#everyone who hates summer gets to come up here and stand outside in these temperatures

[montanabohemian]

when everyone on here bitches about summer and warm weather, remember that i am burning this into your retinas for all eternity.

those temperatures are in farenheit.

it is going to be colder tomorrow.

oh, and businesses and schools are still open.

[coldflame96]

Wrapped up in you

Summary: Sharing a scarf with your girl when you don’t like things around your neck is something that can be so personal..

Rating: T

Also found on AO3 and FF.net

Based off that picture in the very last scene with Kyoru sharing a scarf <3

“Wow!" He heard her gasp. "It's snowing!" But then she furrowed her brow. "But it was so mild this morning."

Neither of them had brought coats with them, but Tohru brought her scarf with the pom poms. She really loved that thing and it was cute.

"Kyo-kun," she grabbed his hand. "Are you cold?"

He didn't think he could ever truly be cold as long as she was around.

But he did shiver a bit. "A little. The temperature really dropped."

"Well here!" She took her scarf off, handing it to him. "Maybe this will help."

He knocked her head gently. "Then you'll get cold, dummy."

"I'll be okay!" She waved her arms. "I don't want you to get sick!"

He could tell this was gonna go nowhere fast. He rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed the scarf. She looked at him expectantly and he got an idea. It was cheesy, but knowing her, she'd probably love it.

He pulled her in closer, wrapping one end of the scarf around her neck, and the other end very loosely around his own.

"There." He said triumphantly, breath visible, "now neither of us have to be cold." He punctuated with a gentle whack with one of the poms and she giggled. He paused and then whacked her again. "Huh, this is kinda fun."

He was met with a whack on his own cheek with his girlfriend grinning impishly. "You're right, it is."

He gently whacked her again, this time pressing the pom right on top of her nose, shaking it as she tried to bat it away.

She tried to do a little twirl but the scarf wasnt quite long enough for that so she just did an awkward twist. The temperature was dropping by a lot and her nose was starting to turn red.

He leaned over to kiss it and she gave a questioning look.

He shrugged. "It looked cold."

She grabbed his hand, peeking at him from under her lashes. "I think my lips are cold too."

Subtle. He cradled her face and kissed her gently. "Better?"

"Still feels pretty cold."

He hummed, kissing her again. It was something he never really got tired of doing. She fisted her hands in his uniform jacket as he just kissed her slowly, careful to keep it chaste.

"Oi, lovebirds," he jumped when he felt a hand slap his back and saw Uotani to his side. She smirked. "When you're done being gross, you might wanna actually head home before you turn into snowmen." She put her arm over her head like a visor. "It's supposed to snow all night."

"Oh really?" Tohru asked. "I had work tonight."

She grunted. "So did I. But I called off. You should too."

She frowned. "I wouldn't wanna trouble them-"

He'd heard enough. "You're not walking to work in a blizzard. If you don't wanna call off, then just have Momiji do it for you. His dad owns the place."

She bit her lip. "I suppose…"

"Momiji Sohma is quite fond of you," Hanajima came out of nowhere. "I would imagine he wouldn't expect you to risk yourself in such weather."

"C'mon, we should go." Uotani said, wrapping an arm around Tohru's neck. "It's already cold and it’s only supposed to get worse."

She relented and he followed behind her closely, the scarf still hanging off his neck.

"Apparently we're supposed to get 15 cm," he heard Uotani say vaguely.

Tohru clapped her hands in excitement. "Really? Wow. We could play in the snow!"

"We could have a snowball fight." And then Uotani smirked. "Betcha I could beat Kyon."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't start a fight you can't finish, Yankee."

She snorted. "Yeah okay. You know your ‘bad boy�� image is ruined with that scarf around your neck."

He shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything to be embarrassed about.

Tohru was talking to Hanajima now about something, her face lit up. He smiled softly. She was happy and that's all he cared about.

The wind was really picking up and everyone in the group did a full-body shudder. It really was getting freezing and the snow was sinking into his clothes uncomfortably. Tohru was trying to hide it, but she was shivering. How did she manage to wear skirts in this kind of weather?

They parted ways with Uotani and Hanajima and no sooner than they rounded the corner, he wrapped his arms around Tohru's waist from behind.

"Are you cold?" He whispered.

She nodded. "Only a little."

He kissed her temple. "C'mon, let's get home."

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

By the time they got into the doorway, her teeth were chattering and he rubbed her arms to try and warm her up.

"My, my, my," he heard Shigure say from the kitchen door and he looked up to see him standing there, looking way too amused. "I understand you kids are in love, but there is a time and place."

"Piss off," he snapped. "It's snowing and freezing outside."

"Well, that's why coats exist." He said smugly. "Honestly, Kyo-kun, do you not ever check the weather forecasts?

He was gonna punch this asshole. He felt a light tug on his shirt and he brought his attention back to his currently shivering girlfriend.

"D-do y-you m-m-m-mind if I shower first? I...c-can w-wait if you w-want to."

He pushed her back gently towards the bathroom. "Go shower before you get sick."

"O-okay."

It was once he heard the bathwater running that Shigure turned back to him, smirking. "Nice scarf." He gave him a flat look in response, which he took as a cue to continue talking. "Tsk, tsk, you made a rookie mistake just now."

"What are you talking about?" He asked on impulse, and then came to the conclusion that maybe he shouldn't have.

Shigure's grin only grew wider. "When a beautiful woman you're with is going to the shower, it's only natural you offer to join her."

Kyo grabbed him by the collar, growling, "Don’t talk about her like that, you fucking creep. I’ll kill you!”

"Scary~" And then something else seemed to come to him. "Where's Yuki-kun? Don't tell me you left him out there."

"How should I know? He was never even with us."

And that was when the phone rang. Shigure waved, saying "I'll let you handle that” and then went back to his own room, hopefully to die.

He scoffed. He didn't usually answer the phone but he had a good idea who it was.

"Hello?" He sighed out.

"Kyo?" Yuki's voice came through the speaker. He sounded surprised, which was fair.

"Yeah?"

"Where’s Honda-san?"

"In the shower.

"I see. when she gets out, tell her not to save me any dinner. The weather's getting bad so I went home with Kakeru."

"Fine. That it?"

"Yeah."

"Great. See ya."

"Wait."

"What?"

"You and Honda-san are alone...don't do anything stupid."

His face heated up. "Shigure's here, you jackass." He gritted. And probably eavesdropping. "And that's none of your business."

"Oh, he's actually home?"

"Yeah."

"My condolences."

"Whatever. Anything else?"

"No. You can hang up now."

And he was about to do just that but something paused him. "Oi."

"What?"

"You too," he mumbled through gritted teeth because he really didn't wanna think about Yuki doing anything like that. "Don’t do anything stupid."

A pause and then a "Thanks" before the line went dead.

"Oh, was that Yuki-kun?" He heard Tohru behind him, her skin flushed from the steam and her hair still damp. “Is he alright?”

He grunted in affirmation, trying not to look at how a stray water droplet ran down her neck. "He's fine. He's at Manabe's, so don't wait up for him on dinner."

She made to hug him, but then reeled back. "Kyo-kun, you need to get out of those wet clothes! You'll get sick."

If it were just them, he would suggest she help him with that, but Shigure was here and he was not gonna give him the satisfaction of that.

He patted her head. "I'm going."

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

Without work to go to, her and Kyo-kun took the night in. She had already changed into her sleepwear (which consisted of one of his shirts that was way too big on her and a pair of flannel pants).  

He had changed too, in a loose long-sleeve and a pair of sweatpants.

With Shigure-san here, they couldn't exactly do anything more than kiss, so they'd just ended up watching a movie.

He'd fallen asleep halfway through and was currently clinging to her, head on her chest.

She could really admire him without being questioned when he was asleep, how his nose wasn’t set completely straight, the smattering of light freckles on the bridge that were more pronounced in the summer.

She lightly stroked his strong jawline and his arms tightened around her waist.

She smiled to herself. He was such a cute sleeper. She lightly threaded her fingers through his fiery hair, noting how it curled around his ears now.

It's getting so long..

She heard her phone vibrate from the nightstand and strained to reach it without disturbing her sleeping boyfriend.

She saw the message was from Uo-chan and then shot up in alarm at the attachment.

She heard a light groan and saw Kyo-kun blearily blinking his eyes open and she felt a little guilty.

"Wha's goin' on?" He mumbled.

"Uo-chan just sent me something."

He hummed. "'Splains why you woke me up."

She was pretty sure he was being sarcastic based off the grumpy look on his face but paired with the messy hair, it didn't have much of an effect.

"Look at this." She shoved the phone under his nose and watched him squint as he put his own hand over hers.

It was a picture of them, sharing the scarf with snow falling around them. Neither of them were looking at the camera but she was chatting with Hana-chan, though the angle of the photo cut her poor friend off, and Kyo-kun just watched her, looking content.

He normally hated getting pictures taken so it was rare to see him so relaxed in one.

"Was this from today?" He asked.

"Yep! Uo-chan took it." Then she cocked her head. "I wonder how she managed to do it without us noticing."

He stretched, his shirt riding above his waist, which she attempted to steadfastly ignore for her own sanity.  

"Probably because I wasn't looking at her."

He always said things like that so easily and it was a marvel each time.

"I know you hate pictures," she started hesitantly, "but do you mind if I keep this one?"

"I don't mind pictures," he said softly. "Not with you, anyway."

She blushed, smiling to herself. "Right." She put one foot down on the carpet. "I'll go ask Shigure-san if I can borrow his printer."

A warm hand grabbed her wrist. "Do it tomorrow," he said. "It's late." And then he slumped on top of her. "I want my pillow back."

He was actually pouting and it was quite possibly one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.  

She just stared at the picture of them, smiling softly, Kyo-kun’s chin on her shoulder.

"You look cute," he murmured.

"I look the same as always, don't I?"

"Yeah."

He was warm. Like a steady heater on her back. It made her feel sleepy.

At some point, she’d been gently coaxed on her back again, eyes heavy and her boyfriend a comforting weight on her chest. She managed to text Uo-chan a 'Thank you' through bleary eyes before letting sleep take her.

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

The next day, she bought a frame and added the picture to her shelf next to her mother and Kyo-kun’s beads.

“You’re such a sap,” he’d said when he walked in and saw it.

But he couldn’t hide how his eyes kept softening when they landed on it.

Not from her.

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 10 - Shooting Star (Part 1)

We finally made it...we’re in the endgame now...

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. My Grandfather’s Clock is a popular song written by Henry Clay Work in 1876. The 2002 version by Ken Hirai was especially popular in Japan

Previous | Next

January 3rd, 5 a.m.

Yuki was in a dimly lit room in the Ashihara Ryokan. He changed into his Kansei University uniform and jersey and picked up his bench coat.

Two hours had already passed since Yuki woke up. After breakfast and a bath courtesy of the ryokan that took place at a time that could be better called late night, Yuki returned to the room where he had spent the night once the food in his stomach digested properly.

It was a night where he wasn’t sure if he had slept or not. However, his mind was clear and lucid. Excitement and tension became sharp blades that pared his body, and he felt somewhat light.

My energy is high, Yuki thought. He had felt the same way when he passed the bar exam. He read the questions for the essay exam and wrote his answer. It was almost funny how the meaning of the questions soaked into his brain, and before he could even think about how to answer them, the answer sheet was filled with words; it was just like automatic writing. He had never been able to output so smoothly what had been inputted into him until that moment, as though his consciousness had become clear and his sixth sense was working.

He knew that the same moment of elation and focus was about to visit his body and mind.

The return leg of the Hakone Ekiden started at 8 a.m. Yuki would slowly warm up over the next three hours, in order to build up his energy levels. It was Yuki’s method to relax and relieve his nervousness for two hours, and then concentrate on warming up for the remaining hour. Ever since the time when he was confronting his bar exam, Yuki preferred to increase the intensity of his concentration at this pace.

The six-mat guest room was completely occupied by the three futons laid out on the floor. Shindou, wearing his mask, was breathing faintly in his sleep. Yuki gently put his hand on his forehead and found it was still a little hot. The landlord was grinding his teeth as he slept soundly.

Yuki lightly folded his futon and put it in a corner so as to not wake them. Standing by the window, he quietly pulled back the curtains: the cozy garden of the ryokan was covered with a light dusting of snow, and ashy snowflakes continued to fall from the dark sky.

Yuki had never been skiing before. He didn’t understand going to the trouble of sticking boards to your feet in a cold place in a cold season. He thought it would be better to spend that time on one’s studies, and more than that, living with a single mother, they had no money to spend on fun.

Can I run down a steep, snow-covered slope? I can’t say I don’t want to run in the sixth leg at this point. Should I have at least experienced skiing if it’s like this?

The window was immediately fogged up by Yuki’s breath. The room was slightly warm from Yuki, Shindou and the landlord's combined body heat.

It’s not just me, Yuki reminded himself. In the past few years, there has never been snow on the roads of Hakone at New Year’s. Most of the runners—no, maybe all of them—have never gone down the mountain roads of Hakone covered in snow. Everyone lacks experience. I can run. I can run.

Chanting that in his mind as though to convince himself, Yuki picked up Kansei’s sash from the alcove. It seemed to still be damp from absorbing the sweat of the five people who had run in the outbound leg.

After carefully folding the sash and putting it in his jersey pocket, Yuki quietly left the guest room.

He walked through the corridor to the front door and saw the ryokan’s proprietress holding a newspaper.

“Oh, you’ve already changed?”

“Yes. I’ll be warming up from now on.”

“Outside?” Looking at the still-dark front of the building, the proprietress furrowed her brow in concern. “It’s minus five degrees right now.”

Yuki had planned to go outside, but he quickly changed his mind. He would have to wait until the temperature rose a little, or his muscles would stiffen up from the cold.

“May I borrow this space?”

He pointed at the empty lobby, and the proprietress graciously said, “By all means.

“Do you want to read the paper? I asked them to deliver it earlier today.”

While reading the newspaper, Yuki sat down on the floor of the lobby and began to stretch. He exhaled and began to relax his muscles and joints.

The paper had a big spread on the outbound leg of the Hakone Ekiden. Bousou University won the outbound leg by a narrow margin. It was a close race where it was impossible to tell if Rikudou University would make a comeback in the return leg, or which school would take the overall victory.

There was also a mention of Kansei under the headline “A Challenge with Only Ten People”. There was a photo of Shindou, unsteady and desperately trying to run on the mountain roads. Yuki opened his legs and brought his upper body down while reading the article.

“With only ten members, Kansei University unexpectedly put on the brakes in the fifth leg. They dropped down drastically in the rankings and ended the outbound leg in eighteenth place. However, with ace runners such as Kurahara, a freshman, and Kiyose, a fourth-year, in the return leg, there are still plenty of opportunities for a comeback. All eyes will be on the development of this small team’s great challenge.”

At the end of the article, there was a signature (布). It’s Nunoda-san, Yuki thought. The reporter Nunoda, who had come to Lake Shirakaba during summer vacation, had continued to keep an eye on Kansei.

There are still more than enough opportunities. We believe that, but it’s reassuring to have a third party say so as well. Yuki put the newspaper on the rack in the lobby and silently worked on stretching.

It was 6 when Shindou appeared in the lobby. He was wearing Musa’s bench coat and a mask. “Good morning,” he said in a hoarse voice, and pushed on Yuki’s back to help him stretch.

“You should be sleeping.”

“I asked Musa to give me a wake-up call because I knew you would be thoughtful like that.” Shindou sat down next to Yuki. “It’s snowing.”

“Yeah.”

The two watched the fluttering snow through the lobby window.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. What about you?”

“I’m feeling much better.”

Yuki began doing sit-ups. Shindou lightly held his ankles still.

“To tell you the truth,” Yuki murmured, “I’m getting uncomfortably nervous. I want to run away, if I could.”

“I was the same way,” Shindou laughed under his mask. “Why don’t you try listening to some music? I took it from your luggage without asking.”

Yuki took the iPod Shindou gave him and put the earphones in his ears. He listened to his favorite songs for a while, but today, the world of sound was no comfort to Yuki.

“It’s no use.” Yuki tore out his earphones. “When I’m running, it feels like music I don’t like is playing through my head incoherently and endlessly. And it’s music that you can’t even get into! Like My Grandfather’s Clock (1) and stuff like that!”

“You hate it?”

“I don’t like irritating things.”

“I think it’s a good song, though,” Shindou said, and Yuki stood up with a “hmph.” Looking up at Yuki, who was rotating his ankles, Shindou made a suggestion.

“No matter what song plays in your head, you can always arrange it so it’s up-tempo.”

“Shindou, you’re amazing.” Yuki was deeply impressed. “I’m filled with worries. All I can think about are bad things like, what if I fall down the slope, or what if my shoelaces get torn off.”

“Yuki-senpai, you can even aim for the sectional prize.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’ve always accomplished what you said you would do. Whether it’s the bar exam or the Hakone Ekiden, you said you’ll do it, and you did.” Only Shindou’s eyes were smiling. “So say it this time too. That you’re aiming for the sectional prize.”

As though pushed by Shindou’s quiet force, Yuki said, “I am.”

“Yes, then it’s fine now. You will definitely run a good time.”

Yuki looked down at Shindou, who was nodding in satisfaction, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know how useless I was yesterday,” Yuki said. “I knew you were experiencing this pressure before the race, but I couldn’t support you like this.”

“No matter how much support I get, in the end, I’m the only one who can bounce back from the pressure.” Shindou also stood and prompted Yuki. “Let’s jog.” The two put on their shoes at the door and went outside. There was no sign of the sunrise anywhere, but birds were singing in the mountains. The fine snow felt dry against their cheeks.

“But yesterday, you stayed by my side until the very last moment before I started running, Yuki-senpai. That gave me a lot of strength.” Shindou pulled down his mask and breathed in the cold air. “That’s why, I’ll stay with you today. I’ll stay with you until you start.”

Yuki didn’t have any words to respond. He was simply happy, and watched Shindou put his mask back on.

“We’ll freeze if we stay in one spot. Let’s run.”

“By the way, how’s the landlord?”

“He said he’s going to take a morning bath.”

“He’s in a sightseeing mood, that person.”

“His nighttime teeth grinding was very loud, wasn’t it?”

They chatted about trifling things as they jogged, and Yuki and Shindou's white breaths flowed shakily along the dark, snowy lakeside path.

---

Kakeru was feeling restless.

Kiyose was acting strange. When Kakeru invited him to go jogging after breakfast, he refused, saying, “Go ahead. I’ve got a lot of calls to make.”

It’s definitely strange that Haiji-san didn’t do his morning jog. He didn’t seem to sleep well last night either. I wonder if his leg hurts.

After running around Yokohama Station for about thirty minutes, Kakeru decided to go back to the hotel. He could still warm up at the relay station. He had never cut a jog short before, no matter how sick he was, but right now he was worried about Kiyose. He wondered if he was planning on pushing himself too hard. As if spurred on by a bad premonition, Kakeru ran back to the hotel.

In the lobby of the small business hotel, Jouji was opening a sports newspaper while watching the weather forecast on TV. Noticing Kakeru running across the lobby and pushing the button for the elevator, he came up to him and said, “You’re early.

“Your jogging time was unusually short today.”

“Where’s Haiji-san?”

“I think he’s in his room. Prince-san and Hana-chan are organizing their luggage together. I was chased away. I can sense that he’s trying to keep me away from Hana-chan.” Jouji pouted in dissatisfaction, but Kakeru wasn’t listening anymore. He rode the elevator to the fifth floor. “What’s going on?” Jouji asked as he followed him.

Kansei had three rooms: Kakeru and Kiyose’s room was at the far end of the corridor, Jouji and Prince’s was next to theirs, and Hanako’s room was near the elevator.

After exiting the elevator, Kakeru passed a man in the hallway. He was in his late thirties and carrying a large black bag in his hand. Thinking that it looked like a house call bag, Kakeru turned around with a start. The doors to the elevator the man got into were just about to close.

That wasn’t a guest just now. That was a doctor. Kakeru had a hunch. He must be the doctor who came to examine Haiji-san’s leg.

“Haiji-san!”

Kiyose was sitting by the window near the two beds. He looked up in surprise at Kakeru’s menacing attitude, and Kakeru sprang at him.

“Let me see your leg, let me see it!”

Kiyose fell down onto the bed, pushed by the momentum. Kakeru didn’t care and tried to pull up the cuff of Kiyose’s track pants.

“Just calm down, Kakeru! I’ll explain!”

Jouji was standing in the doorway of their room, watching in amazement as Kakeru and Kiyose grappled with each other. Noticing the commotion, Prince and Hanako came out of the room next door.

When Hanako asked, “What’s this all about?” Jouji tilted his head to the side.

“Uh, I have no idea.”

Kiyose finally pulled Kakeru off of him and beckoned everyone in the doorway to come in. The group that had stayed in Yokohama gathered in the room and sat down on the beds and chairs of their choice.

“Haiji-san, there was a doctor in this room a while ago, wasn’t there?” Kakeru sat on the bed and questioned Kiyose.

“There was,” Kiyose admitted as though he could see that there was no way out of this. “It was the doctor who always examines me. I asked him to make a house call and he gave me some painkillers.”

“The leg you said you injured—did it not heal?” Prince asked in shock. Jouji and Hanako had never even heard that Kiyose was injured, and they looked at each other in disbelief.

“What are you going to do?” It was all Kakeru could do not to let his voice tremble.

“Of course I’m running.”

“Are you okay with being so reckless?”

“If I’m not going to be reckless now, then when?”

“If…” Kakeru hesitated to put it into words. He was afraid that if he said it aloud, it would become reality.

“What if you can’t run for the rest of your life because of your recklessness today?”

He saw Jouji gasp and Prince hanging his head. Hanako didn’t move, only watching the course of Kiyose and Kakeru’s exchange.

Kakeru stared fixedly at Kiyose and waited for a response.

“It would be very painful,” Kiyose’s voice was quiet, and Kakeru knew that he had been thinking about that for a long time already. “But I won’t regret it.”

There’s no stopping him, Kakeru thought. If he were in Kiyose’s position, he would still choose to run.

Kakeru made up his mind. If that’s the case, then there’s only one thing I can do: to put as little burden on Haiji-san as possible, I should gain as much time as I can in the ninth leg.

The silence that enveloped the room was broken by Kiyose's phone ringing. He hung up after a short conversation.

“That was Shindou. The final entries were announced at Lake Ashi. Just as expected, Rikudou put Fujioka in the ninth leg.”

Jouji looked at Kakeru with both anticipation and worry in his eyes. “Okay,” Kakeru murmured. Blood was rushing through his body, and his heart was beating with joy and a fighting spirit; the day had come when they could finally compete in the same place. At the TSU meet in spring, he had only chased Fujioka’s back, but it was finally time to test how fast and strong he had become since then.

“Kakeru, don’t lose the race,” Kiyose said. Kakeru nodded determinedly.

It was past 7 in the morning.

They had to leave the hotel now. From now on, they were to split up: Kakeru and Jouji were going to the Totsuka relay station; Kiyose and Prince were going to the Tsurumi relay station; Hanako was going to Otemachi, the finish line.

“Are you okay with Jouji attending you? I can go with you, if you’d like,” Prince asked Kakeru, but he didn’t understand the intention of his question at all.

“Why? It’s fine as we planned.”

Even though his generous consideration was turned down, Prince didn’t seem offended at all, instead laughing and shaking his head lightly as though to say, “Good grief.”

When they reached the Yokohama Station premises, Kiyose said to Kakeru, “About what you said earlier.

“The situation isn’t as serious as you think. The painkillers are working, and I’m not beyond recovery.”

“Is that really true?”

“Have I ever lied?”

“Quite a lot.”

Kiyose frowned at the sky for a few moments, seemingly recalling his past acts.

“Don’t worry. I’m telling the truth this time,” he smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing you run at Tsurumi.”

He felt like he wanted to say something to Kiyose—his gratitude, worry, and determination. But they were feelings that would never take shape no matter how many words he spent on them, so Kakeru only said, “I’ll hand you the sash not a second late.”

The group raised their hands a little to say goodbye, and then headed up the stairs to the platform to go to their respective places.

---

8 a.m.

As the starting gun sounded from Lake Ashi, the Bousou runner started running first. One minute and thirty-nine seconds later, the Rikudou runner followed.

One after another, the runners from each school left Lake Ashi with their sashes, with a time difference reflecting the times they had finished at Lake Ashi in the outbound leg. This time, the return leg of the Hakone Ekiden was beginning, heading for Otemachi, Tokyo.

Schools with more than ten minutes of difference from the outbound leg leader, Bousou, would start together ten minutes after Bousou began the return leg. In this year’s race, five schools had to start at the same time: the federation selected team, Eurasia University, Kansei University, Tokyo Gakuin University, and Shinsei University.

Kansei had a time difference of eleven minutes and fifty-three seconds with Bousou. Even though they would start the race simultaneously after ten minutes, the extra one minute and fifty-three seconds would not be discarded and would be automatically added to their overall time. Because of the simultaneous start, the visible order in which the runners were running and their orders by their times might differ from each other for the return leg.

In the return leg, especially for lower ranked teams, the competitors must not only look at the race’s development before their eyes, but also keep in mind the complicated time calculation, and try to fight calmly to raise their actual rankings as much as possible.

I’m made for this, Yuki thought. Rather than competing against others, he preferred to think about how to achieve his goals by developing countermeasures and how to show off his abilities while doing that. The sixth leg of the Hakone Ekiden, the mountain descent, suited his personality; he didn’t have to be misled by the apparent rankings, he just had to use his skills to run down the winding slope against the invisible enemy called time.

Just as he had declared, Shindou stayed by Yuki’s side the entire time before his departure. He helped him stretch, massaged his calves to prevent them from stiffening up in the cold, and conversed with him casually. Thanks to him, Yuki was able to calm his mind and focus on the race.

When the time came to set off, Yuki took off his bench coat and left it with Shindou. The temperature at Lake Ashi was minus three degrees Celsius. There was still powder snow in the air. The road surface was covered in snow and the ruts were frozen. Even with a long-sleeved T-shirt under his uniform, there was no way to prevent the cold from pressing down on him. The lack of wind was the only saving grace.

Jounan Bunka University was the last team that was able to start according to its time difference with Bousou. After being called by the staff member, the teams hurriedly lined up at the start line to start simultaneously.

Yuki looked at the crowd of people next to him. Shindou was almost swallowed up by the waves of spectators, but he was watching Yuki firmly.

“We’ll meet at Otemachi,” Yuki said. It might not have reached him, having gotten lost in the cheers, but Shindou was nodding.

Ten seconds after Jounan Bunka, the runners from the five teams started running at the same time on cue. Yuki’s glasses immediately fogged up from his body heat, but he soon regained his clear vision thanks to the cold wind blowing.

The road surface was covered with a thin layer of snow, making it nerve-wracking to even walk on flat surfaces, but running on it, there was no time to check your footing. Every step he took, the sherbet-like snowflakes bounced off his legs. Even the lightest shoes with the latest features couldn’t prevent the soles from slipping slightly as they kicked the surface.

The first four kilometers from the lakeside road to the highest point of Route 1 were mostly uphill. Of the five teams that had started at the same time, Eurasia was in front and Yuki didn’t hesitate to follow him. When he checked his watch at the first kilometer, his pace was less than three minutes and twenty seconds.

On the way up, he was a little too fast considering the poor road conditions. But if he didn’t go all out here, then there was no way Kansei would be able to improve their ranking in the return leg. Besides, Yuki thought, among the runners assigned to the sixth leg, the Rikudou runner was the only one who has a record of twenty-eight minutes for the ten-thousand meter. In other words, the runners in the sixth leg don’t put much emphasis on speed.

From the highest point to the town of Hakone-Yumoto, almost the entire sixth leg was downhill. Even if your time on flat surfaces wasn’t good, you could still go fast on the downhill if you gathered momentum. What was important was the dexterity to change your running style depending on the ups and downs, a sense of physical balance, and the boldness to run downhill without fear.

Even if he entered the first uphill slope at a somewhat fast pace, he would be able to conserve enough stamina. With this judgement, Yuki didn’t recoil.

They left the lakeside and headed up the path towards the mountains. There was one small up-and-down right before the highest point. As they approached the first descent, Yuki looked at his watch again. Kiyose had instructed him to run at a pace of three minutes and twenty seconds per kilometer on the way up, but he was now going at a pace of three minutes and fifteen seconds per kilometer.

I can do it. He was convinced. His body felt light and he was able to asjust his footwork according to the ups and downs without even thinking about it.

Tokyo Gakuin University and Shinsei University were already about to be shaken off from the lower-ranked group, which was now composed of six schools as it had absorbed Jounan Bunka, who had departed ahead of them.

All Yuki could think about was overtaking as many schools as possible in front of him. The cold didn’t bother him anymore. He climbed to the highest point in one go.

The downhill slope, which stretched for nearly fifteen kilometers, awaited him, meandering on and on beyond the falling snow.

---

“Isn’t he going too fast?”

Watching the portable TV, Kakeru arrived at the Totsuka relay station with Jouji. The screen showed Yuki and the others passing in front of the main gate of the Flower Center, the five-kilometer marker.

“But I heard that the normal pace for the sixth leg is five kilometers in around thirteen minutes?” Jouji said in his usual carefree way, but it didn’t ease Kakeru’s concerns. It was the pace after you got into the descent in earnest—it was hard even for a runner himself to hold back his speed once he was completely going downhill. Once your body got into the rhythm of the descent, it wasn’t impossible to run down a hundred meters in fifteen seconds. In the sixth leg, despite the long distance of 20.7 kilometers, the speed in some places was comparable to that of a short distance run.

However, even though the first five kilometers were uphill and the road conditions weren’t good, he was running in sixteen minutes. Even with Yuki’s running ability, it seemed to Kakeru that this was clearly an excessive pace.

“I’ll call Haiji-san.”

Kakeru took out his phone from his jacket pocket.

“You worry too much,” Jouji said, shrugging a little.

“Yes, this is Kiyose.” The phone immediately relayed Kiyose’s voice along with the bustle from outside. It seemed that he had already arrived at the Tsurumi relay station.

“Are you listening to the radio?”

“Prince’s phone has a TV function. He also found out about it just now. We’re watching it. It’s amazing what you can do with a cell phone these days.”

“Yes. No, not about that…” Prince’s slow pace and Kiyose’s hopelessness with technology made Kakeru feel dizzy. “Isn’t Yuki-senpai running a little too fast?”

“Yeah. I would call the landlord, but there’s no point—the coach cars don’t stay close to the runners on the mountain roads of Hakone.”

“What should we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do. The rest is the descent. It would be foolish to slow down now, so we can only pray that Yuki doesn’t slip and fall,” Kiyose let out a light laugh, as though he had gotten over all his worries. “Anyways Kakeru, make sure to jog and warm up properly. I have to get in touch with Nico-chan-senpai and King now, so we’ll talk later.”

The call ended, and Kakeru let out a sigh.

“I told you it’s fine,” Jouji took the phone from Kakeru. “You need to trust us a little more.”

“Trust, huh,” Kakeru began to rotate his ankles and prepare for a jog. “Come to think of it, Katsuta-san said that too.”

“H-Hana-chan?” Jouji immediately turned red. “Why are you bringing up Hana-chan?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Are you doing that on purpose or are you really that airheaded?” Growing impatient with Kakeru’s pointless reply, Jouji turned to him again. “Hey, you know, I like Hana-chan.”

“I know.”

“You know!? How?”

“Nico-chan-senpai said it on the phone yesterday.”

Even when we’re apart from each other, we can still be overheard just as well as when we’re in Chikusei-sou, Jouji grumbled.

“What about you, Kakeru?” He asked the question he wanted to ask the most: “Is it okay if I confess to Hana-chan?”

Why do you need to check with me for that? It seems that the residents of Chikusei-sou are convinced that I like Katsuta-san. Kakeru, pondering up to that point, felt a jolt to his heart like the feeling of falling during the first stage of sleep.

I like Katsuta-san.

It was partly because he was so dense that he couldn’t even laugh at the twins, but it was a feeling that had been in his heart so quietly and naturally that he hadn’t been aware of it until now.

Kakeru had always kept Hanako’s figure carefully in his memory. The color of her scarf on the night they walked together. The profile of her face when she watched them train under the sky where summer clouds were rising. The first time he saw her, her thin back as she pedalled her bike through the shopping district.

Kakeru was looking at Hanako. And all that time, her eyes and thoughts were solely on the twins.

“Now I get it.”

Kakeru was shocked at his feelings that had finally become clear.

“…What are you talking about?” Jouji nervously asked, seemingly thinking that it was creepy how he had suddenly zoned and then nodded to himself.

“No,” Kakeru shook his head. “I think you should just confess to her.”

It wasn’t an act of bravado, but a feeling of clarity. He was sure that Hanako would be happy to know Jouji’s feelings. Perhaps she would be equally pleased with a confession from Jouta, and there might be a quarrel there. But that wasn’t Kakeru’s business.

This wasn’t a competition. Hanako’s heart belonged to her. Jouji’s heart belonged to him as well. It was the same as how Kakeru’s heart only belonged to him. It was a domain that was free from all standards and measures, something no one could steal or bend.

It was satisfying to know that there was a gentle but strong feeling within him that had nothing to do with speed or victory or defeat. Hanako, who taught him those feelings, seemed more and more important to him. Kakeru would be happy if her love was realized.

Also, I’m used to long-distance running. I’m good at patiently waiting for an opportunity. Even if Hanako has feelings for the twins right now, you can’t state definitively that it’ll be forever.

“I see, I guess it’s better to tell her. Uwah, what should I do, I’m so nervous.”

Jouji was determined to confess his feelings to Hanako without any hesitation, not realizing that Kakeru, who was patient when it came to the important things, was chewing on his first realization of love like a ruminating cow.

---

Yuki was smoothly descending the mountain.

In the beginning, he tried to run on the ruts because he was afraid of slipping on the frozen snow, but then he couldn’t steer a good course through the turns. Too much concern about slipping would cause him to put pressure on his muscles, which would make it all come to nothing. In the end, Yuki decided to run and take the course as usual.

Running downhill is fun, Yuki thought. To be able to feel such acceleration with my own body. His speed was so fast that even the soft snowflakes hitting his face from the front hurt like pebbles. While balancing with his whole body, he followed the slope as it led him forward. His fear of falling down didn’t cross his mind at all in the face of the pleasure of speed.

The front of Kowakien was the ten-kilometer point of the sixth leg. It was also a TV relay point. Even though the weather was bad and it was early in the morning, there were spectators along the roadside cheering for them. Following the Eurasia runner, Yuki turned to the right, and he could hear the watery footsteps of the Shinsei runner right behind him.

Yuki, of course, had no way of knowing, but the announcer and the commentator Yanaka were watching the live feed and commentating on the running of the athletes from each school.

“The footage of the lower-ranked teams at the ten-kilometer mark is coming in. What do you think, Yanaka-san?”

“They’re going at quite a fast pace. I thought that the section prize for the sixth leg would go to Manaka, who is steadily improving their rank from twelfth place, but there is a possibility that it will go to one of the lower-ranked teams.”

“According to the data at hand, except for Tamura-kun of Rikudou, all the runners in the sixth leg have an official record in the twenty-nine-minute range for the ten-thousand meters.”

“When it comes to the mountain descent, the time on flat surfaces is not that important. If you can run ten-thousand meters in the twenty-nine-minute range, then the rest is all down to guts.”

“Guts, you say?”

“Yes. The speed and incline the runners experience is much more than what you see on the screen. It’s like pedalling a bike down a steep slope with both hands free. And today, the footing isn’t good. It’s crucial to calmly keep your balance and have the guts to keep your momentum going.”

“Which of the lower-ranked teams do you think is closest to the section prize?”

“I still don’t know yet, but I like Iwakura-kun of Kansei. He has a very stable lower body. His upper body doesn’t sway unnecessarily, and he doesn’t flinch from running down bad roads at all. He is an excellent example of how to run downhill.”

“I see. The rest would depend on their persistence when the road becomes flat after Hakone-Yumoto. They've passed the ten-kilometer TV relay point.”

As they descended in altitude, the snow turned into sleet mixed with rain and the road became covered with a sherbet-like muck. Yuki realized that he had crossed the width of the crosswalk in two steps.

The current crosswalk was probably four meters wide. If he had crossed it in two steps, then that meant he had gone two meters in one step. Yuki was once again shocked at himself—his acceleration was incredible. He had gained momentum and was literally running as if he were flying, and his stride was widening as a result. He glanced at his watch: for the past five kilometers, he had been running downhill at a pace of two minutes and forty seconds.

One kilometer in two minutes and forty seconds. It was a time Yuki couldn’t achieve on flat ground. As far as he knew, the only person who could sustain such a pace for five kilometers on level ground was Kakeru.

The branches of the cedar trees on the roadside were piled with pure white snow. The trunks were black and wet, and the mountains had been transformed overnight into a beautiful, monochromatic world. As soon as they appeared in the corner of his eye, they streamed backwards, smoother and faster than in a movie.

So, this is the world Kakeru normally experiences. Yuki had a lump in his throat.

Kakeru, you’re in a very lonely place, aren’t you? The wind rumbles loudly in your ears, and all the scenery passes by you in an instant. It feels so good that I never want to stop running, but it’s a world you can only experience alone.

For the first time, he understood why Kakeru was so devoted to running, sometimes to the point of overdoing it. If Yuki were allowed to run at such a speed, he would certainly indulge in it like an addict. He wanted to see the world in quicker, even more beautiful instants. Perhaps that was a momentary experience, almost like an eternity. However, it was too dangerous—it was a world that was too beautiful, too harsh to challenge with a flesh and blood body.

Now I’m just looking at the gate that would lead me there from a distance, with the help of the mountain roads of Hakone, Yuki thought. He knew that he wouldn’t get any closer.

Dragged in by Kiyose’s enthusiasm, Yuki’s life had been centered around running for the past year. But that life was coming to an end today. I have my own way of life. I don’t want to aim for momentary beauty and exaltation, sharpening my mind and body day after day. I want to choose to live among people, even if I’m covered in filth. That’s why I passed the bar and am trying to become a lawyer.

Today’s the end. But I’m glad I experienced this speed for the first and last time. Yuki smiled slightly as he sped along the mountain road. Kakeru, don’t go too far. What you’re aiming for is a beautiful place, but it’s lonely and quiet. So much that it doesn’t suit a living person.

It would be nice if there’s something to tie Kakeru’s soul to the earth, Yuki thought. In people’s lives, in people’s joys and sorrows. It’s only by planting his feet on the ground that Kakeru would definitely become even stronger. Balance was essential. It was the same as running down a snowy mountain road.

As Yuki entered the Miyanoshita Hot Spring Village and passed in front of the Fujiya Hotel, he saw something unexpected and let out a short cry.

“Uwah!”

In front of the hotel, there were many guests waving Hakone Ekiden flags. Some of them were dressed lightly in yukata and padded kimonos, shouting their voices hoarse even as they shrank back from the cold. Among them, Yuki saw his mother, his younger sister who was only half related to him, and his mother’s second husband.

“Yukihiko!” his mother shouted loudly.

“Onii-chan, do your best!” His young sister leaned forward, and his stepfather, who was holding her, nodded firmly.

“This is so embarrassing…”

He passed by the hotel in a few moments, but Yuki ran for a while with his head down. Did my family elegantly spend the New Year’s at that hotel? Yuki snarked inwardly to cover up his embarrassment. They probably knew I wouldn’t be able to come by even if they invited me, so they planned to surprise me by not saying anything. Even so, it’s too bad for my heart. I hope the TV and radio didn’t pick up the voices and figures of Mom and the others. Nico-chan-senpai would definitely make fun of me if he knew. Well, he should only have a radio, so I think I’ll be fine.

Yuki suddenly felt happy. That look on Mom’s face just now. She looked desperate and tearful, like she was the one running.

Yuki didn’t remember his biological father. He had died in an accident right after he was born, so his only memories of his father were in his mother’s words and photos. Since his father’s death, Yuki had only lived with his mother, and he treasured her very much. His high school girlfriend had once said to him, “Yuki, you’re a mama’s boy, aren’t you?” Of course I am, Yuki thought. A son who doesn’t take care of his mother isn’t a good son.

Perhaps because he grew up watching his mother work late into the night, Yuki set his sights on his goals early on. He wanted to get a steady job so that he could make his mother’s life easier. Fortunately, he had confirmed during his school life that his brain wasn’t half-bad. If that was the case, then it would be easy to aim for the bar exam, which was called the strongest qualification. He thought that being a lawyer, where he could work between logic and emotion, would be suitable for him, and more importantly, it seemed to make a lot of money. As soon as Yuki entered high school, he began preparing for the exam on his own. He studied hard and worked on his stamina. He thought that he should be well-versed in the inner workings of relationships between men and women, so he went out with girls.

However, something happened that made Yuki’s efforts all come to nothing: his mother remarried. Her new husband was an office worker who earned a decent wage, so his mother didn’t have to work anymore. She loved her new husband and seemed to be very happy. His stepfather was easily able to do more for her than Yuki had ever wanted to do for his mother.

Yuki couldn’t help but feel devastated. He had his pride, and when he decided to do something, he had to finish it, so he didn’t give up on passing the bar exam. However, it was all in vain now. The following year after his mother remarried, she had his little sister. This was also a situation that made Yuki, who was in his late teens, feel awkward and uncomfortable. When he got into university, he left home and rarely came back, even at New Year’s.

Seeing his family cheer him on made the trivial pent-up feelings he had melt away. As though to match that, the snow had completely transformed into rain.

Both his stepfather and his sister had always cared for Yuki as a member of the family. And most importantly, his mother was happy. That’s all that matters. That’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. It would be childish of me to keep sulking about the fact that my mother became happy in a slightly different way than I envisioned.

Yuki laughed, unnoticed by anyone else, in the midst of his white and billowing exhalation. Before he knew it, he caught a glimpse of the Teitou University runner's back at the end of the turn. He couldn’t sense anyone behind him; he seemed to have pulled away from the lower-ranked teams he had started the race with.

He looked at his watch and confirmed that he hadn’t slowed down his pace at all. His mind and body felt light. He could go the rest of the way downhill at this pace. What was important was whether or not he could keep up this running for the last three kilometers of flat ground after Hakone-Yumoto. Kiyose had given him advice yesterday.

“After a downhill slope, even flat ground feels like going uphill. That’s when the real battle begins.”

I think I’ll be okay, Yuki answered in his mind. I have no intention of losing today—to the battle between me and my body and mind.

---

The drums were still beating at the Odawara relay station. In front of Kazamatsuri Station, there were many people crowded into the kamaboko company's parking lot, waiting for the arrival of the sixth leg athletes.

“Did you see that, Jouta? Yuki’s face was there just now!”

Nico-chan had directly witnessed the scene in front of Fujiya Hotel with the TV function of his cell phone. It was only when Haiji called him earlier that he realized he could watch TV on Jouta’s phone as well. Even Nico-chan, who was knowledgeable about computers, only used his phone for calling, and Jouta only used his for texting. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t interested in the evolution of machines that he could be satisfied with the rundown apartment.

“Yuki-senpai’s mom is young and beautiful,” Jouta said, biting into a rolled omelette. “By the way, he’s going to win the section prize at this rate, isn’t he?”

“Yuki doesn’t seem to be aware of that fact, though. The Manaka guy is just as fast as him, so it's hard to tell.”

“Ugh, I’m so frustrated! I want to tell Yuki-senpai his time.”

“How?”

“I’ll use willpower or telekinesis or something,” Jouta put the omelet he was partway through eating away in his sports bag and began to look at his phone intently. “In less than twenty minutes, it will be Nico-chan-senpai’s turn.”

The screen showed Bousou in the lead, and Rikudou chasing behind with a difference of about one and a half minutes. They were about to finish their descent and head towards Hakone-Yumoto Station. The Manaka runner, aiming for the section prize, had improved his position and was now in eighth place. His pace hadn’t slowed at all.

“How’s Yuki?”

“He’s not on the screen. Until they go out to Hakone-Yumoto, the lower-ranked teams won’t be shown much.”

Nico-chan told Jouta to keep an eye on Manaka’s time and began his final adjustments. He ran lightly in the parking lot to loosen up.

Nine o’clock in the morning. The Bousou runner arrived at the station in the lead. His time was sixty minutes and forty-six seconds. Rikudou and Yamato were the next to receive their sashes. Nico-chan hurried back to Jouta, who was near the relay line.

“Amazing!” Jouta was excited. “Even on flat ground, his speed hasn’t slowed down. Keep going, Yuki-senpai!”

On the screen of his phone, he could see Yuki sidestepping the Teitou runner at the crossroad with New Hakone Road. Kansei, in fourteenth place, had a clear view of TSU in front of them.

“Yes, that’s it!”

Nico-chan took off his jersey. Now it was time to see if Yuki could get the section prize.

“Manaka?”

“We'll be able to see them with our own eyes soon.”

Jouta raised his head from his phone. “They’re here!” he shouted.

The red uniform of Manaka, running along the railroad tracks, was just about to turn off the road and enter the relay station. They knew he was a candidate for the section prize, so the cheers were even louder. Manaka’s sash was handed over.

“What’s his record!”

“Sixty minutes and twenty-four seconds.”

Jouta read the information on the TV screen on his phone out loud. It was a good time for running on snowy roads. Even Rikudou’s Tamura, whose ten-kilometer time was in the twenty-eight minute range, had a time of sixty minutes and forty-eight seconds.

At the relay station, the schools relayed their sashes one after the other. The TV screen showed that Yuki was almost there.

Yuki, just a little more. The staff member called Nico-chan to stand at the relay line. All that was left was a race against time. Next to him, the TSU runner received his sash and started running. He could hear Jouta’s voice as he timed Yuki on his watch.

“Sixty minutes and seventeen seconds, eighteen, nineteen…”

Yuki entered the relay station. He was gritting his teeth and holding the unfastened sash in his right hand. He might have learned Manaka’s time from the spectators along the road and was trying to summon up all his strength in the final stretch.

“Yuki!” Nico-chan howled. “Sixty minutes and twenty-four seconds,” Jouta screamed. There was a stir from the spectators. The sash still hadn’t been passed to Nico-chan’s hand. Yuki was a step short of the section prize.

But at that moment, Nico-chan forgot about the existence of times. Yuki’s eyes were looking straight at him. He wasn’t thinking about the section prize at all, he just wanted to give the sash to Nico-chan as soon as possible. That was the only thing he was thinking about as he made it through the last three flat kilometers. Nico-chan understood that. He could see that in Yuki’s fingertips, which were still hot and damp despite being exposed to the cold wind.

“Good job,” Nico-chan muttered.

“I’m tired. I’m leaving the rest to you.”

Yuki clapped Nico-chan on the back, managed to step firmly on his trembling legs, and prevented himself from falling over.

“Yuki-senpai!” Jouta snatched a towel from a staff member and ran up to Yuki to support him. “It's disappointing, but you were incredible!”

“Disappointing? What is?” Yuki drank water from a plastic water bottle and finally found his voice.

“The section prize. Yuki-senpai’s time was sixty minutes and twenty-six seconds. If you had been two seconds faster, you would have tied for the section prize.”

“Really.”

Two seconds. Yuki laughed. Only two seconds. Such a short amount of time that passed in a single breath. Did I miss out on being the best in this leg by such a small margin?

“Oh well,” Yuki said. “Those two seconds were like an hour to me.”

Jouta almost cried when he saw Yuki’s soles after he took off his shoes. The blisters at the base of his big toes had peeled off and there was blood welling up, even though the skin on his soles had grown so thick over the past year. He realized just how hard it was to run down the mountains of Hakone.

“Of course it was enough. You were so cool, Yuki-senpai.”

After patting the tearful Jouta on the head, Yuki looked at the road leading toward the town of Odawara.

I’m leaving the rest to you, Nico-chan-senpai.

Previous | Next

[halcyonstorm]

Levi notices she looks lighter and happier and is glad shes getting used to the commander post but also notices shes getting distant and blames it on commander duties. He thinks do i miss her? Nah maybe its just habit. Buuut theeen. He then finds out about it one day during an after training drinking session with 104th at the same bar and his breath hitches in his throat. Hange all pretty in a dress very drunk laughing at something this guy said and the world stops around him. He doesnt understand what it makes him feel. He feels like shit. Terrible. He hates it. He wants to smack the guy's face but doenst understand why. 104th notices his sudden unease and follows the direction he's staring and see hange with a guy. Sasha and Armin sigh dreamily happy that hange found someone she likes and that 'this is the happiest ive ever seen her" Levi dies at that. What does that mean? He wasnt enough? What does this guy give her that he doesnt? Wait. Why does it matter why am I even comparing. She cares about me too. But not like that. He thinks. It gets confusing and he leaves in a rush leaving everyone else stunned. Except connie who laughs at how hange made him jealous. The rest is just levi childishly following hange around mocking her happiness and the guy, finding out WHY she likes him. But gets nothing the guys actually nice and cares about hange. He hates himself and accepts her happiness but falls for her even harder since now he knows what shes like when shes in love and he wants it to be him. He accepts that hes fallen for her with the help of a very drunk man next to him at the same bar to whom he spills his secret to. The story continues and pls can someone write this already before i kill myself daydreaming about it

hi anon! sorry it took me a while but I finally got around to writing this. thank you for suggesting the prompt! i hope you enjoy. you can read it below OR check it out here on Ao3.

Title: Get Your Shit Together, Levi!

WARNING: ANGST

note: this is gifted to @tundrainafrica. i hope this satisfies your angst cravings. i hope you enjoy as well <3

Levi and some members from the 104 went out to a bar one night. It was a warm, summer evening and the sun had just begun to set. They all had a long day training out in the field, and Connie somehow convinced Levi to go out with them. Perhaps it was because Connie batted his puppy-dog eyes at Levi in such a way where if Levi didn’t, he thought Connie would break down and cry. Besides, Levi had asked Hange and she declined stating she had other plans. The bar was hustling and bustling that evening. They sat in a booth: Levi, Sasha, Connie, and Armin. They all ordered food, Sasha ordering herself more food than she looks like she can eat. The kids talked amongst themselves. After all, who was going to talk to Levi? He was their superior, almost like their parent who disappeared for years before showing up unexpectedly, expecting the kids to take him back. Armin made some small talk with Levi, but no one knew much about Levi. They knew two things for sure: he loved to clean and he loved tea. He usually hated alcohol, but somehow managed to down an entire beer glass before receiving the food. He was exhausted from the day, as was everyone else.

Suddenly, a loud laugh caught his attention. It wasn’t just any laugh, but a familiar one. A laugh that sent shivers down his spine and his heart to throb hard in his chest. It was Hange Zoe’s laugh. Had he known she were going, he would’ve invited her to avoid the awkward socialization with his subordinates. He looked to where the sound was coming from and was shocked. Other plans, huh? She was sitting next to a dark skinned man with a buzzcut and a beer glass in one hand. He was laughing too. She was laughing at something he said. The sight of her took his breath away. She never wore a dress like that before, but tonight she wore an emerald green dress that went a bit past her knees, exposing her muscular calves. The neckline of the dress cut low, exposing her collarbones. Her hair was in a ponytail but was neater than usual. Was she on a date? The realization caused Levi to feel as if his heart was being squeezed by a fist that was wringing out all the blood from it. Squeezing it so tight Levi thought he was going to die for a brief moment. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to make sure he could believe what he saw. He could. There she was: Hange in her beautiful emerald dress, talking and laughing with the dark-skinned man. They were sitting across from one another at a table-for-two. Their faces were close to one another as they spoke and laughed, drinking glasses and glasses of wine. Why do I feel this way? He asked himself. But he knew why. This feeling was familiar. It happened a few times before, specifically with Hange. It happened when she gave Moblit all her attention, gushing over how competent he was as her assistant, and now. Seeing her face to face on a date with this man who was much more attractive than himself: honey brown eyes; aquiline nose; plump lips; big, strong hands; a deep voice; and most importantly, he was much taller than Levi. He saw her date place a hand on hers, making Levi’s rage fester even stronger. I’m gonna slap that man, he thought. Why was he touching her? And why does she not mind it?

Levi had been staring for a long time, longer than he thought, before Connie nudged him from across the table. He was clearly drunk.

“Leeeeeeeeeevi,” he slurred with a cheshire cat-like grin. “Gawking, are we?” Levi rolled his eyes, taking his beer glass from him.

“You’ve gotta stop drinking,” he ordered, finishing whatever was left of Connie’s beer.

“Are you looking at Hange?” Armin asked, turning his head left to look at Levi. Armin could tell right away that was what Levi was doing. He shook his head no.

“She looks soooooo happy!” Sasha chimed in, dreamily gazing at the couple. Levi felt his face contort into a wretched grimace.

“She does. I haven���t seen her look so happy in a while,” Armin added. He quickly regretted it though when Levi threw him a harsh glare. Armin looked through his glare after a moment. Levi had a look in his eyes that Armin never saw before: hurt. Levi was hurt. His eyebrows were knit together, expressing a look that one may give when they’re about to cry.

I am not enough for her.

Armin felt his heart strings tugged, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on Levi’s bicep. He knew how much he loved her, despite his harsh tone. Hange was the only one who truly understood Levi and his words. Armin was able to observe Levi with Hange one night.

It was a cool March evening and Hange was working hard that day. She had been cooped up in her office sorting through and reading stacks and stacks of papers. She never came out for a meal that entire day. He saw Levi knock on her door with a plate of food in one hand and a blanket folded over his arm. She didn’t respond, so Levi allowed himself in. The door was shut behind him, but Armin could hear him softly talking to her before leaving the office. She must’ve fallen asleep so Levi draped the blanket over her shoulders. He must’ve left the food on her desk. That was the moment Armin realized Levi loved Hange. He didn’t just love her. He adored her. Ever since that moment, Armin was able to decipher Levi’s words from his true feelings.

“Oooooooooooooh, is someone jealous?” Connie teased. Sasha slapped his arm. Levi felt like if he stayed any longer, he’d explode and say something he’d regret.

“Shut the fuck up,” Levi sneered, standing up to leave. He felt as if he should torture himself more and watch the happy couple, but he didn’t have the willpower to do so. He drank a bit too much than he would’ve liked, and the heat inside the bar was getting to a boiling point, and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t need to hear it from the 104 that he lost his chance with Hange. They called out for him, but he didn’t hear. The air outside was much cooler compared to the sweltering temperature of hundreds of bodies tightly packed in the small bar. He found a trash can nearby, barely making it before vomiting. The stomach acid and alcohol came spewing out of him. He smelt it in his nose each time he breathed. He spit into the trash can when he was done, starting to slowly walk back to the cabins.

-

A few days later, Levi goes back to that bar alone after another hard day training. He felt like the sun was draining him of his energy each time he dared to stay outside. He sat on a bar stool and ordered a beer. There was a man next to him of whom he didn’t recognize. He was a stocky older man who had short black hair and brown eyes. The man looked drunk, the type of drunk where you can remember half the shit that was going on. The man saw Levi’s face and did not recognize him which gave Levi an impulsive idea.

“Are you from out of town?” Levi asked the man. He gave Levi a small smile.

“Yes.”

Say no more, Levi thought. Suddenly, a few drinks in, he opened up the key on his heart and started spilling his emotions to this guy. A few tears came through. Levi was buzzed at this point, his words too jittery and his hands too shaky. The man to whom he spoke listened intently. Somehow, this man he met at the bar had this pleasant aura that Levi felt he could tell him anything.

“Sir,” The man said. “Why don’t you just talk to her? Talk to her like you’re talking to me. That is the only way you’ll find out her true intentions with her date.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“But it is. You know how much more peace there’d be in the world if people just talked things out?”

The man’s unrealistic statement somehow gave Levi some confidence. That confidence, however, quickly went out the window when he caught a glance of a messy brown mop of hair. It was Hange with that dark-skinned man again. She wore a black dress this time with a high collar, her arms exposed. God, she looked beautiful. Levi wished she could dress up for him like that. In that moment, hearing her beautiful laugh and seeing her beautiful smile, Levi realized he was in love with her.

“Ah… is that her?” The man asked, looking over his shoulder inconspicuously (unlike Levi who starred with no shame).

“Yes…”

“Find time to talk to her,” The man said. “You got this, man.” Before Levi went to say something to the man again, he was gone. He tried to watch her as she talked with the man. She was radiant. She had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place. Was it… No. It couldn’t be. Her eyes were glowing, she was shining. Was she falling for this man?

He felt like he was gonna be sick again. He abruptly got up from his seat and headed to the bathroom. He pushed the stall door open, vomiting once again. His throat was still sore from the last time, so this time the acid ripped at his throat even more. Hot tears started to stream down his face. He wanted her so bad. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh and smile. He wanted to be the one she fell in love with, not him. His heart ached so bad it was attempting to jump out from his throat. What hurt the most is that the guy she was with was nice. Too fucking nice. He laughed at her jokes, didn’t complain when she rambled, made subtle touches that weren’t inappropriate, and he was tall. He placed a hand to his heart as if it’d help put it back together. He took a deep, quivering inhale before standing up, flushing the toilet, and going to the faucet. He splashed his face with some cold water. How can I expect her to like me if I can’t confess? He looked at himself in the mirror.

You look like shit, he told himself. He murmured a few words aloud: “I’m in love with you. I am in love with you. Hange, I love you. I love you, Hange. Please be with me.” He took in a deep breath, stronger than the last, before exiting. He bumped into a person when he left the stall but paid no mind to it. When he was about to leave, he noticed the man she was with was gone. Maybe he was the one he bumped into?

“Oi, Hange,” he said, walking to her table. She smiled softly when she saw him.

“Levi, what’re you doing here? I thought you hated liquor.”

“I can’t spend time at a bar?” he replied, leaning a hand on the table. Hange rolled her eyes playfully.

“You can do whatever you please,” She said, beginning to stand up.. “Now if you’ll-”

“Four-eyes,” he interrupted her. “You look…” She stared at him intently, waiting for his response. “Good.”

Her eyes lost their light. Did he upset her? Then Levi realized she wasn’t staring at him anymore, she was looking past his shoulder. At that moment, the dark-skinned man approached Hange from behind Levi. So I did bump into him earlier.

“Are you ready?” He asked her. His voice was deep and seductive. Levi wondered if they fucked yet.

“Just a moment,” Hange replied. “Thank you, Levi. Was that all you had to say?” He felt like an idiot. An absolute idiot.

“N...Yes,” he said, losing all the confidence he had built up. How could he compete with this man? Levi just wretched in the bathroom and looked as pale as a ghost. Hange placed her hand on his shoulder gently, which made Levi’s heart skip a beat.

“Have a good night, Levi. Get your rest.” She started walking past him with her date towards the exit.

“No…” he murmured, inaudible to Hange. Or so he thought. She froze in her spot as she heard him change his answer.

“Onyankapon, could you wait outside for me? Give us a moment,” She whispered to her date. He nodded, exiting the bar. Hange turned around to face Levi. They were standing within a comfortable distance from each other.

“Levi, what else did you have to say? It’s getting late, you know.”

“I miss you,” he admitted. Hange’s eyes widened at his direct statement, knowing he usually states the opposite. “I miss hanging out with you and being with you all the time. You’re with him now and that’s okay but I just wanted to tell you that I can be better for you. I can take you on dates that are more exciting than a bar. You said you always wanted to swim, we can do that… We can do whatever you want us to do. All I care about is being with you.”

Hange’s face flushed red. He never talked like this with her before. She could tell he was a bit desperate but that didn’t make him any less genuine. Her heart ached. She was not sure how to feel. She did love him, but that was a while ago. A little part of her would always love Levi, but she was falling for Onyankapon now.

“I’m so sorry, Levi,” she said, barely audible. “I’m sorry. I did feel that way for you a long time ago, but I don’t anymore. I wish you had told me sooner.”

[passivenovember]

Chapter Six of : If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields

--

Billy goes home less than an hour after Steve suggests they play operation. When he looks at Billy with eyelashes Neil Armstrong could see from the moon and suggests they cozy up among the coffee table books to do some lasting good in the world; get the tooth out of that guy's dick for him--

Billy has to get out of there.

It was too much.

The house. The colors. The fabric. The smell of Steve's shampoo, which is less like peeled lemons and more like funeral flowers, the longer Billy sits around getting sunburnt under the intense light of a man who wasn't interested in him beyond starched collar friendship.

And he's not mad at Steve. Isn't on his way to punch a hole in his drywall, or anything, but he's mad at himself. Mad at his heart for kicking up a cloud of pink smoke when Billy stands and says he'd better get going. 

And Steve's face falls like snow that covers Billy's driveway, that glues his feet together.

"Papers." Billy says quickly, searching for the coat he knows he didn't bring up the drive.

"Newspapers?" Steve goes along with him, adjusting the yellow bandana behind his ears. He turns with a swoosh of his orange rug robe to dig through the shelves on the wall. "I have some here. Old ones, new ones. There's an edition from 1985 about the mall burning down, it's pretty interesting. Would you like that?"

"Sure, I'll, uh--" Billy takes the yellowing pages from Steve without really thinking about it, jerking away when Harrington lands too close. Close enough that Billy can see the specks of green in his eyes. "I meant. Teaching papers. Assignments." The newspaper smells old. Like books and dust, and faintly of spilled bong water from the pipe of a baghead teenager long ago. "I have to grade papers."

Steve doesn't take it back from him. "I thought you taught kindergarten."

"I do."

"Kindergarteners write papers?" Steve's hair flops across his forehead. Like big, wavy puppy dog ears on either side of his face. 

Billy has to force his tongue to stay in his mouth, his eyes to stop staring. "I meant, like. Spelling. Numbers. Rudimentary bullshit." Billy shakes the newspaper at puppy dog Steve. "Declan Parks can't even tie his own shoes, so--"

"Alright. Okay." Steve says sweetly, pushing Billy's hand back to his own chest, fingers wrapping around his palm. "Take it with you. There's a lot of history in this town, mythology and folklore--rumors of bloodsucking aliens and evil scientists camping out under the power plant." Steve doesn't let go of Billy's hand. He grins instead, dimples popping like fireworks on his face. "We're a regular Twin Peaks ripoff. Read about it, let me know what you think." And.

Steve doesn't back away. Doesn't back down.

"I'll give you a ring sometime." Billy says suddenly.

"Okay."

"Yeah, alright, uh." Billy backs toward the front door, two finger salute making pink skies land on Steve's face. "Thanks for the grub. I'll see you in the driveway, or--"

Steve laughs, following Billy to the door. 

"Around. Yeah, Steve, I'll--"

Steve places a hand on Billy's shoulder and the world stops spinning. Melting right off the bone. Billy fights to get air in his lungs as Steve brushes a lock of hair from his forehead, fingertips lighting Billy's skin on fire.

"See you around, neighbor." Steve says.

And Billy knows, feels in his bones, that he'd do better moving across town.

--

It keeps snowing. 

Morning noon and night, wood nymphs piling on ice and hail down on a town of 36,000 people until Billy feels alone. Like an animal trapped in a beige house on a white street that exists in a bubble. A snow globe immune to light and sound. 

There's a period of days where school is cancelled and Billy runs out of things to keep himself occupied. All the books have been read and returned to their place on the shelf. All the films watched and replayed until Billy draws his own conclusions, until the characters feel like his own.

On the first day Billy feels like he's losing his mind.

He orders groceries. Picks up some thermal socks. Considers making a pie or something from scratch, like his mother used to do before Neil went missing on Christmas Eve, but. He doesn't have a rolling pin.

On the second day he drags a chair over to the window and stares at the warm, peachy light from Steve's upstairs window as it shine on the drifts that gather and climb toward heaven. Billy thinks about that living room as if it were a vision from some other planet. A universe crafted in the image of virality.

Billy thinks about Steve and wishes he could be like that. 

Wide eyed. Free.

--

On the third day, Megan says Billy should begin preparing for spring.

"We're snowed in." Billy mutters, cleaning up the polish on his toes. A gorgeous matte eggplant color that proves--spring isn't on his radar. 

"You're getting bogged down with the ice and snow," Megan reiterates, pen scratching across the page so loudly that Billy can hear it with the phone on speaker. "Before long the flowers will bloom again. The sun will shine, it's something everyone has to prepare for. Rebirth, growth--"

"I don't have a garden."

"Don't be a shitter, Billy." Megan sighs, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "We can work with that. Would it do some good to plant one?"

Billy starts painting his other foot. "I don't want to stay in Hawkins forever."

"That's understandable."

"And I have plans this spring." Billy twists the cap onto the nail polish, swinging his foot around in the air as if that'll make things move faster. "Max and I want to go hiking back home. I'm supposed to help my mom get the boathouse ready for the summer, and I don't want to start something permanent in a place I can't see myself settling down in--"

"A couple marigold bushes are not permanent, you could kill 'em off with a single neglectful week in the summer and you know it." Megan falls silent, only the click of her pen left behind. "This move has been rough on you, and it's been rough on your body, and it's been hell on your space."

Billy shrugs. "It's been fine on my space."

"Have you even finished unpacking?" Megan demands, strictly business.

"I don't want to set down roots--"

"You've lived in Hawkins for two years, Billy, and you haven't finished unpacking."

A lump appears in his throat, just like that, just. Choking the air from his lungs. Megan must hear Billy swallow, or sense the shift in the air because her voice goes soft around the edges. Pliant. "It's a new cycle." 

Billy tries not to think about Max. "Alright."

"Time to blow the cobwebs away." 

"Dust the spider houses." Billy says to himself. He tries not to think about their garden back home, the fertile smell of fresh Earth somehow finding its way to Hawkins despite Billy's efforts. He misses Mammoth Lakes. He tries not to think about it. Then; "Max is coming down for my week off."

"That's not until March."

"So?"

Megan sighs, like Billy should get it by now. "That's way into the spring season, what you need this year is to get a head start." She scribbles something down on the page again. "We've been through this before. You're beyond me spelling out what you need. You've been my client long enough to know the type of person you are, Billy."

He smirks. "Yeah, and what kind of person is that?"

"Someone who likes to open his doors and let in the fresh air." She moves some papers around, voice firm. "Bright colored walls, and bird baths littering diverse lawns even though they turn to green slime when not filtered properly. The kind of man who likes to shop second hand because 'everything has a soul--'"

"Are you reading from my journal?"

"Need I go on?" Megan lets Billy mull it over for a moment. Lets him draw is own conclusions. When she speaks again it's like Billy already knows what she wants to say. Already believes it himself, but. That's never stopped her before. 

"We were just talking about Steve last week."

"We're always talking about Steve," Billy snaps. "Last week, and the week before that, and yesterday and tomorrow--"

"Perpetually." Megan teases. "I know. But you said you liked his house. That's what we discussed last time; not Steve or his hair or how embarrassed you are about the rats--" Billy wishes everyone would let that part go. "But his house. The way it made you feel."

He can see it in his minds eye--Megan leaning forward, legs uncrossed on her big hammock chair, blue and gray glasses catching the glint in her eye as she pokes through his spirit and lands at the root.

The bone.

"What is it you liked about Steve's place and what is it you hate about your own and where is the through line?"

She gives him homework. Student and teacher.

Billy hates homework, but. He jots the instructions down in his notebook anyway and wonders, distantly, if the skies will continue to open above his head and if he'll ever learn to accept it.

--

On the fourth day Billy's power goes out. 

Just like that. 

With no bang or whimper it's just there one moment and gone the next.

One minute he's watching Wayne's World, wrapped in five blankets and eating soup from one of those bowls with the built in straw, and the next he's submerged in darkness. Looking around the living room like a startled chicken, still slurping down tomato soup and hoping it's just a surge.

It's not. 

Billy finishes his soup.

He manages to keep the feeling in his toes even as he wanders around the house lighting every candle he can find, sticking towels over the cracks in his front door and remembering to turn the faucets on drip so the pipes won't freeze overnight.

Outside the storms keep raging.

Billy can't see the end of the front porch, so he grabs his blankets and heads to bed. Remembers to plug in his phone, on the off chance that the power will come back on while he's out, and Billy feels good about himself for a lot of reasons. For remembering his Midwestern Winter Survival Skills, and buying thermal socks when he went shopping last week, and as the temperature keeps dropping Billy feels himself drifting off.

Warm and safe in his cocoon of blankets, he wonders if the power has come back on when someone bangs on his bedroom window.

Billy sits bolt upright, hissing as cold air manages to snake in through an opening near his feet. The knock comes again, louder this time, and Billy thinks about what he read from that article in the Hawkins Post dated July 5th, 1985. 

"Billy?" 

Harrington is wrapped in a blanket. 

That's all, just a knitted monstrosity of orange and green draped across his shoulders, paired with a black hoodie and the care bears scarf that haunts Billy's dreams. He's got yellow gardening gloves on his fingers and, over his head of wavy brown hair, a pink beanie that reads, If I Die of Aids--Forget Burial--Drop My Body on the Steps of the FDA, in teal block letters.

Steve Harrington could break hearts.

Billy's heart is floating through the air, just. Decimated. As Steve smiles and taps on the window. "I tried the front but I figured you were asleep." He says.

And it takes Billy a minute to find his voice. He opens the window, grimacing at the snow on the ledge that topples in. "What are you doing?"

"I cleared a path. Around the house. By the propane tank." Steve says, gesturing with his stupid little gloves. "I took care of the driveway for you. And put some ice melt down, brought some firewood up to the door."

"Wait, what?"

"I just picked some up from Melvalds yesterday, it's no biggie--"

"The powers out." Billy grumbles, using the corner of his blanket to scrub at his face. "Shouldn't you be stock piling layers, like the rest of us?"

"'S not so bad at home."

"It's colder in here than it is outside."

Steve jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Mr. Bane's auditioning to be a starfish on my mattress."

"Push that little fucker over the edge." 

Steve leans back, gripping the window ledge with an easy smile. "I could never do that. We have a system--I let him sleep on my bed every night on the condition that he doesn't shit in the hallway anymore." Steve lifts one hand and taps his forehead, pleased as punch. "Work smarter, not harder. Right?"

And that makes Billy blush. Either from the image of Steve's fat Mainecoon running the show or the fact that Steve lets it happen, even on the coldest night of the year. 

It's sweet. 

Steve's sweet. Like sun tea with extra sugar, just--

"So where does that leave you?" Billy muses, picking at a loose thread on his pillow case just to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. "It's too cold for the floor, and the living room's gotta be drafty, right?"

Steve shrugs, leaning against the window pane and looking over his shoulder, as if daring the ice to fall again. "I have an extra blanket or two, should be alright."

With his head turned that way Billy can see moles--dozens of little chocolate kisses sprinkled over Steve's skin, swirling and disappearing under the hood at his neck. 

He's beautiful.

Billy thinks the moles could taste like cinnamon or nutmeg. Hot chocolate with little drops of citrus enriching the flavor--

"You could sleep here." Billy's mouth says. 

Steve stares at him, eyes wide, but. Not surprised. Not mean. "Really?" He asks, folding his arms on the window pane and studying Billy's face. Forehead and eyelashes and back again, like maybe this is a joke. "You'd let me sleep on the couch?"

"Sure."

"What makes you think your places' gonna be any better?" Steve demands.

Light.

Teasing.

Billy shrugs again and his stupid blanket slips off one shoulder, revealing a strip of hoodie that may as well be his bare fucking skin, the way Steve's eyes track the movement. Filing it away for some unknown purpose even as Billy rights himself again. He feels every bit like the heroine in those shitty dieback erotica's his mom still reads every Saturday morning. The window lets in gust after gust of frigid air and Billy decides that he isn't going to beg.

"I'm not going to beg," Billy reiterates, though he doesn't sound convinced. "Come sleep at mine or don't, that's--"

"Unlock the front door," Steve says, and then he's gone, rainboots leaving a trail of footprints to show that this was real. 

That one night, with ice covering the trees and fields like a blanket of hope, Steve was real.

[mushroom-cartel--writing]

begrudging (love-)blindness

Summary: You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru & Reader, Gojo Satoru/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc.)

Personally, I think this is hot garbage in terms of structure and pacing (it’s loosely all strung together is what I’m saying, but I just needed to get it off my chest before I wrote anything else. Yet... I guess I had fun? Yeah. I did!

There's spoilers from the manga mixed with headcanon.

I still hate spacing and formatting on Tumblr, it sucks. Please, please, please, this is for your own good, click the AO3 link, this fic is such an eyesore on this platform.

|||

There’s a tug at your chest, sending you hurtling backwards and into something hard. A wall. Tiles. Smooth.

The heavens and the earth view one another through a layer of haze of light at night.

There are thousands of people gathering, their footsteps thundering echoes in your ears. Their chatter is a constant hum in the air. It stinks of sweat.

(“The train will be arriving soon. Please stand behind the yellow line—”)

You sigh.

“Dammit, Satoru! A little warning would be nice,” you hiss to the man. You hear him whisper something back but his voice is swallowed up by the crowds and then he, too, is consumed.

You feel him wander farther away from you; not left with much choice, you follow him. And down, down, down you go.

You pause when there’s an invisible wall blocking your path of his own making. “Hey!!” you shout, starting to scream expletives at him from the top of his lungs and he doesn’t look back.

A few seconds pass. The people, these poor, clueless civilians who just want to go home for the night are like sardines in a can, their bodies pushing and shoving. For space. For air. Requiring neither, you phase through the wall and the remaining levels to catch up to him, the thoughts going through your head solely focused on figuring out why he has let you out. He wouldn’t do something like this without warning you beforehand.

Why now? What now?

You pull out from the shadowed cracks of the feeble curtain set up along the fifth floor underground, suddenly feeling a heaviness you hardly ever experience. You run a cursory swipe over his teeth; the blood in the air is fresh, there are more civilians down here than up above, more sardine-ing (their presence is fading away, the above platforms’ panicked din becomes extinguished, it’s ghastly quiet, a moment frozen in time), but no Satoru. Not physically.

He loves you, you know. (You don’t understand though… Why?)

It’s a burden, draining you of what vigour is left in your soul, barely just clinging on to this plane itself.

His love is a curse in itself, really.

"I don't want you to see me hurt," he had said often, back when you were children, oblivious to the power of those words until you got older.

What they meant.

What they did—to him and you.

Still as the wind, you stand together, hands brushing up against each other's, your fingers infected with poison where his is not; the calloused skin and scars shared between you weaving a tale for the ages that will never be told.

You’re both nineteen at heart but certainly not in spirit.

You lean against him, completely unseen, waiting for him to flick his finger back.

Waiting for him to obliterate the first person he thought he could trust outside.

He doesn’t. You disappear for another time, expectant.

His love is a burden and you're not sure where you would be without it.

If he hadn't looked your way, would you be the same person you are today?

It's frightening, these thoughts of yours, but he usually chases them off when he senses them bubbling to the surface. (You want him to be annoyed.) A casual grin and stance, a flick of his wrist, a rush of wind by your side, then the phantom pressure is gone, yes, gone, however—it's never banished completely. It never can be.

You don't remember the colour of his eyes but there's a memory of you claiming they looked like marbles, buried somewhere (somehow), in the back of your mind. Like the marbles you'd smash glass bottles to obtain, their fizzy contents only drained seconds beforehand; stubby, sticky, small fingers sorting through the shards, squashing ants in the process.

Those very same fingers, now, haven't changed a bit, save for the chipped nails and whatnot duress they’ve sustained throughout his life.

You use them to push the blindfold up to his forehead, taking in the surrounding sights.

Why now? The fact that you can feel them, his fingers and everything else—that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.

You breathe, inflating the faux lungs.

Finally, you see it. The reason why you’re walking and talking and fully corporeal.

You gulp at the living corpse, its stitches wonky and fresh. Cerebrospinal fluid spills from its face in fat droplets and lands upon the clothes of a dead man. Disgusting.

“So I was right in the end,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else. “You’re not Suguru.”

(Satoru owes you a thousand yen. You told him to burn the body immediately. Or, you know, the usual. But what’d he do instead? He went and passed it off to a third party! Man, why’d that old hag have to kick the bucket so soon… If she was still around she’d probably kick Satoru’s dumb ass for trying to be decent.)

“How are you free?” Not-Suguru asks.

The real Suguru wouldn’t ask about your appearance. He would make a comment about how the temperature has dropped and burrow into his collar. He wouldn’t question things.

The real Suguru never acknowledged you, but he knew there was something in the corner of his eye that took the image of his friend and laughed alongside them when they pulled their antics during missions.

The real Suguru is gone.

Who the hell knows where Shouko is.

Yeah. A little warning would have been nice. Real fucking nice.

There’s a cube with a dozen eyes between the two of you, the crater on the ground betrays its unassuming weight. Satoru’s muted presence, a shrunken pearl of light, emanates from the cube.

Not-Suguru follows your line of sight to it.

Giving him an answer would be a waste of your time.

You can’t, they say.

Young master, please, don’t go there, implores the servants and guards.

The elders, his grandmother especially, tell him not to enter the storehouse tucked away in the garden behind an avenue of camellia trees because that’s something they’ll discuss when he’s older.

He doesn’t listen to them, the curiosity of a three-year-old child cannot be satisfied by mere words. (“Let this be known,” the gardener says in his defense, one cold summer’s day. It is raining outside. His grandmother shoots the only person in the compound that doesn’t treat him like a blind fool with a withering glare. He does not see them again until—)

What’s in the storehouse?

A library of cursed objects? Spiritual remnants, artefacts, texts, poisons, weapons?

Maybe the mummified corpse of an ancestor whom they keep around to ward off evil?

Perhaps a curse, frozen in time forevermore?

Maybe it’s nothing and the adults are all in on some kind of elaborate hoax, he figures. Mm, yeah. Sounds about right. No one else knows about the storehouse.

It’s old and earthen. Wild plants curl the walls to one side and splotches of moss grow on the tiled roof. Where the sun hits least is pristine. Clean. He wonders if that’s where the wards are placed, out of sight, out of mind.

Oh.

Standing in the entrance of the open door with bare feet, at the threshold of the aged structure, fulfilling his desire, he learns why they wanted him to remain ignorant.

It’s a child. (A human…? This whole situation is off.) A kid his age. He can’t tell whether or not they’re older or younger. They might be a bit taller, though.

No, he wants to shout, this can’t be it! He stomps his foot. That’s cliché! Boring, boring, boring! Again, he strikes the ground. Ugh, whatever—

A sigh escapes the emaciated figure sitting in the darkness, hunched over themself against the wall of the bare storehouse.

“Ah, my f̶̥̍r̵̝͐̏i̷̳end,” they start, softly. “M̶̹̦͒y̸͍̮̋̚ f̸͉̓̋r̴͇̦̕ǐ̴̦͇e̵̫͠n̷̢͉̅̓ḍ̸̅, my very dear, old friend. You have returned.

“My e̷̳̭̿y̶͈͂e̷͔̭̎͘s̴̭̄̊, have you come to give them back? Ask for several others?

“I have waited for you, as promised. Come. Closer. Please. I do not know how long has passed since I last gazed upon your visage. Do not be afraid.

“I no longer lust for flesh as fervently as before, I will not ask of y̸͖͔̒o̵̳̍u̵͍̘̓ ą̴͕̈́n̵̫̓d̸̛̳͛ y̵̻͑̎o̵̖̥͒͌ų̴͋̐r̵̦̩̓s a sacrifice to please me.”

Their voice is garbled, the resemblance to a broken radio off-pitch jarring his reaction time, a music box opened underwater gurgling, ghosts beat to the rhythm of the blood in his ears and titter buried mysteries.

In the corner of his eyes distant stars burn, galaxies explode to life and die repeatedly, the vast cosmos is shredded apart. Universes are swallowed whole. The plane he stands upon bends to the will of the one whose gifts he uses carelessly to play the role of a deity and dictate the balance of the world.

People have said [they] reflect the very heavens.

His faith wanes.

.

a trio of ragtag orphans,

escapees, survivors and starved,

on the verge of being

no better than beasts,

happen upon a traveller taking respite from the winding roads.

a foreigner no doubt

they guess from the strange hued garb;

rest, everyone around these parts,

they know comes not

easy to scum, scoundrels, sinners and

deceivers alike.

.

.

.

mad ones, rushing to death

—without protection i must add—

oh my darling children, you are!

consume my flesh,

defend those unseeing,

purge the blight

and you shall witness

my return before long, indeed?!

.

They do not move and neither does he.

What he assumes to be their head tilts ever so to the side, gauging him, this fool of a boy trespassing on their domain. This part of the garden, the little boy realises too late, is theirs.

This, the storehouse and now him.

(—the gardener finds him sprawled out on his back come dusk. They help him to his feet and dust him off, the sparkle in his eyes an unusual occurrence; they ask their precious young master what happened and he points them in the direction of the doors sealed shut.

“I took a peek inside,” he lies. Children are supposed to do that, right?

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” The gardener knows he’s a bad liar.

“Good. Now come.” They lead him away from the path of the camellias. “Lady Mitsue has been beside herself over you, mister.”

His grandmother hasn’t. She probably knows what he has done and will instruct him to feed the council what they want to hear. My son was too soft, she asserts before and after every meeting with those windbags.

You have to do better.

And his father is dead, so only time will tell who’s right.)

He starts having weird dreams (memories?) several days later.

Trying to ignore them doesn’t work.

Every waking moment is subject to gore.

He has to resist the urge to scratch his own eyes out while he trains.

In the world beneath his eyelids, there are shadowy figures claiming it best he is blinded and locked away and fed what no other soul could hope to consume without issue. And just as they force open his jaw—every night, every time—he wakes up.

Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

One day, he dreams of years of living without sunlight causing you to screw your not-eyes shut and look away upon the opening of a door into your domain. When you recover, you turn to the door, the emotion of curiosity tugging for your attention out of the myriad of beings you’ve eaten.

Standing at the threshold, ethereal, desperate and short of breath, is a young man. In his arms is a woman, his wife, you presume. They’re stark shades of white, binary stars of a celestial system long dead.

You smile, recognising them in an instant. “Ah, my old friends, children of my children’s children a dozen times over, tell me, what is it you wish for?”

“My wife and our child,” says the man, “please, I beg of you, save them!”

Oh? A healing? It’s been quite some time since that was last requested of you.

You skitter to the pair’s side and shut the door gently behind them, ushering them further in.

You click your not-tongue at the woman’s state, wondering why no one thought to come to you earlier. If they did, the price they’d have to pay would be much less than what you’re about to tell the man. Humans are such prideful creatures, Satoru knows this, but he can’t help but feel tense as you instruct the man to lay the woman down and state your cost.

First, he opens his mouth. Then it shuts. Opens. Shuts. The man regards his dear wife with something Satoru has never seen before in the eyes of those around him.

His reply?

“I accept—”

A harsh smack to the head disrupts the memory; he looks up, unsurprised to meet his grandmother’s gaze, wrinkled eyes so very much like his own piercing his soul.

“Being distracted in the middle of a fight is unbecoming of you, boy,” she says. “What seems to be the matter?”

He can’t tell her.

He stays silent.

“Satoru.” She raises her hand, fingers crossed, indicating the void’s opening. “We Gojou pride ourselves on our ability to adapt. That is why, in fact, I say my son was too soft. He could not accept that he would lose my daughter-in-law and the child she carried in her womb to common illness. He could not accept that it was impossible to cheat death. He could not accept the position he was placed in. And for that, he died and of the aforementioned two, only you lived. Do you understand?”

No. He doesn’t want to understand.

What is adaptation if they’ve yet to rid themselves of and bow down to your constant presence? Is that not their most fatal flaw?

You eat them.

One life in exchange for another; you told his father it was the only way.

You were given the corpse of his mother a hundred days after his birth by the elders.

Every Gojou after death, you grind their bones between your teeth and their flesh rots at the bottom of your belly. Their soulful essence fights for dominance against the forces of the innumerable curses the clans feeds you—the hate, the sentiment, the sheer bursts of techniques and mighty powers clashing, click, click, click—you embody and absorb the aftermath of each childish scuffle, playing the bored jailer adjudicator. Corpses, tools, objects, energy and flesh. It’s how you’ve lived for so long without light or human thought to taint you: the jujutsu world’s dirty little secret, waste disposal.

You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

He loves you for that one reason.

A means to an end, forever.

(The boy, a few days shy of his fourth birthday and inauguration, does not know what love is. He thinks he does, having read the definition in a dictionary in order to familiarise you with modern speech, but love is not a word to be thrown around lightly the way he does.)

“I do,” he lies again, this time, to himself. “I understand everything.”

His sight is black.

He pushes back against the current, against instinct telling him to relinquish control and reaches forward for the dream that he was ripped from.

Your true form towers over his mother’s prone form, dripping ichor and the fluid of loose entrails all over. His father stays seated even when you lift an arm to draw blood, the man facing you without a trace of fear.

“I accept—but on the condition that my child receives your protection.”

“My p̶̹̽r̴̽ͅo̵̠͐ť̷̬e̶̺̊c̶̻̒t̷̙͑i̵̮̓o̶̱n̷̖͂?” Do they not teach the younger generations what that entails?

“Yes. My ancestors wrote that you were a benevolent being in a past life. That you were a kind-hearted human who accidentally drank poison before being found and buried alive, condemned and reviled, forcing you to become what you are now. Does that still not hold true?” His father’s face is hopeful.

It doesn’t. But who are you to tell him that? That ‘benevolent being’ never existed in the first place. You’ve always been this.

The vivisepulture part was true, but the beginning? Debatable. Your memories of ‘being human’ are foggy; you’re not sure if they’re real or someone else’s. Satoru’s is the clearest thus far because you abide within him. And he’s young, there’s little to garner.

What other nonsense has been made truth in the time you have withdrawn from the world?

He wants to go down that rabbit hole.

You grab the cube and run, warping reality in your wake.

You are many things.

Alive, you are first; secondly a parent, a teacher and a friend; cursed thrice times over; quarter something-something or rather by this point; and last, your hollowness complements the damned hallowed.

You are Gojou Satoru but not.

His skin peels off in delicate scales from the speed you’re going.

The first and last time you puppeteer his body, Satoru invokes his father’s contract with you for the second time in his life.

Like the first occurrence, it happens by accident.

(The first occurrence is a stain on your memory.

Mitsue looked her grandson in the eye and tasked him with a futile quest, one that would decide the future headship of their clan. You personally thought such practices outdated but you held his tongue and grit his teeth, faking laughter for the audience they had.

She reminded you too much of your youngest, both in the way she cobbled herself together and how she suspended time long enough to catch a glimpse of you hunched beside him, flickering in and out of her void domain with the ease of a toddler climbing free of their crib.

Beautiful and deadly.

He nearly died.)

He is unaware of the finer details, but where his consciousness ends at getting a scalpel to head, it rouses again with him standing before the man who has the blood of Satoru’s friends on his hands and left him to bleed out undecapitated.

On a high from escaping Izanami’s clutches, he sprouts math and whatever nonsense off the top of his head and ragdolls up, down, across and through the air.

He feels like a being higher than the gods. Doesn’t mean he is, though.

He’s barely in control.

Violent swashes of red and blue fill the sky. He sees beyond his opponent rising from the earth the heavens condemning his breaching unto their space.

“Hey, stranger, did you know purple was her favourite colour?”

“Whose?”

|

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“You are Satoru, right?”

“Yessssss?”

“You… you’ve got a bit of…” Suguru gestures vaguely around the lower half of his face.

“Oh.” You rub the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and see it come back tinged pink. The drying drool on his sleeves is used to rub the rest of the blood away. “Thanks.”

“Have you found her?”

“Amanai? Her body?” Suguru flinches. Your gaze is drawn to the cultists clapping. “Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru says. “I feel like killing these people. Should we?”

“Why?”

“I’m still h̸͓̟͐u̴̦͗n̴͇͈̅͛g̵͔̒̕ŗ̴͕͂͘y̸͚͍͘͘.” Two wasn’t even a snack.

“I’m angry that we failed too. But we can’t do anything now, it’s out of our hands.”

|

Several days later finds him back at the entrance of the storehouse, none the worse for wear.

In the shadow of the building grows a lone weed.

“It’s changed.”

“Of course it has.”

“Will I end up like them?”

“Yes.”

[thekillerssluts]

My Relationship to Performance Has Changed

A great rock-and-roll show means openness, confrontation, and a kind of danger, and those ideas right now feel too heavy to lift.

Last October, before the second pandemic wave took off in New York City, I had one last band practice in my backyard in South Brooklyn. Five of us were working on songs from my new solo record. Normally we’d play in the basement, but it’s pretty low-ceilinged, and we’d read Zeynep Tufekci’s recent Atlantic article on viral spread, so we were all hyper-focused on air circulation. My bandmate Sara had contracted COVID-19—and recovered—in March, but the rest of us had no immunity. Besides, we suspected that we were in for a long winter and might as well hang out outdoors.

It was warm in the sun. After hauling the drums, keyboards, keyboard stands, guitars, and amps outside and plugging everything in, I hadn’t wanted to bother setting up microphones, so we had to play softly to hear ourselves harmonize. When we paused for lunch, someone leaned out of a fourth-story window in the apartment building next door and yelled: “Are you done or are you just taking a break? I have things to do, but I really miss live music!” “Me too, man!” I called back. “Should be just a break.”

Six months and a difficult winter later, the break is ending. I’m seeing more and more Instagram posts for shows that aren’t just wishful thinking. Low-capacity indoor shows are popping up in New York. Outdoor—maybe even full-capacity indoor—concerts are coming this summer. Am I ready to play? Ask me every other day and the answer changes. I’m torn. I’m desperate for sound engineers to get back behind the board and bartenders to start earning tips. I want venues to thrive again, both as places for art in neighborhoods and for the sake of the network that keeps music culture alive in America. I want my booking agent to feel excited again; he loves music so much. And I want musicians to make a living. So many people have been so screwed by the past year. I guess I just want everyone to get paid.

But the actual performance; the rebuilding of the sonic cathedral, as Dave Grohl wrote last spring; communally reaching for rock-and-roll transcendance? I’m not there yet. I’m not concerned that I’ll get sick. I received my second vaccine shot at the end of March and am ready to high-five strangers on the subway. My hesitance has an element of crowd-shyness, which we’ll all get over. But in my own performance, I don’t know how to meet this moment. A great rock-and-roll show means openness, confrontation, and a kind of danger, and those ideas right now feel too heavy to lift.

I used to think of performance in purely aesthetic terms. In the movie La Strada, a clown wearing angel wings does a high-wire act across a crowded piazza. For his finale, he brings out a table on the wire and, while balancing, tries to sit and eat a full plate of spaghetti. The heroine of the movie watches him with an almost religious ecstasy. When I first started performing, I strove for transcendence and stupidity, high concept and low art. My focus was on keeping myself in the air.

When my band Arcade Fire was playing mostly to people who hadn’t heard us before, we felt that the best way to get them to open up was to blow the windows and doors out. At an early show in Lawrence, Kansas, my brother, Win, bashed Styrofoam tiles out of the venue’s ceiling with his mic stand. We pushed as hard for an audience of six people (two of them my parents) upstairs at AS220 in Providence, Rhode Island, as we did in front of tens of thousands in the desert at our first Coachella show (during which I accidentally cut Win’s guitar cable in half by repeatedly smashing a cymbal into the ground).

At a certain point, as people got to know our music, my relationship to performance changed. The energy from the crowd was greater than anything coming from the giant speaker stacks. The audience wasn’t a challenge to overcome, or an opponent to conquer. We became a team. Not in an abstract, lovey way but how a sports team operates—pushing one another to do better, sometimes failing, sometimes frustrating one another, sometimes just joking around.The high-wire act of live performance—Will the music come together?—was still there. I’ve even sometimes tried to make the metaphor real, climbing arena scaffolding with a drumstick in my teeth and a drum strapped over my shoulder to play 30 feet in the air. Some of our crew members hate it—“Will! You have children now!”—but climbing up there doesn’t actually feel that dangerous, and a little nervousness is good. I’m reaching for primate simplicity and catharsis: The crowd needs tension to experience release.But now I have no desire to make tension. I want people to feel safe and comfortable, and I wonder whether creating a feeling of danger and openness is antithetical to that. I know that cultivating a perception of safety and actually making people safe are different. On tour, in a big venue, every night our management and local security have a briefing. It’s partly to set a vibe—People are here for music. Everybody be chill. If some teenager sneaks into a closer section, please let them. But the briefing is also serious—where the medics are located, what the escape routes are. Most of the time, these safety measures are invisible. I worry that post-pandemic precautions, as welcome and necessary as they are, will be depressingly visible. Some elements, such as temperature checks, will be inane. Some, such as requiring vaccination, will be important. Regardless, they will also set a tone—not You are entering a place for music, but You are entering a secure location. Dancing is hard when you’re looking at your feet; singing is hard when you’re thinking about everybody else’s breath. I bet the crowd could get over this. I’m not confident I could. With limited capacities and tight procedures, I worry that the stage will feel like the VIP section of the VIP room at a members-only club. Sterile, lonely, all of us chillingly aware that we are part of a ticketed event.

I have another concern that’s hard to shake. After this pandemic year, I’m more aware of the responsibility I have not only to the people who buy tickets, but to the driver making deliveries to the show and to the family of the woman working arena concessions, people who really don’t care about what I’m doing onstage. Vaccination numbers will grow, and the pandemic will end, God willing. I’m not worried about the spread of the coronavirus in particular. But these links of responsibility remain. The analytical part of my brain turns off when touring starts. Before scrambling back to normalcy, I want to make sure that this sense of connection becomes embedded in how I think. I would really love to just be a musician—but I’m also an employer and a player in an industry that has chewed up and spit out plenty of people, especially in this past year.

My hesitations are all about shows, though, not music. Over the past year, I’ve rarely played music with others—a few practices and filmed performances; work on the new Arcade Fire record in November; a handful of Zooms with bandmates to help a school’s PTA fundraiser or support a candidate in the city-comptroller race. But in all of those instances, I’ve experienced an ease, a rightness to the communication—not through the screen with whoever was listening, necessarily, but the people I was playing with. That connection felt restorative, like having a night of deep sleep that repairs parts of yourself you don’t know how to access.

I know people are ready for live music, ready to forget themselves in a wash of sound, ready to loudly talk with their friends over the song they don’t like that much. And so, for heaven’s sake, go to Neumos in Seattle when shows come back. Go to the Hideout in Chicago. See your favorite band, or somebody new. Plenty of artists don’t share my nervousness. I don’t want to add worry to the world; I’m just figuring out my new relationship to performance.

The magnolias are out in New York, and some of the apple trees are blossoming. Temperatures are creeping past 60. The vaccines keep rolling out. The future seems more possible. If I miss an emotion from live shows, it’s not any moment of transcendence. I miss the time just after, when, dazed and excited, you still feel the reach of some universal gesture, but the only thing concrete is the people around you.

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/04/world-changed-what-makes-live-show-successful-didnt-arcade-fire/618625/

[softowlhours]

by the lakeside

bokuto koutarou(horror!AU)

it should’ve been the perfect summer getaway. you were both in need of some down time away from your busy careers. but things get a little eerie when there’s a voice in your head that isn’t yours and you find out that you’re not alone in that pristine white house on the hill.

genre: horror, angst, fluff if you squint

tw: descriptions of drowning, asphyxiation, strangulation. suggestive sexual situations.

a/n: i promise i’ll proofread this later and also write an epilogue but until then please enjoy this story it took me way longer than necessary to write. i’ve read it so many times that i don’t find it scary anymore. but i hope you do! :)

word count: 6k

my body feels like an empty shell sometimes, a carcass I am dragging around. when I look into the mirror I don’t recognise myself. i don’t recognise him, either.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

bokuto’s hair gleams silver in the glorious morning light. wind blows through your own strands as you zip past the lush green meadows. you could see the sheep dotted on the grassy planes like puffs of pure white clouds. far away, there stood giant mountains. their high peaks looked like they were breaching the baby blue ceiling of the sky. you only notice your gorgeous surroundings with half a mind, because your eyes keep trailing back to the man besides you. you admire his profile, the sharp slope of his nose, the chiselled cheek bones and jaw line. you zero in on the plush of his lips and it is then that you notice his teasing grin.

‘admiring the view?’ he asks.

‘mhmm. a sight for my sore eyes.’ and he truly is. your gaze drops a little lower. his toned chest peeks from where the buttons of his shirt have come undone. his biceps flex and strain against the fabric as he manoeuvres the steering wheel. he looks like a movie star, straight out of the golden age of film. the red vintage convertible he drives only adds on to your day dream. you can’t help but feel like a heroine starring in your own block buster romance. heat rises to the tip of his ears and the back of his neck at your shameless appraisal. bokuto notices the way lust is barely concealed on your face. he fucking loved the way you looked at him, like he was the guiding star you were always attuned to. the one for whom you’d always search for in an endless night sky.

‘your eyes are sore from staring at your computer screen all day everyday.’ he  ignores your attempts at flirting,  and instead addresses what has been eating away at his mind lately. he’s been worried about you. you often called him out for pushing himself to the point of breaking when it came to volleyball. but, you never noticed how you were inclined to do the same when it came to you own work; buried under papers and ink, day after day as your work ethic kept you confined to your study room. you being a best selling author, him a pro volleyball player; you truly were the power couple worthy of everyone’s envy and admiration, but your lives could get stressful at times.

‘kou, I’m sorry ‘m dragging you away from your routine. the game season starts in two months. you should be hitting some balls right now.’ you withdraw your hand, and he instantly misses your touch. you appear a little crestfallen as you opt to idly fiddle with the lace bordering your sundress.

‘hey,’ his voice is silky, tone slightly chastising. ‘don’t apologise. this was my idea anyways. we need some time away. from everything.’

‘you know that,’ he continues, ‘i’ll never be too busy for you, right? it makes me feel lonely when you just withdraw from me... shut me out.’ his face eyebrows furrow a little. ‘for you I’ll always carve out  time.’

bokuto had a way with words that always left you stupefied. they weren’t embellished and gaudy, like yours. all you ever did was spin fairy tales. Yes they were beautiful, but they were also false. unlike you, he always spoke from his heart, and you wonder if that was why his sentiments without fail reached others.

‘oi- don’t fall asleep.’

‘i’m not sleeping!’ you snap out of your reverie. ‘i’m sorry i… never realised you’d feel that way’ puffing out a sigh, you lean back lazily on the leather seat. ‘i haven’t been feeling much inspiration lately, and when i do write i just hate every word of it.’ 

‘maybe I should retire,’ you muse. ‘never write a word again. let people remember me as the genius author I’m not.’

‘but you are a genius writer!’ bokuto insists. ‘give it a fifty years and they’ll be teaching your work as a part of the curriculum. i’ve never read anything better!’

‘that’s because you rarely read!’

‘i am a picky reader,’ bokuto shrugs, cocking an eyebrow as he looks at you haughtily. ‘so congratulations that your writing actually piqued my interest.’

snorting, you pinch his thigh.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

it’s almost evening by the time you drive past a small sleepy town. the few houses have their curtains drawn. there’s a small supermarket and a polyclinic but you notice how the streets are mainly empty, save for a couple of children who play seven tiles on the roadside. fifteen minutes and more grassy meadows and sheep later, you arrive at what looks like the edge of the world. surely you’re being a little dramatic calling it that, but the road winds up the gentle slope of a hill and on top of it sits a pristine white house. bokuto pulls up the car in front of massive wrought iron gates, a chain holds it shut.

‘okay, but when nori said ‘vacation home’, this is not what I had in mind. Is he actually the heir to a conglomerate or something?’ you observe, definitely appalled.

‘uh- knowing his stingy ass, i’m not sure?’ bokuto sounds and looks puzzled as well, so you know he wasn’t expecting it either. he reconfirms the address konoha had messaged him. ‘do we climb the gates? because he never gave me a key or anything. he said the place has a caretaker who’d-’

‘how can I help?’

your heart leaps to your throat, and both you and bokuto snap your heads to your left to look at a man who stands on bokuto’s side of the car. neither of you had seen him approaching and it  was as if he were a magician, materialising out of thin air. old, sinewy and dressed sharply in a suit, he’s hunching to be at your eye levels. upon closer look the fabric of his clothes looked worn out and they fray at the edges. his hair is slicked back and he wears gold rimmed spectacles, its lenses the shape of half moons. his smile is serene, demeanour dignified but there’s shrewdness in his tone.

‘um- hi.’ bokuto greets recovering first. ‘i am konoha’s friend. i assume you’ve been expecting us?’

a beat passes.

‘indeed. allow me to show you around.’

bokuto parks the car under a shed close to the gates and you walk down the stretch of the garden. it is immaculately kept, and roses of all colours bloom neatly in rows. a giant sycamore tree stands close to the house, its branches brushing the roof. when you stand on the porch of the house the gate seems miles away. bokuto wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close to his side. he sneaks a soft kiss under your left ear as the caretaker opens up the door for you.

the inside of the house is splendidly furnished and it leaves you awestruck. simple but gorgeous, a modern castle of sorts. a cream colored leather sofa sits in the centre of the living room, the rug in front of it is white and fluffy. There is a box television- the kinds popular decades ago, and you wonder if it actually works or if it’s just for show. the chandelier above is a million crystals and an open kitchen makes up the far end of the living room. a stair case winds its way up. but, what truly catches your eye are the massive french doors which open up to the stretch of a green lawn. calling it a backyard would be a bit inadequate; for the trimmed grass meets the surface of a great lake, its water like molten lava reflecting the evening sky. you can see the outline of ducks waddling away, probably on their way home. the lake stretches out for almost a mile and after that you see nothing but the thicket of the woods. it is almost the end of july, so while the days are warm, the temperatures tend to dip quite a bit at night. you shiver a little and snuggle closer into bokuto’s side. the caretaker, in his monotonous voice,  explains to you how your room shall be upstairs,  the one to the right. there were four other rooms which were mostly empty and locked for the sake of easy maintenance. you tune him out when he moves on to the instructions regarding the heating and locking systems.

you’re entranced by the house, and standing there in its magnanimity you feel like you’ve been drawn into a picture book. you can imagine breakfasts every morning on the front porch. afternoons spent lolling on the grass besides the lake. you would keep a vase filled with freshly cut roses from the garden, in the centre of the kitchen table. spend the nights sitting in front of the fire place when winter laid its thick blanket of white snow outside. your high flying careers felt like a distant dream. your laptop back home could collect all the dust it wanted to. you could just stay here forever wrapped up in each others arms.

i’m lonely. i hate how you’re always away from home because of volleyball.

bokuto notices your distant look , the slightest way your lips are set in a grimace. it tugs on his heartstrings. makes it difficult for him to breathe.

bringing his mouth close to your ear, he whispers your name bringing you out of your head. you blink, biting back the ugly realisation that had just intruded your brain. you had never felt that way before, you had forced yourself not to. it was long ago when you had decided that you’d never make him choose between you and volleyball. or maybe that loneliness was something you’d always felt. but because you were afraid of it; you had hidden it under your skin, in between your bones.

if i could, i’d steal you away and keep you all to myself. in a cage just for me and you.

too afraid that he’ll somehow read your mind, you step away from him, disoriented by the venomous voice of your subconscious as you look around for the old man.

‘he left while you were zoning out, princess. said he’s going home.’ he pulls your back against his chest, long fingers begin snaking up a well known trail up your thighs. your cute little sundress does little to stop him. ‘he’ll be back by noon tomorrow, to tend to the garden and all that.’ bokuto speaks in between the kisses he’s placing along the side of your neck. ‘apparently, he lives in that town we drove by earlier.’

‘mhmm.’

‘want to live in a house like this someday.’ he asks you, his voice hushed.  you rest your head back on his chest, as love and lust pools in your stomach and clouds your thoughts.

i’m scared someday you’ll leave me behind.

“me. you. maybe a dog. maybe… children?” he continues and your eyes widen at that.

‘you want all that?’

‘with you? yes I want everything. i’ll take everything that you can give me.’

liar.

you turn around and pull bokuto into a heated kiss. his chapped lips meld into yours and your teeth clack a little from the suddenness of your movement. by now it is completely dark outside and the living room is dimly lit by a lamp. bokuto seems unaware, too lost in you to be notice space and time. but, a weird sensation surrounds you. you feel the whisper of a cool breeze, a murmur disturbing the stillness of the house. with one hand, bokuto cups your behind. the fingers of his other rake through your hair. it’s a buzz now, like a thousand bees hovering over your heads. you feel dazed, you’re needy, you’re confused.

there’s someone else here. the two of you are not alone.

‘ow,’ you yelp in pain.

bokuto jumps away from you, but his hands are badly tangled in your hair.

‘I told you to tie your hair in the car!’ he is laughing. ‘it’s a nest in here!’

the buzzing dies down. the silence that follows is deafening. you wonder if you’re delusional with the lack of sleep.

as bokuto carefully weaves his fingers out he places a chaste kiss on the little crease in between your eyebrows. he finds you so cute, it physically hurts him.  

‘don’t worry, babygirl,’ his voice drops a few octaves. ‘windswept looks sexy on you.’

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

later that night as you are lie under the drapes and canopies, you notice how the bedroom is much like the rest of the house- fit for royalty. bokuto snores softly, but you lie awake with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is a mind-numbing rhythm. a thin sheet of sweat covers your bodies and you try to ignore the wetness in between your legs. you should probably change the sheets as well, but your body refuses to move and you don’t know where to find any new ones. sleep evades you so you let Bokuto’s question roll around in your mind. a forever with him. of course you would say yes. there was nothing more that you wanted than that. but the dread from earlier which you had managed to keep at bay with lust, slowly begins to resettle in the pit of your stomach.

he promises you an eternity now, but he’ll leave you behind soon.

you somehow clamber out of bed, making sure not to awaken bokuto. picking up his shirt from where it lies on floor, you put it on. the bedroom has identical doors from the living room, made of glass, and they open onto a small balcony. you draw open the lacey curtains and step out into the chilly night air. the sight that awaits you makes you gasp.  a fine mist rolls over the water, but the lake itself is still.  its surface is like taut cellophane. beyond the lake where the woods begin, it is pitch black darkness and you cannot tell where the woods meet the moonless sky. it’s a new moon night, but where you expect to see the stars is an empty hollowness. its eerily silent. too silent. no insects trill. no wind blows. you stare intently into the water for so long that you swear you see something lurking just underneath its surface.  the mist that hovers slowly inches towards the house, coiling like endless bony fingers.

that pool of velvety darkness, i wonder what it’d feel like against my skin.

come to me then. feel it for yourself. your voice, no, her voice purrs.

you whirl around to see bokuto. he’s standing a feet away from you, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

‘whoah! easy,’ bokuto exclaims, surprised by your jumpiness. no way it had been him who had spoken moments ago. ‘what are you doing outside?’ he asks. ‘i nearly got a heart attack when I saw someone standing out here.’ 

you look back towards the lake, and you’re utterly confused. the mist seems to have instantly vanished. you can even hear the water now, softly undulating. it appears akin to a creased sheet of silk.

had you been hallucinating? dreaming with your eyes open?

you fight down the growing panic and instead walk over to him, squishing his cheeks. you softly kiss his pout. ‘aww. baby’s scared?’ you coo.

he grumbles something about you catching a cold but tugs you inside and you decide to let it all go. you’re tired and tomorrow will be a new day.

had you turned around, you’d notice how the stars were glittering like cold hard gems in the night sky.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you were pleasantly lazing about in the sun. the lake was a glittering blue and the woods looked benign during the day. they weren’t as dense as they appeared to be in the absence of light. from where you lay, the house looks like an entity of its own. imposing and regal. bokuto is dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweatpants as he plays around witha volleyball, tossing and spiking it all by his lonely self. you didn’t remember seeing him pack a volleyball, but then again somehow he always seemed to miraculously have a one at his disposal. today,  he hasn’t gelled his hair up in its usual style, so it flops onto his  forehead in a way you wished he’d leave it more often.

‘y/n! nice receive!’ he hollers at you.

he spikes the ball aiming straight for your stomach and you somehow manage to block his assault. thank god he hadn’t used a quarter of the strength he usually puts into his spikes.

your strong and annoying man.

‘you trying to murder me or what?’

he pulls you up to your feet. ‘i’ll be teaching you how to spike, drama queen. it’s insane how you’ve been with me for all these years and haven’t learnt a thing or two about volleyball. people would die for a one on one training session with me.’ he brags as he fetches the ball from where it had rolled off to.

you try to copy his motions, but what he can effortlessly pull off is an impossible feat for you. you send the ball upwards and jump as you try to match your timing to spike it. but before you can hit the ball it lands on your head.

bokuto is losing his shit, doubling over with laughter. and you try to look angry but end up giggling with him.

‘i give up!’ you complain. plus my boobs jiggle since i’m not wearing a sports bra,’ 

‘babe, thats kinda the point!’ he beams.

a perfect spike lands on his face.

‘owww, that’s foul play, y/n! ’ he yells. rubbing his nose, he walks over to you.

‘you should be punished!’ he scolds you, but places a kiss on your temple. his hands wander downwards to unzip your dress. he lets it fall to the ground. you know where this is headed. you think he’s going to kiss you so you close your eyes and lean towards him but before you can react, he’s bending down and suddenly you’re being lifted. he has you over his shoulders and your peals of laughter warm his heart. he hadn’t heard that sound in a while.

bokuto marches straight into the lake and dumps you in. the water is cool and refreshing, just as you had imagined it. it’s shallow enough so you’re chest deep in the water when your feet are planted at the bottom. his body glistens with dampness, hair a floppy wet mess. he was so beautiful, that even though it was irrational you felt a little bit shy. you’re splashing each other with water, the atmosphere’s light and bubbly with amusement. bokuto tries to catch you but you slip out of his reach. he is being his loud and  dramatic self as he falls face down into the water, complaining as he comes up with his eyes screwed shut. 

‘i swear i’d rather be blinded by your beauty than this water.’

you shake you head, feigning disdain and then you’re swimming away from him, towards the safety of the house. it must almost be noon, and you vaguely remember its time for the care taker to come around. you did not want to be seen in your wet underwear. bokuto calls out to you, apologising. there is water in your ears, it laps all around you as you swim. it dulls all sound and every other sense until the only thing you hear is your thumping heart. when you come up for air, you can see the blue sky, when your face is in the water you can see the stones and pebbles littering the bottom.

but, when you come up for air again, the sky is overcast. laden with dense gray clouds.

the water runs icy, lead flows through your veins. your body is sinking like a ship. it feels like you’re trying to move through viscous jelly. when you try to pull up for air you cannot break through, the surface traps you like its the cellophane you remember seeing the night before. a tight grip on your waist, abruptly pulls you under. your flailing hands try to grasp at nothing in particular. you wonder if its bokuto just messing around, but you know it isn’t. you don’t feel his presence anywhere. your fingers suddenly entangle into something. your eyes burn when you try to open them and look. jet black strands of hair, a bone white face, a mouth that is open like a gaping wound. you scream and nothing but gurgles and air bubbles escape you. you try to pull back but your hands are stuck in the weedlike hair. Funny you think of the evening before, when bokuto’s fingers had entangled in your messy hair the same way.

‘kou…koutaro!’ you try calling for him. you hear your disembodied voice, feel the water flood your mouth, your nose. but you feel all alone with that woman straight out of nightmares. fear has you in its grip, your minds a mush.

you hate him so damn much. you hate him, you hate him, you HATE him.  a voice repeats the same words in your head. you wonder if it sounds like your own or someone else’s. you cannot tell the two apart.

you feel a hand wrap around your arm, its large and warm and it feels like home. as it drags you out of the water the ashen face seems to quiver and distort. her eyes flicker open. they roll in their sockets but when they fixate on you, you see eyes just like your own. but they are transparent like marbles; burning with betrayal and accusation.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you wake up with a start to screams piercing the air. they are shrill and blood curdling. your hands are on your ears as you try to block out the sound but it only gets louder. it takes you a moment to realise that the screaming had been you. bokuto holds you in his arms, you can feel him shaking underneath your palms that grapple at his back.

he’s crying.

no! why is your bokuto crying? you pull away a little just enough to look at him, but the way his features are twisted in melancholy punctures a hole through your heart.

‘y/n, babe… babe,’ his lips quiver stealing away speech but he forces himself to speak. ‘ i looked everywhere in the water but I couldn’t find you. you were swimming and then you just stopped. i thought you were fooling around but you were down there for too long. so i come over but... I couldn’t see you anywhere at first. i panicked! holy shit... i was panicking.’ he shifts away from you, an arms length away. leaning back on the sofa, he stares up at the ceiling. ‘You weren’t even struggling, just stopped moving. Do you remember what happened?’ bokuto drags a hand down his face. he’s visibly distressed.

‘i don’t know what happened,’ you croack. ‘it felt like I was stuck. my feet wouldn’t come lose. as if someone was there with me in the water, holding me down…’ a sob escapes you.

bokuto pales a little at your description. but there had been no one but the two of you in the water. hell he hadn’t even seen any fishes.

he had pulled you under in the first place hadn’t he. there’s no one here but the two of you.

you remember not being alone in the water. you remember the heaviness. but nothing else.

bokuto opens his mouth to say something, but you cannot concentrate. the urge is too strong. before you can think, before you can answer. you are bending over and puking your guts out.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you spend the rest of the day, clinging to bokuto. and he doesn’t mind. he seems to be craving that constant feeling of your skin on his. something to remind him that you were okay, that you were here now. he makes his way around the kitchen with you stuck to him like a little koala.

“sit down on that chair just for a minute, y/n. i can’t find the plates!” he tries to loosen your chokehold on him but you only tighten it and bokuto booms out a laugh.

‘i swear you’re lucky you’re cute.”  

‘just consider this weight training.’

bokuto had put together a light meal. you reckoned you’d be unable to stomach anything too heavy.

‘we were supposed to be having fun. i feel like i’ve ruined everything.’ you mumble gloomily. you’re sitting on the chairs you pulled up around the kitchen island. a make shift dining table.

‘it’s okay. its enough to just be together.’

‘oh no been away from you for a five whole minutes.’ your expression is of mock worry as you rush over onto his lap. you immediately bury your head in the crook of his neck, his familiar scent calms you down. he chuckles at your antics.

‘do you think we can just go home?’ you ask apprehensively, still feeling bad about having spoilt your perfect little getaway.  ‘i don’t feel like staying here anymore.’

‘sure, baby girl .’ bokuto replies in a heartbeat, and you wonder if he feels the same unease in remaining here any longer.

‘we can leave tomorrow morning.’ he suggests. ‘it might be a bit too late to leave now. plus, caretaker-san didn’t even show up today.’

‘is it okay to just leave?,’ you ask.

from where bokuto sits on the dining table in the kitchen, he can see the doors in the living room that open up to the porch. it’s around three in the afternoon. the weather was beginning to turn awfully gloomy.

clouds slowly fill the sky eclisping the sun that had shined all day. it leaves everything in shades of gray.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you wake up alone in bed. the remnants of an eerie dream still lingers in your mind. you had been combing your hair, which was unusually thick, dark and long. you kept brushing the silky smooth strands, on and on and on, until they started coming loose in your hands. shuddering as you recall it, you turn around to see the wall clock read nine p.m. where was kou? at some point you had fallen asleep although you did not remember coming upstairs to the bedroom. he must’ve carried you from where you and him had been lying on the sofa downstairs, idly chatting.

your body is still heavy with exhaustion but you force yourself to sit up. hearing the water running in the bathroom, you call out to bokuto. ‘kou?’  you pad your way over to the bathroom. when you open the door there is no one inside. water drips from from a leaky tap into an empty bath tub. strange. where had the sound been coming from then?

you find yourself mesmerised by your reflection in the mirror right across from you. when you step inside the bathroom, the tiles are dry and frigid underneath your feet. the lights are off, however, the bathroom is faintly lit up by the light filtering in from the frosted windows. the bags under your eyes are dark and puffy, your lips look ashen. you look like you had lost a tonne of weight over the span of the past few hours. tracing a finger along the outline of your reflection, you notice how your eyes were a forlorn abyss. hollow like the dead.

mine. stay with me. don’t leave me alone. a voice whispers to you and you listen, enchanted.

you see the corners of your lips quirk up in your reflection. your expression twists into that of deranged happiness.

so, you’ll stay?

you don’t feel the smile on your face.

you’re backing away slowly. a scream dies in your throat.

that isn’t you. it’s her.

you’re running full speed out of the bathroom and you make it just in time as the door slams shuts behind you. the edge of your thin white slip gets caught in between but you yank it loose with enough force. bursting out of the room like a bat out of hell you’re hurtling downstairs. you have to look for bokuto. you must leave. now!

you’re me, i am you. he doesn’t love you, so just stay with me. I’m lonely.

you try to call out to bokuto but you cannot find your voice.

and then you see him. sitting on the sofa. the relief you feel is momentary. the old television is on, and the screen is grainy with static but bokuto’s eyes are intent on it. he’s still as if he were carved out of stone. he doesn’t acknowledge your presence just keeps staring ahead with an owlish gaze. you place a shaky hand on his shoulder and he finally turns to look at you.

his eyes that usually are like pools of golden honey are dark and murky like cheap kerosene. his features are sharper, more cunning. a devil in your lover’s skin. the mist outside thickens, appearing as if they were pale white walls surrounding the house.

i told you to just stay with me. you should’ve stayed with me in that cool dark water.

he doesn’t love you, i do.

suddenly bokuto is stalking towards you, his movements hypnotic like that of a panther, sinuously fluid, predatory. a feral look glints in those foreign eyes. he slams you against the nearest wall, his hands tightening over your neck. your head meets the hard surface with a thud. those large arms that have always felt like home suddenly feel empty and cold like a prison cell.

you’re just a prisoner in his cage. he doesn’t love you like I will.

black spots fill your vision, as your air supply is slowly being cut off. ‘kou- please don’t.’ you whimper. a flicker of recognition flashes through those eyes, but the grip around your neck only tightens. ‘kou-’ you call again softly. tears fall freely down your face. your hands go limp by your sides and in the process you knock over a vase that had been on table besides you. it falls to the marble floor with an obnoxious crash. the ceramic splinters into a hundred pieces. bokuto’s eyes widen and the darkness from his face lifts. it is as if a thick patch of clouds obscuring the moon had drifted past, letting its pure light fall to the earth once again. he’s your bokuto once again.

horror struck he lets go of your neck and catches a glimpse of the angry red fingerprints left behind like a morbid necklace. you collapse to the ground.

a door bangs shut somewhere in the house, startling you both. bokuto is about to crouch down next to you when suddenly the volume of the television is cranked up. the harsh static sound grates your ears, like a drawn out growl. there’s thumping coming from behind every surface of the house- the walls, the floors, the ceilings. every door, every window  swings open only to shut back with a bang, over and over until shards of broken glass lie like a carpet all over the floor. the house is alive with the breath of countless souls that live in its every crack and crevice. you both look on with horror as heavy mist begins to pour into the house. bokuto’s teeth chatter with fear, and he tries to get you to stand. he follows your gaze which is fixed to where your bedroom had been. and he sees it then. on the door which opens into the room, there’s a shadow of a woman. he can discern the long straight hair which she combs on and on and on.

‘f-fuck!’ he spits.

he harshly pulls you over his shoulders but transfixed you crane up your neck to continue looking at the shadow. hastily he manages to grab the keys which he had hung on a hook by the main door.  the shadow grows darker, more defined as if  whoever it belonged to was coming closer. he feels you struggling and you scream to be let down.the main door to the house is already open so with one last glance at the chaos behind, you are both bolting out of the house.

‘y/n, run! to the car. hurry, hurry, hurry!’ he shuts the door, hoping it would buy you some time. he’s not really sure what he’d just seen or what any of it meant. but thinking would come later. he grabs your hand as you start the mad dash across the front garden. you notice despite your compromised vision due to the mist, how the roses look wilted. the grounds gooey and wet underneath, and your feet sink into the soft mud making movement sluggish. but you don’t stop. moments later, the door behind you flings open with enough force that it comes loose from its hinges. the whole house seems to be angry.

come back here.

don’t leave me alone.

an overgrown root coils around your calf and yanks you back. your hand slips out of bokuto’s and he turns around, horrified, to see you being dragged into the ground. like you were falling into quicksand.

‘hold on to my arm,’ bokuto bellows, ‘and just don’t. let. go!’

the circulation in your leg is being cut off and you cry in pain. you can feel the disgusting way the soft earth keeps parting further to let you in. you want to let go, give in to the struggle. maybe it’d be better to just lie buried here, decomposing till you forget whats fear, whats pain.

your name is rolling off bokuto’s tongue like a chant. his muscles burn with strain. the sweat and slick makes his grip on you weak and he notices how you’re  letting go. he reads the resignations on your face. but why are you letting go? why are you trying to leaving him alone?

bokuto loses his footing and falls backwards and almost loses you, but he manages to interlock your fingers. he’s grunting with effort, and roars with frustration when it doesn’t seem to be working. it is then when you see the blood covering his feet, the glass splinters buried deep into his soles. in your haste to get away you never noticed how he had walked all over the shards with you over his shoulder. the ache in your heart swells. you know he’d never leave you behind. it was the two of you, or none of you who’d make it alive out of here.

the thought of bokuto buried deep into the ground, lips blue and crusted with mud gives you a renewed conviction. with the last spurts of energy you hold tight onto bokuto’s arm with one hand. the other digs into where you find soft but solid ground. you attempt to claw your way out and fight the drag of the noose around you ankle that tries to pull you in the opposite direction. away from bokuto. bokuto is inching backwards, his voice hoarse with all that screaming as he does his utmost to haul you out. 

rain begins to pour in heavy cascades even though there hadn’t been a single cloud in the obsidian sky. and suddenly you feel earth’s hold on you go slack. bokuto and your efforts come to fruition as your foot comes loose and you tumble straight on top of bokuto’s body. but its too early to celebrate. a loud thunderclap spurs you both into action and you run and run, fighting the burn in your lungs until you reach the car. bokuto, is grateful, infinitely grateful that the keys had remained in his pockets during that struggle. he hands you the keys and with no time to waste you’re  running to the car, afraid that something inauspicious might happen again if you didn’t hurry. bokuto notices with relief that the iron gates are not chained shut like they had been upon your arrival, and with some effort he swings them open.  bokuto clambers into the passenger seat and you floor the gas as you drive straight out of the gates, into a calm quiet night. 

it takes you a moment to notice that the rain had stopped. 

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

the two of you are covered in dirt, in blood. absolutely shattered with exhaustion. bokuto finally feels the pain that had been dampened by adreneline. it now ignites like an inferno. he almost tears his lip trying to bite back a whimper. in the rear view mirror, you catch a glimpse of the house. it looks regal and imposing, as it had when you’d first arrived. you can see the dimly lit bedroom, the curtains billowing gently in a slight breeze. the glass on the doors is intact. the garden is immaculate once again and you can see patches of soft grass spread out where the mud had almost eaten you up alive just a few moments ago. a shaky laugh escapes Bokuto, and before you know it, feeling delirious, you’re laughing with him. 

bokuto’s phone rings and the sound cuts short your hysteria. with some effort he retrieves it from the dashboard where he’d left it two days ago. he had planned on not letting anything distract him from you on this short getaway. he puts it on loudspeaker.

‘they picked up!’ you hear Konoha say to someone and the collective sighs of relief are audible.

‘dude, where have you both been? we’ve been calling you all day. ms. nakamura told me that you never made it to my vacation home?’

‘ms. nakamura?’ bokuto rasps.

‘yeah, the caretaker I told you about?’

‘the caretaker was a man!’ you snatch the phone with from bokuto with one hand while other remains on the steering wheel. you’re yelling at the receiver like a mad woman. ‘we came to your villa, but that man opened the gates. listen, there’s something wrong with the house and lake behind it is-’

‘what lake? there are only corn fields behind my house. which is, by the way, a traditional japanese one. where the fuck have you both been?!’

you and bokuto look at each other in confusion, and you hit the brakes. you glance back at the house which is now far, far away. if you squint your eyes you can see the outline of a man at the gates. the lamp in his hand glows golden like a distant star.

a woman’s shadow is dark and lonely against the delicate lace of the bedroom’s curtains.

[brain-deadx0]

Frozen Heart ch 7

Chapter one: Do you Wanna Build a Snowman

Previous: Reindeers are Better than People

Chapter Seven: In Summer

Warnings: Innuendos curtesy of Remus, minor injury of a main character, referring to someone as an it (temporary), let me know to tag

Patton and Remus had been walking in silence for a long time. Remus seemed a bit down since the marriage argument and Patton felt bad about that. He wasn’t sure why it upset Remus, but something about it did.

“Hey Remus?” He asked.

Remus looked over, “Yeah?”

“Um, are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything earlier…”

Remus blinked, “...What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well it’s just… you’ve seemed kinda...”

“Wait, have you been guilt tripping yourself this whole time?” Remus asked. The look on Patton’s face was a definite yes. Remus rubbed the back of his neck, “Look, I still stand by my statement about marriage at first sight, but at the end of the day it’s none of my business. You didn’t hurt my feelings or anything.” Remus told him.

“Oh… but I thought… you just seemed…”

“I’m not used to holding full out conversations with other people is all.” Remus told him, “So don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Patton asked again.

“Yep. Trust me, my family is all about speaking your mind. If we had a problem I’d let you know.” Remus told him with a reassuring smile.

“Good.” Patton sent a smile back, “So um… would you be open to talking then? I don’t really like silence so much. You don’t have to of course!” He reassured him.

“Eh, why not.” Remus shrugged, “Anything in particular?”

“Oh, well you mentioned your family. Can you tell me about them?”

“Sure. They’re a bit weird, but in a good way. I’m the tall one though, by a lot.” He gave Patton a somewhat sly look that Patton didn’t understand before saying, “I’m also the biggest.”

“So most of your family is on the shorter side?” Patton asked.

Remus smiled wide, “Something like that.”

“Do they live here in the mountains?”

“Yeah. They’re practically part of the mountain at this point. I don’t see them so much during the warmer months though since now is usually when I’m busy getting handsome strangers in my hole.”

Patton laughed and Remus sent him another one of his grins he tended to wear after some of his jokes that Patton didn’t always get. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Nah. But that’s ok. I like theirs even more. Especially when they have a large stick in the front.”

“Are the sticks used to mark where the pits are?” Patton asked. He didn’t see one when he fell in Remus’s trap, but then again he hadn’t been looking either. Come to think of it Remus said he didn’t mark his.

Remus’s smile widened again, “Something like that.”

Patton was about to ask what he meant but his attention quickly shifted to the scene in front of them, “Woah.” He breathed. There was a large group of willow trees ahead of them. The branches were frozen and were glittering in the sunlight, “It’s so pretty.”

Patton was awestruck as he slowly made his way through the trees. He couldn’t stop trying to look in every direction just to take everything in. Until he noticed two eyes staring down at him from a branch above his head.

~

As much as Remus hated the cold, he never truly got sick of seeing snow. He still remembered the first time he saw it. It was a couple months after his family adopted him. He grew up in a place where the temperature never got below “cool summer day” and his eyes had been so big they were close to popping right out of his skull. He probably looked about the same now as he stared at the frozen trees. He’d never seen them freeze like this before!

Remus probably could’ve spent a long time staring at the trees alone, but was torn from his nostalgic wonder by screaming.

~

“Ahhhhh!”

“Ahhhhh!”

Patton and the… thing, screamed in unison for a moment before the thing fell off of its perch in the tree and scurried backwards and away from him.

“What the hell is that?!” Remus asked in amazement.

Now that the… snow… thing? Cat? Was on the ground and not looming over him, it was actually kinda… “Cute.” Patton told him.

“I am not!” The snow cat told him indignantly.

“Ah! It talks!” Patton said in shock. He then watched as Remus walked over to the talking snow cat and picked it up. He held it under the arms and stared at it for a moment, much to the snow cats apprehension.

“Oh. My. God.” Remus said, “You’re so creepy!” he told it before hugging it tightly.

“H-hey!” The cat said before hissing angrily, “Put me down!”

“But you’re so- ah!” Remus looked down at the once puffy snow cat that was now covered in large spikes of ice and- oh my gosh are those fangs! Those weren’t there before!

“Oh my gosh-Remus! Are you ok?!”

Remus stared at the growling cat in his arms before slowly looking to Patton with a wild grin, “Patton can I keep him?!”

It earned him another bite from the prickly snow cat.

“Remus- Remus let it go!” Patton told him.

“Aw…” Remus whined before unceremoniously dropping the cat who immediately turned to hiss angrily at him.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Patton told the cat as it’s tail swished back and forth, “No ones gonna hurt you. Ok?”

After a moment of looking back and forth between him and Remus, Patton was relieved when the spikes on its back, as well as claws, disappeared into the deceptively soft looking snow exterior. The cat was by no means calm, but at least it didn’t look ready to attack either.

“There we go.” Patton said, “Everyone just calm down a bit.”

“I’ve seen some weird shit up here but this thing takes the cake.” Remus told him, “It’s neat.”

“I think we all got off on the wrong foot.” Patton told the nervous snow cat, “How about we start over? This is Remus,” Remus wiggled his fingers in a wave, “and my name is Patton.” The cat tilted his head as he seemed to consider Patton, “Do you have a name?” Patton asked.

The snow cat blinked, “Uh, it’s- it’s Virgil.” He told them as he rose to stand on his hind legs.

Patton stared at the now bipedal snowcat, Virgil, and for a moment was thrown back to when he and Logan were little. They were building the snowman they always did and Patton was adding its ears and tail.

“Wait… you’re Virgil.” He said in disbelief.

“Yes…?”

“You know this thing?” Remus asked.

Patton nodded, “Sort of anyway. Logan and I used to build him all the time when we were kids. He was never, well alive, but, you know?” He said before realizing something, “Wait did Logan make you?”

“Uh… probably? Maybe? All I know is I open my eyes, I’m in the middle of nowhere, and am somehow alive and freaking out.” Virgil told him. He still looked like he was freaking out.

“Accidentally making a living being. Just another reason to use protection.” Remus said sagely.

Virgil glared at him for some reason, “I don’t think Logan knew he could do that?” Patton told Remus.

“Maybe someone should teach him about the birds and the bees then.”

“... What do birds and bees have to do with it?” Patton asked.

“Nothing.” Virgil told him; sending another glare to Remus.

“Anyway…” Patton said in confusion, “You look exactly the same!” He told Virgil, “...Well, almost.”

Virgil cocked his head in confusion as Patton removed the black and purple scarf before wrapping it around where Virgil’s neck was. “There we go!” Patton told him as Virgil inspected the scarf, “Oh wait! Your nose.”

Patton thought for a moment… he didn’t exactly have any extra buttons in his bag. He glanced down at his coat before pulling the top button off. “Here we are.” He smiled before placing the button onto Virgil’s face. Virgil scrunched his face at the action but didn’t seem otherwise bothered. “Perfect!”

“Uh… thanks?” Virgil told him.

“Of course!” Patton grinned, “So Virgil, you wouldn’t happen to know where Logan is would you?”

“Not really…” Virgil told him, Patton deflated a bit, “I guess I could show you where I woke up though? I mean, if nothing else he would’ve been there at some point right?”

“That’s a great idea!” Patton told him.

Virgil ducked into the scarf, “It’s just an idea.” He mumbled into the fabric.

“Good ideas, bad ideas, who cares?” Remus told them, “If you guys are done pussyfooting around, which way are we headed?”

“Right.” Patton said, “The sooner we find Logan, the sooner we can bring back summer and go home.”

“Oh joy. Heat.” Virgil deadpanned.

“Oh… sorry...?”

“Meh,” Virgil shrugged, “My existence is a curse upon humanity and I’m ok with it.”

“Jeeze. Been sentient for a day and already a pessimist.” Remus snorted.

“Don’t worry Virgil!” Patton told him, “I’m sure we can figure out a way to bring back summer without you, um… you know.”

“Whatever.” Virgil told them, “Come on, it’s this way.” He said before leading them up the mountain again.

~

Roman had been worried ever since Patton left. Not to mention he had left last night and still hadn’t returned. He caught himself glancing at the gates regularly, hoping to see Patton return with or without the king. But as it stood he couldn’t spend all day staring out at the distance, Patton had left him with responsibilities after all.

He offered one of the many cloaks he was carrying to yet another shivering citizen.

“The castle is open to everyone!” He reminded the ever growing crowd, “There is soup and hot drinks in the great hall!”

Roman was sorely tempted to join the citizens in the warm room, it only seemed to be getting colder and he did not enjoy the freezing temperature. But he wasn’t going to, at least not until the crowd outside was in there as well. It was a royals duty to ensure the safety of the people first and foremost after all. Even if it meant freezing on his part in the meantime.

“Prince Roman,” an irritated voice called.

He looked to see the Dutchess of Weslton marching towards him with two of her bodyguards. Feeling a long and unnecessary conversation coming, he quickly passed off his stack of cloaks to a nearby guard, asking them to continue handing them out, “How may I assist you, m’lady?” He asked the duchess.

“Are we expected to sit here and freeze to death while you give away all of Arendelles tradable goods?” She scowled.

“Prince Patton has given his orders and-”

“And another thing!” She interrupted, “Have you stopped to think that perhaps the prince may be conspiring with an evil sorcerer in order to destroy us all?”

Roman sent her a glare, “Do not question the prince or insult his honor in such a way.” He commanded, “Prince Patton left me in charge and I will not hesitate to protect the citizens or their country. Even from treason.”

“Treason?!” She gasped in offense.

“Now if you’ll excuse me-” Roman was interrupted by a commotion near the gate.

He quickly left the woman and made his way over, hoping to see Patton, but was instead met by the princes sweaty and nervous horse. One of the castle guards managed to quickly grab hold of the horses reigns as the crowd began to murder nervously.

Roman looked around as if Patton would materialize out of thin air. Patton had told him how well trained the horses were, so for one to show back up without it’s rider meant that something had to be wrong. Patton was in danger. Roman cursed himself. He knew he shouldn’t have let the prince go alone. He could feel the eyes of the courtyard staring at him, waiting for a response.

“It appears the prince’s horse has returned alone.” He announced, “I’ll need volunteers to assist in the search to find him!”

It didn’t take long to get a decent search party put together. Roman made sure they were all well equipped with survival and medical supplies. He ordered several pairs of riders to search the nearby woods in case Patton was still close and left the castle staff with instructions on how to carry on until he returned with the prince.

He couldn’t voice it out loud, but he knew Patton was in danger. And Roman was determined to save him.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #335

“on my forehead, a birthmark  /  remove it with the kiss of a knife  /  even if it causes me to die”

Do you recover well from surgery? Judging by the two surgeries I've had, oh yeah. I was hyper as hell when I came home from getting tubes put in my ears as a little kid, even though the doctor said I'd be very sleepy. Then, after my cyst removal, I was put on very strong painkillers but was still warned it was going to be a painful recovery, when it totally wasn't. I literally only took painkillers the first day. What addictions have you had? Caffeine, technology. Would you change your name if you became famous? Nah. If Cupid were real, would you hire him to make someone love you? No. I don't want somebody forced to love me. Ever been to an auction? No. Which word(s) do you generally use to describe someone attractive? (e.g. “fit”, “sexy”) It kinda varies with gender. Women I tend to call "beautiful" or "gorgeous," sometimes "hot" or "cute," while men I usually refer to as "handsome" or "hot"/"sexy." The last person you kissed - are they older or younger than you? She's a bit younger. When was the last time someone wanted you to do something, and you refused? Hm. I dunno. I have a hard time saying "no," so. When was the last time you had Pop Tarts? What flavour were they? Many months ago; I kinda stopped eating them because they're truly not filling and just a load of sugar that veils itself as an actual breakfast choice. But anyway, I liked the chocolate sundae ones. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. Did you ever play Spyro? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those games were my CHILDHOOD, and it's half the reason I'm dying for a PS4 to play the remastered trilogy. Speaking of which, it'd be awesome if they remade the The Legend of Spyro trilogy as well. I might just like those games more than the originals, but that's a bold statement I'm unsure about. Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? I dated a Hispanic guy for less than a day. Have you ever read any of your idols’ books/autobiographies? Ozzy Osbourne's, yes. I'm just fucking waiting for Mark to write one, but he's always said he has so little interest in writing about his life. DO IT, YOU FUCK. Do you own any succulents? No. I think they're pretty, though. Do you have a drone? No. What’s your favorite Netflix series? *shrug* What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Summertime. The heat, the humidity (at least here), the sunburn from just standing outside for ten minutes... I hate all of it. The ONLY two things I enjoy about summer is swimming and then flowers, though spring is the more floral season here anyway. Do you have revenge fantasies that you never actually play out? They've... happened. Did your first real significant other change you at all? Pretty sure forever. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Once upon a time, that was the plan. Now, nah. I'd just want to be in a healthy, stable, and long-term relationship. What do you think about divorce? It's sad, but necessary for some people in order to be happy, which everyone has the right to be. I used to be very firmly against divorce except in extreme cases like abuse, etc., and I'm still definitely no fan of it and think couples should do their best to work things out, but it's incredibly unfair to believe that someone should be stuck for the rest of their life with a person they just don't love anymore. Getting married can be a mistake; don't damn people forever to be chained to their bad decisions. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? What was the reason? It was probably when Dad just abandoned us. What's the worst prank someone has ever done to you? I don't think anyone's ever pulled a sick joke on me. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Yes; my little sister deadass tried to walk outside late at night. Thank God I was on the computer in the living room and stopped her. What song are you listening to right now? I just turned "Mutter" by Rammstein on. When is the last time you cursed? I'm not re-reading, but I have probably cursed fifty times in this survey already. It's so deeply ingrained into my vocabulary. Are there any words on your shirt? No; it's just a plain gray tank top. Why do you forward forwards? I never do because they annoy the fuck out of me. How many people are you interested in at the moment? Just one in a healthy and logical way. I can't be truly interested in Jason because like come on I haven't spoken to him in four whole years. My PTSD just ensures I never forget the memory of who he was, who probably no longer even exists. I mean, look how much I'VE changed in four years. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nnnnope. Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Apart from family, I have no idea. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Venus never does, but Roman can get on my nerves sometimes when I don't let him lay on me when I'm on the laptop in bed. He's a large cat (not overweight, just a big male cat) and blocks the screen big time unless he lies down properly, which he doesn't always do. He still tends to win when he tries to come over, but sometimes I'll block him with my arm, and this spoiled brat will actually slap it a few times before walking away lmao. Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Absolutely a pool. I want one badly. Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Especially lately, I don't get nearly enough. Like at the time I'm answering this question, it's 4 AM, and I've been up for almost a couple hours. I struggle with falling asleep, I will ALWAYS wake up at least once in the night, and I jerk awake from nightmares regularly still. It's a big reason why I pretty much require naps. Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We only have an attic. Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? No. I'm way too timid of a driver to get that outwardly pissy about stupid people. I'd just judge them in silence, haha. What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? Because of just how common they are, I'm going to assume this excludes birds, in which case it was probably a squirrel? Yeah, the normal brown ones are common. Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Since I was fucking stupid enough to post a suicide note on Facebook (I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about "attention seeking," I genuinely wanted to say goodbye), I almost never, ever, share things about my personal life. Even before, it was rare for me to actually share what's going on with me. All I really do now is share relatable, wholesome, or funny shit I find, as well as political things I'm in firm agreement with. What are some habits you have in common with your parents? I pace like my dad, and it drives people crazy because it apparently makes them anxious? I can't think of an obvious one I have with Mom, but I'm sure one exists. Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? I feel safest and most clean in a pool, but c'mon, swimming in the ocean is so much fun. When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? It depends on the book, it seems. Especially if someone else owns it, like in school or something. Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? My legs always hurt. I've shared enough as to why; it wasn't an actual, singular "incident." What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? OH MY FUCKING GOD. So in group therapy the other day, one of the girls had her bearded dragon out, and he was being aggressive. I think he tried to bite her aND SHE SAID WITHOUT REALIZING HER MIC WAS ON, "fucking dickhead," and everyone d i e d. She's a really cool chick, I'll miss her when I'm finished with PHP. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, surprisingly enough. I barely ever sing. Do you bite your lips a lot? Yes, especially when they're dry. .-. What part of your body would you never get pierced? Anyone who gets a piercing "down there" has a greater pain tolerance than this bitch right here. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? Juan had quite a few. I don't remember if Tyler did... but I think maybe a The Legend of Zelda-related one? Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? No; I love dogs. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Man, idk, I'm a little bitch when it comes to emotional movies. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is high up there, as is of course Johnny Got His Gun. Old Yeller, too. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Sara's gonna write a fuckin book series ok you can't convince me otherwise. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? Damn dude, what an ungrateful question. I'm just appreciative someone even thought TO give me something. Do you shave your arms? My armpits, yes, but not my arms themselves. How many people have you dated? I only count three as even remotely serious: Jason, Sara, and Girt. Have you ever performed in a play? I remember back in Sunday school as a tiny kid I played Mother Mary in one we did in class. Do you chew gum? I have been more lately since my doc upped the dosage of one of my mood stabilizers (which I think is actually helping); I mention that because apparently a side effect is dry mouth, and it's the fucking Sahara in there. He advises those who deal with it to always carry around hard candy or something like that for the sake of forcing salivation, so gum works for me. How old were you when you first started dating? I was in the 7th grade when I had my first "boyfriend," but it was total puppydog love. I started dating my first "real" bf when I was just shy of 16. Are/were your parents strict? Dad, no. Mom, only to a degree that I feel was pretty reasonable. She only ever wanted to prepare us to be functional, independent adults. Didn't work so well on me though, ha... Do you wear glasses? Yes. God, I need new ones. I'm blind as hell. What do you miss most about your childhood? Being so outgoing and happy to just be weird lil me. Do you write “To-Do” lists? Not really, no, but I do have notes on my phone about a couple things, like a bulleted list of planned monetary investments by importance, as well as a list of drawing ideas. Do you have a favorite quote? What is it? I don't, really. There's loads I like, but no one favorite. Could you survive as a vegetarian? I pretty desperately want to, but I don't know if it's realistic. I am so, SO picky, and without meat, it's very questionable as to where I'd get an adequate source of protein. I still want to try again though once I'm at my goal weight. Has anyone ever asked you for your autograph? Lol no. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah, but that was a looong time ago when I was actually some semblance of pretty. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? I used to be someone who firmly stood by nighttime showers, but now I'm all about them in the morning. It's a nice way to wake up and start the day with productivity. Could you handle living with a male roommate? I mean, I lived with my then-boyfriend once, but I'm going to assume you'd consider him more than a "roommate." We lived with our two other friends, though, also a couple, and I was totally fine with living with them. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yes. Do you like Freddy Krueger? His concept is very scary, but all the movies I've seen bits of have always been super cheesy. Which do you prefer, Naruto or One Piece? I haven't seen either and really aren't interested. What do you think of Rob Zombie? I've never really watched his movies, but I'm a fan of his music. What’s you fetish? I don't have one. Have you ever been in the “friend zone?" Well, what I'd call a "fake" one with Jason after the breakup until I was blocked on Facebook. I know now he absolutely did not want to be friends; he was trying to appease me. Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? Definitely conservative. Do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? Yeah, me. Were either of your parents baptized? I'm certain Mom was, but idk about Dad. I think so. The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? No. What was the last computer game that you played? World of Warcraft. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. Are any rooms in your house themed? No. What was the last thing that you recorded? I think Mom and I singing "happy birthday" to my late dog Teddy; we knew it would be his last. Do you like the show Futurama? Not really. Have you ever been in a choir class? I was in the elementary school chorus, as well as the choir at my childhood church. Are you ashamed of any of your family members? No, only myself. Were you a chubby child? No. Did you ever have senior photos done? No, even though I wanted them. Who is the person you dislike the most? God, this is so petty... but it's the girl Jason dated after me. I know it's childish as hell to feel like she "took" him from me, and I just feel this horrible hatred towards her that is entirely uncalled for. I just can't get myself to move past it. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, as I'm unemployed and also don't have disability, so I literally can't. How do you usually celebrate New Years? I really don't do much. Sometimes Mom will grab a pack of daiquiris, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? N/A What was the last job interview you went to? At a local grocery store to work in the deli. Got the job, lasted there for not even two hours. :^) Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Autism and mood disorders, yes. I myself may have high-functioning Asperger's (yes, I know that term doesn't technically exist anymore, it's just the umbrella term of "autism," but w/e). Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? My grandmother died of pancreatic cancer, and it's pretty much guaranteed that, unless there's some sudden accident, my mom will die of cancer, too. Hers got too bad to entirely eliminate every trace of cancer cells, so it will inevitably re-emerge at some point, just obviously some place else given that she had a total hysterectomy. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? Office. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? I enjoy all of those, but sour I think tops the list.

[coldflame96]

To Move Forward

Summary: Kyo and Akito come to an understanding. Post-manga and pre-Another. 

Rating: T

Can also be found on AO3 and FF.net

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go down there right now?” he asked his wife for the umpteenth time. 

“Hmm?” she cocked her head adorably. “We go down there every summer.”

“Well, yeah, but we’re supposed to reach record high temperatures down there this week.” He gave a fleeting look towards her stomach area. “I don’t want you to exert yourself too much.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’m fine, Kyo-kun, really. And I promised Akito-san I would go and visit.” She frowned sadly. “She’s having a really rough time with the pregnancy and she’s due in only a month or two.”

He wanted to argue that Akito’s issues weren’t Tohru’s problem, but he knew it was a losing battle. His wife was always trying to help everyone and had so much love to give. It was one of the many things he loved about her. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “But if you’re going to the main estate, we should leave Hajime with the rat. That place is oppressive and I don’t want him to deal with it.” And I don’t want him near Akito either.

Tohru paused for the briefest moment, chewing her lip thoughtfully. She probably had wanted Hajime and Akito to meet, and maybe they would one day, but not now. Not if he could help it. He wanted to preserve his son’s innocence for as long as he could. 

“Alright,” she agreed quietly. And then she smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes and clapped her hands. “I’m sure Yuki-kun won’t mind. Mutsuki-kun loves Hajime-kun.”

He could tell she was disappointed, but he curbed the instinct to cave in. She was friends with Akito and trusted her and he respected that, but she was always a much better person than he was. 

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

“It’s so hot!” Tohru gasped, her movements heavy with the heat. 

He nudged her gently on the head with his fist. “That’s why I told you to bring your sun hat, dummy.” She’d left it behind at Dad’s place because she’d insisted she didn’t need it. “It’s not that far a walk, Kyo-kun!”

“Dad,” Hajime whined from his other side, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are we there yet?”

He ruffled his hair. “Yeah, we’re almost there.” And then he pointed ahead. “Look, there’s Mutsuki’s house right there.”

Normally the walk from the train stop to Yuki’s wasn’t too horrible, but in this heat, it was practically unbearable. Living up in the mountains really spoiled them. 

He approached the door with lead footsteps and knocked quietly. 

The door slid open a little too fast to be natural, the child behind it gasping with wide eyes.

“Jime-chan!” Mutsuki yelled, launching himself at Hajime. Jime-chan? What kind of nickname was that? Hajime seemed to share the same sentiment as he wrinkled his nose, but was kind enough not to actually say anything. A trait he clearly inherited from his mother.

“Mutsuki,” a woman who sounded like Kuragi scolded from the hallway. “Don’t leave them all standing out in the heat.”

“Sorry, Mom!” 

The small child grabbed Hajime’s hand and Tohru’s at the same time, dragging them both inside while Kyo followed. 

Kuragi appeared, face impassive as usual, but she did smile softly. “Sorry you had to come down in this weather.”

Tohru waved her hands. “Oh, no, it’s no problem at all!” Then she looked around curiously. “Yuki-kun’s not here?”

“Him and my stupid brother went to the store. Can I get you anything?”

“No, that’s okay! You’re already doing more than enough watching Hajime-kun for us.”

Kuragi’s eyes were sharp and she smiled wryly. “It’s not a big deal. He’s a good kid and he keeps Mutsuki occupied.” They both watched as Mutsuki grabbed Hajime to drag him towards his room.  And then she looked to him and nodded. “You guys are raising him well.”

He nodded back. “Thanks.” He never knew what to say around Kuragi, she was typically pretty quiet, especially compared to her brother, but she was nice enough, he supposed, and Tohru liked her. But then again, Tohru liked everyone, even creeps like Shigure, so that wasn’t saying much. 

“Hey, senpai,” she was addressing him now. That was another thing that was weird about her. She always called him ‘senpai’ like they were still in school and not fully grown adults with children. She got a teasing glint in her eyes. “Yuki should be home soon if you wanted to wait and say hi.”

He snorted, not rising to the bait. “No thanks, I’m sure I’ll have to deal with him later when we pick up Hajime.”

“Oh, really?” she cocked her head a bit too innocently. “But he’ll be so disappointed he missed you. Kakeru too.”

He twitched and Tohru spoke up, bowing. “Thank you so much for your help, Machi-san. We really should be going to the estate, but I’d love to catch up with everyone later!”

Kuragi smiled, more open this time. Tohru did have that effect on people. “Yes, I would like that. I’m sure Yuki would, too. We’ll make sure Hajime gets back to you in one piece.”

“Thank you so much!” Tohru bowed again, and if this continued, they’d be here all day. 

He put his hand over her face gently, dragging her away. “C’mon, Tohru, we gotta get going.” It was already past noon. 

“Right! Thank you again, Machi-san!” she said, while she was being dragged away, “Tell Yuki-kun thank you too!”

Kuragi gave a small wave and then they were out the door. 

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

Even after all these years, going into the main Sohma estate made him...uneasy. The few times he’d interacted with Akito here as a kid never meant anything good. It was where he made that bet...he looked to Tohru, who greeted all the maids politely and smiled to himself. Without that dumb bet, he never would’ve met her. 

He thought nothing about Akito would’ve shocked him more than when she came out in that kimono all those years ago, pledging to turn over a whole new leaf, but he was wrong. The sight of her pregnant and sweating, lounging around in her sleepwear and looking absolutely miserable, was more of a shock. 

Her eyes widened and she looked so innocent he had to look away completely. 

“Tohru,” she breathed, “You made it.”

Tohru smiled softly. “Akito-san!” And she went to hug her, taking care to be gentle. “It’s so good to see you!”

Akito grunted in response and Tohru frowned. “Are you alright?”

Akito paused and then mumbled, “No.” Her voice trembled. “Tohru? Please help me. I’m scared. I’m so, so scared.”

He was never good at handling crying people, not even when that crying person was Akito. “Tohru?” he called out gently, catching his wife’s attention. He gestured to the door. “I’ll be outside.”

Akito stiffened and then stared at him, dark eyes lingering which made him shift uncomfortably. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had only just noticed him. It was so...stifling in here all of a sudden. Hot, even. It was when he closed the door behind him as he stood out in the hallway, he allowed himself to breathe again. He slumped down on the floor, energy sapped away. 

He was glad he’d stuck to his guns about bringing Hajime here. The last thing he needed was for his small son to see how weak his dad was. It was stupid, the way just hearing Akito’s voice made something start clawing at his throat, made him freeze in place...like a coward. 

“Were you banished to the hallway?” A familiar, irritating voice asked, and he looked up to see Shigure staring down at him curiously, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. Of course he would be here. 

“Leave me alone,” he sighed, “I don’t have the energy to deal with you.”

Shigure being Shigure, he instead took that as an invitation to sit next to him, much to his annoyance. “I’m assuming Tohru-kun is in there then?” He nodded. And then Shigure asked, “How did she look?”

He gave him a weary look. “What do you care? You’re spoken for already.”

“I was referring to Akito.”

He furrowed his brow. “Shouldn’t you know? She’s your wife.” And he still had a hard time wrapping his head around that. After everything Akito put them through, what was Shigure thinking? Then again, it was probably better he didn’t know.

Shigure gave a carefree shrug, but if Kyo didn’t know any better, he would say he looked...bitter. “She’s been cooped up in there for days and refuses to let me see her.”

He scoffed. “What? And you just listened? It’s not like she’s God anymore.” 

He got a dark look in his eyes. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

This guy’s flippancy really pissed him off sometimes. He tried to imagine what he would do if Tohru refused to see him for days. Especially if she was pregnant with his child...break down the door, probably. 

He recalled the wide, trembling eyes he’d gotten a glimpse of before he left the room. “She looked...terrified,” he finally answered.

He heard a light thump against the wall and saw Shigure resting his head, a defeated look. “Yes, I was afraid of that.” He smiled ruefully. “Despite how far she’s come, she’s still afraid to be seen as weak in front of me.”

And yet you’re her husband and you’re just letting her cry alone. Scumbag. He glowered at him. 

Shigure chuckled nervously. “Hey now, what’s with that ‘you’re a horrible person’ look?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growled. “Your wife is in there, crying and scared, and with your child, and you’re out here shooting the breeze with me while my wife does your job?”

Shigure stared at him coldly, mocking, all friendly pretense gone. “I didn’t realize you cared so deeply about my wife.”

“I don’t!” he snapped. “I just hate that I have to be here because of you when I could be spending time with my own family.”

“If I recall correctly, it was Tohru-kun’s idea to come, was it not? No one forced you to be here.”

“Yeah, well I’m not a prick like you so of course I wasn’t gonna leave her alone!”

“That’s all well and good but you and I are not the same. I’m not a nice person, and comfort is not my strong suit. Never has been.” His eyes were hard. “Akito knows that.”

He was almost starting to feel bad for Akito and that was not a feeling he was equipped to deal with. 

“Whatever. You piss me off. I don’t get you at all.” He wanted to storm off but he didn’t wanna leave Tohru alone and he didn’t have much energy to really do anything except lean against the wall.

Thankfully, Shigure took the hint this time and didn’t say anything else, so they both just sat in a tense silence. “Terrified, huh?” Shigure mumbled so quietly Kyo was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it. “That makes two of us.”

He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t say anything. Even if he tried, he would get brushed off. But he did silently feel a bit of solidarity at that rare instance of vulnerability. He remembered how terrified he was before Hajime was born, that visceral fear that he would fuck him up like his own biological father did, that maybe the curse would come back somehow, and that feeling never quite went away. 

He only vaguely registered the door being opened behind him and then a gasp. “Oh! Shigure-san!”

“Hello, Tohru-kun!” Like a switch, the man next to him laid on the charm. “You’re looking as radiant as ever. I would even say you’re glowing.” Shigure smirked in his direction and that moment of sympathy was gone.

Tohru blushed. “Oh, really?” She scratched her cheek shyly. “You think so? I don’t think I look any different than usual.” She really was glowing...and gorgeous of course, but Kyo was biased. 

He stepped in between the two. “You ready to go?” he asked his wife softly. 

“Yes!” she confirmed. “I just have to use the restroom real quick!” And then she pecked his cheek before running around the corner. 

She left the door open and out of the corner of his eye, Kyo saw Akito slumped over a table, hair and clothes half askew. 

She looked so small. Pitiful, even. It wasn’t an image that went with what he always knew about her. That she was someone to be feared. .

“Shigure?” she called out weakly. 

“Yes, my flower?” he responded, tone playful but strained. 

She didn’t look up. “Get Hatori.”

If Kyo didn’t know any better, he would say Shigure looked almost disappointed by that. 

“As you wish,” he responded, and to Kyo’s surprise, he actually obeyed. There was more going on there than he cared to know about...He made to follow the direction that Tohru went. 

“Kyo?” Akito called him and just like when he was a kid and he was still wrapped up in the curse, he froze. 

Akito lifted her head, looking paler than usual, almost ashen, as she attempted to get up slowly, the weight of her stomach hindering her, and if Kyo had to guess, the heat probably wasn’t helping. 

He should just walk away. He didn’t owe her anything and he had no reason to talk to her. He should walk away. 

She padded her way to him slowly and it was like his feet were stuck inside the floor. 

“My little monster.” The cruel tone rang through his ears and his eyes widened. 

“Don’t come closer!” he burst out. He expected her to keep coming anyway like she would’ve before, but to his surprise, she stopped, still halfway across the room. Her expression was unreadable. And from his experience, that was always a bad thing. But she was barely holding herself up and she certainly didn’t appear hostile, so he allowed himself to relax, if only a little bit. 

He took a deep breath. “Did you need something?”

She averted her eyes. “No.”

He nodded and prepared to walk away again when he heard behind him. “I appreciate you bringing Tohru here.”

He gave her a cool look. “She came here of her own choice. I don’t control her.”

She had steadied herself enough to look in his eyes, gaze steady. “But you came too. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He wasn’t sure what to say to that, this was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now, so she took that as her cue to continue. “I know it doesn't mean much at this point, but I wanted to-”

“Save it,” he cut her off, already knowing where this was heading. “I never expected an apology, and I don’t need it either. It doesn’t change anything.” He clenched his fist. “I just...want to move forward.”

She looked surprised. “I see. I never expected this from you of all people.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he responded as neutrally as he could. “I’m only here because of Tohru. That doesn’t make us friends.”

He saw those eyes darken in anger for just a flash and flinched away, waiting for a blow that never came. But Akito just wilted in defeat, her eyes turning sad. 

“I understand.” 

Tohru sure was taking a long time. Maybe he should check on her. He nodded to Akito, but she called him back. 

“Kyo?”

He looked at her expectantly, but she smiled, a shy, broken thing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Your honesty. You were never much of a people-pleaser, always saying exactly what was on your mind no matter how much trouble it got you in.”

He felt himself bristle, “Look, you-”

“I never said it was a bad thing.” she cut him off coolly, her eyes steely, but not angry. He felt himself deflate. She was...complimenting him? It was weird and backhanded, but it was a compliment, wasn’t it?

“I’m finished!” Tohru came back, breaking the tension. She grabbed his hand. “We can get going now.” And then noticing the thick air, she frowned. “Was I...interrupting something?”

Akito smiled at her warmly, which was something Kyo didn’t think she was capable of until now. “I was just thanking Kyo for taking the time to come visit.” And then her eyes shifted to him, sharp and calculating. “Right, Kyo?” 

Well, it wasn’t a lie. “Yeah.” And then he turned to her. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, “This mansion is so huge I got a bit lost.” 

Figured. “You should’ve asked one of the maids to help you.”

“Oh, but I didn’t wanna trouble them! I found it eventually.”

“Tohru?” Akito called softly. They both turned to her and Kyo had to be dreaming because it looked like she was...blushing. Akito. Blushing. “Thank you...for coming. I hope you can meet Shiki one day.”

She grinned. “Oh yes, I’d love to! I’m sure he’ll be adorable!” It was just then that Shigure returned with Hatori in tow. Kyo wondered if he took so long on purpose. 

Tohru bowed. “Thank you for having us, Akito-san! Good luck with little Shiki-kun!”

Kyo didn’t bow or say anything, but he did dip his head in acknowledgement. Akito gave them both a grateful look.

Today was a weird day. 

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

She was quieter than usual on the train ride back to Yuki’s. She’d been quiet ever since they left the estate now that he thought about it. He wondered if something happened between her and Akito. Did they fight? He felt a surge of protectiveness. He wouldn’t hit a woman, and especially not a pregnant woman, but Akito better not have done anything to his wife or she’d be sorry.

“Tohru.”

She jolted like she’d been spacing out. “Yes?”

“Did you and Akito get in a fight or something? You’ve been really quiet.”

Her eyes widened. “No, of course not!” 

Well, if it wasn’t Akito then…”Did Shigure say something weird to you?” One of these days he was gonna send that guy flying for real. 

“It wasn’t Shigure-san,” she mumbled.

Then did that mean…”Was it something I did?” She stiffened and he felt the dread in his stomach. Was she mad at him?  Was it because he left the room? He hoped she didn’t think he was trying to abandon her..

“You and Akito-san…” she started, “What were you talking about before I got there?” Tohru normally didn’t ask questions like that, so he felt he owed her to be honest. 

“Exactly what she said. She was just glad we came to visit.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. Why?”

“It’s just...you seemed really tense. I was worried that maybe…”  She didn’t need to finish that sentence. For someone so openly trusting, the fact that she was willing to doubt one of her friends for his sake was...touching. He always found a new reason to fall in love with this woman. He put an arm around her, kissing her hair. 

“I was tense,” he admitted, holding her close, “But she didn’t say anything bad.” Tohru leaned her head against his shoulder in response. “Actually, she complimented me, I think.”

She blinked in surprise. “Oh. Really?”

He nodded. “I guess she really has changed.”

The grip on his arm tightened. “I’m glad.”

He wanted to share that sentiment. He was glad Akito had changed for the better, especially since she was bringing a child into the world. For once, it had felt like they were on equal ground, no longer a God talking to a lowly monster. But even still...when she looked at him, he couldn’t quite forget how she’d used to look at him before, with pity and hate. He’d told her today they weren’t friends and that was true, but he’d also said he wanted to move forward. How could he do that if he only ever saw her as who she used to be and not who she was now?

“Maybe in the winter,” he found himself saying, “Hajime could meet his new cousin.”

He heard a light gasp from next to him. “That...would be okay?” She almost looked skeptical like she was waiting for him to say ‘sike!’

“Yeah, I think so. It’s his family, right?”

The look of pride on her face was too much for him to deal with. “Right.”

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

It was early evening by the time they made it back to Yuki’s and the heat hadn’t let up at all,  but Tohru hardly seemed bothered at all by it this time around. Hell, she was practically skipping to Yuki’s house. He suspected that what he told her on the train had something to do with it…

In a repeat of this morning, they were knocking on Yuki’s door again, only this time it was answered by... 

“Oh hey, it’s Kyon!” an overly cheerful voice greeted. Manabe. Of course it’d be him. 

“I told you not to call me that,” he grunted in annoyance. 

“Good evening, Kakeru-kun!” Tohru greeted cheerfully. “Can we come in?”

He shrugged, “Sure.” And then he shouted across the house. “Hey, Yun-yun! Your mom’s here!”

Tohru blinked in confusion and Kyo resisted the urge to hit something. What did Yuki see in this guy?!

And like he was the devil himself, Yuki appeared with a dangerous glint in his eye and a sinister smile. “Kakeru, I will literally send you flying into the sun.”

Manabe started laughing but then his eyes went wide as saucers. “Oh shit,” he muttered, “Kou no, that’s not a toy!” And then he ran around the corner, out of sight.

“Yuki-kun, it’s so good to see you!” Tohru said sweetly. “I’m so sorry we missed you earlier.” 

He gave her a warm look, stepping aside so they could go further in. “You can thank that idiot over there for that,” he gestured towards Manabe, who was wrestling with a toddler, “He forgot the grocery list so it ended up taking twice as long. It’s good to see you, Tohru.” And then his gaze cooled towards him and gave him an amicable nod. “Kyo.”

He nodded back. “Where’s Hajime? I wanna make sure you didn’t corrupt him.”

Yuki got that sinister look back. “Oh? Is this how you typically repay favors, stupid cat? And to think I took my entire day to watch your son for you.”

“What, was a 6 year old so difficult you needed four adults for him?” He fired back.  “How pathetic.”

“You say that and yet you’re the one who apparently couldn’t handle him. Hence why he’s here.”

Tohru looked like she wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or amused and then a flash of sandy orange bolted behind his legs. 

“Hajime-kun!” Tohru cooed. “Did you have fun?”

Hajime pouted. “No.” Then he pointed at the two kids chasing after him. “Michi keeps trying to make me play dress up!”

Oh right, Manabe’s daughter. The girl in question frowned adorably. “Oh, c’mon, Jime-chan! You’ll be so cute!”

“I don’t wanna be cute! And stop calling me ‘Jime-chan’!”

“Yeah, Michi-nee!” Mutsuki strutted in, wearing a dress and looking way too proud of himself. “Jime-chan’s a scaredy-cat so just forget about him!”

Hajime’s face flushed in embarrassment and Tohru started giggling. He pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing in amusement. His poor son would have no dignity left by the end of the night. 

“Don’t call me a scaredy-cat!” Hajime bristled. 

“Well, then put on the dress then,” Michi mocked, “Scaredy-cat.”

“Fine, I will!” And then he stomped over to the other two, snatching the dress from the smug looking girl. Well, that was easy bait. He could see Yuki staring at him and just knew he was about to make a smart ass remark. 

“Don’t,” he said. 

“Don’t what?” he asked innocently with that damnable smirk. Bastard. 

Kuragi appeared at that moment. “Komaki went to get us dinner. Did you want to stay while the kids are having fun?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to intrude,” Tohru tried to backtrack. 

“You’re never intruding, Tohru,” Yuki smiled at her, a genuine one. “You’re always welcome here.”

He saw Tohru about to protest again because that’s just how she was, always worrying about being a nuisance, and gently covered her mouth. “We’ll stick around for a bit. Thanks.” 

There was a dull thud from the next room over where the kids went and Yuki’s smile dropped. “I’ll go check on them.”

When he was gone, Kuragi turned to them. “Did you want some tea, Tohru-san?”

Kyo pulled out a seat from the table for her as she said, “Oh, that sounds wonderful. Thank you!”

Kuragi nodded. “How about you, Kyon-senpai?”

He glowered at the nickname and muttered, “Just water for me.”

Her lips twitched in amusement and he rolled his eyes, pulling the chair out next to Tohru.  

These people all drove him crazy. 

But...he supposed...as his wife turned to him to smile warmly, and as his son played with his friends like the normal child he himself never got to be...and how in a few months, his family would be just a little bit bigger...he supposed they weren’t all bad. 

"Hey, stupid cat!" Yuki came back in, eye twitching and holding a ripped piece of fabric. "You owe my daughter a new dress." 

Scratch that. 

The damn rat was still the worst.

[artificialqueens]

Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 10/10 (Taywhora) - Juno

Chapter Summary: The three finalists are just three challenges away from the end of the Bake Off, and the reunion with their fellow competitors, families, and friends at the finale garden party. The Signature and Technicals will be the hardest yet, and the Showstopper will ensure the three finalists bare a slice of their hearts to the country. But who will take the winning cake stand?

A/N: I have been utterly blown away by the support and comments I’ve had for this fic on tumblr and AO3! Huge big thank you to everyone who has cheered me on with this. For ease, the finale and epilogue are in one here (but are split on AO3). I hope to be back soon with some short stuff for rare pair challenge! xo Juno

WEEK 10: GRAND FINALE

Aurora felt like she didn’t sleep all week back in Worksop, and now, the night before she had to take the train down south to film the grand finale, the very idea seemed virtually impossible. Her body and her mind tossed and turned, every time she closed her eyes she saw cakes and breads and pastries and all sorts of things she was sure she’d never have any desire to eat again.

She had no time to think about Tayce, but Tayce had found her way in through the cracks in her mind while she had practised. Gone from the tent, but not gone from her life. And her last act in the tent had been to give Aurora five words that had rung like a melody in her head ever since.

You can win this, bitch.

She reached for her phone in the darkness, and it said it was half past one in the morning. She’d have to get up in three hours to get ready, before she headed out for the train. Lawrence would already be on the sleeper train, and Veronica was probably getting up at around the same time. But as she opened their own three-way chat, she found both Lawrence and Veronica were also messaging at silly time in the morning.

They weren’t sleeping either. Aurora understood why now.

Sure, she’d see Tayce again this weekend at the grand finale garden party. But her departure still replayed in her head.

Why did I end up this reliant on her anyway? I can bake without her. I’ve done it for years!

But this wasn’t just baking. It wasBake Off. It was surreal, intangible. It defied gravity. How many times had Aurora had to anchor herself to Tayce to keep herself from floating away?

Her phone came up with a notification from Lawrence.

Lawrence:why tf ru awake

The irony of Lawrence’s message was not lost on Aurora.

Aurora:your meant to be on the sleeper train Aurora: sleeper Aurora: clue is in the name Lawrence: yh but its stopped Lawrence: we’re in carlisle  Aurora: what’s it like in Carlisle x Lawrence: dark

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it tickled her far more than it should, and she found herself laughing far too hard at the message.

Aurora: how much ru lookin forward to this bein over now x Lawrence: oh loads babes Lawrence: cant wait to bring that cake stand to Glasgow x Veronica:keep dreaming Lawrence  Aurora: unlikely lol x

On second thoughts, the teasing and the laughter were a balm for her worried mind right now, and Aurora found she was laughing more than she had all week at their conversation.

Sleep is overrated anyway.

——

The tent looked huge and imposing, but Aurora was still not at the front to her relief. If Lawrence had gone home last week - not that Aurora had ever expected her to - Aurora thought she would have squirmed at the front under the gaze of the judges. Especially now, with just the three of them left, their voices echoing like a vast cave, all of their heartbeats just sounding amplified as they hammered against their ribs.

It’s the finale. I made it.

Aurora glanced at the two badges she’d won. The same amount as Lawrence, with Veronica having one to her name. But as they’d seen from previous series, the amount of times someone had won Star Baker was not an indicator as to who would win the whole thing. But it certainly gave both her and Lawrence a minor edge, and both of them a swell in their chests.

Everything felt new and fresh. Lawrence had re-dyed her hair, blue this time, the vibrant colour almost a distraction in itself. Veronica had new black nails which she tapped on the workbench, and her roots had been redone. Aurora hadn’t thought to do any of that, so she was pleased to still be at the back.

Her turquoise KitchenAid still glistened like new, the workbench sparkled with the glassy varnish, and the cupboards and shelves around in their pastel colours made the summer air feel all the more fresh and clean. She glanced over at Veronica, her own green KitchenAid in the same state, and Lawrence’s Cadbury purple one too.

I wonder if I can pinch the KitchenAid after filming without the crew noticing.

——

Signature: 12 iced doughnuts - 6 ring, 6 filled

If there was one thing Aurora hated doing, it was piping filling into something as fiddly as a doughnut. They’d have to cool down, be hollowed, and then filled, a really fiddly process.

It was the hardest day in the tent by far. The morning was rainy, light rain that almost felt like it wasn’t there, and the air was sticky and humid, pushing the temperature in the tent up, especially with the deep fat fryers they’d been provided for the doughnuts.

Aurora chewed her lip so hard that it bled, piping mixture, watching them all closely in the deep fat fryer, filling up her jam piping bag and spinning it so tightly that it threatened to burst and cover her in sticky apricot jam.

In front of her, Lawrence groaned a few times as she battled against the heat and the doughnuts as they spat in the fryer, while Veronica was wringing her hands at the dough as it came out of her own fryer.

“Too soft,” she muttered, followed by “God, too hard,” at the next batch.

By the time judging came, with Prue back from her illness this week, Aurora had almost forgotten what she’d flavoured them with, but she wasn’t alone. Across from her, Veronica stuttered as she spoke about her doughnuts, while Lawrence just pushed her hair back at the question.

“Don’t know,” she’d mused to the judges, some of the old humour returning to her voice. “Started making them, had a breakdown, and here they are. Enjoy!”

The judges all laughed, but Aurora caught a glint in Lawrence’s eye, and the same thought passed between them both.

It’s not a lie!

All of them had similar critiques. Unanimously told they had good flavours, good bakes, and good designs, it was becoming virtually impossible to differentiate between them. How were they going to decide a winner?

“How are they going to do this?” Veronica said aloud to the room, as they sat in Norton Hall (not Carr Hall, Aurora said to herself) waiting for the Technical challenge to begin.

“Not a fucking clue.” Lawrence sighed.

“Are any of you thinking about today though?” Aurora asked. “Are you just thinking about the Showstopper tomorrow too?”

Lawrence and Veronica both nodded slowly, none of them looking at each other.

“Are you all … doing the same thing as I am?”

Lawrence and Veronica just continued nodding.

None of them even needed to say a word. They all knew.

——

Technical: Victoria Sponge (no recipe)

Technical sounded daunting at first glance, but Aurora tried to reason with her worried mind. Baking a Vicky sponge from scratch with no instructions? Please. Aurora baked a Vicky sponge twice a month for the local shelter. She could probably have done it in her sleep.

But the pressure cooker of the tent just made everything go up in smoke in her brain.

Her nan’s voice rang in her head for the proportions that she used to use. Two, two, two, and two eggs. But two what? Two cake tins? Two bowls? Two competitors? No, two pounds. When would her nan come into the new millennium and learn that no one talked about measurements in pounds and ounces any more?

“Lawrence?” She leaned forward.

“Alright, babes?”

“How much is two pounds in grams again?”

Lawrence was frowning. “What?”

“Please - just tell me. I know it’s a competition and all -“

“I’m not trying to stitch you up hen, I genuinely don’t know, I don’t use pounds and ounces because I entered the twenty-first century a while back.” Lawrence shook her head, holding her hands up in surrender. “What do you need it for anyway?”

“Recipe,” Aurora said, her already-hammering heart feeling like it could break her ribs.

“What’s up, love?” That was Veronica’s voice. Aurora closed her eyes, wracking her brain, but Lawrence’s voice pierced the gloom.

“How much is a pound in grams, d’you know?”

“Yeah,” came Veronica’s in response, “a pound is about four hundred and fifty grams. Y’know, you can also go the other way. A kilo is two point two pounds. What do you need that for, yours is already whisking?”

“No, Rory’s having a meltdown, and not with the butter.”

Jesus Dawn French Christ, Lawrence.

A hand met her shoulder, and Aurora was astonished to see Veronica at her side.

“You alright, love?”

She held her gaze for a long time, unflinching, but her eyes were softer than ever, and her hand was surprisingly warm and calming as she rubbed Aurora’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Just - this,” Aurora waved her hands, encompassing the whole tent. Maybe that was absurd to an outside observer, but Veronica knew. Veronica understood.

“I looked at your instagram,” Veronica said quietly, “and I know you bake cakes loads, so I know you can knock this one right out of the park, alright? And you know that too. I mean, I can’t remember a thing about making jam now! And I’m probably going overboard with my sugar. But hey, it’s the finale! I can’t be sent home now!”

Veronica shrugged, her face split in a grin that bordered on maniacal, and Aurora had to admit that she had a point. She took a shaky inhale, then let it out.

“Look, I know you miss Tayce,” Veronica dropped her voice even lower, her hand squeezing her shoulder now, “because I’ve missed Tia since alt week. And we know Lawrence is missing Ellie, even though she’d probably rather move to London and take up Morris dancing than admit that.”

“You say that, but I can do that accent, I’ve watched Eastenders,” Lawrence called over her shoulder. “And I won’t be any worse than Dick Van Dyke.”

“We’re all missing everyone,” Veronica said, and Aurora knew she didn’t mean everyone, “but you don’t need Tayce to be able to bake. You can do it on your own. You’ve done it loads before this show, and you’ll do it again!”

“I can’t,” Aurora heard her fear contradict her in a whisper.

“You can,” Veronica said firmly, her gaze now stern. “You can do this.”

Aurora took a deep breath, held for four, and let it out for five.

“I can.”

“That’s it, love,” Veronica said, nodding and starting to walk away.

——

“Here’s to the last time we’re here as a three,” Aurora said, raising her glass along with Lawrence and Veronica. One of the producers had brought in a bottle of champagne, and even though Aurora didn’t really like the bubbles very much - they tickled her nose - she accepted the glass that was poured for her.

“How much does everyone remember about today?” Veronica asked, her arms and legs crossed on the sofa. “Because I can’t remember a bloody thing. I can’t even remember what the judges said about that piece of crap that my Vicky sponge turned out to be. Did I come last?”

“Yeah,” Aurora nodded. “Was nothing in it, though. We were all shit.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Lawrence muttered, a hint of her old mischievous glint back in her eye.

“And tomorrow we’re recording the finale,” Aurora sighed, swirling the champagne. “Five hours in a tent, followed by half an hour break, followed by presenting the Showstoppers, followed by the garden party, followed by our speeches. And then filming three endings. Where one of us wins each time.”

“It’s gonna be worth it by the end, though,” Veronica said brightly.

“Who’s gonna come from your family, Lawrence?” Aurora asked.

“My parents, my cousin Chloe, and my best pal Stinky Pete.” Lawrence grinned. “Can’t wait to see them. And who have you two got?”

“Uhm,” Aurora frowned. “I know Blake’s coming, and my nan, but I thought you could only invite two people?”

“Mine said four,” Lawrence replied. “God, you really can’t count, can you?”

“What about you?” Aurora asked, motioning to Veronica with her glass.

“My mum’s coming and my brother.” She twitched her shoulders. “None of my friends could get time off. Shame, really.”

Aurora nodded, sipping her champagne, trying to hold off on sneezing through the bubbles. “And the others.”

“Can’t wait,” Veronica smiled her usual pinched, nervous smile, her leg jogging. “I’ve missed them all. Tia especially, but I’ve missed them all. I wonder who they all think will win?”

“And Ellie still owes me a tenner for that Puff the Magic Dragon shit that she thought Tayce’s biccies were,” Lawrence mused.

Aurora pursed her lips at Tayce’s name, but pushed it to the back of her mind. What mattered now was not Tayce, but the fact that her eyes were drooping after not having slept the previous night, and the champagne making her head throb.

“Early one?” Veronica’s sigh must have read been a telepathic projection, because they all stood in unison and trailed each other up the stairs to their respective rooms, ready to pass out and begin everything again in the morning.

——

Showstopper: A picnic for a fellow contestant - to include one celebration cake, 12 savoury pastries, and 12 patisserie.

When the three of them had seen the Showstopper for the weekend, right after Tayce’s elimination, they’d all nodded knowingly to each other.

This one has been just …made for us all.

It was obvious. It was blatantly obvious that everything that had happened had been noticed by the producers, and the staff, and everyone with eyes and without them too, that all three of the finalists were missing someone.

Veronica was setting her alarms up, all five of them as usual, before dragging her ingredients from the bag she kept. On her workbench, she’d gently placed a photo Tia had taken of some landscape or other. Lawrence had laid all her ingredients out on a baby pink tablecloth that complimented the purple of her own KitchenAid.

Aurora only had one thing to remind her of Tayce. She’d gone into a charity shop in the week with Blake, looking for something he’d seen in the window, and had found something that Blake had gasped at.

“It’s a Welsh love spoon!” He’d thrust the small wooden spoon into Aurora’s hand, and she’d turned it over and over silently in her fingers, marvelling at the twisting pattern on the handle, curling into a heart shape at the top.

“That’s fate, that is,” Blake had nodded. “You’ve got to get that.”

Aurora set the spoon now on the counter top, resting against her own KitchenAid for now, as she ran back through the timings again in her head, and what she was planning.

The twelve savoury pastries were easy. Puff pastry sausage rolls with added baked beans and cheese. Even if Prue didn’t like baked beans, that was all Tayce seemed to be eating every breakfast time.

Screw what Prue likes. This isn’t for her.

The cake? It had taken some thought. Black Forest gateau with a mirror glaze to top it off, not something she knew if Tayce liked, but something that felt sophisticated and stylish. And the deep purple of the blackberries was a colour that Tayce loved.

The patisserie was the hardest one, but she’d settled on millefeuille, similar to some that she made before for her nan’s seventy-fifth birthday, delicate and decorative, fragile-looking but built to stand tall. Not to mention they tasted so good that the world ceased to exist when someone bit into one.

“It’s like they’re all back here, isn’t it?”

Veronica’s voice was quiet, but happy. Lawrence’s intake of breath was shaky, but she didn’t turn to face her, focusing on her bake.

“You’ve got a tin of baked beans on your workbench, Aurora, it’s so surreal! And Lawrence, you’ve got so much pink on your workbench today.” Veronica motioned to the pink fondant she’d made, pink icing, pink glaze, pink cake filling. Pink and white marshmallows, pink jam … every shade of pink imaginable. Lawrence just gave a snort and shook her head.

It was meant to be the hardest challenge yet, but it definitely didn’t feel that way. The tent heated up with the warm sunshine outside and the combination of ovens and bakers and inside, but as soon as nerves started manifesting, the three of them were all there to diffuse them all for each other.

When Lawrence started dropping her utensils, both Aurora and Veronica were at her side in an instant to grab her hands and calm her down before she started panicking. When Veronica clung to the edge of her workbench, motionless, Lawrence and Aurora were both there beside her to talk her down.

But when the last ten minutes were called …

Shit.

Aurora felt cold fear creep back up her chest. She still had the millefeuille to assemble. She’d done three, but nine remained. And the puff pastry had to come out of the oven. And the glaze needed to be poured over the cake for it to set into a mirror in time -

“Aurora?” That was Lawrence, with Veronica on her heels. “You’re making a squeaky whiny noise like a balloon letting out air. What d’you need?”

“But - ten minutes - your own bakes -“

As Aurora flapped, the other two simply ran round her side and started doing it without needing her to tell them. Soon all her pastries were on the tray, and the cake was out the fridge, the glaze ready to go.

“You pipe, I’ll load,” Veronica muttered, and she did just that, while Lawrence put the cake onto the metal tray, jogging back from her own workbench where she’d had to finish off one of her own patisseries, and as Aurora finished piping the last millefeuille …

“Bakers! You have five minutes on your final Showstopper!”

They were all pulling out the stops, dashing between all three of their benches. Veronica was throwing gold leaf around like it was confetti. Lawrence was covered in icing sugar, the sweet scent filling the air. Aurora poured the deep purple onto the cake, praying to the Monster gods that it would set into a mirror glaze in time …

“Time is up! The final Showstopper has finished! Congratulations, bakers!”

The whole world seemed to crumble at Noel’s words.

Aurora looked at the mountain of food she’d produced, everything that reminded her of Tayce, and she knew then that serving this would mean serving a slice of her heart to the nation. And that was the plan all along.

Everything in her body ached, her bones were hollow, her breathing felt too loud alongside the deafening roar of blood in her ears. But as she leaned on the workbench, surveying the amount of work she’d done, she felt a tickle at the back of her throat, and suddenly she was laughing, so hard that she felt like she’d never stop. And then so was Veronica. Then Lawrence began too.

They were all cackling, all three of them, delirious with delight. Noel and Matt came to congratulate them, clapping as they did so, and then Veronica came out from her bench to hug Lawrence, and Aurora ran to join in, and the three of them were suddenly hugging, laughing, sobbing, cheering into each others’ ears.

Until they were all too weak to speak.

——

Aurora, first alphabetically, was going to be the first out of the tent with her final Showstopper, to make her way to the garden party that was always put on for friends and family for the grand finale.

All her bakes were on an enormous tray and she carried it, with Noel on her left and Matt on her right, all three of them bearing the load. Aurora was flabbergasted that nothing was moving, nothing was falling, but everything was still and settled.

As soon as she stepped outside the tent for the first time, she was met by a blast of noise like heat from a furnace.

Clapping, cheers, whoops, laughter. The crowd at the garden party was friends, family, co-workers, film crew, all the staff of Norton Hall, and of course Blu and Cheryl. She caught sight and sound of her nan - her nan! - her accent and her distinctive nasal voice above the rest of the crowd, bless. And Blake, waving his hands in the air and cupping them to his mouth to howl at the sky.

And the rest of the contestants, waiting with the biggest smiles, with applause, with cheers and shouts that drowned out everything else that was happening.

Tayce was in the centre. And Aurora had never seen her look so happy.

She rested the tray at the table outside the tent behind her name, and stopped, stunned, blinking so many times at the noise and her senses overloading. How green the grass was, how vibrant the gingham pattern on the table, how blue the sky was above her head, how bright and hot the sun felt on her bare arms.

“Go on, Aurora,” Matt muttered, pointing to the crowd. “You can go and see them!”

Aurora walked slowly, the dream she was in making her legs shake. Her feet were resting on air, two inches above the ground, just above the blades of grass. But she somehow made the walk, the whole twenty-foot walk, away from the tent towards them all, dazed by their overflowing love, their cheers and their applause.

Tayce was beaten in the first hug by Hurricane Ellie, swamping Aurora in her arms; and by the time she’d disentangled herself, Bimini was there, leaping forward and rubbing her arms and beaming at her; followed by a grinning Pip, followed by Joe, still cackling. In fact, everyone seemed to get a turn before Aurora was left with just Tayce, waiting patiently, the grin she wore showing all her teeth, her eyes crinkling in happiness.

“Told you you could do it, bitch!”

——

“I made this spread for Tayce,” Aurora began, still cursing that her name was first alphabetically and she was first up on the podium.

Part of the Showstopper this year was a little speech to the crowd at the garden party. It was meant to be a tear-jerker, obviously, for the viewers to have an emotional finale, but it had just served to make all the bakers pull their hair out while writing a speech about which contestant they were baking for, and why.

“I made it for her because Tayce has been my rock throughout the competition. We were on the back row together, we got through all the first challenges together … she corrected me on the name of the hall for God’s sake, I was calling it Carr Hall for ages!”

The polite laughter tinkled around the grounds.

“Tayce has been an inspiration in so many ways. She’s taught me that … that I can channel my worries into the energy that I use to make a cake or a bread or whatever - and that can be fuel for me, to push me forwards. Tayce showed me that they were just a source of power like anything else. She always told me to relax. Well, chillax. And when I did, I rediscovered that I loved baking.”

Aurora couldn’t look at Tayce, even from this distance. Couldn’t see her eyes. If she did she might burst.

Lawrence and Veronica sat on the chairs next to the tent, next to the judges, waiting their turns, while everyone else sat or stood on the grass; but Aurora’s position on the podium, towering over them all, kept eyes trained on her as she gave her speech about her Showstopper, before everyone would come and eat.

“Me and Tayce,” Aurora’s voice cracked. “Well, we didn’t always get along. It’s a competition, and we all have our eyes on the prize, and that pressure of wanting to be the best got on top of us both at times.”

The silence was only broken by birdsong.

“But Tayce taught me that I do my best when I’m relaxed. When I’m loving what I’m doing. She taught me that my thoughts can be my own worst enemy, especially when I’m thinking about other people.” She paused, glancing back at her cue card, the words jumbling before her eyes. “And most of all she taught me that - that I ama great baker. That …”

The lump in her throat was back, the fear creeping up her windpipe to strangle her words. She shook her head defiantly.

“That I am more than capable, that I’m skilled, and that I’m … loveable. She held up a mirror for me. So I made one for her too. Thanks, Tayce.”

More polite laughter, followed by applause, as she indicated the mirror glaze cake.

Finally, she met Tayce’s eyes, and as soon as she did, her own burned with unshed tears, emotion swelling in her like a tidal wave.

But Tayce too, her lip quivered, not even noticing the others around her or their applause. She opened her mouth, and her lips moved, but only for Aurora.

“Love you, bitch.”

Aurora managed to mouth back to her while applause rang in the air.

“Love you, too.”

——

“Ellie’s gonna hate me for this,” Lawrence muttered into the microphone, and Aurora looked over at the crowd, Ellie already shaking with silent laughter with her hands over her mouth. “I made a spread for her. She probably wasn’t expecting it, it rains too much to ever have a picnic outside in Dundee, poor bitch has probably never seen the sun -“

“Lawrence,” Matt Lucas piped up, “just a reminder that this will air before the 9pm watershed.”

“So I can’t say bitch? Fuck’s sake!” Lawrence put her hands on her hips.

Aurora put a hand to her mouth to stop herself from making too much noise, but laughing this much was making tears stream down her face; and Veronica, sat next to her, leaned into her arm, also shaking, stuffing her fist into her mouth to silence herself.

“Anyway, I made all this pink stuff for Ellie. And not just because Team Scotland has to stick together,” she added, as Ellie whooped in the crowd, “but because she really has been the best friend I could have made here.”

Veronica let out a cough that sounded a great deal like ‘sexual tension’ and she and Aurora spluttered with laughter.

“And ignore the peanut gallery over there,” Lawrence motioned to Veronica without even looking. “Because first and foremost, Ellie has been a great friend to me. She sat with me when I was upset when I did something wrong, and she was the first to celebrate anything I got right - even if it was at her expense.”

“Aww,” Veronica murmured next to Aurora.

“I take everything really seriously. I take baking to heart. If I’m not good at something, it freaks me out, because I’m usedto being good at everything I try. Gifted kid syndrome, if you know you know.” Lawrence thumped her chest. “But Ellie just has fun with it all. She taught me that you can have fun with something without necessarily needing to be perfect at it. There isn’t a yardstick of quality to having fun. And even if I’m not good at something, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth the time.”

Ellie was now quiet, as the others turned to watch her, but she was only looking at Lawrence, oblivious to everyone around her as the grin on her face quivered with emotion.

“Ellie is fun. And I wanted to make something that would be fun, and also her. That’s why there’s a lot more pink than I’m used to,” Lawrence continued, motioning to the huge pink cake and the pink icing on the choux buns she’d made.

“When I was unsure of myself, Ellie reminded me of what I could do. But she also reminded me that I should be having fun. That’s the reason I made this for her. Because baking should be fun, and should be something you don’t take too seriously. And once I got that, I loved it.”

As everyone applauded again, Lawrence gave the crowd a thumbs up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, looking as if she wanted to get off the podium as fast as possible.

——

“Come on Veronica,” Aurora muttered under her breath.

Veronica looked very short, smaller than usual, even on the podium, the microphone somewhere at her forehead before she adjusted it to her mouth. She licked her lips; her eyes darted to the crowd, to Aurora and Lawrence sat separate to them all, to the judges, and then down to her note paper again.

“Well,” Veronica said for what felt like the fortieth time, another giggle escaping her lips. “Hello, everyone.”

“She’s bombing,” Lawrence muttered.

“She’s just too nervous,” Aurora nodded.

“Right. So. I made this spread for Tia, you know this now, because there’s a sign saying Tea or Coffee on it, I thought that was a nice - erm, a nice touch.”

“God.” Lawrence put a hand to her chest.

Aurora watched as Veronica took a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it out slowly, the silence only interrupted by birdsong.

“I - I’m a perfectionist. If it’s not perfect, I don’t want it. If something is out, even by ten grams, even by a centimetre, I just want to throw it out and never look at it again.”

Veronica repeated the deep breath, clenching the podium, her knuckles white.

“Me and Tia just clicked. We’re quite similar, me and her. We have the same humour, we like the same police dramas and murder mystery documentaries, we both like art and drawing and stuff -”

“Since when does Veronica like drawing?”

“You need to check her instagram page,” Lawrence muttered back, “it’s all artwork.”

“- but the one thing me and Tia didn’t have in common was baking. Tia’s an amazing baker. But something about that tent - as soon as she was in it, she kept making a mess of everything, she won’t mind my saying that; and I know she got really frustrated, but she never wanted to quit. She just always wanted to get better.”

Veronica was tearing up, it was evident even from this distance, her white knuckles shaking. Tia, in the crowd, squirmed for her, clutching Pip’s hand as Veronica fought to get some more words out.

“Tia taught me that it’s fine to make mistakes.”

Another long pause.

“Not that - I don’t mean that Tia is always making mistakes! She does a lot of stuff really great! But she taught me that being perfect is basically impossible. And that I can trust myself if something goes wrong, that I can trust myself to be able to fix it, and not just give up.”

Tia dabbed her eyes with her free hand, shuffling nearer to Pip, who had a hand on her own chest in sympathy.

“Because she doesn’t give up. She just wants to do better. And I love that about her. I wish I’d put less pressure on myself when I first got in there, trying to be perfect at everything, instead of trying to be my best, and getting better by making mistakes.”

Veronica finally seemed to be settling, the rare smile appearing.

“She showed me that making mistakes is fine, and it doesn’t mean I’m a failure, it means I’m a person. And she - her bakes were amazing, and lovely, and she’s such a genuine person that everyone in the tent fell in love with her. Well,” she paused, looking up, “I did.”

Tia’s jaw dropped as she clutched at her chest, leaning into Pip at her side, tears falling freely down her face now as the rest of them clapped, while Veronica’s smile widened, her own tears falling too.

“That’s so …” Aurora murmured, not realising she was holding Lawrence’s hand.

“… cheesy,” Lawrence muttered, but her voice had a crack in it.

——

Aurora’s nan got the first hug when she went over to her family. Her best friend Blake had the second, patting her heavily on the back.

“So which one is the one you made all the cake for then?” Her nan motioned to the crowd of contestants, who had been mostly all mingling together, now breaking off to sit with the crew and each other.

“Tayce is - oh, she’s here.”

Tayce, appearing from somewhere, plonked herself on the grass by the picnic blanket and helped herself to a sausage roll. “Oi oi, saveloy! Oh, these look nice! You put baked beans in them?” Tayce grinned. “You know me like the back of your hand, Rory!”

“Beans on toast was your go-to breakfast, wasn’t it?”

“Oh god, yeah,” Tayce nodded. “Breakfast of kings! The only breakfast! If I could have beans on toast for the rest of my life, I’d die happy. A bit flatulent, but happy.”

She looped her arm through Aurora’s waist, planting a kiss on her lips, before picking up a pastry, leaving Aurora floating just a little from the contact.

“So are you two dating now?” Blake asked, his eyes wide as saucers, hoping for gossip as usual.

Aurora met Tayce’s gaze; they hadn’t really discussed anything official yet. Tayce’s smile was strangely shy, and her eyes earnest, a thousand questions behind them; but as they both nodded simultaneously, it felt like they could work out the details a little bit later.

“Yep!” They both exclaimed at the same time.

Tayce reached down and grasped Aurora’s hand. “And you’re the first to hear about it - not the tabloids, not Hello magazine!”

“You’re not just putting it on for the cameras, are you?” Aurora’s nan teased, wagging her finger at the pair of them.

Tayce turned to glance at Aurora, the same thought passing between them both.

“No way,” they both said at the same time, to a snort of laughter from Blake.

There had been a time, not too long ago, that Aurora might have taken the question as a cue to overthink, overanalyse - but that thought didn’t even exist any more. Instead of being like ducks, kicking to stay on the surface, they now just floated effortlessly.

Aurora just squeezed Tayce’s hand.

Everything was falling into place.

——

“Taking into account your final bakes, and your performances throughout the series, we’ve made our final decision.”

Aurora’s left hand was numb; Lawrence was cutting off the circulation to it.

They all stood before the judges, filming the first of the three endings to keep the actual winner a secret from everyone. This would be Aurora’s win; they’d then film Lawrence’s and finally Veronica’s. For now, they all stood in line; Aurora at Lawrence’s right and Veronica at her left.

Prue held the cake stand, the Bake Off emblem engraved in the glass, all of them in a line waiting for the decision, while the crowd stood impatient, ready to put on a show to congratulate them all.

“You’re all incredible bakers, the best in the UK,” Prue continued from Paul’s speech, “and this was the most difficult season by a long way to judge. You’re all so skilled, imaginative, and clever, and I know you’ll all go on to amazing things after this is over.”

Lawrence’s hand was shaking in Aurora’s; and she could hear Veronica’s breathing on her other side.

This is it.

“The winner of the Great British Bake Off is …”

Complete silence.

Even the birdsong had waned in the background.

A silence that seemed to last an eternity.

Aurora watched Prue’s mouth, wondering when she would open it again, put them all out of their misery, Veronica’s breath audible through the silence and Lawrence’s hand sweating in hers and Aurora’s heart must be the loudest thing in the whole country right now at the rate it hammered her ribs -

——

EPILOGUE

October 2021

Tayce had had to let Aurora go for Blu to wield the camera at the three finalists on the smallest of the neverending number of sofas in Pip’s sister’s house. Lawrence in the middle of the three, all squashed together on what was really a two-person sofa, but they’d all linked arms and interlocked their fingers, staring at the screen, watching themselves.

“I’m never gonna get used to being on screen,” Tia mused, shaking her head. “I swear I don’t sound like that.”

“You do, you definitely do.”

But Tia was only half paying attention to Tayce’s words, her attention on Veronica, who was ignoring her, staring enraptured at the screen. Lawrence, on the other hand, kept glancing over to see Ellie, both of them doing that strange thing they did in filming yet again, just able to know when the other was looking over at them to make sure they were alright.

Tayce tried to relax, hands in her lap, but her chest fluttered every time she met Aurora’s gaze.

The finale had been Tayce’s favourite episode to watch, simply because she hadn’t been in it. The element of surprise was there as she watched it, although it was there for all of them, because there the finalists were, on the screen, still waiting for the winner to be announced.

It must be between Aurora and Lawrence. Veronica only has one badge; it probably won’t be her.

“The winner of the Great British Bake Off is …”

The painful zoom of the camera on everyone’s faces. Aurora’s nervous smile, pure yet heartbreaking. Lawrence looking at the sky to stop herself from crying, both her hands occupied by another finalist. Veronica, her stare intent with anticipation, chewing her bottom lip.

“Aurora!”

The room erupted.

Cheryl was jumping up and down, the first at the sofa to hug Aurora as she sat still as a statue, hands at her mouth and eyes agape in shock, as Lawrence pulled her tightly to herself, planting a delighted kiss in her hair.

“It’s you!” Veronica shrieked, shaking her knee, “it’s you! You won! You won the whole thing!”

And then everyone else streamed in to hug her. Pip was first - Pip was always the first to lay a comforting hand - Tia was close on her heels - Ginny’s hands looped round her neck from behind and their eyes crinkled in joy - but Aurora still sat frozen, only her rapid blinking suggesting anyone was home at all.

Tayce felt time stop again, but this time in a moment of perfection and not defeat.

The contest environment evaporated, she couldn’t fathom feeling anything but pure elation for Aurora’s win, couldn’t fathom having felt any other way for this wonderful woman who she was lucky enough to now call her girlfriend, sat with her hands at her mouth and silent tears coursing down her face as Blu pointed a camera at it.

“Aurora! It’s you! It’s you!” Blu was patting her knee while the rest of them excitedly hugged and squeezed at her. “Do you have any words for us right now, or is it a bit overwhelming?”

“It’s - what - I can’t believe it!”

Aurora’s phone was buzzing on the dining room table, undoubtedly hundreds of friends and family calling and texting and tagging her in Instagram posts and tweets, congratulations spilling over from every direction, an outpouring of love and support and adoration.

The programme was still running, footage of Prue and Paul giving their final summaries of Aurora, and the other two finalists - other contestants giving sound bites - Aurora’s finalist speech as her face was red with tears - the where are they now segment starting to play for all the contestants.

Pip back at her day job, giving the camera a thumbs up, followed by a snap of her with Ginny at Blackpool Tower and a video of them both on the Big One. Joe reliving that Instagram video again, and clips of Cherry, Ellie and Asttina all trying to recreate it too. Cherry back at the dog-grooming business she worked for, and walking her own dog. Asttina back at the gym, followed by a photo of her and Bimini on a boat on the Thames. Bimini at their laptop, followed by pictures of them holding the childrens’ book they’d written since the show. Ellie’s move to Glasgow, a clip of her dyeing Lawrence’s hair back to the bright purple it was now. Tia and Veronica somewhere in the Lake District, windswept but with smiles a mile wide.

But Tayce didn’t see or hear any of it. Aurora was the only thing she could see.

And as she stumbled towards Tayce, draping herself into her arms and laughing in delight, Tayce held her as tightly as she could, crushing her eyes shut but not stopping her own tears, her heart bursting for Aurora as she was privileged to share this moment of exhilarated happiness with her …

She’s already a Star Baker. She doesn’t need a badge or a title.

But she’s got both now! And hopefully she can know that she’s a Star Baker as much as we all do!

——

THE END

[crackerjackawrites]

Dante's Divine Disappearings (2450 Words)

A trans girl with disapproving parents is invited to meet Dante, a mysterious spellcaster who claims he can help her get away from her current life (originally written January 2021)

I change people’s lives. It’s quite easy actually, people who need me will find my flyer:

DANTE’S DIVINE DISAPPEARINGS

Want to get away from your current life?

Want to change who you are forever?

Want to leave it all behind and start afresh?

Well come down to Dante’s Divine Disappearings and we’ll whisk you away from your current plight and land you in a new, much happier life.

Then there’s an address beneath, but it changes depending on where the person lives. It’s always in some creepy alleyway that no one goes down. What can I say? I still have a flair for drama.

As a Private Transmuter, I’ve changed people into all sorts. Made them older, younger, a man, a woman, someone in-between and - get this - even animals. In fact, a new customer is on their way now.

“So Harry,” that wasn’t Jess’ name, not anymore, “When are you going to finally grow out of this phase of yours?”

Jess had come out to her parents months ago now, it was the worst mistake of her life. She knew that trying to get them to understand was a lost cause at this point. Jess just sat there, her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to discuss the matter with her parents anymore.

Her mother pointed an accusatory fork her way, “It’ll happen eventually, it always does,” her father chuckled at that.

This was hell. Jess focused on her meal, a slice of chicken pie with mashed potato. It was one of the last good things that came from her parents now, most of her time at home was either spent alone in her room or hearing this constant barrage of bigotry from the two of them. She tried to be out of the house as often as possible. After finishing her meal, Jess quickly got up, took her plate to the kitchen, and marched upstairs to her room.

She practically collapsed onto her bed, letting out a large sigh as she did so. She couldn’t wait until she was finally old enough to move out, then she would be happy and free. She opened her window to let some air into the stuffy room. Hell, it would be great if she could get out of here now.

There was a rustling from outside, Jess stuck her head out the window to see what it was. As she poked her head out to find the source of the noise, a paper crane was blown through the window. She jumped back. The paper danced around the air for a while before Jess snatched at it abruptly. She unfolded the note, it read:

DANTE’S DIVINE DISAPPEARINGS

Want to get away from your current life?

Want to change who you are forever?

Want to leave it all behind and start afresh?

Well come on down to Dante’s Divine Disappearings and we’ll whisk you away from your current plight and land you in a new, much happier life.

Head to:

The alleyway between 31 and 32 Jackdaw Street

Philadelphia

Pennsylvania

USA

That was three blocks away! It seemed suspiciously perfect, but Jess had only ever come out to her friend Max - and her parents of course - so who could try and trick her with this?

She called Max.

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

He picked up, “Hey Jess, what’s up?,” it was good to hear his voice after that ordeal downstairs.

“Hey Max, could we meet up? I have to go somewhere but I don’t want to go alone.”

“You have to go somewhere? What does that mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, I’ve just been given this address.”

“Doesn’t that sound sketchy?”

“I mean, yeah… that’s why I need you there.”

He sighed, “Okay fine, meet at my house?”

“Sounds good.”

Max always knew that if Jess was determined to go somewhere then it wasn’t worth trying to stop her. He doesn’t even try and resist anymore.

Jess didn’t want to deal with her parents. She walked over to the open window and looked down. Was she really going to climb out of her house at 9 o’clock at night to leave her whole life behind? Of course she was. She could quite easily slide down the drain pipe. She didn’t want to disappear without saying anything though, so she grabbed some paper and a pen:

Mom & Dad,

I’m leaving. You’ll never see me again. I cannot stand living in this house anymore.

I hope that, eventually, you can overcome your hate but I’m not sticking around waiting to see it.

Yours confidently,

Jessica.

She folded the note and placed it onto her pillow. Then ran back to the window for the last time. It was a long drop if she fell, but it was worth it. Jess grabbed on to the drain pipe and slowly slid down it until she hit the ground.

She’d finally done it! She’d escaped!

It was a 25 minute walk to Max’s place, but Jess ran it in 15. Max was already standing outside the apartments when she arrived.

“You look warm,” said Max.

Jess panted, “I ran the whole way. Plus it’s the middle of summer so it’s not exactly a cold night,”

Max chuckled, “So where are you taking me?”

“Ummm,” said Jess, pulling out the note, “The alleyway between 31 and 32 Jackdaw Street.”

Max snatched at the note, “Let me read this!”

“Hey!” Jess called, but she let him take it. She was too tired after the run to resist.

He studied the note for a minute as they walked.

“This is super sketchy, dude.”

“Yeah, I know...” she sighed.

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll stick with you!”

“Thanks,” Jess smiled, “I’m glad.” Max smiled back.

The pair stood at the opening to the alleyway, between a small fabric store and an independent café. Garbage bags were littered down the alley, one had a large gash in it that was spilling used coffee cups and cake wrappers. A tall, black door stood at the end, dwarfing the kids with its grandeur and intricate carvings. Multiple different animals were carved into the door; a frog, a tiger, a toucan and a bear - a peculiar line-up to be sure. Jess creeped up to the door and reached for the knocker but before she grabbed it, the door swung open.

The room was pitch black, save for a single candle that’s fire highlighted a small chair facing away from the door. As they approached the door, someone spoke from the darkness.

“I’m sorry, Jessica. I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest,” two quick claps sounded from the shadows and the whole room lit up. A tall figure stood across from Jess and Max. He was wearing a black suit and jacket with a red tie and gloves. His skin was a dark brown that, along with his outfit, stood out from the pale peach walls of the room. He also held a long, black cane with a model rabbit’s head at the top.

“How do you know my name? Who are you? What is with this place?” Jess had so many questions. She’d been so taken aback by the person that she hadn’t noted the rest of the building’s interior. It was an absolute mess. Shelves lined every wall, filled with all sorts of peculiar objects: a large jar containing a lizard floating in a pink liquid; a vial of something green that seemed to be boiling at room temperature; and what looked to be a raging storm trapped inside of a bottle, to name a few.

“I’m magic, I’m Dante, this is my house - it’s also magic.”

Dante walked forward and Jess could finally see him in detail. He had a very young-looking face with fierce, brown eyes. His near-black hair was short, so short that it must have been shaved only a few weeks ago.

“Hey!” called Max, “Get back from her!”

“Calm down, kid,” said Dante, strolling past the pair, “I’m getting you a seat” Dante had met Max for all of a minute, his patience was already being tested.

Max flinched at being called a kid. Jess knew that, while he was only 16, Max thought of himself as very mature, and hated being seen otherwise. Dante opened the door the pair had entered through. Instead of the alleyway, Jess could just make out a large hall with rows of metal folding chairs, there were also a few balloons scattered on the floor. It looked like some sort of sad party. Dante snatched up one of the chairs and brought it back through. He placed it beside the other.

“Here you go, kid,” Max and Jess could only stare, blankly at what they’d just witnessed, “Sit down.”

The pair instinctively took their seats, and Dante moved to stand before them.

“Jess, you’re going to have to introduce me to your friend here. Like I said, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Umm,” Jess was taken aback by Dante, she didn’t know what to say, “This is Max,” she looked over at Max, he had his arms crossed and was narrowing his eyes at Dante. Jess couldn’t blame him.

“Well hello Max,” Dante reached one hand to each of the kids, “And hello Jess of course.”

They each shook Dante’s hand. Jess asked, “How do you know my name?”

“Well I already told you, I’m magic,” he smirked, “If it helps, I’ve been spying on you for quite some time,” Jess’ eyes widened in disbelief, she couldn’t believe that he would admit to that, “...or maybe that didn’t help.”

“You-”

“Yep!” said Dante, trying desperately to divert Jess from accusing him of anything, “I’ve seen your situation at home. You want out, don’t you?”

“Well… yes, but that doesn’t-”

“Yes!“ Dante cut her off again, “And I have a solution. However little Max here has certainly become a complication.” 

Max scowled at that.

“What if I were to tell you that you could leave it all behind! Finally escape this place you call home. With one catch,” he paused (for drama), “You have to leave everyone from before.”

Jess and Max recoiled in unison, “What?” they both cried.

“I’m sorry, it’s part of the method. You have to leave it all behind.”

Jess started, “But... but-”

“Look, like I said I’m sorry. That’s why I was hoping you’d come alone. So you didn’t have to face this - face him - in person,” Dante gestured to Max.

“Please, Jess,” said Max, “You can’t just leave, can you? I mean, you can be happy here.”

“Max I’m really sorry. But I don’t think I can be happy here anymore. I know you think you know nearly everything about me but the truth is that you can never understand what it’s like to live my life. There’s no way I could make it out of that house alive.”

Max looked down and sighed.

“What if Max came with me?” Jess blurted out. Max’s eyes darted.

“I suppose that could work,” said Dante.

“Jess, no!” Max waved his arms up, “I’m sorry but I couldn’t. I’m really happy where I am.”

Jess looked down at her legs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider whether you wanted to,” she said, “You’re right. And I can do this on my own. Thank you, Max.”

“Alright kids, are you done? I’ve got a schedule to keep. Actually, I don’t. But this is getting boring.”

“Obviously it’ll be a shame to lose you, but if you’re happier there - wherever there is - then I’d be happier for you too.”

Dante looked at Jess, “Are you ready? Have you made peace with everything?”

“Yes,” she stood up and looked at Max.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, smiling up at her. Jess shed a tear.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Dante has taken Jess into a new room, leaving Max alone with his thoughts. That really was the last time he’ll see Jess. His best friend since they were six. She’d changed so much in that time, grown into the best person he’d ever known. He’ll miss her, obviously. But he knows this was best for her. For... who? The name slips from Max’s head. No! This was his best friend! How could he forget their name? He has memories with them! No, they were gone! He can’t even remember what they looked like! What who looked like? Where is he? Max started to panic.

The door behind him swung open, a man and woman walked out; the man in a black suit and jacket, the woman in a flower-patterned summer dress, she looked almost familiar, she was only a few years older than Max. He stared at them in confusion.

“Scram, kid!” said the man. And Max vanished in red smoke.

“What happened to him?” asked Jess, her hand still held up to her chest from before.

“Don’t worry, he’ll wake up in bed tomorrow. Anyway, we need to talk about you, young lady.”

Jess squirmed with excitement, “I know!” she was still getting used to her new voice, “I look great! Thank you so much!”

“So. You are Jess Bennet, a Philadelphia girl who just moved to England to study. I’ll get your luggage now,” Dante walked back through the door, which now led into a cloakroom, and returned with a large suitcase with the same daisy pattern as Jess’ dress. Jess giggled with excitement again.

“There’s all the I.D. you’ll need in there, some clothes, and some cash,” Jess’ face lit up at that, making Dante smile too.

“Thank you, again.”

“Hey, it’s what I do. If you’d just step this way,” he walked over to the door again and opened it. This time it opened to a bustling square, students could be seen walking between the buildings that surround it.

“Wait,” said Jess, “It’s like 10pm here. Shouldn’t it be really early in England?”

“Oh yes it should be,” said Dante, “But time doesn’t exactly work how it’s supposed to in my place. Right now it’s 8:43am and you’re nearly late to the first day of the rest of your life,” Dante said with a smirk.

Still smiling, Jess walked, perhaps for the first time in her life, with true purpose. Here she was, a fully grown woman, living the life she’d always dreamed of, even if it meant leaving some things behind. She’d miss Max, of course she would. But she knew that he would be happy if he could see her now.

Max woke up in a sweat. That was a weird nightmare. It felt like one of those dreams that lasted way longer than the time you spent sleeping. He’d made a new friend, Jessica, grown up with her through their entire childhood, and then had all the memories with her drained from his mind. He could remember them all again now though, it felt like a story now. Good times. It was a shame he’d never get to meet her.

[jubilantwriter]

Jaspvid Week 2020: Day 3 - Summer

fuck it at this rate i’m just gonna be posting late never get a night shift job y’all

(AO3)   @jaspvid-week​

You Can't be Traumatized if You Don't Go to Summer Camp

Summary:  They met by an ice cream truck as children.  And since then, it’s been a tradition for them to meet up and buy ice cream together.

Word Count: 5088

Jasper loves summer.  Summer means no school, no homework, and no teachers to be bummed out by!  Since he's eleven now, he thinks that maybe his mom will let him go to the community pool more often, since he can totally swim by himself without her worrying that he'll go to the deep end and drown.  

He's too rad for that anyways!  And since summer vacation started, he's been having fun watching the Saturday morning cartoons and hanging out with his friends whenever they want to come over and play.  With the heat bringing it's A game this year though, more and more of his time is spent just lounging inside his house, trying to beat the heat with his mom's rotating fan.

In fact, here he sits, mouth wide open as he makes a long "ahhhh" sound at it, giggling as the fan messes with his voice.  Although summer isn't always about having fun and playing with his mom's fan and going swimming at the pool.  He keeps his ears perked as he waits for a special kind of song to start making its rounds around the block.

And sure enough, the musical notes of a familiar tune rings throughout the neighborhood, and Jasper is already making a mad dash to his mom for some sweet, sweet cash.

"Mom!"  He waves his hands back and forth to get her attention.  "Mom, the ice cream truck!"

His mom smiles, having already heard the tune and pulling her wallet out of her purse.  "Alright, hold on."  A few dollars bills are handed over as Jasper grabs them eagerly.

"Rad!"

"But only buy one, okay?  Dinner's coming up soon."

"Okay!"  He dashes out the door just in time to see the ice cream turn the corner onto his street.  "Hey!"  He waves his hand in the air, flagging down the ice cream truck as it continues past his house.  It slows to a stop as he chases after it when he notices another kid peek his head out.

Red hair.

Green eyes.

And the scariest frown he's seen.

He smiles as he waves at his neighbor.

"Hi, Davey!"

"Don't call me that!"  David yells as he slams his front door shut, disappearing back into his house.

"Jeepers, man."  Normally, all the other kids would feel put out by having their neighbor slam a door shut at them, but Jasper was used to it.  It was pretty rude yeah, but as long as Jasper kept his distance, David wouldn't start throwing rocks at him!  It's a good thing Jasper is a quick learner, otherwise there would have been a lot more rocks in his future.

"Hey, kid."  A man with a scraggly looking face rolls down the window.  The ice cream man!  "You wanted somethin'?"

"Sure do, mister!"  Jasper looks over the ice cream choices on the side of the truck.  There were ice cream sandwiches, drumsticks, those push pop thingies, the faces with bubblegum eyes, that frozen lemonade stuff in a cup that tastes okay he supposes, and-  "One bomb pop!  Please!"

"Sure, which flavor?"

"The one that looks like a rocket!"

"Red, white, and blue, comin' up."  Jasper waits patiently as the ice cream man disappears for a minute before reappearing with the cold treat.  "Here ya go.  One American ice cream."

"Is it really called that?"

"Nah.  That's a dollar."  Jasper hands over the dollar and grabs the frosty treat from the man as he sits on the sidewalk.  As he unwraps the popsicle, the ice cream man grunts in surprise.

"You want somethin' too?"  Jasper looks up and sees David standing not too far from him.  He's biting his lip, fists buried deep in his pockets as he glares at the ice cream on the truck.  "Gotta pay up, kid."

"...Not if I take it first!"  Jasper watches as David runs and leaps at the truck's window, grabbing onto the ledge as the ice cream man looks unimpressed.

"Nice try, kid."  He flicks off every single one of his tiny fingers, making David land on the ground with a soft "oof!".  "Maybe come back with a dollar, and I'll give ya what your bratty heart so desires."

"Whatever!"  David stands up quickly and stomps his foot.  "Ice cream is for squares anyways!"  As the ginger stomps off, Jasper wonders how many times David's tried to pull that off.  He gets up and walks back to the truck.

"Hey, mister?"

"Whatcha want, kid?"  The ice cream man eyes him from the window.  "You better eat that quick 'fore the sun melts it."  

"Oh I will!  It's just, um," he digs around in his pocket and pulls out another dollar, "can I have another one?"

The ice cream man takes it slowly, looking between Jasper and a door that slams shut yet again.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."  Technically, Jasper wasn't breaking any rules.  He grins up at the man brightly.  "Umm, can I have..."

Actually, which one WOULD he like?  It's not like Jasper knows enough about David to make a good guess.  All he knows is that David is grumpy, hates people, sasses adults, and is an overall menace to everyone around him.

But he's also seen David out in the rain, with no umbrella or raincoat to speak of, just picking worms off the sidewalk and tossing them into the grass.  He's seen David yell at bullies, aim only for the legs in dodgeball, and even sit next to a crying kid silently just so he wouldn't be alone.  

Jasper points at the vanilla bar with the hard outside.

"Can I have that one?"

"Sure, kid."  The ice cream man disappears and comes back with the wrapped treat, but he looks hesitant to give it to him.  "Are ya sure...?"

"Totally man!  My mom says that if I treat people the way I wanna be treated, I can make friends way faster like that!"

"That's one way to do it, I guess."  The ice cream man shrugs as he hands over the treat.  "Better give it to him before it melts then."

"Will do!  Thanks, mister!"

The ice cream man waves as Jasper runs to David's house, sticking his melting popsicle in his mouth as he knocks on the door.  The door creaks open slowly, a single green eye peeking out suspiciously before he spies Jasper standing on his doorstep.  Jasper pops his popsicle out and grins.

"Heya, broski!"

"Oh, it's you."  Ouch.  "What do you want?"  Jasper waves the wrapped treat in front of David.

"I did something totally wack and got an extra by accident!  And I'm only supposed to have one ice cream before dinner or else my mom will totally wig out, so I thought maybe you'd like it?"  David stares at the ice cream with a suspicious squint.

"...Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because you're the only kid I know in this neighborhood!"

"Liar."

"Okay, maybe I know a few other kids, but you were closer!"

"What's the catch?"  David glares at Jasper, holding onto his door tight.  "I take the ice cream and then what?  I gotta give you my allowance?  Beat the snot outta someone?  Be your friend because you're a weird loner?"  

Well, Jasper's not exactly a loner, but he wouldn't mind being friends with David if he'd just stop being mean for a second.

"It's just ice cream, dude.  Take it or leave it."

David swipes the bar from his hand and slams the door in Jasper's face.

"Nice!"  The ice cream man calls, laughing as Jasper walks away with a huff.

Well.

At least he took the dang thing. 

////

The ice cream truck comes again, and this time, the man grins as Jasper points at an ice cream sandwich.

"Gonna get a second one too while you're at it?"  He points to a door cracking open, and a familiar tuft of red hair peeking out.

"...I dunno, maybe."  Last time didn't work out so hot.  Maybe David just doesn't want friends.  Maybe he's the loner.

And Jasper's fine with that.  It's not like he has to be friends with David anyways.

"Who knows, kid?  Maybe he's like a stray cat.  Gotta be nice to 'im and bait 'im 'til he comes out."

"You just want my mom's money."

"Absolutely, now are you gonna buy another one or not?"

"I said I dunno."  Jasper huffs as he waits for the ice cream man to give him his sandwich.  As he takes it, he hears the door shut and he turns to find David no longer hiding by his door.

"Looks like the runt went back into hiding."  The ice cream man hums to himself as Jasper unwraps his treat and starts to munch away.  A bright look comes across the man's face as he ducks into his truck as Jasper watches curiously.  When the ice cream man resurfaces from his searching, a yellowish cup is held in his hand as he shoves it at Jasper's face.  "Here, kid."

Jasper scrunches up his face.

"I don't want it."

"Nah, kid, it's free."

"I still don't want it."

"Look, I got a whole bunch of these laying around 'cause kids don't want 'em as much as the other stuff I got.  So why not throw it at that kid's face so you're not wasting your ma's money and I'm gettin' rida stock I don't need?"

"I don't want him to hate me more than he already does!"

"Can't get any lower than rock bottom, kid."

Oh, he'd beg to differ.

But the ice cream man tosses him what was essentially frozen lemonade, but not like, the good lemonade, but the lemonade that was just pure lemon juice with some water, maybe even too much water, mixed in, and then they put it in the freezer, and then put that ice block into a blender, turned it on high, and poured the goop into a cup to be sold to children who actually knew what good lemonade tasted like.

And this was not good lemonade.

Jasper barely manages to catch it as it smacks into his chest.

"Good luck, kid!"  The ice cream man salutes him before rushing off into the driver's seat to drive away.

"But I said I didn't want it!"  Fruitlessly, he yells at the disappearing ice cream truck, groaning loudly as he clutches this awful excuse for a lemony treat.  What was he supposed to do with it?  

...

Well, he could actually give it to David.

Maybe he was into this sort of stuff.

Frozen, bad lemonade.  That was kind of like shaved ice, but not really.  The outside of the cup sweats in his hand, reminding him of the hot temperature.

Maybe he wouldn't care?  Maybe he'll take it because it's so hot out and use it as a, like, ice pack or something.

His feet are already walking him to David's door, and after cramming the ice cream sandwich in his mouth, he once again knocks on the door, but with less enthusiasm this time.  David opens the door, but he looks only a little surprised.

"What do you want, Jasper?"

Oh, he knows his name?  

"Uh, here."  His words are muffled around the sandwich, but David takes the cup regardless.

And scrunches up his face when he sees it.

"Ugh!  I don't want this!"

"Me neither!"

"It sucks!"

"I know!"

David blinks, as if registering that Jasper was actually agreeing with him.

"So why are you giving this to me?"  Jasper swallows a bite of his sandwich and shrugs.

"I dunno, maybe you can like, use it as an ice pack?"

"Pfft."  David snorts, which makes Jasper perk up a bit.  "As if.  This thing'll only last for a few minutes."  

"What are you gonna do then?"  Jasper watches as David wipes the sweat from his brow, frowning as he stares down at the cup.

And sighs dramatically.

"Guess I'll eat the dang thing."

"...You sure?"

"Well it's not like I have a choice."  Jasper expects more bite to his words, but the ginger merely says it with a tired reluctance he doesn't expect.  "Thanks, though."

"Oh uh, sure, duderino."  He expects David to slam the door in his face but the boy just... keeps it open.  "Guess I'll see you around?"

"Whatever."  David shrugs as he pops the lid open.  "See ya."  

He walks away from David's house and doesn't hear the door close.  When he makes it to his own house, he looks over to where David's house is and sees the boy sitting there.  Quietly eating his treat in the open doorway.

And Jasper swears.

He's eating it with a smile.

////

When Jasper approaches the familiar ice cream truck, he can hear two voices yelling at each other near the truck's window.

"You tellin' me this is all two dollars?!"

"I said count 'em, you gigantic square!"

"Uhh...?"  Jasper walks up to find David gripping the edge of the window from where he hangs with a snarl.  The ice cream man glares back down at David as he holds a fist full of coins.  Oh.

"It's two dollars!"

"Quit jerkin' my chain!  As if I'd believe you!"

"Can I count?"  The two of them turn their heads to Jasper as he sheepishly rubs his arm.  "I mean, if I count them in front of you, it'd save you the trouble and prove Dave- David's telling the truth."  The ice cream man rolls his eyes but hands the change over to Jasper regardless.  And so the brunette carefully sorts out the assortment of change, and holy cow, he can see why the ice cream man was angry at first.  It's a big mess of nickels and pennies and dimes, with maybe one quarter in the mix, but he counts out the change dutifully, carefully, and out loud so that the ice cream man can see his work.

"...and two dollars."  He gathers up the change and holds it up to the ice cream man.  "David was telling the truth."

"I told you, you big doofus."

"Watch it, kid, or else I'm taking your money and drivin' away."

"That's stealing!"

"As if you haven't tried stealin' from me before."  But the ice cream man disappears and comes back with two drumsticks.  "Here, your ice cream."

"Yessss!"  David takes them both, before turning to Jasper and handing him a stick.

"...Huh?"

"Here."  He shoves it into Jasper's hand and looks away.  "For the other times you got me ice cream."

"Oh!  You didn't have to-"

"Later, nerd!"  David runs off and into his house, slamming the door shut as he leaves Jasper in the dust.

"...Are you two friends now?"

"Uhh."  Jasper looks down at the drumstick in his hand.  It's the usual kind - vanilla, coated with chocolate and nuts.  He unwraps it and gnaws on the outer shell.

Sweet.

"...Maybe."

"Huh."  The ice cream man sounds amused as he reclines against his window.  "That was quick."

////

It becomes a routine.

Everyday, the ice cream man comes.  Sometimes it'll be Jasper who meets him first.  And sometimes it's David.

But there's an unspoken rule between them.

They have to wait until the other shows up before leaving.

It's like a meeting place, but with a guy who brings the meeting place to them.

Normally, they just buy the ice cream and part ways back to their houses.  

But sometimes...

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"What?"

Jasper and David sit on the curb, the ice cream man already driving away as they eat.  It's too hot to stay indoors, so they find themselves having a rare moment outside in the sun.  Jasper wouldn't mind staying quiet, if only for the fact that David bites down on the bomb pop like it's candy and crunching away at it in his mouth.

Just watching him eat it makes Jasper's teeth ache.

"Biting down on it!"

"No it doesn't."  David chomps down on it again, making Jasper cringe. 

"My mom says that biting ice cream like that can hurt your teeth."

David snorts.

"You're just a chicken."

"Am not!"

"Then do it, chicken."

Jasper looks at his own popsicle.  He doesn't want to hurt his teeth, but he also doesn't want to be called a chicken.  David grins slyly as he nudges Jasper.

"Chiiiickeeeeen," he goads.

"I'm not a chicken!"  Without a second thought, Jasper bites down on his popsicle and crunches down on the block of flavored ice.  It feels as though the ice is freezing his teeth all the way down to his gums, and it sort of hurts, and sort of doesn't.

It's still not pleasant though, so he chews through it quickly.

"See?"  David nudges him again with a lighter grin as he goes back to polishing off the popsicle.  "It's not that bad."

"Ugh."  He determines not to do that again.  "I think I'll pass on eating popsicles like that ever again."

David snickers but doesn't push him.  Instead, they both kick at the asphalt beneath their feet and take in the rays.

////

Summer comes, and summer goes.  They go back to school, pretend they don't know each other asides from a neighborly nod, before continuing on with their lives.

But when summer returns, they find themselves meeting up back at the ice cream truck.

"Wanna try these ones?!"  Jasper excitedly points at the pastel-looking ice cream bars on the truck.

"Are you getting it only for the colors?"

"Why not!"  

"That's dumb.  You're dumb."  

"You just don't wanna admit you wanna try the cotton candy one."  Jasper teases the ginger as David rolls his eyes.

"Whatever.  I'll just take the watermelon one."  

"Well, I'm taking the cotton candy one, 'cause I'm not a chicken."

"You take that back."

"Are you kids gonna pay or what?"

"Here you go, mister!"  As the ice cream man hands them their treats, the two of them sit back on the curb, kicking at the asphalt as they get used to each other yet again.

"You think his menu ever changes?"

"Nah, he seems too lazy to do that."

"But what if something new comes out?  Like a tubular kind of ice cream."

"He already has a tube-y ice cream."

"No, like tubular!  Like wicked?  Gnarly?"

"...I hate you so much.  Just speak like a human!"

"But I am??"  David yells as Jasper laughs.  "Take a chill pill, man!  It's how everyone speaks nowadays!"

"That's a lie.  A big, dumb lie that only a square would make."

"Calling people a square is sooo outdated, Davey."  The nickname slips out before Jasper can stop himself, and he slaps his hand over his mouth in shock.  "Oh, no, I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine."

And he blinks.

"...Huh?"

"I said it's fine."  David kicks at the asphalt, keeping his eyes away from Jasper's as he bites into his ice cream.  "...I'm okay with you calling me 'Davey'."

"Are.  Are you sure?"

"Yeah."  David shrugs before turning to face Jasper.  He looks uncertain, nervous even as he twirls the melting treating between his fingers.  "I mean, we're friends, right?"

And he blinks again.

Mouth slightly agape. 

He must have taken too long to respond because suddenly David's ears are bright red as he stands up abruptly.  "Wh-whatever!  If we're not friends, just say it-!"

"We are!"  Jasper stands up just as quickly, a giddy grin making it onto his face as he makes to hug David, only to remember the sticky ice cream in their hands.  "We're friends!"

It's David's turn to blink as he registers the words Jasper says.  And then.

He smiles.

A real, genuine smile.

"...Cool!"

And when summer inevitably ends, he hopes he'll get more than a nod from David as they pass each other in the halls.

////

Summers come, and summers go.  As they pass each other in the halls, Jasper goes for a high-five that David avoids, only to punch Jasper (lightly) in the arm later.

They sit next to each other at lunch, Jasper sharing his snacks with David as the latter pours over Jasper's homework as Jasper explains each problem to him.

They become an odd pair, the two of them.  David's bristly exterior is immediately softened when Jasper is nearby, and Jasper's mood lightens considerably no matter the problem he has to face as long as David is there with him.

People often ask him if he hopes to make David a more cheery person by sticking with him.  After all, Jasper is all smiles and bright colors.  But Jasper just shrugs, saying he likes David the way he is.

If David changes, then he'll still like him.

Because David is David.

Just like how Jasper is Jasper.

Some things about them will change, Jasper knows that's inevitable.  Habits change, opinions change, outlooks change.

But some routines never change.

They're fourteen as they wait for the ice cream truck together, sitting on Jasper's front lawn as the cool grass stains their shorts.

"Aren't we too old for ice cream trucks?"  David is lying down besides Jasper, his eyes closed as Jasper drops torn up grass onto his face.  Jasper giggles as David swats halfheartedly at his hand.

"Nah."  

"We could be doing something else.  Like playing games.  Or eating ice."

"Only you would eat ice."

"Yeah well, maybe if you didn't think your teeth were so fragile-"

Jasper rolls David over, the other boy squeaking indignantly as his words are muffled by the dirt and grass. 

"UGH!  JASP-"  And then a familiar jingle rounds the corner.

"Oh it's Mr. Kevin!"  Jasper bounces to his feet and dashes away to meet the familiar driver.  "What's up-!"

David comes up from behind Jasper and grabs him in a headlock, already yelling at the amused man as he pulls out a few bills.

"HE WANTS THE LEMON ICE!"

"HEY-"

"Whatever my loyal customers want."

"HEY-"

////

A few more summers come and go.  Puberty is wack.  High school is wack.  Preparing for college is super bogus wack.  But David isn't wack.

If time could stop for just a moment, just so Jasper could have more seconds in the day to relish those moments of happiness that escape them more often than not, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't feel as though everything was falling through his fingers so quickly.

Things change too quickly.

Times change too quickly.

Even old routines, that one routine he'd grown to depend on every summer.

That began to change too.

As the two of them wait for the ice cream man, a man who has slowly begun to fade from their lives as the times change, Jasper finds himself clutching desperately to the past as his feet tap nervously against the grass.  He can feel David's eyes on him, watching as his best friend slowly unravels before him.  With a sigh, David leans against him, forcing Jasper to a halt as he forces the teen to lay down in the grass.

Up above them, the clouds roll by peacefully, completely unbothered and untethered to any sorts of worries.

"...You think he's gonna come by?"

"I don't think he's got enough customers to justify it, Jasp."

"...Bummer."

"Hm."

They continue to watch the clouds for a while, Jasper's disappointment settling on his face as he wonders if he took his childhood for granted yet again.  A finger prods his cheek, and he turns to see David's green eyes.  Calm.  Relaxed, even.  He's mellowed out throughout the years, but he still wears a frown most days.  He's grown up a lot since he was that mean, bratty kid next door.

"You want ice cream that bad?"

"It's not that."  Jasper bites his lip.  He's kind of embarrassed actually, wanting to stick to this routine for so long.  David's probably long since gotten tired of waiting for the ice cream truck, especially during these recent years as the man showed up less and less.  But he never complains or goes against Jasper's wants, and instead plays along patiently as Jasper continues to cling.  

"Then what is it?"

Is it hard to explain?  Or is it just embarrassing to say?  He looks over to David, and there's understanding in his eyes as he props himself up, waiting for Jasper to choose his words without any rush.

How lucky was he to keep a friend like David for so long?

"We stuck together because of the ice cream truck."  David's eyes widen as the words sink in.  Jasper laughs, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away.  "I dunno it just- I'm probably just tripping over this for no reason, dude, sorry-"

"It's important to you."  Jasper feels David lean against him as he thinks out loud.  "I don't think it's wrong that you're upset about it."

"...But it's a dumb thing to cling to."

"Not really.  We became friends because we kept buying ice cream together.  I think that's pretty meaningful."  David rests his chin on Jasper's shoulder as they continue to sit, waiting for nothing to arrive. 

"Is it bad that I miss it?"

"Nah."  

The breeze ruffles their hair.

"...What do you think Kevin is up to?"

"Probably selling drugs."

"Davey!"

"What?"  The ginger laughs, puffs of warm brushing against Jasper's neck as he gradually calms down.  "I'm right."

"You don't know that."

"Maybe."  

Jasper closes his eyes.  It's hot out, but he doesn't mind David sticking so close by.  It's comforting, actually, feeling his warmth like this.  Like, no matter what, even if the ice cream truck doesn't come by anymore, David doesn't really need a reason to just come by and sit next to Jasper and do nothing together.

At least that won't change.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Let's do something next year."

"Like what?"

"Something new."  David turns his attention back to the sky and reaches out towards it.  He tries to grab a cloud, but it floats away from his hand.  "I've always wanted to go camping."

"But we don't know anything about camping."

"We can practice."  David pulls back just enough to look Jasper in the eye, bright eyed at the prospect.  "We got a whole year to prepare, and we'll be graduating soon anyways.  Why not do something special for that summer?"

No more ice cream trucks.  No more sitting around.  But something new to fill in the void.

It couldn't hurt, right?

"Yeah."  He smiles as David returns with his own grin.  "Let's try that out."

\\\\

Summers come as they are wont to do.  And they leave as they tend to do.  The ice cream truck never comes back.

But that's okay.

David brightens up significantly as they begin camping, and Jasper wonders if he'd been holding his friend back for so long, making him wait for trucks to come when it was clear they needed to move on.

And yet.

He stood by him the entire time, waiting until Jasper was ready to let go.

An unspoken trust.  With unwavering understanding.

Camping is alright, he supposes, but David loves how the trees surround them, how the birds sing above them, the way they come across streams and rivers as though they were new discoveries.

Camping is alright.  But David's happiness is worth so much more.

"Jasp!"  David pulls him along to the nearby clearing, their campfire crackling softly as he points up to the sky.  "You don't get to see stars like this often!"

"...Yeah."  He watches as David stares up at the night sky, so unlike the boy he grew up with.  It's a side of him he's rarely seen before.

And he thinks that it's a shame that they never got to explore this side of him sooner.

Wouldn't that have made David happier?

David turns to Jasper, head tilted to the side as he catches his friend staring.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, uh, nothing."  He looks away with a blush, scratching at his cheek as he looks for something to distract David with.  "Oh yeah, we should make sure the campfire doesn't burn down anything, right?"

"Oh- yeah!"  David rushes back, already worried as Jasper laughs.

This.

This is different.

But it's a good kind of different.

"Hey."

"Huh?"  David looks up from where he sits by the fire, watching as Jasper plops down besides him.

"Why do you like camping so much?"

"...I dunno it just."  He shrugs, smiling wistfully as he watches the fire.  "I mean, I used to camp a lot with my dad.  Before he left."  

Ah, right.

"Wouldn't you hate camping then?"

"I mean, I did.  For a long time, I did."  David laughs, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he talks.  "But then, you became my friend.  And we grew closer and.  I just wanted to do something with you.  Something that we could claim as our own.  Sure, there was that whole ice cream thing but.  That could only last for so long, and when it ran its course, I saw how you were struggling to just.  Wrap your mind around losing something that was so us.  And I wanted to do something.  Make a new something.  And.  Camping was the only thing I could think of."  He shrugs as he turns to face Jasper, the brunette wide eyed as the ginger grins.  "It just felt... right, you know?"

"...God."  Jasper shakes his head, laughing as he does so.  "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Only because you stuck by long enough for me to be amazing."  David nudges his shoulder playfully.  "...Hey."

"Hm?"

"Thanks.  For actually, um.  Being my friend."  David looks down as he speaks.  "It couldn't have been easy."

"...Nah, thanks for letting me stick to that ice cream schtick for so long."  Jasper bonks his head gently against David's.  "That couldn't have been easy."

"It's whatever."  David bonks back with a smile.  "I mean, as long as I got to spend time with you, it was worth it."

...Yeah.

It was, wasn't it?

He smiles as their fingers brush together.

Yeah, maybe camping was just alright.  If it'd been with anyone else, he'd be pretty indifferent and distant throughout the whole affair.

But.

With David?

Like when they were waiting for the ice cream truck together, the sun beaming down above them, feet kicking playfully at asphalt as they listened to the sounds of the birds chirping in the distance.

Sitting here, by an open fire, underneath the stars and listening to the songs of the crickets and the hoots of the owls.

Just like then.

Just.  Existing next to each other.

It just.

Feels.

Right.

[aedwardstyles]

BOXER HARRY FANFIC (A/U)

(A/N): Hi everyone! i feel like every time i write for you guys it begins with an apology note but i’m trying to balance personal life and college life and that is not working very well as you can see xD. Hope you like this chapter. All suggestion, requests and opinions are open and appreciated. Love you all.

previous chapter can be found here

CHAPTER 7  

Harry/reader

“Are you free 7 P.M on Friday? - H”

“Yeah I’m free. Why?”

“Found out about a good French place, thought we could try it out.”  

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“Alright. I’ll pick you up. Good night.”  

-

“You’re wearing this?”. Sahar said cocking an eyebrow up at me.  

“What’s wrong with it?”. I exclaimed looking down at my attire. “(Y/N) this is not how you dress up for a date.” Sahar shrugged.  

“It’s not a date, I told you.” I said while putting my hairbrush down, was a simple jumper and jeans too casual for meeting an old friend? Or was this a date and I hadn’t realized?  

“Potato, potato same thing”. She said smirking up at me. “Come on let me get you something else,” sahar began rummaging through my closet turning it upside down just to find something better. “Come on Sahar, he’ll be here any minute” I huffed eyes diverting to the clock and the door every second.  

“Here wear this”, she said handing me a white sundress, with small sunflowers patterned here and there, a round neckline and full sleeves. “It’s gonna be cold outside.” I said, “well more excuses for you two to cuddle eh?” Sahar countered while giggling. Knowing there was no way out of this I settled for it and quickly changed before Harry comes.  

Just as I was wearing my pumps I heard a knock on the door, Sahar and I quickly locked eyes and she began smirking, “don’t you dare” I warned and she immediately bee lined towards the door.  and as if the odds weren’t already in her favor my shoe wouldn’t fit and mentally cursed myself. Sahar had a habit of scaring away anyone who’d come to our door, she once made a pizza delivery guy cry (I'm not making this up)  

Sahar quickly opened the door and there stood a very nervous looking Harry with a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.  

“Hi, I-I’m here for (Y/N).” Harry said nervously.

“Are  these for her as well?” Sahar inquired  

"Oh .Um yes.”

“She hates sunflowers and why are you wearing dark green she hates it, why is your hair all over the place have you not heard of a barber.” Sahar replied in a flat tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know” Harry mumbled nervously.

“Clearly, she also dislikes people who aren’t confident you have no chance mate.” Sahar said.

“No, that’s not true and his hair is just fine, Sahar stop torturing him.” I said giggling from behind coming up to greet Harry and relieve him from my roommate’s misery.  

“You’re no fun.” Sahar huffed, “good luck on your date lovebirds.” she smirked and went back inside. “I’m sorry she has a habit of doing this.” I said to Harry while hugging him. “I’ve fought many big guys (Y/N) but this was my scariest encounter until now” he chuckled, “oh come on she’s not half bad” I chuckled hearing a small “heyyy” from Sahar down the living room.  

“Are these for me?” I inquired pointing towards the sunflowers. “Oh, um yes” He said handing me the flowers. “I hope you like these.” “I think my choice of attire answers your question Harry Styles, come on let me put these in a vase and then we’ll leave.” I said amusingly.  

“Oh sunflowers.” he said glancing towards my dress.

“Yup sunflowers.” I replied and he smiled at me.  

-

“Okay I feel like this was a bad idea.” Harry huffed coming back to me out from the small restaurant.  

“why?” I questioned.

“The guy’s English is absolutely horrendous and I don’t know French, love.” Harry chuckled and his little nickname made me absolute putty standing there, gosh (Y/N) get yourself together I mentally noted to myself.

“Oh, that’s no issue, I’ll handle it.” I shrugged, and proceeded towards the little French Deli leaving Harry confused. “Wait up, love.”  

Entering the little place, I greeted the old French man managing the place.  “bonjour, nous avons besoin d'une table pour deux” (Hello, we Need a table for two) i  said.  

“Oui Madame, suivez-moi" (yes ma’am follow me)  

“See easy.” i smiled at Harry, who was looking at me quite amused. “Didn’t know you spoke french.” “Oh yeah i spent some time in French for a summer school learnt there.”  

The Deli was a small one tucked in the corner of the street, something you wouldn’t really notice while passing by but some place you’d want to visit again and again.  It was decorated with small paintings here and there,  pendant lights towering over every table,  an old Edith Piaf song playing lightly in the background. We sat down on our table a small one, tucked in the corner of the deli, away from all clatter. We ordered quickly and began chatting.  

“i believe its time for me to add psychic to my resume now.” Harry spoke.

“How’s that.” I inquired, sipping my lemonade.  

“Well i brought you sunflowers because i thought you’d like them and you turned up wearing a dress with them on it.”  

“No Styles, you remembered from your subconscious because i had sunflowers planted in my garden back at home and they were my favorite.” i replied, smirking.

“You really have to burst my bubbles don’t you?” Harry said fake pouting, making me laugh.

Time slipped like sand from between fingers as we sat and caught up with each other. Harry and i talked about everything coming to imagination, from childhood memories to all that we’d missed over the course of time.  Finally after we decided that it had gotten a bit too late we rose from our little spot tucked away in the corner and walked back to my place.  

The walk was filled with bubbled laughter and old stories.  

“I cannot even explain how embarrassed i was when i realized not only had i spilled coffee on someone but that someone was Liam fucking Gallagher.” i exclaimed while Harry cried with laughter as i explained my embarrassing accident from over two years ago, still mortified from it to this day.  

“But why did you start crying.” Harry chuckled wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know Styles  i was all over the place.” i exclaimed.  

“Thank you by the way, I've never had a date in small France before.”  i said , quickly realizing how I'd made things awkward by calling our evening a “date”. “i didn’t mean it that way it’s just Sahar kept calling it a date again and again and it got embedded in my brain and I-”  

“It’s okay sunflower, i enjoyed it too.” Harry cut me off smirking.  A red hue had already splashed itself over my face and as if i didn’t feel like an inferno already, Harry ducked in and  placed a light kiss to my cheek. I could feel my breath being stuck somewhere in my lungs.  He locked his mossy green orbs with mine and whispered, “is it okay if i kiss you?” “It’s more than okay” i replied. Slowly he leaned in placing one hand on my right cheek and one just on my lower back, pushing me closer to him, my hands resting just on his chest. I knew he could feel my heart beat from across the street, my goosebumps from under my dress,.

And just to pull the final trigger, he leaned in and slowly placed his cherry lips on mine. And at that very moment i could feel everything and nothing all together. I could feel the ground spinning beneath my feet but i could also feel as if i was floating. I could feel his lips molding roughly against mine but i could also feel his feather like fingers slowly caress my cheeks.  I could see stars with closed eyes, i could feel my body temperature rise beyond safe limits and i could feel myself wanting this feeling for the rest of time.  

Struggling to catch my breath a pulled a bit back and Harry could see my flushed state. “Are you okay, love?” He inquired, smirking because he knew the kind of effect he had on me. “Mhm, just a bit overwhelmed is all.” i replied. But before we could resume our activities his phone began ringing and he picked it up frowning. Whispering a few “okay’” and “yes’” he hung up and looked at me with a apologetic gaze. “I’m really sorry love but i have to go.” he said placing a chaste kiss to  my cheeks and  left me again, at the very same place, feeling baffled as before.

I slowly ascended the steps to my apartment feeling confused and somewhat stupid. What was Harry Styles trying to do?  I fumbled with the keys and opened the door. Placing the keys in the bowl on the shoe rack next to the door, i took off my pumps with a thump and dragged my feet to the lounge where Sahar was laying on the couch, a bag of popcorn in her hands and an old episode of the Office playing on the telly.  Sahar looked at me and smiled  but instead of reciprocating her excitement i just turned towards the kitchen.

Soon after i could a hear a few thumps and short curses and footsteps after me. “Hey, what happened? How was it?” Sahar questioned me as i began filling a glass of water.

“He did it again.” i mumbled, sipping my water. “Did what again?” “Kissed me like something out of the notebook in the middle of the street and left 2 seconds later.” i huffed. “woah woah come here love and tell me everything in detail. I nodded and spilled all the details to her.  

“(y/n) I know this seems weird but maybe he had something important or an emergency from work might have come up yeah? Don't stress love, he’s a nice guy i can tell. He'll contact you soon to apologize i just know.”  

I nodded to Sahar and told her I'd be heading off to bed now since i was too tired from the evening. I took my makeup off, changed into some comfy sweats and layed in my bed, the large duvet engulfing me. Scrolling through some instagram before bed, a message from Harry startled me. At first i didn’t want to see it feeling too tired for anything but i decided against it and opened his message.  

“Really sorry for leaving you without a proper goodbye, something important came up.”  

“ this was strike two .”  

“strike two?”  

“Strike two of leaving me without saying goodbye.”  

“Oh, I'm sorry love. I really didn’t mean to.”  

“It’s alright H, just give me a heads up next time yeah.”  

“it was a great evening by the way, i enjoyed a lot.”  

“Likewise love, i haven’t enjoyed on a date this much ever”  

“So it was a date then huh?” i smiled to myself at his sudden confession.  

“Course it was, i don’t usually kiss “friends” like that in the middle of the street you know”

“I just know you’ll never let this go”  

“You know me.”  

“i enjoyed our “date” too.”  

“Looking forward to another one then, i suppose?”

“Preferably where i get a proper goodbye.”  

“You’re never going to let this go are you?”  

“You know me too, Styles.”

“Let me sleep now, i have an early morning tomorrow.”  

“Alright sunflower, sweet dreams. X.”

[nekokoaa]

Wolves Among Us - Bakugo x Reader (X)

Wolves Among Us – Bakugo x Reader

Series Warning: Fantasy AU, Fluff, NSFW

(Chapter X/??) All chapters in AO3 and masterlist

You guys might hate me for this chapter. Katsuki’s a very possessive individual in this story. It’s to show that Katsuki is not the perfect wolf boy who would cast you away and you guys would live in perfect harmony in his pack. Nah, he got issues too. He can’t handle the possibility of you being with, let alone seeing you with another man. The day you became his, you were his and not only that but he’s stubborn so bear with him.

Warning: A bit of a trigger warning for sexual violence at the last section of the chapter.

Taglist:

@freedom-for-bum @reallyfuckingangrylatina @risarisarisaa @ashherssss @mels-heart @xa-dia @shanty-lol @amkxh @chims-kookies @fantasticapple @thalia-luna-hawthorn

Inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter

-----------------------------------------------

X: The Wolf’s ire

Hell was a place that Izuku never dreamed of going to dead, let alone alive and as he stared into the flaming depths of irises, unable to look away because fear had frozen him, he found himself cowering back, stumbling like his legs had betrayed him. It was worse than summer’s humid embrace. It was an inferno that ravaged his body and made it possible for him to sweat in the low temperatures of the mountains.

He knew who resided in Hell. His mother, who was religious when she needed to be, told him stories of the creature who lived there whenever she had to discourage him from doing something inappropriate. Those stories were often told to children when their mothers wanted to instill fear in them. As Izuku grew older with ideas of his own, those stories were nothing more than myths, but he would have never thought he would encounter a beast with such striking resemblance.

“I said,” The beast started and Izuku flinched. He suddenly felt like he was a child again. “Who the fuck are you!” It was no longer a question. He was demanding an answer, but Izuku was still frozen like a deer staring at an arrow pulled in its direction. His voice reached an all-time low, making the hairs on Izuku’s skin (and possibly everyone around him) stand. He progressively grew louder, unable to contain his anger. “Who do you think you are, touching my woman like that—I should fucking kill you where you stand!”

Katsuki was dangerously close to Izuku. Even though Izuku created some distance between them, Katsuki had closed it, grabbing a fist full of his shirt’s collar, and nearly lifting him until his shoes were barely touching the snow. Katsuki’s other hand was threateningly close to his face, but it wasn’t formed as a fist like a human would do, it was his dark nails that exceedingly grew into shape that dared to do some damage. And Izuku wouldn’t doubt that his fangs (that was also growing) would add to his arsenal of weapons.

“Katsuki! What are you doing! Put him down!” Your voice was all but a muffle to Katsuki. Even when you tried to force your body between them, your hands grasped the arm that belong to the hand that held Izuku, but Katsuki was too driven by rage to realize your presence. He started to shake Izuku, attempting to get a word out of him and in turn shaking you too. But Izuku knew once he said anything, it would be the end of him, in defense or even in apology, Katsuki just needed a reason to slash his face. “It isn’t anything that you are thinking!”

“You have some balls, human, coming to my pack, holding my woman—you’re asking to die, you wanna die, RIGHT! SAY SOMETHING!” With more shaking came Izuku’s whimpers with tears gathered in his eyes, he didn’t know if it was coming from fear or the limited amount of oxygen entering his lungs because of the hold Katsuki had on him.

“Listen to me!” You tried to shake Katsuki, but you came to realize just how much powerful he was. He didn’t even budge at your attempt.

You have never seen this side of Katsuki before and you weren’t fond of it. This was beyond jealousy, it was out of control wrath fueled by the past incidents and seeing you in the arms of another man had tipped him over. Regardless, this behavior was unacceptable to you. Izuku was your childhood friend, practically your brother, you couldn’t stand seeing him so distressed—you wouldn’t stand for it.

You had finally gotten Katsuki’s attention, but it took the gasps of the wolves around you, the sound of skin meeting skin, the burning pain that suddenly surrounded your palm, and the red that revealed itself upon Katsuki’s cheek. The silence after was deafening as he froze for a moment in disbelief, it was until the breeze had blew through the mountains that made him aware of the tender skin that became of his cheek. He had dropped Izuku, who had fell to the ground on his bottom, coughing incessantly as he gathered the needed air in his lungs, and Katsuki’s rage was directed at you.

He didn’t make any moves to grab you. He wouldn’t dare to. But you knew if looks could kill, you would’ve already been six feet under.

“I nearly gave my life for you and this is what I get?” He gestured to his reddened cheek, swift was his words with an edge that put knifes to shame.

“Nearly…?” You couldn’t hold your laugh that came after. “I was the one who gave up my life for you! Maybe if you had listened to me, you wouldn’t have gotten slapped!”

“You have NO right to touch me!” In your peripherals, you saw Mitsuki move. She extended an arm between you and Katsuki and then wrapped it around her son to keep him from making any mistakes he would later regret. You knew he wasn’t going to touch you, but how livid he was made you second guess your safety and Mitsuki must’ve sensed it as well. She whispered something in his ear to calm him down or make him aware of the eyes around him but talking to Katsuki like this was like talking to a bee. Once he lost control of his anger, nothing could convince him not to sting you.

“And what makes you think you have any right to touch my friend!”

“When he decided to hold you like you were HIS!” Katsuki couldn’t get the image out of his head. Pushing through the crowds in search of you, worried that you might have ran into trouble only to find you in the arms of a strange man was not what he wanted to add to his list of stress. What drove him to see red was when Izuku’s hands cupped your cheeks and he saw his thumb caress your skin. He was too livid to notice that he was wiping your tears, either way, he didn’t care. He just wanted him off his woman.

“You’re overreacting! Come on – get up…” Your last set of words were directed at Izuku who was still recovering from the numbness in his body. He stood up on his shaky legs, eyes still glued on Katsuki in fear that he would get grabbed again. A measly arm around him wouldn’t stop him from pouncing on Izuku. He could tell by the look of his eyes that the only thing stopping him from doing so was you.

Mitsuki was still trying to talk some sense into him but she was actively failing. Katsuki didn’t acknowledge her presence, and it was apparent when you began pulling Izuku in the direction that led off the mountain. Mitsuki’s arm was pushed out of the way by Katsuki’s body trudging forward to seize your arm, his claws digging into your skin but not too much to where it could break through.

“Where are you going?!” That snarl held every sense of animosity.

“Away from you, because clearly, I made a mistake! If I had known you were going to act like this, then--then I would have never come here!” You pulled your arm out of his grip and grabbed Izuku by the arm and pulled him down the path leading off the mountain. The decline of the path covered with soft snow didn’t make it any easier to rush away from Katsuki, you found yourself slipping a multitude of times until Izuku had to force you to stop before you fell to the ground. Pausing for a moment, you realized how fast your heart was moving, nearly unable to catch your breath to the point where it hurt. You didn’t realize the possible severity of your actions and you were so incensed that at that point you didn’t care what could conceivably befall you after.

“____...” You heard Izuku call you from behind. His voice soaked with unease and weighed with fright as he tugged on your arm softly. The action made you aware of the stinging sensation that spread to your arm all the way until you felt it reach your elbow. You noticed the snow between you and Izuku was stained red and your eyes landed on your arm where its skin was split into three gashes. Your blood was bubbling from your wounds and spilling onto the pure icy pathway under you.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” you spoke quickly and breathlessly, pulling your injured arm close to your body.

…

You winced at the burning pain of a cloth being pressed against the wound on your arm. You could smell the sour scent of alcohol fuming from its fabrics as it was dabbed repeatedly to disinfect it. Izuku had murmured a small apology when he saw your furrowed brows in response to the pain and he continued to clean it until most of the blood was gone. It wasn’t long since you stormed away from the pack with Izuku. It was about a few hours before you were out of the mountains and Izuku had brought you to a small abandoned cabin within the forest. He said he stayed there when he was searching for you.

The cabin had two rooms, a kitchen, a bathing room, and outside was an outhouse. Currently, you two were in a room you claimed as yours, sitting upon a small bed that could barely fit two people. The mattress was incredibly thin to where you could feel the skeleton of the springs poking into your backside, along with the pillows being completely flattened and lacking in it’s supposed plushy shape. The room itself wasn’t the most glamorous. With wooden floors and walls and a tiny table holding a melted candle on top of a tray next to the window, there was nothing you were impressed by except for the fact that this cabin seemed to hold well against the brutal cold winter had to offer.

Izuku was quiet for the entire time since you settled in the cabin, but you knew by the way he bit his lip that he was holding back on speaking. He probably had so many questions, you knew you would’ve if your best friend went missing for weeks and found them living with a pack of wolves. The room was nearly silent, filled with the quiet hisses you would make whenever the cloth would touch your ruptured skin. You couldn’t miss the sound of the gulps he made whenever he stopped to stare at the gashes. You must’ve wondered what was going through his head at the sight of it. It was a rather grotesque splitting of skin, revealing the red flesh in between with chunks of meat barely holding on and near the corners of the gashes, your skin was starting to peel into itself. The third time he stopped to stare was when he spoke.

“W-Who was that wolf?” He stuttered out, pausing to question himself whether he should say his next words. He said them anyway. “Y-Your lover…?”

“It’s complicated…” you sighed. You weren’t sure how to label Katsuki, especially after what happened.

“But he hurt you,” he stated the obvious, glancing up to meet your eyes.

“It was by mistake. You saw him at his worst anyway.”

“____... That was terrifying. I’ve never been so afraid before in my life. I seriously thought I was going to die, and all because I hugged you?” Izuku shook his head, letting out a sigh when he tossed the cloth on the bed and picked up the bandages. He was trying to rid of the fear that latched on to him from recalling that memory. The hair on his arms were erect just by the thought of his blood colored eyes glaring into his own.

The shaking of Izuku’s hands were evident when he began to wrap the bandages around your wound. He couldn’t hide how traumatized he was. So, for him (and maybe for yourself), you changed the subject. “How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy. Most of it was just by hunch but I knew I would have to prepare myself to visit the wolves to confirm if you were alive.”

Everyone in your village knew that going into the mountains were a literal death sentence. As small children, the adults warned of the wolf packs that resided within them and as teenagers, the youth would dare each other to travel up there, only to disappear or to return with a face disfigured by the slashes that tore their skin. The mountains are no place for humans. A brusque voice belonging to a man who you remembered was dragging another lifeless body out of the forest, his face no longer recognizable but his clothes identified him as a boy you’ve seen around your village. The wolves never ate trespassers but rather mangled them in warning to all who consider the idea of it.

Such a thought had you wondering if you weren’t here to save him, would he had fallen to the same fate as the boy from your village?

“That was foolish… What if I wasn’t there? You wouldn’t have faced any mercy against them.”

“It was a chance I had to take,” he abruptly said, pulling his hands away when he sealed your bandages with a knot. He found your eyes were on them, sorrow shaking your irises, tears reluctant to fall, clamping on to the last bit of strength escaping at the sight of it. The bandages were already staining red as they soaked in your blood and a murmur from Izuku about stitching the wound fell deaf to your ears. “The bandages should stop the bleeding soon, I wrapped it tight enough, but we probably would have to stitch it.” No response left him worried, but he didn’t know that a sob would’ve force its way out if you had spoken.

“Maybe you need some rest,” he took note of your only reaction being a bite to your lip and he stood up, giving a caress to your forehead before leaving you with a departing smile. “Call me if you need anything, I’m right next door.”

The door had shut behind him and as if on cue, you hunched over your lap, gripping your bandaged arm until you felt your palm grow moist with your blood.

…

Night had fallen upon the lands and the stars twinkled innocently above, served as a canvas for the half-moon that laid supine against it. A soothing atmosphere was a sign for a storm coming and the wolves were steadily preparing for it by carrying the outside furniture indoors by the order of Mitsuki. Although, they were quite oblivious of the very storm that brewed within their mountains. The ground was trembling under Katsuki’s feet as he circled around in his cave, unable to stay still with his rage. He held his hands into a fist, so clenched that veins from his knuckles to the upper part of his arms were apparent. The anger had reddened his usually fair skin and he found himself kicking a wooden chair to the floor in one of his strides.

Ochako had walked into his cave unannounced to the sight of him releasing his rage on a chair, that particular action aroused a series of words from him, too much involved in his head to notice her presence. When her voice came, he wasn’t nonplussed at the sound but rather, furious that it didn’t belong to you. He didn’t want any other woman in his cave defiling your lingering scent.

“Katsuki, I beg of you,” she started, and he was already growling, “go find her.”

“She chose to be with that bastard… It was obvious she didn’t want me.”

“This is no time for self-pitying,” she approached with caution, stopping just arm length away from him. He remained stagnant with his back towards her, his gaze melting into the wooden legs of the upturned chair. “She’s hurt because of you... and by you.”

She was relentless in her words, solemn capturing the intonation of her vocals. “You know what that means, don’t you? She’ll bleed to death without you.”

“Then maybe she shouldn’t have left me,” he hissed.

“Have you no sense in that giant head of yours? She will die - what isn’t in those words that wouldn’t make you go after her?”

“I think you forgotten your place if you’re talking to me like that. I know you’re that stupid, but I don’t need you yammering in my ear about my decisions. She fucking made her choice and if that leads to her death then so be it.”

The words coming out of Katsuki wasn’t believable to her, it lacked the usual softness when he spoke of you, indifference was the least expected emotion to hear from him. Her disbelief led her to walk around to face him, wondering if those words had matched his expression. How grave it felt when those red eyes that laid upon her embodied the soul of wrath.

“You’re insufferable. It’s no wonder she left. Who would want to be with someone as arrogant and cruel as you. You don’t even care that she would bleed to death, her last memory of you being a beast!”

“Ochako, get out of my face.”

“She loves you, you idiot! The only thing she talked about with me was you! Asking me questions about you, asking me whether she should make up with you. All she thought about was you! All she wanted was you! But as usual, you’re always ruining things that were good for you all because you’re too stubborn to listen to reason!”

“Then why did she leave me, huh?! If that’s true, then why the fuck isn’t she by my side right now?!”

“What do you think? It’s because you don’t listen.”

He growled darkly, turning to storm off but Ochako grabbed his arm and he tore it out of her hold, spitting out, “don’t touch me!” But she was as relentless in her words as she was in her actions, persistence was something Katsuki currently didn’t have the patience for.

“Katsuki!” A final tug on the sleeves of his clothes was what made his voice bounce against the stony walls.

“Ochako, I swear - if you test me, I won’t hold back! I’m not going to run to her side or whatever the fuck you want me to do. She made her choice, she chose to leave me with another man after all that I did for her! So, if you want to still be a part of this pack by the end of the night, then you best get the hell out of my face. Now.”

…

Darkness resided in all corners of the cabin, its long fingers stretched around the halls, consuming all who lingered within it. A figure stood tall, flat against the walls, with sharp eyes that narrowed in silts. It moved about with lanky limbs through the shadows whose footsteps were barely audible against the wooden floors. How the wooden boards of the flooring didn’t creak under the weight of it was beyond the logic of physics. It stood in front of the door to your room, claws clutched at the doorknob, turning it sluggishly until it clicked, and the door pushed open with a groan.

Glowing slits shrouded in the dark found your body upon the bed, supine on the bare mattress, and arm covered in bandages. Your sweat gathered at your clavicles, and your eyebrows clenched together along with the fist of your injured arm. You were too deep in your conscious to be aware of the figure clambering over you, eyes fallen over the motion of your chest, the rise and fall defined the crease of your cleavage that peeked behind the collar of your tunic. A claw slithered around and squeezed your soft breast, and your nipple hardened in response. You stirred slightly, expression tightening when aggression rose in its movements. You began gasping like the air had suddenly left your lungs and the oxygen of the surrounding area dissipated.

The bandages around your arm was suddenly squeezed against your skin, the pounding of your heart nearly felt from the tightness. Pain had shot up through your upper arm like a needle was dug through your heated skin.

You woke up, but to darkness. Still, something was there. You felt its weight push against you and your scream was eaten by a palm clasped around your lips. You tousled with the figure with your eyes alert in the dark. You couldn’t see a thing, but you felt everything, from the palm pressed against your mouth to the hand juggling between your breasts and stomach, the feeling of something but nothing at all.

Still, you fought with all of your might, muffled screams and kicks that seemed to hit nothing but the dark. One of your hands slapped the air at the feeling of something hovering over you, your legs forcefully splitting for the weight that shifted in between them. You whimpered, most of it muffled. The tears fell silent while the gash on your arm grew loud in agony.

The palm had left your mouth, but fear had held you hostage, so your words had fallen in reserve behind gritted teeth and your energy was spent throwing your arms against your assaulter, hitting, yet again, the darkness.

But something was there. You could feel its presence, its slimy claws stretching your collar until it ripped. Something was being pressed in between your legs, slightly rocking against you to create friction.

“S-Stop…” Your protest faltered when those claws bound your neck into the pillow and you were forced to stare up into the abyss, into the eyes of nothing yet you felt the heat of nothing upon your face.

The claws then sunk through the wound of your arm, earning a piping scream as you tousled and squirmed, shouted and kicked at the burning sensation of your skin splitting. At that point, your only wish was to have its claws taken out of your raw flesh. It felt like your arm was sitting bare under the sun, fried under its gaze until all that remained was a crusted overlay of dried blood and mangled skin.

“H-Help…!” You found yourself calling into the abyss, the torment now reaching your upper arm and shoulder.

“Katsuki…!”

A call of your name was what you heard, and your eyes opened to a pair of emerald eyes surrounded by the dim lighting of a candle. Your arms were being held down by the hands grasping them, one of them careful enough not to touch the wound that was profusely dripping of blood. You were still thrashing around in his grip, heaving as if you finally gained control of your lungs.

“K-Katsuki! Katsuki!” You screamed his name like it would’ve offered you some protection. Hysteria had embraced you and kept you far from reality.

Izuku hugged you, despite not being the one who you called for. His hand held your head beside his clavicles, shushing the sobs that left you. “Shh… I’m right here. I’m here…”

His soothing voice worked as a spell, your thrashing reduced to small whimpers as your arms lazily went under his arms and your fingers dug into his back. You hadn’t yet been released from the dream, in fact, your mind hadn’t yet realized that this was reality and the Katsuki you believed you were holding was nothing more than your imagination.

Even relationships need to go through some bumps on the road. Thank you guys so much for all of your comments, likes, and support. Even to you guys who are just silent readers! I appreciate you all! I'm going to ask for something I don't usually do but I would love to hear about your opinions of this work. How is it going for you guys, like story plot wise, character wise, any sort of wise lol Tell me what you're thinking!