outline of Izuku sitting up against the headboard. He has one hand in Hitoshi’s hair and the other by his ear. He’s talking to someone on the phone, Hitoshi realizes.

He can hear snatches of a reply, the faintest crackle of a voice on the other line.

“But I thought the doctor said-....okay.... don’t overdo it okay? Yeah, I will. I’ll see you next week. Bye.”

Hitoshi means to ask him as soon as he hangs up but something makes him pause. After the call disconnects, Izuku’s hand falls limply to the sheets. He sits, staring straight ahead and unmoving for long enough, Hitoshi is immediately concerned. Then he sighs, bringing the phone up to his mouth thoughtfully, the way he does when he’s really worried about something.

“Izuku.”

Izuku jumps. “Hey, I’m sorry, did i wake you?” he asks, fingers combing through Hitoshi’s hair.

“It’s fine. Who were you talking to?”

Izuku hesitates. Barely, but Hitoshi doesn’t miss it. “All Might.”

Ah.

“How is he?”

Izuku is trying to fluff up a section of hair that had gotten flattened sometime while Hitoshi slept but at that, his hand pauses. “He’s okay, no worse than usual.” The ‘... he says’ is heavily implied. “He says hi by the way and that he’s glad we made it here safe.”

Still mostly asleep, the doubtful hum comes out unbidden. Izuku chuckles, curling his fingers and lightly rapping his knuckles against Hitoshi’s temple.

“It’s the truth.”

Hitoshi shrugs one shoulder.“Pretty sure he doesn’t like me.”

Izuku just makes an incredulous sound, like the idea of All Might disliking anyone is the most prepostorous thing he’s ever heard. “Why would you think that?”

“For all intents and purposes, he’s your dad, and those don’t usually like the idea of sketchy kids that got held back a year hanging around their precious overachieving babies,” he reaches up to pinch Izuku’s cheek. He lost most of the baby fat around the middle of second year but still, a bit of roundness clings to his face. Hitoshi doesn’t think it’ll ever go away. “-or taking them alone halfway across the world for a few days.”

Izuku swats his hand away with a soft snort. “Okay first of all, I didn’t graduate top of the class and I didn’t have nearly as many offers as Todoroki-kun, Iida-kun and Kacchan, pretty sure overachieving doesn’t apply to me. Second, you weren’t held back, you were transferred into the course you should’ve been in late. That’s on the school, not you.”

“No comment on the “sketchy” part huh?”

“Well,” Izuku slides back down under the covers until he’s lying on his side, face to face with Hitoshi. “You nailed that bit. Don’t worry though, it’s part of your charm.”

Hitoshi pinches his nose between his fingers until Izuku laughs and smacks his hand away. The laugh doesn’t linger like it usually does and it’s an awful sight, watching the smile drain right out of Izuku’s face. His eyes grow a bit distant, lips parting on a question. Hitoshi sees it halt on his tongue and he doesn’t wait, seeking out one of Izuku’s hands under the covers.

“He’ll be fine. He made it this long. He’s going to outlive us all, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else.” Hitoshi murmurs, repeating words he’d heard Aizawa-sensei utter a thousand times on the subject. Hitoshi believes them to be true. He thinks. All Might’s had one whole leg in the grave long before they even started school and he’s still here. Although from what Izuku’s told him of his health lately, Hitoshi thinks now it might be accurate to say that the man may be hip deep and steadily sinking the more time goes on. But hey. He’s tall.

“Hm? What does his height have to do with anything?” Izuku asks, confused.

Whoops. He hadn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Tall people are stubborn.”

Izuku seems to find the nonsense coming out of his mouth at least a little bit funny. He lets out a soft, bemused chuckle and it lifts the shadow of worry from his expression. He doesn’t agree with Hitoshi but he doesn’t fuss about All Might’s health, not out loud at least. Hitoshi is going to count it as a win for now.  

“What time is it?” He asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Izuku taps his phone and they both squint as his display lights up. Izuku reads it with one eye and immediately sets the phone screen down on his pillow.

“It’s 4:06.” Izuku manages to get most of it out before trailing off quickly into a huge yawn. Hitoshi hears his jaw click. He seems to grow heavy, sinking back into the pillow with his eyes closed for a moment before they shoot open again.

“I’m in Canada.”

Hitoshi raises an amused brow at him. “Yes you are.”

“I’ve never been this far away from home before.”

He tries not to let his face fall as fast as Izuku’s did earlier, schooling his features immediately into a neutral expression completely at odds with the way his stomach suddenly feels like it’s full of lead. The thought-no, the knowledge that Izuku would be again, a lot sooner than he’d like, for much longer than a few days hits him with surprising intensity. Up until a second ago, it had been non-existent, a problem they left behind in Musutafu, unthinkable in the peaceful dimness of the guest room.

New York is going to be even farther.

It’s going to suck when you’re this far away without me.

He’s startled by the touch of fingers on his cheek and lips on his. It’s close-mouthed and far from pleasant, all dry lips and morning breath but still, Hitoshi sighs and closes his eyes, kissing back when Izuku pulls away only to press back in once, twice, three times. He doesn’t move away, lying close enough for their foreheads to almost touch. A hand settles on Hitoshi’s jaw, long, calloused fingers curling around the back of his neck.

Izuku doesn’t say anything but he keeps his eyes on Hitoshi’s; big and green and bursting with all the things Hitoshi knows he wants to say. He’s always been an open book, almost too easy to read at times. It’s one of his biggest weaknesses but right now, Hitoshi finds that he’s the one who feels a lot like crumbling under that look. He turns away, rolling over and shifting until his back is to Izuku’s chest. Izuku wraps an arm around his waist, pulling them as close together as possible. His face nuzzles into the back of Hitoshi’s neck and he sighs, putting an arm over Izuku’s and pulling his palm up to rest on his chest.

He drifts off like that, with Izuku’s heartbeat at his back and the even rhythm of his breath, ghosting across the back of his neck.

They get about another hour before the jetlag kicks in. Hitoshi rouses first this time, his internal clock tells him it’s a lot later in the day than it actually is and within minutes, he’s wide awake, staring at the ceiling and trying in vain to force himself back into unconsciousness. It doesn’t work. Izuku wakes up to Hitoshi scrolling determinedly through his phone in an attempt to wear himself out.

“Mmm-toshi, what are you doing?”

“Going through Monoma Neito’s twitter.”

Izuku pauses before responding, probably trying to figure out if he heard him right.

“Okay...Can I ask why?”

“It’s the most boring thing I can find. Are you hungry?”

Izuku is not nearly as awake as he is but lets himself be dragged out of bed and accompanies Hitoshi down to the kitchen where Kimiko finds them two hours later. Hitoshi is munching on some dry cereal and Izuku is slumped on the table next to him, dead asleep and snoring softly next to a half eaten plate of toast. When he sees his aunt coming down the steps, Hitoshi wraps a bit of green hair around his finger and gives a sharp tug. Izuku sits up with a jolt and bangs his knees against the table. He half-yells a flustered morning greeting.

Kimiko, having seen the whole thing, doesn’t even comment on it, greeting them with a small, amused smile.

“Good morning, you guys are up early.”

She looks a bit tired and the probable culprit toddles carefully down the stairs beside her, one tiny hand clasped in hers while the other holds on to the balustrade for support. Wide brown eyes grow even wider when they spot the newcomers sitting at the table. She points at them with a chubby little finger, mouth falling open on a wordless coo before turning her face up to her mom as if checking if she sees the new people too.

“Yumi who’s that?” Kimiko asks, guiding them both the last few steps off the stairs and into the kitchen. They come to a stop a few feet away from Hitoshi who offers his baby cousin a smile and a small awkward wave. She could barely roll over or lift her head the last time he’d seen her in person and predictably there’s no spark of recognition in her face but still, she approaches Hitoshi with small, cautious steps and readily accepts the tiny handful of cheerios he shakes out of the box and onto her hand.

“What do we say Yumi? Say thank you Toshi-Niichan.” Kimiko says in English.

“Teh-yieeuu.” is mumbled shyly at him before Yumi’s attention drifts to the other, even less familiar face sitting at the table.

She’s a bit older than she’d been in most of the pictures he’d seen the night before but still, Izuku recognizes the familiar dark hair and the bright brown eyes. She looks a lot like Kimiko’s wife. He beams. “Hi.” he greets her in English.  

“Izuku-kun, this is my oldest, Mayumi.” Kimiko says, combing her fingers gently through a wispy cowlick sticking up near the front of her head. Mayumi is no less shy than she’d been with Hitoshi, only maintaining eye contact with Izuku for a split second before looking away again.

“I’m Midoriya Izuku, it’s nice to meet you.”

He holds his hand out for her to shake, still smiling. Yumi looks at it, then back up at Izuku’s face then she daintily picks out a single cheerio from her hand and tries to put it in his. She earns a delighted laugh as Izuku turns his hand so she can drop the cheerio safely in his palm.

“Thank you!”

Finally, a wide, toothless grin spreads on her little face. It bring out dimples on both cheeks and Izuku just catches a glimpse of them before Yumi suddenly runs to the other side of the table to her high chair, jumping and yelling until Kimiko walks over to pick her up and strap her in.

“Coffee?” Kimiko sighs as soon as she’s done, making a beeline for the keurig next to the fridge. It’s clear she’s going to make herself a pot, regardless of whether or not anyone else wants any.

“Please.” Hitoshi immediately says.

Breakfast is a longer affair than dinner had been the night before, but just barely. Kimiko has to run out with Yumi to a nearby neighborhood to have brunch with some friends so she only has time to scarf down a fruit cup and a bagel in between hurried sips of her coffee. She chats with them while she does it, asking them how they slept and about their plans for the day, offering up a few suggestions when Hitoshi lists some places he plans to bring Izuku to.

When the conversation turns into a blur of unfamiliar stations and street names, Izuku turns his attention to Yumi, encouraging her to eat her tiny cup of cereal and her sliced bananas instead of playing with them. She warms up to him fairly quickly after he tosses a few cheerios in the air and catches them in his mouth. They’re taking turns feeding each other bits of cheerios by the time Kimiko gets up and takes Yumi away to get changed.

Izuku and Hitoshi stay downstairs, relocating from the kitchen to the living room after the latter announces that they(he) don’t have to (doesn’t want to) leave before noon.

They settle down on the couch in comfortable silence, Hitoshi in one corner while Izuku takes up the rest of it, lying down sideways with his head on Hitoshi’s lap. He finds himself staring at the pictures above the fireplace again, looking at them in more detail. There isn’t much room up there so there are only a handful. All the frames that don’t feature Mayumi hold beautifully shot wedding photos. Apparently Kimiko and her wife had both worn suits for their ceremony.

“I think it’s really cool that Kimiko-san is married to another woman.” He murmurs sleepily.

“Yeah. Rosa’s cool, bit too much of a people person though. You’d get along.” Hitoshi replies.

Izuku chuckles through a yawn. “What did you say her job is again?”

“Translator. She travels a lot for work, I think she’s in Korea right now.”

Izuku hums, observing the only group photo of the wedding. It isn’t a big crowd and he wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking but he has a feeling that not many people, if any at all, present that day were excluded from the picture.

“I can hear you thinking.” Hitoshi comments. “I know asking questions is your second favorite thing to do, go on then.”

Izuku hesitates. “Were you there when they got married?”

“No. I was only eight and we’ve already moved back to Japan by then. My dad wanted to take me but my grandparents wouldn’t let him, said it was the middle of the school year and i shouldn’t miss any classes. They didn’t go either. They made their excuses and made me stay with them while he was away.”

“They…didn’t approve?”

Hitoshi pauses and when Izuku turns to look, he finds him looking at the same picture he’d just been staring at. “They like to pretend they’re okay with it now but,”

Hitoshi says with a shrug. He lets out a derisive little chuckle, pushing some green curls back from Izuku’s forehead. “I can only imagine what they’d say if I tell them about you.”

This new information sits heavy and uncomfortable in his gut and it must show on his face because Hitoshi traces a finger lighty between his brows, trying to flatten out the furrow there.

“Here we are, two generations of sketchy gay cousins.” Hitoshi continues in the driest monotone he can muster, gesturing half heartedly to the house around them.

Izuku can’t help it, he giggles. When the laughter dies down, he shifts so he’s lying down on his other side, face nuzzled against Hitoshi’s stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. Because he doesn’t know what else to say.

His own mother, perhaps unsurprisingly, took the news well. The worst Izuku got was a brief, surprised pause in which he felt like all of his organs were trying their best to fall through the earth while leaving his body behind but Midoriya Inko had only smiled and pulled him into a hug with a bright “Oh, Izuku that’s wonderful!” after hearing the words “I have a boyfriend.” come out of her son’s mouth. She didn’t comment on how Izuku trembled in her arms or the tears that had gathered in his eyes, first out of fear and then relief, simply tucked some hair behind his ear with a kind smile and asked him to tell her all about the boy he’s dating.

Hitoshi snorts. “I was gay long before you came along, don’t worry. Besides, the only time I talk to them is when I tell them to hang up the phone and forget they ever called.”

One green eye peeks up at him and Hitoshi reaches down to idly brush the back of one finger against Izuku’s ridiculously long lashes. “Anyway, enough about them. What do you want to do today?”  

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

They decide to spend the day downtown where most of the tourist attractions are, with the straightforward plan of trying to do as much sightseeing as they can. Izuku wants to see all the places Hitoshi likes to go to whenever he visits and it’s an hour and then some past noon by the time they actually leave the house so their first stop is a small poutine shop called Smoke’s. They take a streetcar to get there. It’s Izuku’s first time being on one and Hitoshi watches with a small, amused smile as he stares out the window with wide-eyed interest, watching every little thing that passes by.

The city looks a lot different in the light of day, bright and bustling. The weather is still unacceptably chilly for spring but the sun is shining, the temperature is above zero and not a single snowflake is in sight. Everyone is clearly taking advantage of this, the sidewalks are full of people bundled up in beanies, scarves and light autumn coats. The two of them are a lot wiser about their wardrobe this time, both zipped up in warm leather jackets (both Hitoshi’s) layered over worn, cozy hoodies (both Izuku’s).

They each get something called Country Style poutine, a serving of fries piled high with chicken, bacon, sauteed mushrooms and peas. The cheese curds are strange and squeaky in his mouth and he doesn’t think he’s ever eaten this much gravy in one sitting but still, it’s greasy and delicious and Izuku decides that he likes it. After they’re done eating, they wander up and down Queen Street, taking in the plethora of old, squat buildings clustered for miles on either side of the road, taking pictures of graffitied alleyways and quaint looking shop fronts, occassionally ducking inside the ones that seem very interesting. Izuku notices almost all the rainbow flags hanging proudly in some shop windows and points them out to Hitoshi every time.

They spend the better part of an hour in a place called Black Market; a huge basement artfully cluttered with rack upon rack of vintage clothing and accessories; color coded and differentiated by huge, hand painted signs. They had to descend a narrow stairwell painted over with a psychedelic bullseye pattern guarded by two finely dressed, faceless mannequins to get to it. Izuku had stared at them warily but Hitoshi just strolled right past, unfazed.

Izuku spends more time looking around at the furnishings and decorations while Hitoshi browses the racks, making note of the record store and barber shop crammed in the corner,  the neon, vintage signs surrounded by flashing light bulbs and the assorted, dismembered mannequin parts scattered about.

Hitoshi buys a few shirts, most of them are black graphic tees printed with bands Izuku doesn’t recognize. The exception is a faded baseball tee; an eye-watering shade of blue with white sleeves. Most of the front is occupied by a misshapen cat holding up two middle fingers(toes?) Izuku doesn’t comment on it. There are a lot of strange shirts saying strange things, some of them make him crack a smile and after some brief deliberation, Izuku buys a simple gray tee that has the word NO printed on the chest in bold white font, intending to give it to Todoroki as a gift. And after even more deliberation, also buys a white shirt that has EAT SHIT AND DIE printed on it in atrocious, curly orange font. Hitoshi looks at him weirdly when he carefully goes through a stack of them for an appropriate size and he offers a sheepish shrug in return

“For Kacchan.”

A rock shop catches Hitoshi’s eye after they exit the store and Izuku follows him inside, intending to stick close but losing Hitoshi almost as soon as they step through the door. The shop isn’t big but he’s easily drawn in by the displays of colorful stones, beads and minerals. A small stack of cheap paper labels sit near the back of each display clearly meant to be taken freely. They contain names, facts and uses for the various crystals and minerals. They appeal to Izuku’s natural curiosity and by the the time he catches up to Hitoshi, he has at least five labels, muttering to himself as he reads them over.

Hitoshi buys some beautiful pieces of amethyst to give to Kimiko, explaining that she and Rosa like collecting stones and while he lines up to go pay for them, a display near the front catches Izuku’s eye. The sign (sporting a big, conspicuous red maple leaf on it) declares the display to be minerals unique to Canada. After reading through the labels, Izuku pauses over a small collection of gray rocks, smooth and oddly shaped, all warped circles and oblongs clustered together to form single entities. He plucks a label out from the designated stack by the display and after reading over all the facts provided on itl, Izuku carefully picks one out and runs off to the counter to buy it.  He declines the cashier’s offer of a small paper bag, hiding the stone in his palm and waiting until they exit the shop before offering it to Hitoshi who regards it curiously with furrowed brows. The stone Izuku picked out is wide and flat, the lines of circles etched on it reminiscent of soap bubbles. It’s pretty, in its own strange way.

“It’s a fairy stone!” Izuku explains. “They say they bring you health and prosperity and ward off evil spirits. It-umm... They’re also given as a tokens of romantic love and I thought-” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck shyly when Hitoshi turns to stare at him, a nervous habit he’d picked up from Hitoshi himself.

“You gave me a rock because you love me?” Hitoshi says slowly, keeping up the flat, blank stare until Izuku blushes and shoves him gently in the shoulder.

“Well if you put it like that,”

Hitoshi pockets the fairy stone, hiding a smile into his scarf. They walk together in silence for a few seconds and then without warning, Hitoshi grabs onto Izuku’s arm. Izuku stops, turns and before he can say anything, Hitoshi wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s brief but thorough, a few soft, deliberate swipe of lips that makes Izuku’s pulse race. Hitoshi pulls away with a quiet smack that Izuku hears even over the busy sounds of the street. He’s smiling. Surprise roots Izuku to the spot, head swimming with the fact that Hitoshi had just kissed him in broad daylight, out on a very public, very busy street, something neither of them had ever done back home.

Without another word, Hitoshi resumes walking and Izuku stares after him, dumbfounded for a few seconds. A brief glance around garners him no unusual stares or hushed whispering hidden behind hands, the world just goes on like nothing out of the ordinary had taken place and Izuku lets a small, hesitant smile bloom on his face before running to catch up with Hitoshi and bravely, slips a hand in his. For once he doesn’t think about it, enjoying the freedom and the warm wave of contentment that spreads through all of his limbs as they amble down the street in search of more shops to peruse, fingers linked tightly together.

By late afternoon they find themselves at the very core of the downtown area, where skyscrapers loom over the narrow streets, shiny and modern, with the occasional old Victorian building interrupting the sea of steel and glass. They stand out, all artful curves and old brick, meshed with steel plaques and modern awnings, oddities caught in the transition between eras.

Nathan Phillips square is big and picturesque, bracketed on all sides by tall, sprawling buildings that are either historic, popular or both. They manage to snag one of the big Os in the giant TORONTO sign to sit in, casually ruining tourist pictures as they eat street dogs and watch people mill around the huge fountain. They stay there for as long as they can, watching the reflection of sky and concrete arches on the dark water and talking about whatever topic comes up. When the grand clock tower of the old city hall across the street starts chiming to announce the passage of another hour with deep, reverberating bell tolls, Izuku pulls out his phone and films what he can of it.

Shortly after, they pop in next door to the Eaton Centre, window shopping and wearing out their legs more than anything. Izuku takes some snaps of the huge flock of wooden geese hanging from the broad glass ceiling and sends it to the (former) class 3-A’s groupchat. At his insistence, shortly after leaving the mall they go into the first gaudy souvenir shop Izuku sees, where he purchases, among other things, a bottle of syrup shaped like a maple leaf, some keychains and a small stuffed moose in a hockey uniform.

They forego the CN tower after taking one look at the massive lineup and decide to spend the rest of the evening at the Ripley’s Aquarium. Considering both of them had lived most of their lives in close proximity to Tokyo, Hitoshi would’ve thought the aquarium to be a boring way to end the day but Izuku takes it in with childlike excitement, gazing into the tanks and going through the underwater tunnel with open-mouthed wonder. The color-shifting jellyfish tank is admittedly, still very cool despite the number of times Hitoshi had seen it and they linger there for a long time, just watching the striking play of colors against the clear water and the translucent bodies of the jellyfish as the lights cycle through the tank in unhurried patterns.

The aquarium is blessedly devoid of its usual crowds, near empty in some places and Hitoshi takes advantage of the fact, leading them through the children’s area where they’re technically allowed but most adults tended to stay away from, either unaware of the small sunken submarine you can crawl into, with its big glass dome where you can observe the sharks swim lazily overhead, or courteous enough to leave it to the children. The space is clearly built for very tiny people. Hitoshi has to crawl through the narrow entrance under the slides and he watches with equal parts amusement and envy as Izuku, who’s barely grown past his measly five foot five after three years of high school, merely bows as low as he can go, knees bent, and shuffles through still on his feet.

“Wow,” he breathes after he settles down next to Hitoshi on the carpeted floor. The tiny space is not bad at all with just the two of them in it, cozy and peaceful.

“Is this the submarine we saw earlier when we were going through the tunnel?” Izuku asks, leaning back on his hands to stare up at the gentle ripples of water overhead. His hair looks even greener under the aquamarine light of the tank around them and Hitoshi watches as he stretches an arm up and traces a finger across the glass dome, following a small yellow fish as it swims by.

“Mmmhmm.” Hitoshi hums, watching blurry silhouettes of people passing by them through the tunnel, distorted by water and layers of glass.

They watch the tank in comfortable silence for a long time, basking in the simple calm beauty of it as they rest.

“Did you have a good day today?” Hitoshi asks eventually.

“Yes I did!” The answer is immediate and sincere. Izuku’s eyes are still on the tank, watching as a sand tiger shark swims above them. “Toronto is really cool.”

“Yeah. It’s like New York, just smaller and a little less sketchy.”

It’s supposed to be a light, dry joke but as soon as the words are out of Hitoshi’s mouth, the space between them fills with silence, heavy and thick. Those big, green eyes slowly shift away from the tank and settle on Hitoshi’s face. Izuku offers him a small, hesitant smile. “Yeah?”

The words practically claw their way out of his throat and Hitoshi is powerless to stop them as they spill out of his mouth.

“I’m going to miss you.”

He wants to say more. He should say more, feeling like he won’t be able to say what he ought to outside the safe, secluded bubble of the sunken submarine. I’m happy you got that internship overseas. You deserve it. Two months isn’t that long. I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss you so much.  but all that comes out of his mouth is. “...you piece of shit.”

Izuku laughs, it’s soft and quiet and it hurts to hear it. “I’m going to miss you too. So much. I’ll call you every day.” He shifts closer, pressing up against Hitoshi and wrapping an arm around him. “And...when you’re lonely, my love rock would keep you company?”

Hitoshi puts a hand on his face, muffling the incredulous laughter that comes out. “What the heck did you just say to me, oh my god.”

Izuku laughs again, embarrassed. This time it’s loud and bright and it hurts even more, knowing it just wouldn’t sound the same through tinny speakers.

He wraps his other arm around Hitoshi’s middle, clasping his hands together where they meet at Hitoshi’s hip. He buries his face in Hitoshi’s shoulder, kissing the smooth leather there before murmuring something so quietly, Hitoshi almost doesn’t hear him. Just three, simple words. Hitoshi doesn’t say them back but he rests his head on Izuku’s, closing his eyes and trying to memorize the coarseness of his curls against his cheek.

“How did we go from you body slamming me into concrete to this?”

Izuku’s laugh is muffled but still, they can both hear how watery it sounds. “I’m not sure. I’m glad we did though.”

Hitoshi sighs softly, breath ruffling some of Izuku’s hair. “Me too.”

They stay there in the sunken submarine for as long as they can get away with. And a little longer after that.

[portectorisms-a]

@wolfscldier for a drabble that wasn’t asked for but I wanted to write prompted off a meme I saw. =3

First - They were young, still children with dreams as stars that floated amongst the stars with them. Children who ran down the corridors, wide-eyed and laughing. So full of life and happiness. Nothing sad could touch them in a ways it did with the adults. Stuffed animals were considered best friends, people were always friendly, always joking about their ideas as children who only saw the universe as a storyboard, something that would grow with their imagination as time ticked on. They were in a corridor, alone. A soccer ball, tattered but full of air sat between them. Bellamy had been kicking it against a wall with ease and playfulness. His body was full of energy, his small limbs needing a way to exert the pent up energy of being stuck in their flat all day, watching a baby who wasn't suppose to be born. Aurora was home, promises made that Octavia would be okay and taken care of, believing was so easy at such a young age that he didn't think twice about the faux words of a woman that was meant to be their mother. A breath, and the young boy is all smiles, laughter like the sound of music from the concerts he'd sneak in to watch the clips of with the others who could afford the tickets. Hale stood in front of him. His eyes as bright as the stars and they were so young, so innocent. All it took was a few spoken, playful words, a nudge of a single shoulder and Bellamy leans in to peck the other on his lips, a kiss that was so innocent, no would've questioned it and even back then, his heart had already knew the truth, he was just too young to understand what it meant.

Second - Octavia's a toddler now and they're teenagers. Life isn't young and innocent anymore. It's full of guilt and pain. Things are shifting now and it's not the same bright eyed world he once saw as a child. The universe isn't just a drawing board but a story book and not all the chapters are happy. There's a pain in his chest, an ache, one that he can't describe because he's never felt it before but he's read it in the books the library has. He comes and goes from there. Constantly checking out new books, sneaking them out of the room and taking them home to read to his sister who wasn't suppose to exist. He likes to read her books about history because it's his favorite subject but he knows hers is a mixture so he brings her books of Princesses and Kings. He reads her mythology stories about the Gods and Goddesses of all across the world, there isn't one group he focuses on, even if his favorite is a mix of Roman and Greek. He takes home movies on their projection screen and shows her the things that people, over a hundred years ago, would watch for entertainment and he loved to watch how her features lit up with the characters would be happy and do things that saved their friends. He'd save the sports games for his own time when he needed to be alone in the library. He'd been seeing people in their beds, in the hidden nooks of corridors but there was always one person he'd come back to. Hale. Fingers shake, limbs feel heavy as if gravity had been kicked up higher than normal and his mind overworks a million miles a minute but he's alone with Hale in a room and he's confessing a secret that he's never told anyone. He's explaining how he has a sister. How he shares rations every day to keep her fed. How he saves her and why he skips out on classes because he needs to keep her safe. When words leave his lips and Hale's reply comes, Bellamy doesn't wait, he leans in, hands cup the other's cheek and he kisses him. It's long, it's full of passion and a mixture of tears upon star spattered cheeks and when it ends, he's left breathless, gasping for the air his lungs desperately need.

Third - The ground was something so unexpected. A whole new world that took words from his tired lips. That had showed him things he never would've ever knew existed. Earth Skills had been meant to prepare them for this moment but in reality, nothing had set them up for what they faced. Death had been so quick. Guilt piled upon itself and the weight of the world had almost become unbearable. It weighed down so heavily that his knees shook every day. He made mistakes that would never leave him. Nightmares stuck in his mind long after he'd wake up in cold sweat, gasping and pleading for air and light in a darkness he couldn't snuff out. Bones felt tired and skin felt tattered and torn. His heart would give anything to be that little boy that got lost on the Ark without care or concern. The universe was not just a story book, but a novel, bent and frayed with corners of pages torn as markers in chapters that held a significance in life. Heart lays heavy and on the verge of broken in a cage he had built out of steel for protection. Armor is worn like a second skin to keep himself safe and he'd rather these kids see him as an enemy meant to lead than a friend willing to hold their hand in times of hardship. Though, that never lasted and he couldn't keep the emotions in check. Life had never really been kind, even if it had given him the one thing that made him soft, that wasn't his sister. Time had passed and the others joined them on Earth's unforgiving floor. Blood dried to features, stars that lined his cheeks weren't nearly as visible as all the other times their lips met but this time, the kiss was thankful, pleading, almost spilling every little secret that Bellamy kept hidden under lock and key. *I love you.* spills in the kiss upon unspoken words. *Please stay* words that have been spoke in a form of love but without the eight letters attached to them. Hale was more than just someone he returned to in bed. Hale had every piece of his fragile heart. Every piece of the soul that was only shone behind hazelnut eyes. Every part of the universe they saw as kids out the large bay windows of a metal home they thought they'd never leave.

Fourth - Months have passed and they're finding survivors of other fallen stations. Farm station has shown the most promise and he's glad that there are survivors. It's nice to watch Monty be reunited with his mother but it's hard to hear about the death of the other's father. Desperation is starting to settle in over camp. Those who have taken charge don't quite understand the ground the way the original delinquents do and no matter how many explanations have been given, they just won't listen. Frustration lies in bones and anger out wins when he's left alone. Knuckles bloody more often than not due to a wall or a trunk of a tree. Hale's there. Hale's the reason he hasn't lost himself completely. The guilt is becoming too much and his mind won't turn off anymore. Stolen moments help more than he'll ever be able to say but there's something there and a man whose willing to use manipulation to get when he wants, what he needs to make people listen and follow him. Pike is the wedge that comes in and bases itself at Bellamy's feet. Telling him what he wants to hear, not what he needs to hear. Manipulating his mind. Believing that he's truly responsible for all the blood that's been shed, the people he couldn't save. He's lost himself this time and he's not sure if he can come back. With time, things change. His heart has always stayed with Hale, even when the bed was empty. Even when there were nights that sleep never came. Death was at their doorstep. The lone survivor from the Mountain was hellbent on his revenge for his people's lives and spoken words of I love you, Hale Ashwood finally fall from his lips as if it might be the last chance they'll ever get to see each other. To know how his heart felt and how in the end, it'll always be Hale. It's always been Hale. There's never been anyone else. There will never be anyone else. When cuffs are released and lungs are full again, calloused palms cup lover's cheeks and he's kissing him. Emotion, love, passion, ever feeling pours into the action. It's slow, it's beautiful and the world isn't a factor anymore. No one else exists but them in that moment and there's another whisper. I love you breathes against lips and his kissing him again. It takes, what feels like ages for the others, for him to finally pull himself away long enough for them to stand.

Fifth - There's the place he'd never thought he'd return to. The Ring held ghosts and memories he didn't want to relive. Months on the ground had shifted him, changed his heart. The world became so heavy that he was on benth knees, ready to drop it's weight. He was ready break. There was a saying he had overheard as a child, how things always got worse before they got better, and in truth, he didn't believe that until the Ring. A year spent dealing with those demons that settled just below his skin. Demons that ate away at ever crevice of his body until he felt like a shell, curled into the mattress of an empty room he chose at random, the darkness only lit by the moon and the stars beyond the metal circle. He's left in the wake of the pain he's felt all this time but he dealt with it. He deals with it. They're brother together again. Spoken words lead to mending pasts and scars that are on the verge of healing now. Hale's the one person that he knows he needs. That he knows he can't live with losing and if that ever happens, he's afraid to think of what would happen. How the nightmares would come true and the world would burn at Bellamy's hands. This time, there's something far more spoken about the way their lips meet. It's gentle, it's shy at first, as if permission needs to be granted for further access. Calloused palm cups the back of Hale's neck and he pulls him forward. Hale's taste lingers and he's drinking it in. The kiss lasts for what feels like days. From gentle and shy to passionate and explorative. Re-learning everything had never felt the way it did until now. His body had never tingled like this before. The simplest of touches had him gasping, latching on to Hale in a way that he never wanted to let go. When the kiss finally breaks, his head is spinning. He's dizzy, he's breathless and he's remembering the first time they've ever kissed before. The night's spent tangled with his lover and the night after that. The world has returned the way it felt and it wasn't nearly as heavy as it had been when they first arrived. I love you falls in the time of soft caresses and gentle breathes. I love you, Hale Ashwood.

[moonstarpower-makeup]

Home Sweet Sloane, Forever

WATERBOARDING (n.) -- a technique simulating the experience of drowning, in which a person is strapped, face up, to a board or flat surface that slopes downward at the head, while large quantities of water are poured over the face into the breathing passages.

“...She won’t do it again… Do what you want to me… Do what you want to me,  just let her go… Let her go… Let her go…”

Roman’s pleading voice was an echo in the dark, fading in and out like untunable static. A far away lull within the shells of her ears, something she could barely make out pulling her back from the drift of unconsciousness. His voice crescendoed, swelling with the emotion of a desperate man seeking mercy for the woman that had broken his heart and skinned his knuckles; blow per blow… He tricked her with false concern. He handed her over to them like a good samaritan. Oh, did her heart still suffer, a perfect reflection of her broken face. She knew he still  harbored bitter feelings, hated her for abandoning him the way she did on the side of the road, but never thought he would get even at her like this. He’d be the last person Dollie would ever thought to raise his hands to her. Not when he knew so much about the devil in her lurking in her past. What made her the way she was...

Flighty… That was how she got when swept up in the winds of her panic. She didn’t know how to accept those strong feelings then and she didn’t know how to accept her fate in Sloane now. This time however, now that they’d been messily reunited she couldn’t just go without telling him. Righting wrongs from the past.

“Roman… Roman?...” Name murmured past her lips. A calloused hand clasped her forehead, pale flesh dotted with perspiration above her knitting brows. Lifting up into the rough palm, a stray affectionate gesture, he sounded so close, it had to be him. Fingers grip and turned her head a moment before pushing it away. Something along the lines of, ‘She’s alive.’ was said in monotone, void of joy or sense of relief. Void of anything. A simple statement of fact. But that voice didn’t come from Roman, the graveled bass tone was vastly different. Dollie stirred, twitches of pain flitting  across her face heavily swollen and garishly bruised. A mosaic of brutality. Lids began to flutter open, flinching against the glaring orb of white light hanging directly above. Throbbing ache spread, pulsing in sync with her quickening heart, building so strongly she felt her head was going to burst. The harsh light amplifying her sensitivity, plunging deep into her eyes like shards of glass. She whimpered and closed them again, raising her hand to shield them, or rather, she tried to. It didn’t barely budged. Met with resistraint. She tried the other, the same thing happened. Her legs shifted uselessly as well. Bare heels of her feet sliding against cold metal. Dollie opened her eyes and tried to look, tried to see why she couldn’t move. Catching glimpses of black straps holding her down at several points to leave her immobilized. Her mangled ankle moved, bones shifted hotly underneath her flesh, the pain sickenly unbearable. Her cry bubbled out with tears. Tears it was not over yet.

Movement in the dark startled her attention. Pressing her mouth into a firm line and swallowing the sounds of agony. Going very still as one of Talia’s thugs bled out of the blackness, the light casting grave shadows across his face. Long, fresh scratches stretched across his cheek. Her tongue touched the split down the center of her bottom tier. She’d done that?... Flashes of a struggle came in rapid fire; being dragged into the back of  a blacked out vehicle, thrashing her insignificant weight around making her more of an annoyance than an obstacle. She swiped at her wrangler’s face. He rewarded her with the back of his knuckles. She fell back hard into the back seat and… That was all she remembered. Blue hues stared wide eyed up at a face of stone, trembling against the flat surface, trying to move away by pressing every inch of her body into the metal that she could only guess was a table.

The sound of women’s heels softly click clacked across the floor. Talia appeared then. Peering over with a flat expression and tilted head. Examining her and reaching out to comb Dollie’s bangs back. She flinches. Breathing panicked, coming in and out in short bursts at her eerily gentle touch. The last time Talia had put a hand on her still fresh within her mind.  She clicked her tongue. “That poor, pretty face… Such a mess.” She looked to her goon, her tone hardening for the order. “Clean her up.” The male obeyed by bending down and bringing up a water pitcher and Dollie wasn’t ready for the moment he poured it over her face. Icy cold, soaking into her hair and running down the sides of her neck. She twisted and turned, sputtering water rinsing the blood from her skin.

He stops.

Talia was seated at the head now, leaning over her and looking bored with her chin rested against her hand. “Use the rag.” It happens so quickly, Dollie could only shriek before the man was leaning over her and pulled a cloth tautly over her face. Crushing her broken nose as he pressed it down, making her scream. Water poured and soaked the cloth. Her lungs snapped shut, refusing her air. Gurgling her screams for them to stop.

Water stops, gasping for air and sucking the wet cloth against her mouth, it’s hardly enough, like breathing through a thin straw,  before it began to pour again. Sending her body into a rattling fit, trying to kick and roll.

“Stop? We only just got started, Dollie.” Talia claims, letting the water pour for a few more seconds before it stopped again and the cloth was pulled away. Dollie’s chest heaved. “Now, are you going to try to escape again?” “N-no! Please, I-I won’t!” He exchanges a look with Talia then wrapped the cloth around her again, water floods her nose. Silently thrashing against her restraints, her hands feebly grabbing at the air to snatch the black rag off.

“Why?” The brunette asked, but Dollie hesitated and took too long to answer. She started pouring the water again. “Come on, Dollie. Why aren’t you going to try to escape again? I’ll give you time to think about it.”  

There’s no breath or pause in the flow to answer. The water’s pour concentrated at the little peak in the material that was her nose. The male’s gripping hands stretched the material on either side of her head kept it from moving and pronounced her delicate bruising. Dollie’s back arched from the table as far as her holdings would allow. Lacerated fingers twitching as she choked on her lungs own confusion, convinced that she were truly drowning. The lack of oxygen burning her chest, her need to breathe clawing against her ribs. Her throat clinching  as if it were a pair of hands doubled around her neck... Her hands started to go limp, her fingers spreading as if someone hand just laced their own fingers between them.

That dying calm brought the desert night back to mind. Nestled beside Roman on a blanketed square of sand in the warmth of a small fire. Looking up at the sky that glowed with the entire galaxy of stars. His hand was cautious, unsure as it slid against her palm, looking down and watching him interlocking their fingers together. Her gaze lifted and there was a tender kiss to follow. He pulled back and went to speak but it was wrong. It’s not what he said to her that night. “You can’t do this, Dollie, it’s fucking stupid. You’re going to get yourself killed!” He leaned down and put his forehead to hers. “All you ever do is run away… You can’t keep running and you can’t get over that fucking wall!” She’s confused, but it’s like he didn’t notice, like he didn’t notice he wasn’t saying the right words and how they contrasted the tenderness of the memory. He cupped his hands around the sides of her face, looking into her eyes with a boyish grin. “Just listen to me. Stop it… It’s okay, breathe. Dollie, breathe..”

Dollie felt herself slam back down into her body and gasped freely. Her lungs hurt but inflated anyway, coughing and retching, trying to expel water from her mouth that wasn’t there Drenched and shivering in her shallow bath of ice water. “Why won’t you try to leave Sloane again?” Talia’s voice came smooth and coiling like a snake. Dollie looked up to her upside down face, strained and wheezing as she nodded. Showing her intent to speak as she swallowed again and again, mustering up the words that finally came in broken chunks to fall clumsily from her tongue.

“C-cause.. Cause Slo-Sloane’s m-m’home.”

“That’s right, good girl…” Talia lifted the large water pitcher for Dollie to see. Giving it a shake, a little sloshed around inside. “Hm…” She mused for a moment. Dollie presses back down into the metal table. Eyes fixated as if she were holding something far more sinister. “Let’s not waste what’s left.”

“No.. No!”

Dollie’s vision swathed in black again. Drowning out her cries, slapping her hands at the table.

[some1foundme]

Fic: Lost in the Memory ch. 25

Title: Lost in the Memory

Author: Some1FoundMe

Summary: Oliver Queen returns to his home in Star City after a five year tour overseas, much to the delight of his friends and family. There’s just one small problem. The injury that effectively ended his military career also erased a part of his memory.  As he struggles to put together the missing pieces of his past, his connection to his best friend’s little sister becomes something he can’t avoid. Who is Felicity Merlyn and why can’t he seem to stay away from her?  Olicity AU, no Arrow, no island.

A/N:  Wow, so this is it.  The final chapter – don’t worry, there’s an epilogue – I can’t believe we’re here already. I have to, of course, thank all of you who have taken the time to read this fic and who have left such kind comments. You’ve all been amazing since the very beginning and I greatly appreciate it!  Also, to my incredible beta westernbeauty, you are the best support a girl could ask for.  Thank you so much for everything!

Read on AO3 or ff.net.

Chapter Twenty-Five

She sat in a wheelchair at Oliver’s bedside.  They’d come for her less than an hour after Nyssa had told her about the baby, telling her that Oliver had been moved into his room and that she was welcome to sit with him until he woke up.  They’d insisted on the wheelchair and even though she’d wanted to fight them on it, she didn’t have it in her.  All that had mattered was that someone was taking her to Oliver.  She wouldn’t have cared if she’d had to let John carrier her.

“Come on, baby,” she whispered, lifting their joined hands to press her lips to his knuckles, “Please wake up.  Everyone keeps telling me that you’re going to be okay, that it’s just going to take a little time, but I need to hear your voice.  Come back to me, Oliver.  Please.”

He didn’t stir.  The wires protruding from the collar of his hospital gown led to a heart monitor that indicated that the muscle was still beating and she watched his chest rise and fall with each breath that he took. She’d met his surgeon, Dr. Carter Bowen, and the man had assured her, repeatedly, that Oliver was perfectly fine. He was simply heavily sedated, the anesthesia he’d been given would work its way through his system and he’d wake up in time.  

The majority of Oliver’s injuries were superficial, much like her own, but they’d discovered internal bleeding in his abdomen.  Dr. Bowen had explained that, in the accident, the impact of the steering wheel into Oliver’s stomach had caused a tear that resulted in the bleed.  They’d been able to repair the damage and he would recover.  For now, all she could do was wait.

“I’ve got something really important to tell you.  It’s really, really important so I need you to wake up, okay?  You can’t leave me, not now.  They keep telling me that you’re going to be fine but until you open your eyes, I … I just need you to wake up.”

The door to his room opened and Nyssa smiled at her.

“I went to check on you and Emily mentioned she’d brought you down here.  How are you feeling?”

Felicity shrugged, “I’ll be better when he wakes up.”

Nyssa nodded, picking up Oliver’s chart and scanning it quickly.

“Everything looks perfectly acceptable.  He’s just sleeping off the anesthesia.  It shouldn’t be too much longer.  You really should go back to your room, Felicity.  You should be resting.”

“Then move me in here because I’m not leaving him.”

She sighed and replaced the chart.  Stepping up behind Felicity’s wheelchair, Nyssa set her hands on her shoulders.

“You do realize that I could simply wheel you back to your own room.”

Felicity huffed, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Nyssa unlocked the brake that kept the wheelchair in place and began to back her away from Oliver’s bed. She squeaked, making a frantic grab for the rail, and grunted at the dull stab of pain in her ribs.  Nyssa stopped immediately, crouching at her side.

“Are you alright?” she asked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think that you would –“

She shook her head, “No, no, it’s not your fault.  I didn’t think, I just reacted.  But I’m fine, I’m okay.”

Her ribs were screaming at her, a direct contradiction to what she’d told Nyssa, but she didn’t want to leave Oliver.  If she let on how much pain she was really in, she knew Nyssa would insist she go back to her bed.

His cousin, Felicity’s friend, sighed and gave her a look that clearly said she wasn’t buying into her bullshit.

“I will see what I can do about getting you moved into the room with him.  Just try not to move around too much, alright?  You really should be resting but I can understand why you’re reluctant to let him out of your sight.”

Felicity waited until Nyssa exited the room before wheeling herself carefully forward, inching closer to Oliver’s bedside and reaching for his hand again.  She wound her fingers with his and gasped in surprised when his calloused thumb brushed over the back of her hand.  Her eyes flew to his face.

“Oliver?”

He hummed, rolling his head towards her, and struggled to open his eyes.

“F’licity?”

She bit back the relieved sob that wanted to break free, tightening her grip on his hand.  It was obvious that he was still groggy, that he was fighting the remnants of the anesthesia, but he kept his eyes on her and his fingers locked with hers.  

“Hi, love,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with unshed tears, “Hey.  I’m so happy you’re awake.  How – how do you feel?”

His chest worked as he took a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment before meeting her gaze again.  It was clear that he was confused, that he was working through the muddied events in his mind and trying to figure out what exactly had happened to them.

“There was an – an explosion,” he groaned, clearing his throat before continuing, “Palmer, Snart, Harper and … and Darkh.  What happened to them?”

Her breath caught in her throat, “Is that the last thing that you remember, Oliver?  The explosion in the village?”

One shoulder lifted in a shrug and he winced, a small noise of discomfort forcing its way past his lips. She clutched his hand fiercely.

“How lo – long have I been here?  In the hospital?  We’re stateside?”

She swallowed hard, “We are. Oliver… honey, we’re in Star City. We were in a car accident last night on our way home from the John and Lyla’s.  The explosion was six months ago.”

The heart monitor beeped steadily, the rhythm getting faster by the minute, and she forced herself to stand, leaning over him.  She pressed her hand to his cheek.

“Hey, shh, just breathe, baby.  It’s alright. You’re okay.  I’ll tell you everything that you need to know but I need you to calm down,” she insisted, “Nyssa’s going to barge in here any minute and make me leave if you don’t settle.  Come on, you don’t want me to leave, right?”

One corner of his mouth pulled up in a grimace that she was sure was supposed to be a smirk and he closed his eyes again, focusing on his breathing until the beeping slowed and his heart rate lowered.

“I couldn’t remember you,” he said after a long stretch of silence, “Harper, he – he lost his leg in the explosion.  Palmer and Darkh, they didn’t make it.  We were buried in the rubble for hours before anyone found us.  My injuries were serious enough that they sent me to our hospital in Germany… that’s where I learned that I was married.  They sent me home after that, back to the States but I – I couldn’t remember you.”

She nodded, chewing her lip as she waited for him to continue.

“What happened after I … after I got back to Star City is sort of disjointed.”

Felicity shook her head, “It’s not important.  All that matters is that you’re home and you – you remember.”

His free hand touched her cheek, wiping away the tears she hadn’t realized were falling.

“Are you alright?”

She smiled, “I’m so much better than alright, Oliver.  I love you.”

“I love you, too, Felicity.”

The door opened again, startling them both, and Felicity turned to see Nyssa stepping back into the room.

“Felicity, I –“

She paused at the sight of Oliver, awake and smiling.

“Hey Nyssa.”

“Oliver, it’s so good to see you awake and alert.  Felicity was very concerned and would not listen to her doctor’s advice.  She refused to leave your side.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, “Oh please, I’m fine.  Better than, actually.  Nyssa, he remembers.”

Nyssa looked between them, her dark eyes wide, before settling on Oliver.

“You remember what, exactly?” she asked.

He gave her the abridged version, never letting go of Felicity’s hand as he recounted what he could of the months since the explosion.  It wasn’t much, she realized.  The details of the time that they’d spent together since he’d returned home were hazy but there and she knew that, given time, he’d remember the rest.

“I think that maybe we should talk to Dr. Williams, she’s our head of neurology.  I’m sure she will have a lot to say about this… recovery.”

Felicity frowned, “You’re surprised?  I mean, obviously, it’s startling but… but all of the research that I’ve done in the last few weeks has said that a second injury could result in the reversal of the first.  Are you – are you saying that you don’t believe that this is … that it’s permanent?”

Nyssa sighed, stepping closer and setting a comforting hand on Felicity’s shoulder.

“I don’t believe that I said any of that.  I’m simply suggesting that we need to let a specialist evaluate Oliver’s scans. They’ll order an MRI and a CT.  We just need to make sure that we cover all of our bases, alright?  I will go get Dr. Williams and bring her up to speed.  We’ll be back shortly.”

The door closed a moment later and she and Oliver were alone once again.  Concern filled her, sending her pulse skittering and her mind on a tangent. Whatever the neurologist had to say, it didn’t matter.  She had her husband back.  He remembered her.  He loved her. Everything was going to be fine. But, she wondered, what if it wasn’t? What if they only learned that this recovery was only temporary?  What if – what if it all faded and he woke up one morning right back where they started? With no memory of her and the life that they’d built?  What would happen if he woke up one morning with no idea who she was or that she was the mother of his child?  She would be devastated.

“Felicity?”

She blinked at him through the haze of tears and tried to smile.  The look of surprise on his face caused her expression to falter.  

“I – I said that all out loud, huh?”

He nodded once and waited. She had to look away for a moment to gather her emotions before a genuine smile tugged at her lips.

“Oliver, sweetheart, I’m pregnant.”

He stared at her and the silence that surrounded them was heavy.  She’d expected him to be happy, excited, especially now that his memory had come back, so the hesitation she was facing stung.

“Oliver?  Are you… can you say something?  Please?”

“I just – I don’t… Felicity, I don’t remember everything.  I mean, you’re pregnant.  Does that… is it mine?”

She reeled back in her chair, her fingers flexing around his, and her breath stuck in her throat.

“Of course it’s yours. I would – I would never…”

Tears stung her eyes. She swallowed around the boulder that was suddenly lodged in her throat.  Oliver’s gaze burned where it was locked on her face and his palm was cold and damp against hers.  Of all of the things that she’d expected him to ask, his question had caught her completely off guard.  She felt as if she’d been punched in the gut.

“I know that this is a lot to take in,” she muttered, “I - I know you must be confused and probably overwhelmed.  I understand that, Oliver.  But you have to know that I would never… you are the only man that I have ever loved, Oliver Queen, and when we said our vows seven years ago, I promised to stand by you in sickness and in health and I’ve never, never, broken that promise.  I get that this all must be surreal for you.  I know that you only remember bits and pieces of the last few weeks but when you first came home, when your mom told me about the amnesia, that you – you didn’t know me… Jesus, Oliver!  I thought that that was it.  I thought that I’d lost you.  But you – you were persistent.  Once you found out that we were married you –“

“You told me.  In the cemetery.  The anniversary of Tommy’s death.”

His voice cut through her outburst.

“I did.”

“I was so fucking angry. At my mom, at the doctors, at everyone who tried to keep me away from you.  Everyone who thought that keeping us apart was … was doing me some kind of favor.”

She choked on a gasp, nodding.

“They tried to keep it a secret, all of it, which was just stupid if you ask me.  But I – I did tell you, Oliver.  I told you because the idea of having you home in Star City and not at home with me was unthinkable.”

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.  The hand he had wrapped around hers tugged her forward gently until she was close enough that she could rest her head on his shoulder.  He turned and pressed his face to the top of her head.

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded, kissing his shoulder.

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not but thank you. We … we’re really having a baby?”

Felicity raised her head, smiling at his somewhat bewildered expression.  She brought her free hand to his face and smoothed her fingers across her brow.

“Yeah, we really are.”

The air rushed from his lungs as he stared at her with wide eyes.

“Wow.”

Felicity laughed, happy tears blurring her vision.

“I know, right?”

A quick rap on the door signaled yet another interruption.  Felicity sighed and called for their visitor to enter.  She wasn’t surprised when Moira and Robert crossed the threshold.

“Oh Oliver!”

His mother rushed to his side – the one that Felicity wasn’t currently occupying – and bent to press a kiss to his cheek.  Robert stepped up behind her wheelchair, his hands finding her shoulders, and she sent a watery smile to her father-in-law.

“Mom, please, I’m okay,” Oliver grumbled as his mother fussed over him.

“Are you sure?” Moira asked, “Nyssa wouldn’t tell us much, just that you were awake.  She said it in a way, though, I thought…”

Moira’s eyes traveled between the two of them.  Felicity knew that she could sense something was different, that she could probably see it on both of their faces, but she shook her head and looked to Oliver.  It was his news to share.

“I remember, Mom.”

His confession was followed by a round of concerned questioning.  She let Oliver take the lead, simply holding onto his hand as he explained what little they knew to his parents.  Her mind wandered to the other bit of news that they needed to share, to the child growing inside of her.  There was no question that his parents would have been happy to welcome another grandchild into their lives.  They’d treated Thea as family from the moment she was born, accepting her as if she belonged biologically. They had – not so subtly – hinted at Oliver and Felicity having children of their own over the years.  She’d had no doubt that they would be thrilled.  But that had been before.  Before Oliver returned to Star City with amnesia, before they’d fought to keep them apart.  His memories had come back, sure, but with a brain injury like his there were no certainties.  Nyssa’s neurologist could walk into that room and tell them that the memories he’d recovered were only temporary, that he could wake up one day, ten days down the road, and revert right back to where he’d been.  Ten days, ten months, ten years.  There were no certainties and while she was prepared to face whatever life decided to hand them in the future, she didn’t think that Robert and Moira would feel the same way.

“Do you need anything?” Moira was asking, “We can bring you both a change of clothes and anything else that you need from home.”

“That would be great, Mom, thank you.  Clothes, toothbrushes, that kind of stuff.”

Felicity nodded as he spoke, “And Thea.  Please. I’d really like to see her.  I – I want to make sure she’s alright.  Was she… did she panic?”

Robert sighed, giving her a short nod.

“There was a moment… but she’s alright.  Nyssa sat down and talked to her, assured her that you were both going to be fine, and hearing it from her favorite aunt, who happens to be a wonderful doctor, seemed to soothe her.  Sara took her home a little while ago to get some sleep.”

“Thank you both, again, for taking care of her.”

Robert squeezed her shoulder gently.

“You never have to thank us, Felicity.  She’s our granddaughter and we will always be here for her.  For all of you.”

Her gaze flickered to Oliver.  He looked back at her with a knowing smile.  He didn’t tell his parents about the baby, even though it was the perfect opportunity, and she was grateful.  She was looking forward to telling everyone, to sharing their happy news, but they needed to have a conversation about everything first.  A longer one, one that focused on their family and their future.  She was happy to know that they seemed to be on the same page.

“Felicity, about Malcolm, we –“ Moira began.

She shook her head, “Don’t, please, I – I’m not ready to talk about it.  Not yet.  Right now I want to focus on getting both Oliver and myself healthy enough to go home.”

“Of course, dear.  Are you sure there isn’t anything else that either of you need?”

She and Oliver shared a glance before he shook his head.

“No, Mom, but thank you. Why don’t you guys head home and we’ll see you in the morning with Thea?  Felicity needs to sleep.”

She snorted, “Yeah right. You’re way worse off than I am. You’re the one who needs to sleep.”

Oliver chuckled, his eyes bright with mirth, and she grinned at him.

They said goodnight to his parents and watched as they left the room, the door falling shut behind them. As soon as they were out of sight, she stood on shaky legs and climbed into Oliver’s bed.  He wrapped an arm around her the moment she was settled.

“We’ll tell them later,” she murmured, suddenly overcome with exhaustion, “Soon.  But later.  For now I… I’d like to just enjoy it, you know?  Just you and me.  Well, and Nyssa because she’s my doctor.  But no one else.”

“Is everything alright? You’re okay?”

She nodded, “I’m fine, Oliver.  I promise. Are we okay?”

He pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Of course.  We’re better than okay.  You’re right.  We’ll tell them later.”

The End