#fun fact I saw someone once mention that his letter could be a suicide note

[potato-lord-but-not]

Thinking about the letter and the probable water damage/ ink running from it being underwater and oughhhhh :’(

stop I’m gonna start crying

[ohdearhiddles]

REQUEST: “Angst to Fluff Tom x reader: when having some spring-cleaning done, she finds a paper from her schooldays. The lesson was to capture a certain feeling and put them to writing - so she chose to do a suicide note. Smiling, she remembered getting an A, for ‘her emotional description of a soul in suffering.’ Leaving it on the bed, she goes up the attic to proceed. Later Tom comes home, calling but gets no answer and finds reader's letter.”

TITLE: The Letter

WORD COUNT: 2544

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: mentions of suicide, please do not read if the topic makes you uncomfortable!!! @scorpionchild81​ thank you so much for the request and i’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my work so far!!! I tried my hardest to write it the way you described so fingers crossed that it’s what you wanted. ♡  i hope you enjoy this :) x (AO3 LINK)

Dust floated around the air like glitter after a child’s birthday party. Both were not fun to inhale or clean up. Your hands flailed in front of your face, hoping to get the particles as far from your nose as possible. This clearly didn’t work as you turned your head away, a fit of coughs attacking you to show that your attempts were not successful. Stepping down from the small step stool, you decided that the dusting would just have to wait until you finished organizing the mass of random items you had collected over the years.

Music bounced off the walls of the house as you eyed the trash bag and the scattered items on the floor. ‘Why did cleaning always start with things getting even messier first?’ You thought. Spring cleaning was always a hassle, but at the same time, the gratification that came afterwards was so very worth it. It was like spring cleaning allowed for a new chapter of the year to begin, leaving behind the past to make way for new memories and new random items.

As you sifted through the various papers, books, and memorabilia something caught your eye. A folded up piece of paper laid wedged between the pages of your old high school yearbook. For a second, you wondered if you should even bother opening the small paper or just toss it in the trash. The thought swiftly disappeared as you began to wonder why you had kept it in the first place.

You held the pale piece of paper in your hand, eyeing it as the curiosity began to overwhelm you. For some reason, it seemed strange for you to have kept anything from your school days. Obviously, it had been important enough, or good enough, to have kept over the years. Granted, you had certainly forgotten about its existence. After a few moments of contemplating, you began unfolding it. Your eyebrows raised in shock, not expecting what you saw before you. In your hand, you held a paper you had written years prior, and as you began to reminisce, your eyes scanned the words scrawled on it.

To whom it may concern;

The world is a dark place filled with shadows that cover even the brightest lights. The sun beams down on the earth, but I feel no warmth when I stand beneath its rays. The stars illuminate the night sky, but I see no light to guide me. Darkness consumes my body and soul; my heart continues to wither in my chest with each passing day.

I feel nothing and everything all at once. I feel impending doom as well as the endless void; they call my name. I stand before you, armor shed and battle cries unheard. My uphill battle was a slippery one. The battle is over, and I have watched myself lose at every turn. This battle was never mine to win, and it is something I have come to accept. I hope you accept it, too.

As Emily Dickinson once said, “One need not be a chamber to be haunted.”

I find myself to be a room filled to max occupancy. I am filled with ghosts of my memories and phantoms of my unforeseen future. In this room, I stand by myself. I am the center of mockery and jokes. There is no peace in these moments of silent unrest.

So, please, do not mourn for my freedom. To be free is to see the light at the end of my endless tunnel. To be free is to let go of my mind and my soul. To be free is to rid myself of demons, ghosts, and phantoms alike.

The letter continued on, describing in great detail the torment that you had expressed in the first few paragraphs. Memories flooded your mind as you recalled the day the assignment had been given out. Now that you thought about it, you were certain that you had received an A on the assignment for being able to capture the emotions of someone who was suffering quite well. A smile adorned your face at the memory of your teacher’s delight in your ability to convey emotions so well.

When the letter was finished, you folded it up, a gentle smile still on your lips as you realized how much things had changed over the years. You placed the folded paper onto your bed, reminding yourself to find an appropriate place for it later on. Ten minutes later and all the older items that you no longer wanted were placed into a box. You stood to your feet, looking at the boxes on the ground with a smile. 

‘Almost done,’ you thought.

Now that the bedroom was done, the only room left was the attic. Internally, you groaned, knowing that the one room alone was going to take an eternity to finish cleaning up. Picking up a box, you carried it to the attic, hoping to find a way to organize all the unnecessary things you had collected.

Time seemed to stop in the attic for you. While you were working hard to ensure that all the cobwebs and dust bunnies were kept at bay, your perception of time seemed to go away. There were no windows in your attic, making it incredibly difficult to see how much more time you had in the day without looking at your phone. Too invested in your current actions, you hadn’t noticed the slam of the door downstairs, indicating that your partner had just made it home.

“Y/N,” Tom called, placing his keys on the kitchen counter as he wandered around the lower floor. His eyes skimmed over each room, admiring the unnatural cleanliness that had overtaken the home. He followed the sound of music up the stairs to the bedroom, glancing around for any trace of you. When he reached the bedroom, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Darling?” He called a second time, his eyes trained on an object on the bed. He approached slowly, not entirely uneasy, but something in the pit of his stomach still made him wary of the fact that you weren’t answering him. The paper you had placed on the bed a couple hours before made its way into Tom’s hands. He didn’t take his time like you had to open it; instead, he unfolded it gingerly yet quickly, skimming over the words.

A frown settled on his face as each word began to sink in. There was no date on the letter, no indication that it was written for a class years before, and that became a blow that knocked the air from your loving boyfriend’s lungs. In the years you two had been together, he never once felt as though you would feel the need to write something so heart wrenching, so profoundly dark. As the last words of the letter processed in his mind, Tom felt a heavy weight in his chest.

Crumbling the paper in his hand, he called your name again and again and then one last time. The music blocked all the rustling noises you were making from the attic; in fact, it drowned out any noise that either of you were making. As Tom frantically searched the house, you contentedly smiled at the once cluttered attic, unaware of the heart attack the gentleman downstairs was ready to have. You picked up the last box laying around, opting to place it on top of one of the heavier ones. However, the older box seemed to not want to agree with its new position. Upon picking it up, the bottom of the cardboard fell through, causing a loud clatter to resonate beneath you.

The sound was enough for Tom to quickly run towards the attic stairs. His heart was erratically beating in his chest as he bound up the stairs as fast as he could. When he reached the top, his eyes immediately fell on your crouched down figure as you bent down to pick up the fallen knick-knacks. Hearing his heavy footsteps, you smiled in his direction, a greeting on the tip of your tongue.

Tom swiftly crossed the space separating the two of you, hands grabbing your arms in an effort to get you to stand up and face him. “What are you doing?”

His voice was loud, frantic, scared. Your eyes widened at the look of fear in his face, uncertain as to what had spooked him so terribly. 

“What?” You questioned, hands reaching up to his flushed cheeks, “What’s wrong?”

“I was calling for you,” he spoke, voice barely audible over the music. “Where were you?”

“Here,” you responded, moving to pause the music from your cellphone.

Tom glanced over your shoulder, looking at the clean attic, “I thought something happened to you. I thought you-”

His voice cut off as his hands tightened around your shoulders. Without any warning, he pulled you close. It wasn’t until you noticed the shaky breath he exhaled that you realized just how scared he had been. You reached your hands up to rub his back soothingly, “Why did you think something happened? Thomas, you knew I was going to clean up today.”

You felt Tom nod as his grip loosened. “I found your letter.”

Pulling away, you furrowed your brows, confused as to what he meant. You watched as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was crumbled greatly, but it wasn’t balled up to the point of no return. He opened it up, attempting to smooth out the edges and creases scattered all over the thin paper. When he was done with his feeble attempts of returning it to its former glory, Tom handed it to you. You took the paper into your hands, eyeing it before sighing.

“It’s an old paper from school, Tom,” you spoke.

He shook his head, “That does little to calm my nerves, Y/N. You just confirmed that you wrote it.”

“Yeah, but it’s from years ago.” You responded, eyes squinting at the tall gentleman.

“Years or not, you wrote something so terribly sad and empty. Forgive me if it made my heart beat a little faster,” Tom argued. You looked up to see his jaw clenched in concentration. His eyes were trained on the paper in your hands, almost as if he was trying to decipher some hidden code.

“It was for an assignment that was meant to portray emotion,” you reassured him. Tom let out a deep breath, his once shaky breath now calmed to some extent. For a few seconds, you watched his chest rise and fall, waiting for him to say something. 

“How did you even write something so,” he paused, “so unbearably sad? After reading it, you weren’t answering me, and I was so scared. You wrote it years ago, but is any of it true? Can you look me in the eye and say you don’t feel like that at all?”

You found yourself standing up straighter, looking deep into the ocean blue eyes before you. He had a point in his words. At one point, you had felt enough suffering to be able to conjure up such raw emotion for that paper, but it was no longer you. That part of you was long gone, a forgotten memory swept away by the many happy moments you had spent with the man you loved since then. Gently, you smiled. “I don’t feel that way.”

Tom stood still, eyes desperately searching yours for any indication that you had lied about how you felt. His hands found yours, gripping them tightly as he pulled you closer to his body for the second time since he had found you in the attic. He nuzzled his face into your hair and whispered, “Do you promise me?”

Your hands wrapped around his waist again, listening to the soft thrum of his heartbeat in his chest. Usually he would hold you close like this in order to calm you down, but today it seems like he was doing so in order to seek his own comfort. For a moment, you were convinced that he was holding you in order to ensure that you were real.

“I promise,” you whispered back, voice soft as you tried to hush his worries.

“Y/N,” Tom said, his grip tightening only slightly, “You mean so much to me, do you know that?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the confession. Of course you knew; the man before you never let you forget how much you meant to him. If it wasn’t a nice dinner, a cozy night in, or a lavish vacation, then it was the gentle touches or silent promises that spoke for him. The only thing he hadn’t done yet to show how much he cared was get down on one knee, but that wasn’t something to worry about. He was a man that enjoyed timing things perfectly, and something told you that a proposal would be something he’d plan for a long time before actually doing.

“I know,” you responded as you pulled back just enough to wrap your hands around the nape of his neck, fingers toying with the soft curls adorning his head. 

“I can’t lose you,” he sighed, eyes shut before they opened, connecting with your own eyes immediately.

“And you know that you can confide in me,” Tom continued, his own hands caressing the exposed skin at the small of your back. “About anything?”

Humming, you nodded. Your boyfriend didn’t say anything afterwards. Instead, he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His lips were warm against your cool skin. After the gesture, he moved to allow his lips to brush against your cheekbone.

“You really had me scared, you know? You shouldn’t leave something like that on the bed. Especially on my side of the bed,” he whispered, his breath fanning across the skin of your neck as he pressed his lips to your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” you said, turning your head to face him, lips a fraction of an inch apart. “But I’m okay, Tom. I’m not planning on going anywhere, not when I have you.”

He leaned forward, connecting the space between you two. The kiss was gentle, almost as if Tom was scared you were going to break from it. Your hands cupped his cheeks as you tried to hold his towering frame at a height that you could reach. His lips moved against yours as he pulled your body flush against his. His right hand covered the expanse of your back as he held you close while the other hand held your neck at an angle in order to have easy access to your lips.

The kiss ended almost as quickly as it started. When it was over, Tom leaned his forehead against yours, a silent promise on his lips much like there always was after the two of you kissed. 

“I love you,” he whispered as if it were a secret meant to be kept from the air itself.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, standing on your tiptoes as you placed another kiss to his lips. Silently wishing for the love and care Tom showed you to never end.

[your-denki-kun]

The Past Should Stay The Past

Kirishima x bakugou

Warning: Suicide attempt, negative thoughts, mentioning of voices, angst, mentioning of bullying, depression, deep thoughts, shitty writing

What: Angst with good ending

A/N: So fun fact I first wanted this to be a story in Bakugou’s point of view, but then I got the idea to make it like a diary thing and ended up making this. I hope you guys enjoy and feel free to make requests, I don’t do smut.

~???? pov.~

It happened three days ago. No one saw it coming and yet it didn't come as a surprise. Funny how those things work from time to time. We hadn't seen Bakugou in about a day and started to get faintly worried, because no matter what he did to Midoriya in the past he's still our classmate. The reason we got worried is because Bakugou always leaves his room at least once a day.

We voted on who was going to check and it had been me, when it comes to Bakugou it's almost always me. So I went up to his room, not really bothered by having to check up on him because I'm worried and sometimes I hear strange sounds coming from his room when it's silent in mine. I had knocked on his door only for it to stay silent.

After a bit I knocked again, yet I didn't get an answer. I told him I was coming in and tried opening the door, but it was locked, so I kicked open the door. That's when I saw it. He was laying in the middle of his room, on the floor with foam escaping his mouth as he was trashing on the floor.

''BAKUGOU!!!'' I had yelled as I ran over to him and pulled him onto his side so he wouldn't choke.

I remember screaming for someone to call and ambulance. Sero, who had followed me up, glanced inside the room confused and quickly called an ambulance as he told everyone else to stay away from the room. It didn't take long for the ambulance people to come and take him with them.

That brings us to now, three days after that. School has been canceled for the rest of the week for us to recover from the shock. This is my first day back at the dorms, seeing I have been with Bakugou since he got brought into the hospital. I'm in his room now, looking for clues as to why. Soon I find his diary and after contemplating for a bit I open it and start reading.

'Okay, I ain't going to make it sappy and write all the classic shit, I'm just going to write down my fucking thoughts or whatever. I read it worked on the internet. So....It's been a few weeks since everything started. Random extra's have been whispering comments about me to each other while giving me disapproving glances and glares. I don't fucking get why it's getting to me but whatever.

I've also been noticing the shitty extra's from the squad have been distancing themselves from me. They no longer want my help studying and more often than not they hang out without me. For some shitty reason it makes me feel really shitty. God this shit is stupid.'

I read on the first page. My eyes tear up as I flip to the next page.

'Been about four days since I last wrote in this shitty thing. Today shit got physical. This bitch purposefully bumped into me and then kicked me before laughing and walking off with her shitty friends. Fucking bitch.

Shit is becoming weird when I'm alone. I will hear these shitty voice that tell me fucked up things, it leaves when I have others to focus on. No one wants to fucking be around me however, so that is shit. I hope these shitty voices will leave before I go fucking mental. I think I might be writing in this shitty thing again because it makes my chest feel lighter for a bit or some shit.

God I sound so fucking sappy right fucking now. Guess that's what happens to people when you get emotionally overwhelmed.

The shitty extra's have stopped talking to me. I removed myself from the shitty group chat. Life has become so fucking dull now. God I hate to fucking admit it but I miss them. God I really am turning into a fucking sap. This shit is stupid.'

I feel a few tears falling as I read what he wrote. I'm glad that even when he writes he's vulgar, because that means he was still feeling like himself somewhat, but what he writes is so sad and depressing. The page beside it has random doodles on it which I can't really make out, so I flip the page and start reading the next one.

'Welp, I'm writing in this thing again. It's been, uhm. three weeks I think since the last time I wrote in this. I should really put dates on these pages, but I'm to tired to do that. Sleeping is hard for me the last three days. Every time I close my eyes I see bad memories of the past. Deku, if you ever read this, I'm so sorry for what I did.

I could never say that to you in real life, because that means showing you I'm defeated. That's right, I'm defeated. I'm slowly breaking and no one sees. The last week I cried more than I have in all the time I’ve been alinve. I cry myself to sleep and no one notices. Guess that's my fault though, I’ve always been a distant person.

I'm glad concealer was invented, because it helps me with hiding the bags under my eyes. I can't hide the deadness of my eyes however, but it's not like anyone notices so what's there to hide? The voices are wining, slowly. It's becoming harder to fight them and they pester me every minute of the day.

The shit I doodle on the side of my note books and papers have also taken a dark turn, just like my mind. Yesterday I drew a black figure hanging from a noose that was attached to the ceiling. A chair was on the ground. The figure was tired of everything, just like me. Funny how something as simple as words can change a person.

Sometimes the voices tell me to end it. I won't. Not yet at least. And I already established that if I do end it, I won't hang myself. It's too slow and painful. I think I'll either slit my wrist or OD. It feels weird writing that down. God I really hope no one ever reads this shit.

I've been silent in classes, barely talk anymore. The only times I talk is to answer a question from a teacher. My classmates don't talk to me anymore, not even when we're teamed up during hero training. It's weirdly lonely, which is new for me. Guess I deserve to be alone however, so I don't really deserve to complain about it.

How did Dek Izuku deal with my shit for so long? I can't even deal with it for four shitty months and he dealt with it for eleven years. I really am weak, just like everybody always tells me. Even the hag thinks I'm weak. Can't disagree anymore though. I wonder if any noticed how silent I've become. Guess they don't, but still. This is stupid.'

Tears stream down my face as I read what he wrote down. It takes up about two pages of the diary and it's breaking my heart even more than it's already broken. As I read a few more pages I notice how every thing is becoming more depressing and depressing. One page catches my attention however.

'Izuku told his friends about what I did when we were younger. Uraraka told the others and now I really don't have anyone left. I deserve it though.

The voices are annoying as hell and won't stop degrading me and telling me to end it. In a way I get where they're coming from. Guess this is what you get for bullying your childhood friend.

Is loneliness supposed to hurt so much? Don't know. Can't really ask anyone either. Guess I'll be pondering about that for a while now. The voices will probably tell me this is nothing. Guess it isn't. God I should be stronger. What the fuck am I doing here?'

I flip the page and read a few more before another one catches my attention.

'It's decided. The day after tomorrow I'll OD, cutting hurts too much and is too slow. People could find me easily when I cut myself. If I OD it isn't very painful, but not painless and it will be quick. It will end my misery fasted, yet still a bit painful.

I drew another suicide drawing. In this one a black figure is standing on top of a building, an empty bottle behind them on the roof and foam spilling from their mouth. The figure is half leaning off it, arms spread as they're just about to fall. I drew one after it, the same figure, but now on the ground surrounded by blood as their body is broken and bloodied.

I’m gonna stop writing in this now. The only things I'll be writing is letters to the people I care about. This is stupid.'

I drop the diary and wipe at my eyes, trying to get a clearer view before getting up and stumbling around his room to find the letters he was talking about. As I open the drawer of his desk I see one single envelope with my name on it. I grab it with shaking hands before turning it around and opening it. I pull out the papers with writing on it and start reading.

'Hey Kirishima,

No idea if you'll even read this, but deep down I hope you do. The only hope I have at the moment. I don't know if you've noticed, but the past half year I’ve been getting bullied. People will beat me up, call me things and talk about me as if I'm not there. I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but I'm not as strong as Izuku.

I have never been. That's why I bullied him, because even though he didn't have his quirk back then, he was still better than me and I hated that. I thought that if I bullied him it would stop and he would break and I would be better, but it didn't work. The reason I wanted to be better is because people told me I was better than him.

If you found this you've been looking around my room, I don't blame you. I have a feeling you found my book in which I wrote first, seeing it was pretty much out in the open. No one would have found it, but I know you did. You know my room better than any one else because you've been here the most.

If you've read it you know why I did this, if you didn't read it.... I OD'ed because I didn't see the point in living. The voices in my head have been telling me to do this for a long time. I finally decided to give in. And here we are.

On the one hand I hope someone finds me and is able to safe me. On the other hand I hope no one finds me until it's too late. I can't take this anymore and I know that makes me weak, but I've already accepted I’m weak a long time ago. Well....Not that long, but for about four months now.

Don't be sad. Please don't be. There is no point in being sad. I....Well, I didn't deserve to be here in the first place, at UA. For some fucked up reason I got accepted however. I got kidnapped and ended All Might, I ruined everyone's lives and got us all in trouble. I guess that was the time shit changed.

I got kidnapped and ever since things have been going down hill. The hag called me weak, you guys had to safe me because I couldn't safe myself, I ended All Might, got you all in trouble, failed my provisional license exam, got into a fight with Izuku and got us on house arrest, I almost lost you.

That really hurt me. When they told me you had gotten hurt while saving Eri. I think that's when I realized what you are to me. That must confuse you...Let me explain. Ever since I met you you have always wanted to be my friend. I still don't know why you wanted to be my friend, but I'm glad.

Maybe that's why I got into UA, to meet you. Anyway, I'm getting side tracked. At first I hated you for wanting to be my friend, I didn't see the point of having any. Soon you showed me that having friends is great however. You and the others were never too bothered by my behavior and stuck with me.

No one has ever stuck with me for as long as you guys did. My past friends just used me for a good image at school. Soon you became my best friend, after the sport festival to be precise. You are my first best friend after Izuku. You stuck with me, made me laugh and smile. You were always there for me.

When you reached out to me that day I knew you'd always have my back. And then you got hurt. You were unconscious and in the hospital. It was then I realized I love you, Eijirou Kirishima. So, so much. I snuck into your dorm and stole a hoodie which I put around a pillow and hugged every night until you were back here at the dorms.

But all good things must come to an end. You realized how I truly am and decided that that is not what you want as a friend. I understand that, I do. Don't feel bad for leaving me behind, never ever feel bad about that.

Like the stupid audio I used to listen to says; I'm used to it. I'm used to people walking out of my life, I'm used to people talking bad about me, I'm used to people pretending to be my friends, I'm used to being let down, I'm used to being lied to, I'm used to being heartbroken.

You didn't let me down thought. Never did you let me down. God, you exceeded all my expectations. Don't ever change yourself, no matter what people say. Because that's the biggest mistake of my life, changing because others wanted me to. I hope that when you read this letter you understand I'm not the vulgar person I let everybody believe I am.

I'm actually a kind, caring person. But because of my quirk people expected me to be different, so I changed so they wouldn't be let down. I care a lot about what others think and being angry is my mask. When I'm angry people won't notice I'm hurting or happy or anything. They just see me being angry.

This is a long letter, sorry about that. I just wanted to get everything off my chest even if no one ever reads this. You are the best friend I could ever hope for so continue being a great person, become the best hero out there. Make me proud. Well, I already am so proud of you, but make me even prouder.

I love you, Eijirou Kirishima.

Yours truly, Katsuki.'

Tears stream down my face as I collaps to the floor and sob. That's all I can manage to do except for clutching the letter to my chest. I sob and sob and sob until I feel arms wrap around me. I glance up and see gold hair. I clutch onto Kaminari as I sob into his chest. He simply rubs my back as he holds me.

I don't know how long we sat there, only that it was a long time. When I finally manage to calm down I break my hug with Kaminari and wipe at me face, getting rid of all the snot and tears. I look at Kaminari with what I can only imagine, red puffy eyes as he looks at me worried, but also a bit confused.

''What happened?'' Kaminari asks softly, almost as if he's scared to speak up.

''B-Bakubro...He......He left me a letter.'' I whisper back, voice hoarse from crying.

''I see...What was it about?''

I silently hand him the letter. He takes it gently and reads it. I just watch him as different emotions show on his face as he comes to different parts of the letter. When he finishes he looks at me with tear brimmed eyes. His hands are shaking as he looks so sad and conflicted. I simply take the letter for him and place it on the ground beside me.

''Yeah...'' Is all I manage to mumble as I look back up at him.

''He...He was hurting so much....How..How didn't we notice?'' Kaminari stammers in disbelieve.

''Like he said...He hid it.......I....I’m gonna go.'' I mumble as I get up and walk out of the room.

I walk downstairs and out of the dorms, ignoring the worried questions form my classmates. I get onto the buss and ride it to the hospital. As I arrive I silently walk up to his room. I hesitate before walking into his room. I stare at the door for a while before slowly opening it. The room is empty except for Bakugou's bed and the machines he's hooked up to.

'His parents must have left.' I think as I walk over to the chair beside the bed. I sit down on it and take Bakugou's hand in mine. It's warmer than when he got here, but it's still cold compaired to how warm they usually are. I stare at his hand as my eyes tear up once again. With my free hand I wipe at my eyes.

''Wake up...Please...I need you.'' I sniffle as I feel more and more tears streaming down my face.

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

I slowly open my eyes when I feel something shift. As I sit up I groan and rub at my burning eyes. I hear another groan and look at the source wide-eyed. Bakugou has a troubled look at his face as his head moves from side to side, mumbled words and groans leaving him. I jump up and push the alarm button that's attached to the bed.

''What's wrong?'' A nurse asks as she walks into the room.

''He's stirring and groaning.'' I explain with wide eyes as I look at her.

''I see, that must mean he's waking up.'' She states as she walks over and checks the machines and his IV drip.

''So it's a good sign?'' I ask with a hopeful glint in my eyes

''Yes.'' She chuckles.

As if on cue Bakugou's eyes shoot open and his whole body tenses up. The nurse gently removes his mask before rubbing soothing circles on his shoulders, trying to get him to relax. Slowly it works and his eyes go back to normal as he relaxes onto the bed. Slowly he moves his head to look at the nurse who's smiling gently at him.

''Who found me?'' He croaks out as he winches slightly.

''This young man did.'' The nurse says as she looks at me.

Bakugou turns his head to look at me. As soon as our eyes meet his widen in shock as mine tear up for the millionth time this day. I jump up and hug him tight, being mindful of all the wires, and sob into his shoulder. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling as he's frozen in his spot. I can hear the nurse excusing herself before she walks out.

''I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have left you behind! Don't ever do this again! I'm sorry!'' I sob as I hold him tighter.

''Kirishima......You..You found me?'' Bakugou asks in a weak and shocked voice.

''Yes! We were worried and I went to check up on you. You were shaking and foam was coming out of your mouth. I was so scared...Sorry.'' I say, voice getting weaker the longer I talk, as I break the hug and look at his face.

''The letter.''

''I found it and read it. I love you too, so don't do this again. Please.''

''I...You love me?''

''Yes. Of course I do silly. Promise me that you won't do this again. Promise you'll come to me when you feel down. Please, I can't loose you.'' I beg him.

''....Promise.'' He whispers, the look of shock still not leaving his face.

''Good. This is going to be shitty timing, but.....Will you be my boyfriend?''

''Yes.'' He whispers, a glint I can't place in his eyes.

I smile and hug him again, nuzzling my face in his neck and placing a small kiss on it. Katsuki slowly wraps his arms around me and holds me close with the little strength his body holds right now. I instinctively hold him tighter when I notice just how little strength he has. Katsuki chuckles in respons.

''I love you, Katsuki.'' I whisper against his neck.

''I love you too, Eijirou.'' Katsuki whispers back.

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 7: An oxidising world of a dream (Part 7)

Warnings: angst, death, mention of drugs

Author notes: here is the final part of chapter 7. I hope you liked it and that you don’t hate me! (well, “Seeking” is not supposed to be a joyful story, but...). Let’s see you again in the next chapter!

We were, as I had expected, too late. The mansion was silent when we arrived, and inside what had been a ballroom, Oda's body laid next to the European man's, bathed in a puddle of scarlet blood. The wound was fresh, it had not been five minutes since the fight ended, but we were still late. I could not help thinking, if Mori-san had not tried to hold Dazai back, perhaps we would have made it on time... Then again, if the world was not the world, none would have to suffer...

I stayed back, staring at the two men in front of me. One wished to die, the other one wished to live. The one who wished to die had never once succeeded a suicide attempt, whereas the one who wished to live had been shot to death because his reason to go on had vanished along the people he cared about. It was all so absurd... It was absurd that the good man had to be the one to lose life... It was absurd that even though he was the one giving his last breath, he was comforting the other, who, I could see, barely held tears back to maintain his composure. I had never seen him cry. If he did, I would, obviously, not judge him; it would be appropriate, at the moment, and losing yet another friend, why would he not cry? Dazai was no man who let out tears. He was one to keep everything to himself until he would be self-destroyed, suffocated by his own pain. His burden was surely heavy on his chest, however, he never opened himself to anyone...

"Ogawa..."

I reacted to my name, and crouched down next to the dying man.

"Oda..."

"My last request..." He squeezed my hand "Call me... Odasaku..."

"... Odasaku..." I cracked a teary smile.

"Good... Don't forget to... Stay by his side..."

"I won't forget." I nodded "I won't forget, Odasaku..."

"Thank you..."

The sun had left again to give place to another downpour. The sky had put on its mourning outfit as well, to accompany the burial of Odasaku in the cemetery of Yokohama. There was just Dazai, I, and the picture of the three friends at the bar. I remembered it; I had taken it on that evening, when we all had fun around a drink. The friends had raised their glasses to "the stray dog", had laughed happily, had joked, had spent a moment together in the utmost joy. I had felt honoured and delighted to join in the fun, so much that I could not have slept at night. Dazai had had to hold my hand... I lowered my head to hide my tears. All of this had ended for the sake of making an underground organisation live. I could not accept it. If it had been anyone, I most certainly would never have questioned the Boss' doings, but since it was Odasaku, I could not help resenting him. Why could Mori-san not have sacrificed anyone else...?

Dazai put a bouquet of white lilies on the grave, as well as the picture of the three of them, without a word. His moves were slightly unsure and his fingertips were clearly trembling, but no expression made its way to his face. He had not said anything after we had left the mansion together, carrying his friend's corpse, and I knew I had lost someone too. We would never go back to these times, when we could try to get along with the purpose of becoming friends. We could never have another chance; this relationship had been wasted away with the disappearance of a single man. I had lost the Dazai I had known... Was my promise still valid...?

"Come there..." He demanded me.

I approached the grave and silently paid my respects to the deceased, waiting for him to talk. Suddenly, he looked at me and, for the first time, I saw his entire gaze, his two eyes on me. His look was complete… Yet, it was empty...

"You... Are you going to keep your promise?" He asked.

I was speechless. Was there still hope that we could become something...? Was there still hope that I could have him back...?

"Of course I will keep this promise... Wherever you are and always..." I attempted a poor smile.

"That's good..."

And yet, this was the kind of promise I could not keep if he was the one running away from me. What was the point in reminding me of this painful promise if he was the one who did not want me by his side?

The mission we had left for had been particularly tough after the hardships we had faced against Mimic. The whole Port Mafia was tired and so were we, thus when we had raided the hideout of a gang who stole our goods, we had been taken by surprise by their number. They had been extremely well-prepared, as though they had expected our visit, and had started shooting at us. I had taken a bullet to protect Dazai and had fallen into unconsciousness right after. I had been saved by the nurse again, but when I had woken up, there had been no trace of my superior. He would usually wait for me to wake up by the side of the bed... Instead, I had found a letter. A note. With three words.

"Wait for me."

I had waited. Hours, days. Then, I had realised he had surely gone. Rumours of his disappearance had been whispered throughout the entire organisation and I had first refused to believe them. Days had turned into weeks, and weeks had turned into months. It had then occurred to me that he would not come back. "Wait for me" was nothing but a mere apology, a false hope that he would come back to take me with him, wherever he could have gone. The faint light I had held onto had long faded, and although his note was carefully folded into an inner pocket of my coat not to ever leave it, I had resolved myself to forget about anything.

Dazai leaving the Port Mafia had obviously deprived me of sleep once again. What had I expected? What had I believed in? I had trusted his words. I had trusted that he could care about me, I had trusted him so much, with my entire being. I had believed so hard and, in the end, had been deceived. He cared nothing about me. Or he would not let my ability kill me. What hurt most was not my headache nor my regular coughs; no, what hurt most was the fact I still longed to be by his side, the fact he was still my reason to live. Everything I saw, everything I did reminded me of those memories we shared together, of the short moments of peace we could have had in the illusion of happiness I had drowned into. Without Dazai, I was lost and purposeless. I had no desire to live on anymore, no desire to see the sun rising the next day. The only thing moving my body was the faint eventuality that he would keep his words and come back for me, but even this would end up fading away, too.

I smiled slightly, a bittersweet smile, as I inserted the syringe of morphine under the thin skin of my arm. All this time, I had been the one hoping, the one wishing, the one promising. And as soon as he could have, he had left me behind. "A disposable pawn" was my position in the organisation, the new title I had earned since his disappearance, for Mori-san knew I was not loyal to him nor to the Port Mafia, but to Dazai. Now that he was gone, I had no use anymore and, worse, had become a threat. I was aware that I had been unable to keep Odasaku alive... I had no use anymore, so I was tossed away, again, by a person supposed to care about me. Was there anyone on Earth willing to be a tad concerned by my person...? I did not ask much... Was it not human to desire being loved by others...? Was it not human to desire having someone who cared about one...? I was so lonely, too, not because none understood me but because none even paid attention to me. I had been forsaken by the world...

And just as he had predicted, my sight had lost its colours. The beautiful sunset one could see from the headquarters had become a mix of greyish, ugly lights, and the sea, so deep and blue had become a dark and large puddle. Only, Dazai had not predicted that he would be the one to induce my colour-blindness. Even prodigies could not foresee everything... If I was given to meet him again, I would make sure to remind him, if he still recognised my face and if I was still living to this day.

"Wake me up… From this oxidising dream of a world…"

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Meet me in the past

Summary: After Stanley Uris takes his own life, his daughter goes to find the recipients of his letters and ends up in Derry. After and incounter with IT, she ends up traveling back into the past, meeting the younger version of her dad and his friends. 

AN: So this is gonna be multiple parts and yeah that’s about all I have to say lol. Let me know what you think! 

warnings: suicide mentions, a few curse words 

The bus ride to Derry, did not take as long as Emily expected. She supposed that she had gotten lost in thought but that wasn’t exactly true. Emily had dozed off, which seemed impossible to her now. Still, the small nap hadn’t done anything good. Quite the opposite actually, now that the edge of the exhaustion had been taking off, it was impossible not to notice her growling stomach, her impending headache, her tense muscles and the way she couldn’t keep her leg still no matter what she tried. 

Her bouncing leg was a tell sign that she was nervous, and it was one both her dad and mom had tried to dispose of. It never worked, and after a while her parents just gave up, resorting to squeezing her hand whenever the bouncing got to bad. The thought of her parents made Emily sob. She quickly pressed the palm of her hand against her mount, the couple in front of her and a shady man looked her way, seeing her cry, but then they turned around as if they hadn’t seen anything. Emily tried to wipe her tears away, but she wasn’t even sure why she tried. 

She didn’t understand how everything could turn out so badly. Just a week ago she had been so excited, she had asked her dad if they could go see a new theater piece. Emily had always been a fan of that sort of thing, and she knew her dad didn’t mind it either. He had laughed at her excitement before kissing her head and agreeing to go. It was their thing, Stan would always greet her with a kiss to the head, and she would always respond by doing the same to him. 

Only 3 days ago, right before Stanley Uris took his last bath, their routine had changed. She had come home from school a little later than usual, because she had studied in the library, and she got home on the exact moment her dad put down the phone. He had looked more scared, more pale than Emily had ever seen him, and so she had cautiously approached him. His eyes had been wild and scared, and as soon as she came into his line of vision, she could see that he was looking at her up and down. He got closer and whipped some of her hair away, to look at the bruise she had gotten because she fell of her bike on her way to school. He inspected it closer, and she had pulled away laughing, but she abruptly stopped once she saw the grimace on Stanley’s face. He had hugged her then, so tightly it almost felt as if she couldn’t breathe, and kissed her head a couple of times in quick succession. When she had asked him if he was okay, he said that he was going to take a bath. Emily had stared at him until he disappeared inside the bathroom door, and it was the last time she would ever see him. 

Now, as she was staring at the woods the bus passed, Emily mostly felt guilty. It was a change from the past days, in which she had only felt sadness and sorrow, and maybe even though she would never admit it, not even too herself, a little angry. Now she felt guilty for leaving her mom all alone, while she was off to meet people she had never heard about. 

The letters in her bag felt like lead though, the very reason she decided to go to Derry. She didn’t know who any of these people were, but clearly they’re important because her dad wrote them letters. He hadn’t even written her a letter. She tried not to dwell on it too much, she could already feel the resentment towards these unknown people grow, and she hadn’t even met them yet. He had left her mother a note, but Patty didn’t have it in herself to read it yet, so Emily had respected her wishes and didn’t open it.

She was desperate to know what was on them, because she couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried, figure out why he had done it. She hadn’t noticed anything unusual about him in the last week, and if she was honest, it terrified her. How could she not have known that her dad was going to do something so drastic and horrific? Emily had considered herself pretty close with her dad, especially when she compared herself to her friends, yet Stan’s deed came so unexpected, she wondered if she had ever really known her dad at all.

She shook her head, she wasn’t going down this path, not yet. First she had a mission, and she was determined to complete it before she would allow herself to breakdown. She took the letters out of her bag once more, as she had been doing the entire trip here. Stan, with his neat handwriting, had written 6 names, none that sounded all that familiar to her. Beverly, Mike, Ben, Bill, Eddie and Richie. It was actually Richie’s names that caused a bell to go off in her head. She had gone to watch one of his shows once, with her parents, but Stan had gotten sick and ran off in the middle of it, and Patty and her had followed. Stan hadn’t giving an explanation, he himself didn’t know what happened, but they had left early and Emily had never asked him to go to one of his shows again. When she found the letters, after her mother had went with the ambulance and she was alone, she had instantly recognized his name.

It was weird, seeing the name of a random comedian on one of his suicide letters, but Emily had been strictly against opening his herself. While her mother didn’t want to look at hers, Emily didn’t want to look at theirs, out of fear of what they might say. It further fueled her suspicions though, that she hadn’t really known her father at all. She was brought out her mind when the bus came to a stop. She waited, patiently as her parents had taught her, until everyone had excited before she too got off the bus. She bid adieu to the ugly, green, uncomfortable bus sheet she had spent almost an entire day on, and inhaled the fresh air once she finally got out into the open.

The air in Derry was chilled, and Emily wished she had taken a jacket in her hurry to get out of her house. She and patty had been staying with her grandparents, and she had only returned to grab some clothes, which meant most of the blood was still in the bathroom. Emily had screamed until her voice was hoarse and then waited until she felt stable enough to get up and walk towards the bus stop, no one would ever found out about her breakdown. She didn’t know exactly where to go from here. In fact it was a miracle that she had even managed to find the town in the first place. After finding the letters, she had realized that her dad had just gotten of a phone call before he did what he did, so she had looked through his phone and called back the number which had called him. The call came from a town called Derry, and Emily had only known that was where her father was born because her dad mentioned it. Once. He mentioned it once. 

When she called back a man answered on the phone. ‘Stan, are you okay’? The man had asked, and he had sounded genuinely concerned for him. ‘Stan, it’s Mike are you alright’? Emily had dropped the phone in an instant. Mike was one of the people her dad left a letter too. 

It was by coincidence that she heard people in the hospital talk about how the famous comedian ‘trashmount Tozier’ had suddenly taken a break from his tour, to return to his hometown. She didn’t know If Richie was also born in Derry, but she was willing to take her changes. 

She didn’t really know what she was doing now, she had spent an agonizing 36 hours on her way to Derry, yet not once had she thought about what she would do once she actually got there. Almost as if there was a cosmic force at play, her father's phone, which she had put in her pocket, went off. The sound was shrill, and it hurt Emily’s ears. The rest of the town was so quiet, like there wasn’t another living soul in this town, and it frankly creeped her out. 

She fished the phone out with great difficulty, but to her surprise there was no indication that the phone had went of in the first place. She frowned, and checked the phone over again, but no new messages showed up. It did give her an idea though. She went back to incoming calls, to find Mike’s number once more. Her finger hovered above it for a few seconds, and she was hit with a feeling of uncertainty. 

What was she doing? She had just rushed off with these letters, to people who didn’t even know her, leaving her poor mother behind to grieve on her own. Still, she did her best to shake off the feeling, it would do her no good to ponder on this now. She needed to find a place to stay, and quick. 

With determination, she clicked the number, holding the phone up to her ear and waiting for it to ring. Before long, the male voice answered again. ‘Stan? Stan were are you? The rest of us is already here. Are you lost? Do you need someone to come pick you up’? Mike’s voice sounded winded. Emily realized that he was probably a little tipsy. In the background she could hear people laughing and having fun. She was about to destroy that however, once she told the news about her father. 

‘Hello’? Her hesitant voice called out, and she cursed herself for sounding so scared. ‘Who’s this’? Mike asked, and he immediately sounded guarded. He probably didn’t expect a woman to answer the phone. ‘Hi, yes, sorry eum. Look I.. I need to talk to you. Please I know this is weird and you have no idea who I am but just please. I really need to talk you. It’s about Stanley’. Hearing her own voice say her father's name sounded wrong somehow, like she was disrespecting him. Nevertheless, she had no other option. She couldn’t just tell this man that she was Stan’s daughter. 

The pause on the other side was longer this time. She could hear the noise in the background fading away. Most likely everyone was now listening in to Mike’s conversation and she didn’t know how she felt about that. ‘Alright’, Mike announced hesitantly, ‘can you meet me at the Jade oriental’? Emily had no idea where that was, but she was sure she could somehow find it. Google maps really was her best friend here. She nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see her. ‘Yes that’s fine, I’ll be there soon’. She replied. The man hummed but before anything else could be said Emily ended the call. 

It took 5 minutes of her fumbling with her phone to get google maps working, and she let out a heavy sigh once it did. The restaurant was just around the corner from where she was standing. She didn’t  have to lose that many time on getting the stupid app to work. 

She didn’t know who she was looking for, once she entered the restaurant. The panic in her body spread even further as she looked around and so no one she recognized. The flares of hot, white anger shot through her again, but as she had been doing for the past 3 days, she pushed it down again. Towards the back of the restaurant a man stood up, he looked at her with a curious look, as if he was deciding if she was the girl he had been talking too. ‘Mike’? Emily called out attentively, because she hadn’t told him her name. The man nodded and took a step forward, still keeping enough distance so that he still had enough time to run away in case something went wrong. 

Emily took the guy in. He seemed like he was a nice man, the grandfather type, who would give you biscuits and tell stories about how things used to back in his days. He definitely wasn’t old enough to be a grandfather yet though, he seemed about her dad’s age. 

Behind him a group of five other people reached their necks out to take a look at them, watching like hawks as if they were waiting for her to try and hurt Mike. She recognized the comedian, Richie, and a weight fell of her shoulders knowing she could hand off the letters her father had wrote to at least two people. 

‘Where’s Stanley’? He asked uneasily, and the lump in Emily’s throat appeared again. ‘He, is.. my dad he’ Emily forced out, but she couldn’t continue as tears started to cloud her vision. Mike’s eyes widened and he took another step forward. ‘Stan is your father’? He asked in amazement, though once he took in Emily’s disheveled state the small smile he had on his face dropped. 

Emily nodded, and a loud sob she couldn’t contain left her mount. Instantly Mike reached out for her, and wrapped his arms around the younger girl. Emily didn’t understand why, but the moment Mike hugged her, she melted into him. She didn’t even know this guy that well, yet he made her feel safe in a way she couldn’t explain. It was only then that she realized how much she missed her father hugs. They always had a way of making Emily feel like everything would be okay again. Yet nothing would ever be okay again now. 

‘Something happened to him didn’t it?’ Mike asked. He sounded both scared and loving at the same time, and Emily was once again reminded of her analogy with a grandfather. 

She nodded and pulled back a bit. ‘He killed himself’. She bit her lip right after she said. It was the first time she had spoken those words out loud, and saying them, putting them out in the open, made it real. Mike didn’t reply for a long time. Startled Emily could feel tears dripping into her hair. Mike was crying. He pulled back, whipping his tears away and smiling sadly towards her. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other members of the losers club’. She didn’t know who the losers club was, but Mike seemed pretty confident that she would, so she didn’t ask. 

The other people around the table, most likely the losers club, were slouched down in their seats. They all looked sadly around, and one man had his arm wrapped around a woman. They must have heard Emily say Stan killed himself.

There was an empty chair, right next to a guy she didn’t recognize and Richie, and Mike led her over to. 

‘Guys, This is’, he stopped while look at Emily puzzled. 

‘Emily’, she supplied, once she realized that she hadn’t even told Mike her name. 

‘Emily’, Mike repeated, ‘She’s Stanley’s daughter’.  

Emily felt all eyes of the people sitting at the table on her, and it made her queasy. Her stomach rumbled once again, and she pressed her arm against it to stop the sound from being spread.   The man on her left offered his plate up to her, and he smiled at her hesitantly. ‘You should eat something’, he spoke up, and it was clear he wasn’t used to dealing with teenagers, because his voice sounded too childish for Emily’s looking, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she took the plate with a grateful smile and a small thank you. She wasn’t really that hungry, she was afraid that everything she would eat would come back up, but she felt it would be too rude to decline.  

She wanted to tell Mike and Richie about the letters in her bag, but she didn’t know who any of these people were, and she didn’t know if she could just hand the letters to them. For a few moments there was tense silence, nobody spoke and it seemed like everyone was looking at each other to start up a conversation. It was Richie that spoke again. 

‘Wow, so Stan married someone huh? Can’t believe he would actually have sex, always thought he was too prudish for it.’ The woman slapped Richie’s arm harshly, her eyes set in a hard glare. ‘Not now Rich’, she said, while Richie was rubbing his arm with a hiss. 

‘Right okay Bev sorry fuck me I guess’. This guy was crude, Emily realized, but he was funny. Perfect to become a comedian. 

‘No, it’s alright, don’t worry about it’. She supplied, after getting over her initial shock. Beverly was also the name on one of the postcards. Could all of them be the people her dad wrote his letters too?

‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but who are you guys? And how do you know my dad?’ Emily figured she was at least entitled to an explanation. 

Mike looked taken aback. ‘Right, Stan didn’t remember either’, he mumbled while looking down. 

‘Remember what’? she asked, but she was interrupted by the woman. ‘My name’s Beverly’, she said with a small but sad smile, ‘but you can call me Bev’. 

‘I’m Bill’ the man next to her said, right before taking a sip of his beer. 

‘I’m Ben’, and the man by far seemed to be the kindest of the group, not that any of them seemed particularly unfriendly. 

‘I’m Eddie’, the man who had offered up his plate of food spoke up. 

‘And I’m Rich..’ Before Richie could finish Emily spoke up. ‘Richie, yeah I know, my parents and I watched your show once’. She purposefully let out the part where Stan had ran out to throw up, and she concluded that that had been a good idea when Richie’s face turned a pale white from just this piece of information alone. 

‘Really?’ He asked, but it sounded choked up, like he had to physically push the words out of his mount. Emil nodded; ‘Yeah, he said the jokes were good’. Richie turned away from her then, but she could swear she saw tears in his eyes. 

‘Why, w-w-hy did he do it’? Bill, she pretty sure his name was, was gripping his glass so tight his knuckles were turning white. Emily shrugged, ‘he didn’t write me a letter.’ And when she found out he didn’t, she nearly ripped the letters that he had written. She didn’t though and now she was here, and she just wanted to hand them over, maybe subconsciously, she wanted more than anything to know what was on them, and she might find out if she gave them the letters now. 

‘He did write you guys, though’. She said while reaching for her bag. The letters looked a bit wrinkled from traveling with her for so long, and Emily cringed at that. Her dad would hate that, he would start all over with new letters who didn’t have wrinkles in them. 

She handed them out one by one. First Eddie, then Richie, then Bill, then Ben, then Mike and finally Beverly aswell. She looked as everyone one of them looked at letters for a couple a seconds, doing nothing, just staring. Richie was the first one to respond. He tore the letter open, but then paused again as everyone’s eyes had shifted towards. He then put the letter down and stared down towards his hands. 

‘I’ll read it after I get to the hotel room tonight’. 

Beverly was looking at Emily with concern in her eyes, and walked over towards her. ‘Are you alright’, she whispered, like she was talking to a wounded animal. Suddenly it felt like the self-control, the short line that had stopped Emily from acting on her anger had snapped. She wasn’t a wounded animal, clearly her father didn’t care as much about her as he cared about these people he had never even mentioned to her. Emily jumped up, causing Eddie on her left to flinch, and normally she would feel guilty for that, but now she just felt anger in her veins. It was all consuming and not once did Emily stop to think rationally like she usually would. 

‘No, I’m not fucking okay. My dad killed himself only 2 days ago, yet here I am. Delivering some stupid letters to people I have never once in my life heard about.’ ‘Emily’, Mikes voice reached her ears, but she didn’t pause for a second, instead opting to keep seething. It seemed that once she began, it was hard to stop the venomous words from coming out. 

‘I mean, he didn’t even write me a letter, and I’m his daughter. Did he not think I had a right to know?’ Emily was heaving by the time the words were out of her mouth. Everyone was staring at her, with gaping mouths. 

Emily plopped down onto her chair once again. Tears were streaming down her face, and it was like all the strength had left her. ‘I hate him’, she murmured, she couldn’t look anyone in the eyes. Beverly crouched down in front of her, placing her hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. 

‘IT’, a voice called out suddenly. Emily’s head whipped up, and she made eye contact with Bill, who was looking at her intently. ‘What’s IT’? Emily questioned. The others head whipped around to watch Bill with wide eyes.

‘Don’t tell her dude, not after everything that happened’.  

‘She deserves to know’, Bill reasoned, gesturing his arms widely. ‘Tell me what? What is IT?’ Emily was getting impatient, she had no idea what they were talking about. 

‘IT is the reason your dad killed himself. It’s a thing, I don’t know how to explain it. IT changes into our worst fears, we fought it once as kids, and now we have to do it again.’ Bill explained, his hands were trembling and it looked like he was trying hard not to cry. 

Emily stared at him and blinked, once, twice before letting out an angry huff. ‘You think this is funny? I spend so long coming here, to get you your stupid letter and then you come up with this stupid story?’ Beverly started shaking her head. ‘He’s right, it’s hard to explain just please hear us out.’ 

Before Beverly can get another word out, the table begins to shake. In the middle of the table there were now fortune cookies. Emily hadn’t paid enough attention to notice them being placed there, but that wasn’t what she took notice off. The fact that the fortune cookies are jumping up from the plate they are placed on, is what does. 

Her eyes widen and in an instant Beverly has pushed her back out of the chair, and backwards toward the exit. Everyone else also jumps up, and Eddie comes running over toward the two of them. 

One of the fortune cookies cracks open, a shrieking baby thing appears out of it. A scream leaves Emily lips before she has the mind to force it back. The thing comes flying towards Emily, Beverly and Eddie.

 All three of them start waving their hands widely around them, trying to get away from whatever the hell that thing is. It seems to attack Emily specifically and she is absolutely petrified. She can hear the others screaming out aswell, vaguely hearing Richie saying something along the lines of; ‘this fortune cookie is looking at me’, but she doesn’t have any time to properly listen to it. 

She runs away, still trying to whack the thing away from her, but it is persistent. She takes a step back, not realizing that there was a chair standing behind her. She falls backwards harshly, banging her head against the floor. She hears Mike call out to her, but as she tries to lift her head, the only thing she sees is a bright white light. ’Don’t look at it’, she hears someone scream. She’s already looking though, and she tries to stay awake, but before long, her head falls backwards again, and she passes out.

[axther]

🗨️ CountryOfWonderland said: Hello! My name is Karen. Yes I know it's ruined by Reddit. I am mindfully straight but also ace. I am known as the mom of the group by many. Supportive, wise in giving advice, yet I can't use those words to help myself. :'). I put others before me. Very empathetic, yet I'm not very easily angered. I am currently in college for the arts. I like correct anatomy, good concepts, ideas, and people in general. Mostly for what makes each person different, what makes them work. Even the simplistic things about them are what makes them best at what they are. Wordfully creative in poetry, compliments, and even pickup lines. Give me a word, and I'll be able to use it as a theme.  

Yikes I took WAY too damn long w this one, BUT I gotta say the whole thing is long af and really kicked my ass lmao. also tw for suicide mention and uhhh death mention that isn’t suicide? And spoilers for the Overhaul Arc

#1 is…Bakugou! 

AIGHT 

So y'all met at a training camp

Let's put aside the fact that we don't even know if Bakugou would ever want to go to a training camp ever again

But this one is for elite kids. 

The one's that could already be heroes, if given the traction and discipline 

And it's orientation day!! 

So

we all know that while Bakugou's all about physical prowess, he also recognises other people's talents 

Well this time he had trouble with it 

Namely, when he came across you, with a quirk he couldn't pin down. 

He's kinda miffed, ngl 

You keep to yourself, but you're not rude. 

You talk to people that approach you, speaking softly and sometimes writing in a small notepad for a second before talking again. 

Some of the younger kids are stuck to you like glue because you're just so soft.

And Bakugou can't figure out for the life of him what you can do, what you are. 

So as the camp progresses, he keeps you in peripheral. 

He's never pitted against you, and you guys don't have many interactions. 

So all he really knows is that you've made yourself camp mom, and everyone likes you. 

Except him 

Everyone's confused as to how he's just...neutral about you. 

So slowly, but inevitably, the rest of the camp decides to get you two to be in as many situations as possible 

At first, they started out small! 

No one wanted to share the canoe with Bakugou (though it was more for their safety than the Grand Plan™), so you agreed to 

And it's peaceful until one of the more prankish campers decides to flip your canoe, and Bakugou loses his mind on the kid. 

As more of these gentle nudges take place, you and Bakugou become little more than acquaintances.  

It's not going fast enough. 

For anyone. 

So one of the younger campers takes authoritative measures 

And locks y'all in a damn closet 

Neither you nor Bakugou wants to be responsible for property damage 

So you two decide to wait it out until someone comes to get something 

(and hope it doesn't get mistaken for anything else) 

There's a deafening silence 

You and Bakugou are glued to the opposite walls, not really talking

But then he notices that you're flipping through your little notebook, almost...in way that comforting. 

He tilts his head. 

"What're you doing?" 

You jump, and no, he doesn't think it's cute, not at all. 

And you glance to the side.

"I'm using my quirk." 

Bakugou's eyes just about burst out of his skull, because he's spent the whole camp trying to figure it out. 

"What is it?" 

"Fatewriter." You hesitate for a minute, before continuing. "I can see other people's fates." 

Again, Bakugou is floored, but he just stares. 

"If I get someone's name, their real name, I can see how they'll live, how they'll die. When. Where. I've gotten most people, here, but I never got the chance to go over them." 

Bakugou watches as you go back to reading the pages, in awe, before realisation settles over him. 

"But isn't it...scary?" 

"No." You glance up. "Just sad." 

There's silence again. 

"Is there anything...different?" Bakugou didn't think 'special' would really apply in the situation, so he tiptoed around his words 

Why, he wasn't sure 

But for just a moment, it was so intimate. 

There they were 

Halfway across the room from each other. 

Not even touching 

Not even making eye contact.

And somehow, it was as though they were meant to meet their entire lives.

 You nodded, and he realised he had been staring. 

"One of the kids... he's gonna be a villain." 

"What?!" Bakugou barked, rising up. "We need to stop him!" 

"We can't." 

"What the fuck? Why not?" 

"We don't know what we'd lose." You murmur, and there's sorrow in your voice, and if it were any other person, he would've absolutely lost his mind 

But you look up, and now your eyes are filled with something beyond sorrow-something so completely unfathomable that he's struck silent. 

"I once tried to save my family. My father, namely. He was a hero, and I saw that he was going to die. The day he was going to die, I begged him not to go. I was, what? Four?"

 You gave a humourless laugh.

"So when he saw his sobbing four-year-old daughter, he didn't go. That day, there was a villain attack. Thirty-eight people died. Everyone pinned the blame on my father, and he killed himself in shame." You looked back down. 

Bakugou lost all sense of feeling in his body, and he fell to the floor. 

He was closer to you than before, but he didn't even think about it. 

It was like all of his gusto from before had leaked out of his body 

And it was just him and you 

Two people 

Two kids 

Defenceless against the wills of the universe 

Locked in a closet. 

With all the time in the world, and at the same time, none at all. 

He noticed you stopped looking through the notepad 

You were slumped over, and you just looked so defeated. 

And slowly, quietly 

He pulls you in for a hug 

You're still

He's still

And suddenly, it's as though the universe wasn't so scary after all. 

#2 is…Iida! 

You and Tenya were peas in a pod, lemme tell you 

Y'all grew up together 

Your parents were heroes, life was nice, all that good stuff

(But as explained above happens, and…) 

You family has a fall from grace 

Your mother's in hysterics, mourning 

Any other family is trying to keep it all together

And then there's you 

And you're quiet. 

There's no crying, not in public at least. 

Tenya, who was just about as old as you, at the time, notices, but his parents told him not to interfere 

He wants to be there for you, as much as a five-year-old can, but…

You just shut down completely 

Your mother ends up breaking down and is taken to a mental institute 

There's talk about you potentially being arrested for indirectly killing thirty-nine people 

Everyone can't blame your father anymore, so they blame you 

And there you are, virtually alone.

When the Iidas pull through

They know what happened

They see the family name's been sullied

But goddammit, you're a child. 

So you're taken in by the Iidas. 

It's not quite adoption, and you're not their sister 

but you stay with them, and they take care of you. 

They don't ask anything in exchange, and you become a permanent guest at their house 

And so, you full-on grow up with the Iidas. 

You're there when Tenya gets admitted into U.A. 

(and notably, you don't, and the entire family knows why, but you don’t say anything) 

You're there when he goes through USJ, talking it out with him

You're there when Tensei gets hurt 

You're there when Bakugou gets taken 

And then entire time, you've become a pillar for him 

It's almost impossible, for him to imagine a world where you aren't there 

And it's the summer after the first semester of school.

Tenya's parents decide to try and get people to...approve of you

So they send you to a summer camp 

It's for kids with promising quirks, but maybe not the best handle on them or the best background 

So you're gone 

For two weeks 

And Tenya is absolutely fine. 

The first day, he writes you a letter, because he felt it would be more personal 

By the second day, he's gotten all his summer homework done 

By the third, he's written himself a brand new training regimen 

By the fourth...yeah, you get the idea 

He's bored and lonely 

Sure Tensei and his parents are there 

But, like…

His parents are busy, and Tensei can only do so much…

So while Tenya writes you a letter a day, he's slowly beginning to meditate on his friendship with you 

He never considered you as a sister, but more as a really, really, really close friend. 

But you're closer than most friends would be 

Sure, his friend circle at U.A. was great, and he had fun 

But he didn't really realise just how much he was missing until you left 

So two days into the second week, he's laying on his bedroom floor 

He's kinda blank, staring at the ceiling and watching the fan in his room spin 

And he's thinking about you 

You're beautiful, and you smile a lot, and you're matronly, which to anyone else, would've been an insult. Still, you're genuinely like a really young mother. 

A regal, young mother. 

You've helped him more times than he could count

And you do your best to not let people get to you 

You're just about the only person that he's cried in front of, besides his family 

And he has no idea just why you've become something so...present since you've been gone

And as he's thinking about you  and why in a way he hopes isn't creepy, Tensei peeks through the door

"... What'cha doing?" 

"Thinking about Kay." 

Tensei nods, clearly amused and a bit concerned. "Is something...wrong?" 

"No." Tenya shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. "Just thinking about her." 

"Looks like someone has a crush," Tensei teases, beginning to roll away when Tenya sits up at a ninety-degree angle 

And the look on his face could only be described as pure panic and realisation

Tensei stares back with wide eyes, blinking owlishly. 

"Oh my god," Tenya mutters before they speak in unison. 

"You have a crush." 

"I have a crush." 

There's silence, before Tenya skyrockets back up and begins going through his drawers furiously, pulling out paper and a pen.

Tensei pulls the door open a bit wider and wheels in, noting the picture of Tenya and you on the ground next to where Tenya was having his one-sixteenth life crisis. 

"What're you doing?" 

"I'm going to tell her in a letter! That's the responsible thing to do!" Tenya's got everything pulled out, but then freezes. 

"I can't tell her." 

Tensei pats Tenya's back, a small smirk on his face. 

"Ahh, young love…" 

(Tenya definitely did not spend the next several days lamenting how to tell you, or even if he should tell you.) 

(And he also definitely didn't pop your back with a bear hug when he saw you, and effectively set off the human bomb named Bakugou) 

#3 is...Mirio! 

Humans are fickle, fickle creatures 

Sometimes, they want you to do something 

Other times, they want the complete opposite. 

And in this case, humans were extremely fickle 

Not that you could blame this human in particular 

It was a several weeks after Sir Nighteye's death 

Though most of society knew you as a killer, Sir Nighteye looked past that 

Since your quirks were so similar

and he recognised that you were a child trying to save her father

So he did his best to help you, albeit discreetly. 

You knew when he was going to die

And he knew when you were going to die

But you never told the other, as part of a pact to not change fixed points in the future. 

It was a strange thing, in the end. 

To some extent, you two considered each other distant siblings

So, when he died, you attended his funeral 

Admittedly, you were the quietest of the lot.

There was no sobbing from you, just regretful sorrow. 

A young, blonde man wasn't hiding his grief, choking his sobs with his hand 

You glance at him, before looking away

After the service, you're the first to leave. 

You knew Nighteye wouldn't want you to linger on him, but to be the best person you can in your grief. 

But the young man catches you on the way out 

"You... you're Kay, right?" 

You hesitate. He continues. 

"I’m...I’m Mirio Togata. I...Sir…he talked about you. A lot. And he said…" 

"He mentioned that I knew when he was going to die?" You finished for him. 

Mirio freezes, then nods. 

"Why didn't you try to stop it?" He mutters, and you can feel worry bubble in your gut. 

"You could have saved him. Why didn't you?" 

You raise an eyebrow. 

You can tell he’s trying not to get angry, but his fists are clenched and his breathing is beginning to get heavy

But you can’t even feel angry

He’s right

You could’ve

But you look down, your back to him

“Nighteye and I had a deal. We wouldn’t tell the other when we die, and deal with it when it happens. He always told me that the future shouldn’t be changed.” You look forward, eyeballing the sky. 

“If I could’ve told him, without any worry of repercussions, I would. But time is not kind to us.” 

And with that, you walked away. 

Mirio can only watch, and the grief replaces his anger. 

Midoriya and All Might come over to him a minute later, pulling his thoughts away from you. 

But later that night, he looks you up. 

He doesn’t mean to be creepy

But when he sees the face of a little girl who was on the cusp of shattering, plastered all over the internet, he can’t help but feel justified pity. 

Of course, she wouldn’t interfere a second time. 

The first was traumatising enough. 

So, he become determined to befriend you

You were close to Nighteye, and while he never said much on his actual relationship with you, Mirio knew that he held you in dear regard. 

There were often times where he would mention something about you, and then Mirio and Midoriya were stuck trying to figure out if ‘Kay’ was his daughter, or what. 

So in the coming days, he found a new purpose. 

Between taking care of Eri and visiting his friends, he began trying to visit you. 

He popped by the Iida house, and knocked on the door. 

He expected to be greeted with a maid or something, with how elaborate the mansion was

But to his surprise, you opened the door. 

Tensei Iida (holy SHIT, goes Mirio’s mind) is behind you, but before Tensei can ask who’s at the door, or Mirio can ask why your eyes are red, you slam it shut with more force than you looked capable of. 

This becomes a recurring thing 

Until one day, Mirio manages to catch the Iidas while you’re out 

They invite him in, and they exchange pleasantries, until you come in from the rain

And you make eye contact with him 

And he makes eye contact with you

And you bolt up the stairs 

He goes running after you as politely as he can, apologising to the Iidas

(and noting Tenya’s mildly disgruntled face) 

And he catches you, just before you can shut the door to your room

And while he doesn’t try to burst in, he does manage to get a question out 

“Why are you avoiding me?” 

There’s a second, and two, and he knows the family’s listening from downstairs

And the door opens

And you look so hollow. 

And for a moment, Mirio wonders just how well you’re taking Nighteye’s death, before you step aside so he can come in. 

There’s silence as he takes in your room, and then turns to you. 

You’re wrapping your arms around yourself

And you’re not looking at him

You both are stock still, but then Mirio speaks again. 

“Did I do something?” 

There’s a noise from you, something between a choking sob and a swallow, before you shake your head. 

“No. It wasn’t...you.”

“Then what was it?” Then, he quickly adds, “I can leave, if I’m making you uncomfortable.”  

“You were right,” You’re whispering, so quietly that he could barely hear it. 

“Huh?” 

“I could’ve saved him. I should’ve saved him,” When you’re talking, it actually sounds like it pains you to speak.

It’s enough that he starts reaching out, but then you start again, and it completely unravels you. 

“He was someone so dear to me...I could’ve told him, hinted it, something. I think about it so much. He could still be here today, and it’s all my fault. And you knew, you called me out on it. I couldn’t handle it. I feel…” 

And you’re sobbing, genuinely sobbing, and it’s heartbreaking, as though the little girl from so long ago had come back to haunt the living. 

“I feel like I can’t say anything. I’m drowning in something, and it’s red, and it’s angry, and it’s choking me, but I can’t say a word! I keep all my emotions bottled up, and the bottle is so, so full! What can I do, when it bursts and all the glass kills me from the inside?” 

You’ve kneeled on the carpet

And Mirio’s kneeling, too, and he’s crying

You two have barely had any conversation besides at the funeral and here

And yet he’s knows that you two are on a different frequency 

Maybe it’s the shared grief of losing someone so dear 

Maybe it’s how you held yourself, like you were scared of finally letting go of your restraint 

Or maybe it was just how you cried together, arms on each other’s shoulders, free to just let go 

Mirio isn’t sure 

But when he looks up and sees the tears hanging off your eyelashes, he makes a promise to himself 

And in a way, Sir Nighteye, too

I’ll be there for you. Always. 

[cobythinks]

Don’t Say That

Soulmate AU. Major Roceit, minor Analogical. Platonic LAMP (platonic DLAMP at the very end)

*When you turn twelve years old, the first thing your soulmate says to you appears on your skin somewhere.*

TW: Sympathetic Deceit. He’s the main character. Literally, if he triggers you please stay safe. Self-hatred, bullying, neglect bordering abuse,  minor suicidal thoughts. 0-0 much angst.

Note! Deceit’s name is Damien it’s a human AU as well.

First fic on Tumblr... don’t judge too harshly?

Damien was born with it. He was born with the dark splotch across the left side of his face. A birthmark.

When he was a kid, Damien didn’t really care about the birthmark. His parents never mentioned it, and they homeschooled him so he hadn’t realized how strange he looked.

And then, for some insane reason, his mother decided he had to go to public school. Damien thought she just wanted him to have friends, and gladly accepted this when she told him one night. Then, when he was supposed to be in bed, he heard her. He heard both of them. Talking about him. About his face.

“I can’t stand it, looking at him every day. It’s ugly, he’s defective!” Damien had frozen outside their bedroom door, gripping his empty cup tightly.

“Don’t say that-”

“I mean it, and I know you feel the same. You go to work so you don’t have to, you never look at him! The doctors said it would fade and it hasn’t, it’s gotten worse! I can’t look at it all day anymore, let him go to school. Let them make fun of him, he has to learn what life will be like for him eventually!”

“...I never said he shouldn’t go.”

Damien rushed to the bathroom and locked the door, staring into the mirror. He was short, and could really only see his shoulders and head above the counter, but he could see his face clearly. The brown splotch was the same as it had always been, right? He leaned closer, squinting at the mirror. Sure, it didn’t look like his parents at all. He’d never seen many kids, didn’t some people look like this?

Damien bit his lip, thinking about all the movies and cartoons he’d ever watched. He never saw a character like him… was he ugly? Damien stared at the reflection in a new light. Half his face was different, deformed. A dark brown contrast to his pale skin - making that half of him seem… evil, almost. Damien hurried to his room and tried to forget what his mother had said, tried to just sleep. But he never looked at himself in the same way again.

000

School was worse. Everyone seemed to think Damien was some kind of freak. For years, all the way through fourth, fifth, and sixth grades, Damien tried to prove them wrong. He was a kid, he was normal, he was just a normal kid. He smiled as much as he could and tried to talk to people. But either they’d run away screaming, or they’d stay and fight. It was never much of a fight, more of a beating.

And then came the end of sixth grade. All the sixth graders were brought to the assembly, and that’s where they learned about Soul-Words. Or, as some people called them, Soul-Sayings.

That’s when Damien learned that, when he turned twelve, words would appear somewhere on his body. Another mark that he didn’t need. Those words would be the first thing his Soulmate ever said to him - if he did have a soulmate. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he didn’t have a soulmate, no one liked him. He didn’t even like him.

But, he did. He woke up on the day and stared at the ceiling, terrified. Would he have words? If he did, what would they say? Finally, Damien sat up and inspected his body. His arms were as pale and unmarked as ever. Same with his legs, the bottoms of his feet, his chest. That was it. Damien felt a sinking pain in his stomach as he got up and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He didn’t have a soulmate. Of course he didn’t, did he really think someone would love him? He glared at his reflection, then froze.

“You’ve got to be kidding…” Damien finally choked out. As if the brown mark wasn’t enough, a phrase had appeared right on top of it. In curving red letters.

“Don’t say that!”

Damien gripped the counter tightly, tears welling up in his eyes. Of course. There was really only one reason his soulmate would ever say that. Damien was going to speak to them first, and they’d hear it, and they’d be horrified that their soulmate was a freak.

Damien’s parents stopped looking at him entirely by the time he started seventh grade.

000

Damien hated school. He hated everyone in it, including himself. He hated his home, and he hated the supermarket, and he hated the entire world. Maybe not the actual world, because if he was the only living person the world might just be a nice place. But he wasn’t, and every living person was a horrible person.

By the time Damien started high school, he was both a freak and a monster. He’d snarl at people when they tried to talk to him, shoving them away. They only ever wanted to make fun of him, why give them the chance? He hadn’t even spoken to his parents in months, he hadn’t had a friend all his life, and he hadn’t held a conversation in almost as long. They were right, he was a freak. Someone so disgusting, even their own soulmate hated them.

Damien convinced himself that he hated everyone. They all hated him, why should he act any different? He still couldn't help it, though, when in senior year a group of four boys started eating in the library at lunch. They were loud, and very obnoxious. The first time he saw them, he’d glared and turned away, browsing the internet until the bell rang.

But they stayed. And he got to know them, though none of them really knew his name.

The quietest one, who Damien was required to hate less because of his music taste. Not that they’d ever talked, Damien was just nosy. His name was Virgil, and his Soul-Saying was on the back of his hand in light blue.

The second was Logan. He was tall, and honestly came off a snobbish. In all actuality, he reminded Damien of his own father - so he liked Logan much less than the other three. His soulmark was along one arm, in chicken-scratch purple.

The third was Patton, who seemed nice. Too nice. Too much like how Damien had always tried to be. Damien hated Patton. No one was really that nice, it must all be an act. Just like his had been, before he accepted that he was a monster. Patton’s soul saying was on the back of his neck, Damien had only glimpsed it once, but it was in bright magenta.

Then there was the other one. The loudest. The most obnoxious, annoying person Damien had ever paid much attention to. Roman Prince. That was the only surname of a peer Damien had ever bothered to learn. He… sang a lot. He knew every Disney song by heart, which Damien found admirable - no matter how annoying it got. Roman was interesting. Damien didn’t hate him as much as anyone else, to be honest.

There was always something new or interesting to notice about Roman. Especially the fact that his Soul-Saying wasn’t visible whenever Damien saw him. Of course, it wasn’t strange for a Soul-Saying to be on a back, or a stomach, or legs that were always covered. Or even the bottom of a foot. And Roman certainly had a soulmate. If Damien hadn’t given up caring for people long ago, he’d be very interested in him.

But he wasn’t.

...That was a lie.

Damien listened to them for an entire semester. He learned all their inside jokes, and he knew about different things happening, randomly, in their lives. Virgil had anxiety. Logan loved the stars. Patton always made cookies on Sunday nights to bring the next day to school. Roman… Damien learned a lot about Roman.

By the time Christmas break was almost there, Damien couldn't tell himself he hated them. It would be impossible. Even Patton, who he’d loathed, wasn’t quite hated. Damien didn’t like him by any means… but he’d once offered Damien a cookie when the other three were late one Monday. It was the best thing Damien had ever eaten, and the only thing he’d eaten that day.

Christmas break was worse than school. Both parents ignored him, and Damien didn’t mind. He knew they hated him. They hated his face, they hated that his soulmate was going to hate him - though they weren’t surprised. They never had been. Never had his mother comforted him, never had his father told him he didn’t need a soulmate. They hated him, and Damien was just waiting until he was eighteen to move out and get some kind of plastic surgery on his face. Or just jump off a bridge. He hadn’t decided yet.

Then, finally, Damien was back at school. He hated school, all but one hour. Lunch. He couldn't help it, he wanted to see if the four boys would still be there, and he wanted to know how their Christmases had gone.

Roman had gone on a cruise, he told the others about it before. Patton had gone out of town for family, and Logan and Virgil were spending it together. Damien had a sneaking suspicious that Logan and Virgil were soulmates, but that's none of his business.

As soon as the lunch bell rang, Damien was speed walking toward the library to get there first. He had his hood up and his head down, as usual, to avoid any unnecessary people seeing his face. And he didn’t see the boy with a red and white jacket, striking red hair, and bright green eyes until he’d already run into him and knocked them both to the ground.

Damien gasped as he heard the surprised yelp.

It was Roman.

“Oh- I’m so sorry!” Damien stammered, scrambling backward. He kept his head ducked as he reached to help Roman up. “Honestly, I should just… jump off a bridge or something… probably be better for everyone.” He hadn’t meant to say that last part, and it had been so quiet he didn’t think Roman would hear it. Until the other boy gasped.

“Don’t say that!”

Damien’s eyes widened as Roman put a hand on each of his shoulders. He jerked his head up to stare at him before realizing Roman could see his face, clear as day. He winced as Roman seemed surprised, but Roman didn’t look repulsed. The shock faded quickly, and Roman smiled.

“Uh…” Damien pulled out of Roman’s grip. He hadn’t been prepared for this situation. And maybe Roman wasn’t the one, maybe he was just nice - what a surprise. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I-”

“Don’t be sorry!” Roman beamed, grabbing his hand. “You sit in the library too, right?” Damien’s eyes widened again. Roman noticed him?

“Uh-”

“Come on,” Roman tugged him toward the door. “The guys are going to be so excited to meet you-you have no idea!”

“What do you-”

“Honestly,” Roman turned again, grinning. “Have you ever read that saying on your face? We’re soulmates!”

Damien was tugged into the library, where Roman was ecstatic to very dramatically pose with him in front of the others.

“Guys, you won’t believe it!”

“Oh, hi Damien!” Patton bounced up. “I made cookies!”

“Damien.” Roman echoed, then hugged him. Damien froze. No one had ever hugged him. Not since he was a tiny child before he knew his parents hated him. “What a great name! Guys this is my soulmate!” Then he turned to face Damien, who was still standing with his mouth half open. “Sorry, I’m Roman! Roman Prince! Patton already knows you I guess, and that’s Logan and Virgil.”

“Uh…” Damien flushed slightly, backing up. “Yeah, I know who you guys are…”

“I’d hope so, you’ve been eavesdropping on us for months,” Virgil said sarcastically. Damien scowled.

“No, I wasn’t! I’ve sat here since freshman year, and-”

“Oh, Virgil’s kidding!” Roman laughed. “I’m just happy I met you at last! Can you believe storm cloud over there met Logan in seventh grade?”

Damien had been right… Virgil and Logan were soulmates.

“Uh…”

“Come have cookies!” Patton declared, pulling another chair to their table. Damien sat next to Roman despite himself, listening to Roman dramatically tell them how they realized they were soulmates.

“And then he said sorry, and-” Roman stopped mid-story, frowning thoughtfully. Damien glanced at him.

“Roman…?”

“I was always worried about my soulmate because of that,” Roman finally admitted. Because of what…? Damien’s eyes widened as he remembered exactly what he’d said. He put his cookie down.

“Oh, uh…”

“It’s okay,” Roman bumped him with his elbow. “As long as you know it’s not true.” Damien glanced up at him, then around at the others. Virgil was on his phone, as usual, but Patton and Logan were looking between each other and Roman. Maybe they knew what Roman’s Soul-Saying was.

“Yeah,” Damien lied, shrugging.

“Because it’s not,” Roman turned to face him more. “After all, where would I be without a soulmate, right?”

The thought of Roman being sad had always made Damien angry. Once after a horrible morning, Roman had nearly broken down in tears while explaining his mood to Patton. Damien had been furious and took it out on himself later with nothing better to do. It was obvious that Roman took soulmates very seriously. Damien had once thought his would hate him… but it seemed it was the opposite.

“Yeah,” Damien found himself smiling for the first time since he could remember. “You’re right.” Roman smiled at him, and for the first time since he heard his mother that night, Damien wasn’t thinking about his face.

[littleliv1]

39’- Brian May One Shot

A/n: a new series I’m starting y’all. It’s going to be in this type of format, I’ll figure out a way to post all of the stories in this series. I worked really hard on this so I really really hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what other songs I should do this with! Much love<3

WC: 2.4k

Summary: Earth is dying. And Brian takes the opportunity to help try to save you and his now growing family.

Warnings: it’s real sad ngl. Contains suicide, so please if that triggers you, don’t read!

The year was 2238. Earth was dying, and it was inevitable. The air was unbearably hot and sticky. The last clear sky was recorded in the 2100s. There are records from hundreds of years ago where kids got out of school for snow, something kids nowadays only read about. They could never imagine it. They got out of school for things like if the temperature was over 50°C, even then, you never missed a day of school. Not after the newly designed school head set. Sick? Put it on and enjoy your day at school. Heat day? Even teachers had one.

In 2200, the government in nearly all countries had failed. The world leaders came together to creat the SSA; the Synchronized Settlement Act. From then on, the world wasn't split into countries. It was one, though physically separated, everyone was one. The Earth was labeled by direction.

You had married the love of your life, Brian May in 2330. Every couple was allowed one child, due to over population. You and Brian decided to wait as long as you could to have the child, especially with the rumors of a newly born world that was possibly near. Alas, those were only but rumors. With Brian's musical talent and his knowledge of space, he had scored you all a nice shack on the beach. It was small, but nicer than most of the southern homes.

This night, you were sitting on the beach, looking at the cloudy sunset. You were surrounded by trash, and the ocean was black is was so dirty. But you were used to it. You all were. Your thoughts were interrupted by a body sitting close to you. You could tell it was Brian by the shadow. "Doing what you do best," He stated, sitting next to you. "And what's that?" You asked, looking over to him. He smiled, pushing your hair behind your ear. "Looking absolutely breath taking. Looks like tonight is clearer than most nights, that's good," He said, pointing out to the coast. You nodded your head disappointingly. "Yeah, I only wish I could see a real sunset. I read once that people used to see the sun, and it wasn't just a mush of colors." You said. He pressed his hand against your neck, rubbing it slightly. "I know, my love," he whispered to you. It absolutely killed him how much he could see you hurt when you talked about how the way things used to be. "I come with good news and bad news," He said, wrapping his hand around yours. You smiled. "I could use some good news." He smiled back, showing his perfect teeth. "The newly born world is real, and they leave to find it in ten months," you smiled so wide, you had never been so happy, besides your wedding day. "Oh Brian! That's fantastic! How could that ever have something bad?" You said, hugging him. "Well, they asked for volunteers, preferably ones with knowledge of space," he quietly spoke. Your heart sank, as did your arm that had been resting on his shoulder. "And, you volunteered?" You asked, your face flushing from the sadness. And he nodded.

A few months had gone by, and it was months full of fun, crying, and passionate love making. On this particular night, you had been feeling weird for the last few months, so you went to the doctor while Brian was away at training. You find out that you're four months pregnant. You sat in your car crying for hours. You couldn't tell if it was out of the happiness that you'd have a part of Brian with you while he was gone, or sad because you'd have to do this alone. Once you returned home, you found Brian at the table reading a book about space. He looked up at you to smile, taking a second before noticing your tear stained eyes. "My love, what's wrong?" He said, pulling himself up and hugging you. "Bri, I'm," you started, unable to find the words to finish. So you showed him the paper work. "You're pregnant," he stated, you nodding your head in response. He hugged you tightly, and you couldn't help but to sob in his chest.

In the year of 39' assembled here the volunteers, in the days when the lands were few

The day he was to leave finally arrived. They were together, holding each other for what felt like hours. He pulled back, holding your left hand. “This ring binds us. And it will for as long as we will,” he said, kissing your hand. “When you wear it, look at the sky and close your eyes. You’ll know what I mean soon,” he continued.

Here the ship sailed out, into the blue and sunny mourn, sweetest sight ever seen.

Your moment was interrupted by someone yelling that it was time to leave. He grabbed your face and kissed you for as long as he possibly could. “I love you Brian Harold May!” You yelled as he was being forced into the rocket. “I love you too (y/f/n)!” His muffled voice yelled. Within an hour, the rocket was gone and had taken off.

That was the loneliest night of your life. You laid there, looking at his side of the bed. You vowed that never in your life for as long as you live, no one, not even you, will lay there. You looked at your wedding band, remembering what he said. You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor, and walked to the front porch. You saw the silhouette of the moon, but you could tell it was full. You closed your eyes and did everything you could to feel him.

And the night followed day, and the story tellers say, that the score Brave Souls inside,

6 months had passed and your baby was born. You birthed a beautiful baby boy, who you named Brian Harold May Jr., Harry for short. Harry was only a few weeks old. One the media, they name the volunteers the Brave Souls.

For a many lonely day, sailed across the milky sea, ne’er looked back, never feared, never cried.

A year had passed. They had very little contact with the volunteers, at this point they could only receive messages. But, the Brave Souls, as their name implies, they were brave. Strong. Not one wanted to turn around. They weren’t afraid. They wanted to fix the mess that the past had made, and restart for their families. Even though they so dearly missed them.

Don’t you hear my call? Though you’re many years away, don’t you hear me calling you?

It’s been five years since the volunteers left. You began to question when they will return. Harry was turning five in a few weeks, and for his present he wants his daddy. It broke your heart. At night, after you had your dinner, washed up your son, and put him to bed, you’d spend your nights out side looking at the sky. You began to feel his longing for you, you felt it at first in your stomach, the same warm feeling he gave you, but as time went on, you felt it in your head, then your heart. You knew he was calling for you. And you called for him.

He could feel it, too. As he looked out of the window, he held his wedding band, closed his eyes, and focused on you. They had been gone for a few weeks now, and man did he miss you.

Write your letters in the sand, for the day I take your hand, in the land that our grandchildren knew.

Harry was ten years old. It had been ten years since you’d seen Brian. You were close to loosing hope that he was still alive, but you wrote him letters every night. Every night for ten years, not to mention the ones Harry wrote when he started to write. You all glued and pasted them to pages in a scrap book for his return, waiting patiently for him.

Harry wrote about how he wants to meet his daddy. You and he watched the news together, looking at the group picture that the Brave Souls took. You always pointed Brian out. “There’s daddy,” you’d say, holding your child. At night, you always looked towards his side of the bed. You hadn’t kissed, slept with, or even touched another man that wasn’t your son. His side of the bed had gone untouched for ten years. Harry liked to draw pictures of space, he’d show his friends at school. Only they weren’t his friends. He had come home with a black eye one day, they had teased him mercilessly that his dad was dead and that he should just face it. That was the last time you sent him away.

You home schooled him for the remainder of his school years.

Many many years had passed, and you had to face the fact that you may never see Brian again. You were old. You were dying. You were at the age of 65 when you were old you had cancer, it was at stage two and spreading fast. But you fought for 20 more years. Harry was 58, with a child of his own, and she with a child of her own. Harry’s wife died at child birth. His daughter was in her 30s, her daughter was almost 9. You adored your grandchild and your great grandchild. Soon, at the age of 89, you passed away peacefully.

Harry was devastated over your death. He lost his wife, Emily, when she had Aliyah. All he had was his daughter and his grandchild, Millie. Aliyah and Millie took care of him. He told them the stories of his father, Brian Harold May Senior. Millie loved the stories. He showed the girls the notes you and he wrote together, it always brought Aliyah to tears.

40 years later, Harry is 98. He’s getting older, and he can feel his body giving out. Aliyah is in her 70s, Millie is in her 40s with a son of her own who is 18 and expecting. The story’s of yours and Brian’s love never once left the family line, each new generation swearing to give it to Brian if the day ever came. Harry died at 100, one of the eldest men to have lived in the south side. Brian’s

In the year of 39’ came the ship in from the blue, the volunteers came home that day.

The family titled the book of letters you and Harry wrote ‘The Book of Love’. It was now in possession of his great great great grandson, Brian Harold May III. On a cold, September morning, their favorite show, The Moonies, was interrupted. “Damnit! I want to see what happens to Jill! What is this shit?” Millie said, angrily. She was visiting Harold was and his pregnant wife. Aliyah died in a plane crash a few months back. Harold was adding to the Book of Love, when he heard Millie shouting. “Mum, what is it?” He asked. He looked at her with a gaping mouth. “They-they’re-“ She started, standing to her feet as Harold realized what was happening. “They’re home,” he whispered. “Janet! Janet! They’re home! They’re home!” He said, shouting to his wife, now 7 months pregnant. “That’s great love! Go! Go meet him!” She said, kissing him deeply.

They went to the launching pad where they could meet Brian May Senior for the first time. They had a sign with his name on it. The door opened, to only six men. “I thought 16 had left?” Janet whispered to Harold. “No, yeah, 16. But there’s only six,” He said back. They were welcomed with applause. The captain of the ship came and took ahold of the microphone.

And they bring good news, of a world so newly. Though their hearts so heavily weighed.

“Greetings, friends and family. We thank you for this amazing greeting.” He started. The year was 2339. It had been 100 years since they left. “It’s been a long, hard few month, but we are glad to be home at last.” He spoke his words slowly, but everyone knew it was no few short months. A few hours later, they were released to be with their family. Brian found the family, with his name on the sign. “Brian May?” Harold said, look up at the tall man. He nodded his head. Brian just wanted to see you, though you had been dead for quite sometime now. They figured he would have known that by now. They greeted him with wonderful gifts, foods, everything. “My my, this is all so wonderful, but I’d like to see my wife, (y/n). She should be a few months pregnant, maybe 8 or 9 months?” He said. Harold and Millie looked at each other, sadness filled their eyes. “Come home with us, will get everything sorted out there,” Millie said, quietly. He nodded.

For the earth is old and grey, little darling well away. But my love this cannot be!

As they entered the house, Harold ran to get the book, sitting Brian down at a chair. Over the many years of its existence, it was filled of pictures from previous generations. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so here,” Millie said, handing him the book. “It’s from (y/n). She and her son Harry made this for you before they,” she paused looking down. Brian looked up at them, smiling. “What on earth are you talking about, who’s Harry?” He said. He opened the book, seeing all of the letter you and Harry had written to him. He was quite confused. “I don’t, I don’t understand. These are dated 20, 30, 40 years from now? I’ve only been gone a few months,” he said, looking over the dates. “Oh dear,” Janet said. Everyone looked at him in sorrow. “It’s the year ‘39, 2239, correct?” He said, failing faster through the pages, as he got to the family tree with dates. They were birth and death dates. “‘M afraid not, it’s 2339,” Millie said, holding his hand, trying to calm him. He started to panic as he saw your name.

(Y/f/n)-May: Born 2208-2297

“Oh, God, no,” he whispered. He gently ran his finger over the picture of you and Harry when he was 7.

For so many years are gone, though I’m older but a year, your mothers eyes from your eyes, cry to me.

Brian locked himself in his old bedroom for 3 weeks, reading all of your letters. And then rereading them, taking in all of the pictures that they gave to him. You made it a point to take plenty of pictures of Harry while he was a child, at his wedding, with his first born. Brian was too sad to cry. He only ate once a week, and they were a few crackers. Depressed was an understatement of the way he truly felt.

Don’t you hear my call? Though you’re many years away, don’t you hear me calling you. Write your letters in the sand, for the day I take your hand, in the land that our grandchildren knew.

It had been a month since he got home, and he hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to anyone. He laid in bed at night, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t handle it anymore. The sadness he felt.

He grabbed a case, and went to the beach. The same beach you two sat on, 100 years ago. Even though his entire line of family was promised a spot in the newly born world, as was he, he didn’t want it if it weren’t with you. He didn’t want any life without you. He opened the case, and pulled out a gun.

“Brian Harold My Senior took his life in 2339 due to grief of his lost wife, (y/n) May. Loving husband, father, along with many generations of life. Rest easy, Brave Soul.” His tombstone read. His family was heart broken for him. They wished that they could have gotten to know him, but they understood why that couldn’t happen. He didn’t belong here.

Don’t you hear my call, though you’re many years away, don’t you hear me calling you? All your letter in the sand, cannot heal my like your hand, for my life, still ahead, pity me.

In the distance of the sunset funeral, you could see Brian watching from afar. You approach him, taking his hand in yours. He could be shocked, but he knows it’s you. He turns to face you, taking in the same beautiful face that said her goodbyes too soon. “My love,” He said, resting his forehead into yours. “Together at last,” you replied, smiling. A single tear rolled down his face. “There’s no life I would want to live if it meant I couldn’t see you,” He said. You kissed him once more, deepening the kiss. “Would you like to meet your son?” You asked him. He nodded smiling. “You can meet him, if you’re ready,” you said, holding his hand. He nodded his head again. You both knew you mean if he was ready to cross over and be with you and your all’s child again. You smiled again, walking towards the sky, the clouds seeming to part for the two of you.

Millie, Harold, Janet, and Harold’s new daughter looked up. “To the most beautiful love story anyone will ever know,” Harold said, Brian forever resting next to you underneath a tree.

[not-rome]

Progressive Care

Summary:  Connor winds up in New Point Campus Behavioral Health Unit after trying to kill himself.  He makes a lot of discoveries, from things he hates to things he's been missing. He's missed laughing, smiling, getting better, and Evan.  So after a shitty day, Evan comes for visitation, and Connor couldn't be happier. Word Count: 6k words Trigger Warnings: mental hospital, panic attacks, self harm, self hatred, depression, and mentions of suicide attempts Note: I’ve based this off my experiences, and also; this may be the only thing I post in a while due to my hectic schedule Read of ao3 

Connor knew that no one thinks that behavioral centers are super fun, but he wasn’t expecting this shit. The people here were fucking insane. He knew he was ‘crazy’, but they took it to another level.

Schedules of their days were on the wall, and patients wouldn’t stop fucking looking at it. Sure, he wanted to see it too, but he didn’t want to be annoying like everyone else.  Group sessions were his nightmare since everyone had to open up at some point in time.  He wasn’t ready for his turn.

The boy he shared a room with was annoying.  Taylor was a lanky white kid with short blonde hair, and the complete opposite of Connor.  The blonde never shut the hell up, and flirted with every girl in the ward.  Then you had the brunette, spoke respectively, never made anyone uncomfortable, and wasn’t annoying.

“Connor, where were you again?  I woke up and you weren’t in the room,” Taylor said and Connor had to take a moment to control his anger.  His roommate snored so loud that Connor ended up going to the isolation room every night.

“Well, maybe if you could stop snoring, I’d be there in the morning,” Connor said before walking over to some of the people he considered his friends here.

Honestly, all of it fucking sucked.  He just kept his cool since Evan came and visited him every visitation day.  The two had spoken to each other in junior English a couple times, but their friendship didn’t truly start until Connor found the blonde on the ground in the park.

Connor knew he didn’t just fall out of a tree, but he didn’t say anything about it.  He signed the cast, and gave the blonde his number. Evan would awkwardly ask him to hang out, and the brunette started having a schedule for weed so he’d be sober when he was with the other boy.

This lead to the first day of school, and his suicide attempt.  He had somehow convinced Evan to sell him his depression medication, and he took them.  Of course Evan found him though, he kind of always found him in a way.

So he landed here, New Point Campus Behavioral Health Unit.  The only downside to the whole ordeal was that only his mother and Evan came to visit him.  He didn’t care that Larry didn’t want to see him, because he didn’t want to see that man anyways.

All he wanted was for Zoe to come and see him once.  He was trying to get better and, finally on some medication, could see his mistakes.

Evan made the comment that she’s just not ready, and the brunette knew that the two blondes were dating now.  Of course they would be dating, he was finally out of the picture.  Zoe loved the fact that he was gone, because now she could take the one thing Connor truly loved; Evan.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Michael asked and Connor yawned.  Everyone knew he wasn’t sleeping due to being in the isolation room.  “Shit, me too.”

“Maybe you should request to change roommates?” Brandon asked, Connor shrugged before plopping down on the light blue couch.  He noticed that Jennifer had turned on the Latino channel, she did this every morning since she missed her family so much.

“I’ve heard he’s leaving soon,” Amanda said as she watched the TV.  Only three people in the ward were fluent in Spanish, and they typically loved the Spanish channel.

“What are they saying, Manda?” Allison asked and everyone jumped at the sound of the 35 year old woman’s voice.

“Well, they’re talking about a traffic jam and apparently there was a break in somewhere,” Amanda explained, trying to listen closely to the TV.  She would say she didn’t look pretty, but Connor would disagree since she had an innocence about her.

Her chestnut skin was accompanied with black braided hair since she didn’t want her natural hair to suffer from the shitty hygiene products here.  Connor would say her eyes were a caramel color filled with light, but she would disagree.  

Amanda was his favorite person here, she was someone that you truly wondered why she would be here until she opened up.  It wasn’t that she was energetic and full of life, but more that she was picked first for activities and smiled more than she frowned.

He knew that he was the opposite.  Smiling wasn’t something he did often, but it was starting to happen more and more. Especially when Michael and Amanda started arguing over stupid things.  They were both way too rational, but in different ways.

“Guys, breakfast is in five minutes.  I still need to get some of your blood pressures,” Monica, a tech, informed everyone. Connor sat down in the chair meant for blood pressure, earning a smile from a auburn haired woman.  “How are you today?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I’m just so exhausted,” Connor said and Monica was the first person that he was open to in this place.  “I’m just happy that Evan is coming tomorrow.  I miss him a lot,” Connor said and Monica smiled at him with a bright smile.

“He sure is a cutie, or that’s what I’ve seen when I’ve been there,” she said and Connor nodded while sighing.

“The only problem is he has a thing for Zoe.”

“Your sister?”  Connor nodded and Monica gave him a sad smile. “He’ll come around.  We all know how amazing you are, and if he’s coming to visit; he knows it too.

“Thanks, Monica, that means a lot,” Connor said before getting up.  If Monica was a therapist, then he would be at her office every single week on time.  She was so caring, sweet, and actually understood how people felt.

“Connor, hurry up, we don’t want to wait on your ass,” Michael said and Amanda hit him.

“Shut up, Michael, we’ll wait as long as we need to.”

“Sorry, Miss Perfect, I’m fucking hungry,” Michael snapped, and everyone knew to back away from the small boy.  His temper wasn’t easy to control, and when people took a step back; so did he.

“Let’s get going,” Connor said before hurrying into the hall to get the tension out of everyone’s systems. A month ago, he would’ve snapped along with Michael, but now he was learning to cope.

Maybe this place wasn’t so shitty after all.

“Connor, what do you plan on doing today?” Opal asked him, he was sitting at the recs art table uncomfortably.  He hated coming to activities, but only because everyone got so noisy.

“I think I may paint today,” he suggested, as if it would actually get the old therapist off his back. She smiled at him before getting him the kids’ water color pallets and some paper.

He wasn’t sure what to paint, so he just started off with green.  Connor wasn’t really focusing on the painting, but focused on favorite memories.

Evan was sitting on Connor’s grey comforter, smiling over at him.  He brought him a bonsai tree for his room, and the blonde boy had placed it on the cluttered desk.  No words were exchanged, just comfortable silence allowing them to breathe.

It was Evan’s first ever Murphy family dinner, and it ended with the blonde having an anxiety attack in the bathroom.  All the poor kid wanted to do was bring the tree and go to McDonalds.

“Why are you smiling so big, Connor?” Amanda asked, she was leaning over looking at the painting. She assumed it was making him happy.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said before noticing that he had painted the same bonsai tree on a wooden desk. Of course it would be a painting about Evan, it always was.

Connor was sitting on his bed, writing a letter on the small side table that was bolted to the ground. Taylor left, so the brunette was finally sleeping.  His head was clear, but was still foggy.  It varied day to day, and today he was trying to fight off the foggy thoughts of death and self-harm.

He was getting better, and decided to try to fight it off by writing Evan a letter.  The doctor told him that writing his feelings down could help him process emotions, so Connor started writing.  He had written three letters at this point, all talking about different things.

Some spoke about the drama going on around the ward, Evan loved the drama way too much.  He ate up the entire Taylor situation to a point that worried Connor.  Then bringing up Michael to him was something else too.  Evan saw Michael’s boyfriend waiting on the boy every time he came to visit, and it was a sad sight.

Jeremy, Connor told Evan the name, would always cry as he sat down and pull out a letter.  Evan could see it was made out to the boy reading it, and then he’d wipe his tears right as Michael walked in.  Both of them would look bright and happy just seeing each other.  So, Evan was expecting an entire backstory, and Connor was keeping track of that for him.

Then some spoke about how dark Connor’s life truly was before coming here.  How everything felt meaningless, and how people felt like phases. How Evan used to feel like a phase to him until the two officially became friends.  Connor was used to losing people, and he assumed the blonde would be no different.

The final letter was a confession letter to Evan.  The blonde was so dense, he never once caught on to Connor’s futile attempts in flirting. So, the last attempt of keeping off these foggy thoughts was to finally tell Evan how he felt.

Feelings didn’t make sense to Connor.  Even when he was used to them, he just didn’t understand the purpose.  Why are there so many emotions that have their own feelings? Why can’t people just feel neutral all the time?  Being neutral wasn’t too exciting since all it held was anger, but Connor was used to outbursts.  He just couldn’t understand why no one else understood where he was coming from for so long.

All the letters would be given to Evan, some earlier than others.  The confession letter would be the first, so then Connor knew if the blonde would actually come back after that. It had almost been a month, and the doctors said he may be there for another month or two.  So, if Evan wasn’t going to stay after this whole confession, then Connor knew he was a phase like he believed in the beginning.

Dear Evan Hansen,

I’m worried that you’re going to hate me.  It terrifies the hell out of me, because you’re the first person to truly care about me.  You’re probably freaking out, but don’t.  I’m getting better, and my mind is finally clearing for the first time since freshman year.

All my friends have been phases for as long as I could remember, and I’ve written a letter diving deeper into this.  It’s just that the moment I was fully there for someone to see, they would dwindle away until there was someone new.  I thought you’d be like that, sometimes I still worry about it.

Maybe it’s the fact that people started being nice to me because they all thought I’d be a school shooter.  Or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re such a kind person wanting to befriend the depressed stoner kid.  I was always scared to open up to you, and here we are now; me finally opening up to you.

I don’t remember the last time I could actually laugh freely without feeling judged.  The people here may be crazy, but they’ve been encouraging me to do things I never thought I could.  I never knew that I could have a real love for someone while in my state of mind, but after constant reassurance; I know I can.

You’re the person that I love.  Everyone in my unit knows I love you from how I act around you.  I love you, Evan Hansen.  This seems really out of character for my dark and fulfilled with angst appearance, but I’m finally in a better state of mind to realize it. I finally know that you’re not a phase, and you’re not going to dwindle away like everyone else.

You’re always there for me, and I don’t know how you do it. I can barely be there for myself, due to my terrible mood swings, and I have to be there at all times regardless. You just amaze me in so many ways, but I don’t know if I can truly describe them through a letter.  The only sad thing is that I don’t know if I can say these things aloud.

Evan, your brightness blinds me, and it’s the only light in my life. You could tell me about saplings for six hours, and I’d still be in awe of you.  I’d listen to every single word, and then I’d ask questions just so you can continue to be passionate.  I love passion, and you offer so much of it.

Do you know that you’re the first person I’ve properly hugged in years?  I’ve missed it so much.  Your arms wrapped around my waist, head under my chin, and warmth radiating between us is a dream come true.  No one wanted to touch me, but you did.  You’d cuddle into my chest whenever I was having a panic attack.

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.  I’m just a mess of a person who only got help because someone else reached out for me.  I’m just a shitty person, my own sister won’t even come see me due to it.  Just love her right, okay?  I want her happy if I can’t be.

I know you love Zoe, hell I think we all know.  Part of me wants to be selfish and tell you to choose me, but I know you won’t.  You’ve loved her for so long that I don’t know if you can’t love her anymore.  I guess it’s okay, I mean I’m used to not getting things.

God, I miss you and I saw you three days ago.  I miss you so much, because when you’re here you like to make assumptions about everyone.  My favorite is the one about Allison, and how her fiancé is cheating on her, but she refuses to see it.

I just miss you so much, and maybe it’s the whole love thing? I’m still getting used to feeling emotions again, so please don’t hold anything against me if I mess up at first.

I wish you loved me like I love you.  I may wish for a lot of things, but they mean nothing to me when I’m around you.  I just wish for you, and I know it’s going to freak you out; so I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Connor Murphy.

It was Tuesday, aka visitation day, and everyone was going fucking crazy in the progressive care unit. Allison was bitching over her fiancé again, while Tracy kept talking about her friend coming, and Michael wouldn’t shut up about his boyfriend.

All Connor wanted was sleep, but of course everyone was awake at eight in the fucking morning. Don’t forget to eat your shitty eggs and bacon.  The thought of food made Connor’s stomach upset.  His nerves were already on edge due to Evan coming today, but the disgusting food made it worse.  Was today going to be a good day?  No one knew.

So the brunette rolled out of bed, got his blood pressure taken, then headed down to the cafeteria. Black coffee and grapes were going to be his breakfast, and he was excited about the coffee portion of the meal. The bitter coffee had been the only thing truly keeping him sane in this place.

He sat next to Michael, who was chatting happily with everyone.  Sometimes the brunette hated how social the kid next to him was, but it was beneficial so then he didn’t have to speak.  It’s not that Connor hates everyone on the ward, it’s just he’s heard some pretty wild stories.

“Is there going to be a group after this?” Veronica asked and Michael groaned.  That’s how everyone felt during group, irritated.

“Yep, you guys have group right after hygiene time,” Sasha, a tech, said as she walked around seeing how much everyone had eaten.

“Sasha, you know how you’re my favorite girl ever, right?” Connor said with a flirty attitude, only to receive a laugh from the 18 year old girl.

“Connor, we all know you’re gay and that you can’t get out of group,” she stated before walking over to the other table of people from their unit.

“Dude, we all know you like that short blonde kid that comes and visits you,” Michael said as he shoved some biscuits in his mouth.  Connor was disgusted at the sight of the Latino boy eating messily, but he tried to not think about it.

“I mean, yeah, but I’m pretty sure he’s dating my sister.  Then again, I don’t know since I haven’t been home in a month,” Connor said with a shrug, and everyone at the table looked at him sadly.

“This is almost as sad as when they looked up my hooch to see if I was carrying a knife in there,” Allison said and everyone scooted away from her.  She was here so she didn’t have to be in prison, and boy was she weird.

“Anyways, so you think he’s dating your sister?” Amanda, a short ginger girl, asked while tilting her head.  Connor nodded, and Michael wrapped an arm around the taller boy’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“Connor, tonight is the night that we make blondie fall for you,” Michael said, using huge hand gestures and making the brunette feel anxious.

“He’s fallen once, out of a tree,” the brunette said and Trinity started laughing.

“God, that’s really fucking sad.  You’re good at getting twinks I guess,” she said and Connor’s face grew into a deep red color.

“My boyfriend is a twink too!” Michael exclaimed, and this is why Connor hated the people in his ward. They were too loud, and too personal for his own liking.

“Let’s have a sharing group today,” Flynn, a young therapist, said and almost everyone groaned. All the therapists knew everyone hated group since it was hard to even open up to yourself.  “Come on guys, it’s not that bad.”

“I’d rather have a panic attack,” Connor said and everyone laughed while agreeing.  Self-deprecating jokes were popular here, but maybe that’s because everyone on this ward tried to kill themselves.

“You seem rather vocal today, Con-man,” Flynn said, he had to use the stupid nickname.  The therapist was well known for coming up with the dumbest nicknames, and no one could say no since the 25 year old had too much charm.

“Uh, not really,” Connor said, he felt uncomfortable with everyone looking at him.  Group was terrible because everyone stares and scans you like you’ve killed children or something.

“Come on, no one has heard from you about how you’re feeling,” Flynn pushed, and Connor hated this. Why couldn’t Monica be here to tell this guy to stop?  She’d save him.

“I’m just getting feelings again after not having them for years.  You know severe depression, weed, anxiety, and self-harm.  All kind of make you numb after a while,” Connor said shyly, he hated attention like this.  He hated talking about things like this.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I mean, not really. Typically don’t.”

“Connor, you know that this is a place you can really speak, right?” Amanda asked, everyone looked over at her.  She was giving the brunette a soft gaze, something he needed.

“It’s just my parents don’t care about the things I have to say, because I’m just the fuck up.  I’ve conditioned myself to not care, and to just be quiet,” Connor said before sobbing and putting his face in his hands.

Michael rubbed the brunette’s back, and people were telling him that he could tell them everything he needed to.  It was so much for Connor, because he’s only ever experienced this with Evan.  He calmed down a little bit, wiping his eyes before looking at Flynn again.

“My sister hates me, and I get why.  I was abusive because she was loved more, and I hated it.  I hate being nothing, and every day was another day where I screwed up. She can’t even come see me, and I can’t blame her.”  His hands found their way to his neck, strangling himself before biting the knuckles. Blood was dripping everywhere, and he couldn’t breathe.  Where could he go to breathe?

Connor got up, sobbing uncontrollably, and ran into the ward bathroom.  The only way anyone got him out was by taking him to his room so he could lay down.  Whenever he said he’d rather have a panic attack, he didn’t really mean it.

Everyone finally realized why Connor never shared anything about himself, he was too unstable to even admit to himself.

Connor slept until lunch, and he sleepily got up and walked into the common room.  Amanda was the first to approach him, not scared of what happened earlier.  She gave him a hug, and he was slow to return it.

“I’m sorry for pushing you,” she apologized, and he shook his head.  It wasn’t her fault he was like this, not in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I’m the only one who pushed myself,” he said before patting her head and walking over to Michael.  The other boy was trying to sweet talk Ashley into giving him his anxiety pills earlier than the time on the bottle.

“I’m literally about to cry, and we don’t want to see that,” Michael said in a suave voice, making everyone roll their eyes.

“After dinner,” Ashley said, typing away at her computer, not even bothering to look up.

“What if I can’t last?”

“Then we’ll take you from dinner and bring you here to calm you down,” she said and Michael huffed like a four year old.  He stomped over to Connor, who looked dead tired, and crossed his arms.

“You know, all I want are my freaking meds, and getting them 20 minutes early will not kill me,” Michael whined as he threw his arms in the air with a big grand gesture.  Connor laughed at the 17 year old, almost crying from how hard he was laughing.  “What’s so funny?”

“It’s almost like you came over here to complain to me like I’m your dad.  Who would’ve known Michael complains to his dad?” Connor asked, calming down and Michael had tears in his eyes.

“I mean I would if I had one.  The only dad I really have is Jeremy’s and I really do like talking to him,” Michael said, opening up to Connor.  The brunette brought the smaller boy into a hug.

“Dude, I will totally be your dad.”

“Connor, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Michael asked, but he melted into the hug.  No one ever hugged Michael besides Jeremy and Christine.

“This is not fair, Connor never hugs me!” Amanda exclaimed and suddenly there was a huge group hug of most of the patients.  The warmth made Connor smile brightly.

“Why do we have to have another group?  Why can’t we just have nap time?” Julie whined, and everyone else was behind her on that idea.  Nap time would be so beneficial to them since no one ever slept at night due to the cold temperature.

“You get time to sleep at night,” Ashley said from the nurses’ station, causing everyone to roll their eyes.  The nurses knew that none of them ever slept at night.

“Tell Lolly to make it not so fucking cold at night, then we’ll talk,” Connor snapped and everyone cheered at the comment.  Everyone hated the 50 year old woman who put the temperature down to 40 on her night shifts.

“Connor, don’t be rude,” Monica warned and the brunette shrugged before sitting in a chair by the window.  It was time to be melodramatic and look out the window as if he’s never seen the outside world before.

He only did it for the effect, because they actually took them outside for an hour every day. Everyone requested a song, and would either sit at a table or lay in the grass.  Connor typically did the latter option so then he could feel the sun on his face.  It made him think of Evan.

“So, we’re going to be talking about support groups today!” Donna exclaimed excitedly as she started handing out papers for everyone.  She placed Connor’s paper on the table in front of him, and gave him a look of he had to participate today.

Michael walked over and sat next to the brunette, carrying two tiny pens.  They didn’t really constitute as pens, since it was only the ink plastic with bendy cover.  The writing tool was about two inches long, and Connor hated using it.

“Let’s talk about what support systems are.  Anyone have an idea?” Donna asked and Amanda was the first to raise her hand.

“We’re a support system,” Amanda answered with a tone of pride of being the first to answer. Donna shook her head, causing her falling out ginger hair to slink farther off her head.

“Not outside of here you aren’t.  You’re not supposed to contact each other for three months after you are discharged. It’s better to think of everyone here as a fleeting thought,” Donna explained and Connor slammed his hands on the table.

“You know, we’re in here because we felt alone.  We felt like no one would know if we fucking died, but you’re going to tell us that we can’t continue to be friends?  Support systems at home don’t immediately change, so if we don’t have each other, then we’ll try to kill ourselves again.  Does no one fucking get that?” Connor snapped and Donna looked taken aback.

“It’s for your safety, we don’t want anyone being triggered into another–, “Connor cut her off by standing up and his chair flying behind him and hitting the wall.

“For out safety? Donna, do you not realize that I literally had no one before I tried to kill myself?  I haven’t felt this comfortable around anyone in years, and they are my friends.  They’re not going to fade away, I refuse it to happen,” Connor yelled before crumbling to the ground crying.

Today had been too rough on him, but at least Evan would be coming later.  Maybe Evan could give him the biggest hug possible, and make Connor feel at home.  He missed his home (Evan) so much, and he wanted to be back there.

The group was called off after he crumbled to the ground.  Donna went to her office, embarrassed by the fact that he called her out over a rule.  Connor went grabbed his hygiene bucket, a towel, and headed to his room for a shower. He needed to shower before Evan came, so then the blonde couldn’t smell the anxiety of the brunette.

Should Connor also change? There was a t-shirt Evan brought him, he hadn’t looked at it yet, but he imagined it was fine.  So, he quickly went to shower and then went out into the room to grab some clothes.  His black jeans, briefs, and a jacket were the first things he picked up.

The shirt Evan had brought him was black with green tree patterns all over it.  The brunette chuckled before grabbing it and going back into the bathroom.

He really loved Evan Hansen.

“Connor, you have a visitor!” Sasha exclaimed, everyone was always excited for the brunette whenever he had a visitor.

Maybe it was due to him being so closed off, but after visitations he seemed happier.  Or maybe it had to deal with the amount of breakdowns he has.

Evan was waiting for him at a table, and perked up the moment he saw Connor.  He smiled really big when he realized the shirt the brunette was wearing was one that Evan bought him.  Connor knew how excited it would make the blonde boy, and that’s why he did it.

Connor felt the letter burning his pocket, but wrapped his arms around the blonde.  Evan gripped the black cardigan the brunette was wearing. They both sighed into each other, taking a moment to let anxiety flow out.

“Hey,” Evan said, his face lit up with a smile.  The two were sitting in the back of the cafeteria, and it gave the blonde full ability to judge others’ situations.

“Hey, I’ve really missed you,” Connor said and Evan nodded.  They both sucked with words when it came to speaking.   Speaking wasn’t anyone’s strong suit anymore, unless you’re Michael Mell.

“Okay, tell me some of the drama,” Evan said softly, and the brunette chuckled with a nod.

“There’s a new guy, his name is Carter, and he’s been really nice to me?  Like says my eyes are pretty like my hair, but does he not realize my hair is disgusting?” Connor asked, he looked genuinely confused until Evan huffed a little.

“He’s flirting with you, just what the, I mean you are beautiful, but like, fuck,’ Evan muttered and Connor stared at him with curiosity.

“What did you say?” Evan’s eyes went from the table to Connor in a spilt second.  He looked flustered; red cheeks and trembling hands.  “I seriously didn’t hear you.”

“I just asked if he was cute or not,” Evan lied and Connor shrugged before looking around.  He saw Carter talking to a little girl and an older woman.

“He’s right there,” Connor said as he discreetly pointed over to the auburn guy, and Evan almost choked on his spit.

Carter was hot.  He had the soccer boy haircut, nice bone structure, and auburn hair.  The blonde was guessing the other guy was around 6” tall and was built.

“You don’t know if he’s cute or not?” Evan asked, flabbergasted.  Connor wondered if this was the perfect time to pull out the letter. Maybe then Evan would know that Connor didn’t look at other boys.

He pulled it out of his pocket, and handed it to Evan.  The blonde looked confused before opening the folded paper.  His blue eyes started scanning the letter, and Connor felt like he needed to get up and run.  Why had he thought this was going to be a good idea?

Evan’s face remained neutral the entire time (except for the occasional blush), before looking up at Connor in the end.  He folded the letter, placed it on the table, and put his chin on his hands.  The look on the blonde’s face was one of needing more explanation than just that.

“So you’ve read the letter?” Connor asked awkwardly, he wasn’t good a confrontation at all.  Why had he thought this was going to be a good idea?

“You, um, you?  You love me?” Evan stuttered out, but it wasn’t in a nervous tone.  The blonde was still processing it all, and Connor knew that.

“Yeah, you know just like bro things, haha,” Connor said awkwardly only to earn a laugh from Evan. The blonde was laughing at him? Shit, abort mission, fucking shit.

“I’m not dating Zoe. I don’t love her,” Evan stated and Connor’s breath was stuck in his throat.  He wasn’t used to feeling all nervous like this.

Honestly, Connor wasn’t used to feeling anything.  This was all new to him, and he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed it or not.  The last time he felt anything was freshman year. Short haired Connor smiled more, but still struggled with depression.

“Well, I mean who said you were?” Connor asked, chuckling breathily, his face was turning pink from getting flustered.  Why the hell was this happening to him?

Suddenly, Evan went from looking all stoic and carefree, to the anxious boy he truly is.  His face turned pink, and he started to shake. His eyes were focused to the table, fingers tapping the wood, and he started chewing on his lip.

“God, Connor, just like, like how, oh my god,” Evan stumbled out, planting his face into his hands as his face turned completely red.  Connor shouldn’t have been admiring him in this moment, but he couldn’t help that the blonde was too cute for his own good.

“I’ve never been this clear minded before,” the brunette whispered and Evan smiled into his hands. They both looked like flustered messes. “Have I weirded you out?”

Evan started to laugh, something that Connor hadn’t heard before.  This started as giggles, moved to cackles, and then suddenly he was crying from laughter.  The brunette had no clue what any of this meant, so he sat there quietly and waited.

“Have you weirded me out? C-Connor, just, how, like, oh my god. Why am I so nervous?” Evan asked, wiping his eyes and stuttering his words.

“Because you hate me. You think I’m a fucking freak,” Connor said, tears prickling his eyes.  He hated emotions, he just wanted to go back to not feeling anything at all. He wanted to go back to the first day of school.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Evan started, grabbing Connor’s hands.  His voice was full of worry, and the brunette looked at the table.  “I’m nervous because I love you too.”

Connor’s eyes flew open and he looked up at the blonde.  The other boy looked super flustered, still holding onto his hands.  Evan was staring out the window, looking at the rain falling steadily.

“You love me?” Connor asked and Evan nodded.  His eyes flickered over the brunette, only to retreat as fast as they looked over. “So, no Zoe?”

“Why are you obsessed with her?  I just told you I love you,” Evan pouted and Connor just about melted at the sight of the pouting boy.  Evan’s blue eyes were on the brunette, and his little pout reached his eyes.

“You’ve been in love with her since freshman year, I just assumed that you still loved her.”  Evan pressed Connor’s hands against his face, pressing a kiss on them.  That seemed to be enough for Connor to know that Evan really did love him.

“I promise you, I love you. I don’t have eyes for anyone else,” Evan said before leaning across the table to kiss Connor on the cheek.

“So, we’re dating now?” Connor asked and Evan nodded, he looked like he was about to cry.  Connor didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign.

“I’m just so happy, oh my god.  You’re getting better, and you love me.  We’re really progressing forward, together,” Evan said with a soft smile and Connor nodded.

Even though today had been completely shit, he still got to see Evan.  Evan told him that he loves him, and then said they could date.  It made up for everything else.

Although Connor wasn’t getting help for Evan, but himself, he had another reason to fight more and more. Evan had been a reason, but now Connor felt like he was a hundred percent there for him.  It made him stronger in a sense.  It was nice to know that there was someone rooting you on from the sidelines, and maybe that’s what Donna had been saying.

Honestly, Connor just hated Donna, so he’d rather choke than listen to her bitch about making friends with your family.  She didn’t know the first thing about abusive families, and the brunette wasn’t going to let her try to tell him how to be their best friends.So, Connor started ranting about his day, and Evan listened intently to everything.  Sometimes his thumb would caress the back of Connor’s hand, while other times Evan would kiss the brunette’s knuckles.  

They both felt safe here in this behavioral center cafeteria to be affectionate, which sounded pretty weird on its own.

[linneaem]

Jennie & Simon

”I wake up every morning, with a heart beating so hard and fast that my whole body is shivering. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. My body is shaking. My hands are shaking. I’m out of breath. Tears are streaming down my face. Agony. The agony coming from the fact that my little brother is dead for real. It’s true. This fucking nightmare is true.”

This is what my friend Jennie Hultgren wrote on her personal blog two months after her brother Simon, only 14 years old, committed suicide. With slightly more than 800 daily readers online, she ripped her chest wide open and poured her heart out in words, telling stories that most people keep to themselves. On that blog, she shared her darkest inner thoughts about the nightmare that would forever change her life.

I first met Jennie in High School, and unexpectedly went through what some people would call a massive ”friend crush”. Since the first second we started talking to each other we’ve been laughing constantly, and the truth is, we still haven’t stopped. We have been best friends ever since.

On March 29th 2009, me and my sister went to the house of Jennie and Simon. The four of us celebrated Earth Hour and saw our chance to use the lit down rooms to play some hide and seek. The evening was peaceful, yet incredibly noisy and filled with laughter and happiness. Imagine four teenagers competing in jump-scarying each other while their parents are downstairs trying to have a calm dinner with lit candles. For one evening, I think we all felt a bit like children again.

The following morning Jennie didn’t show up at school. Minutes after I arrived to class I received a phonecall from my mother explaining why, and the reason was something I couldn’t shake nor take in. Jennie had lost her little brother. Simon wasn’t alive anymore. The rest of the day consisted of absolute chaos. It was as if the entire city was smothered by the lingering morning fog. It felt like time had stopped. By the time I was on the phone with my mother, Jennie’s childhood home rapidly filled up with police officers, ambulance staff and people specialized with handling situations of crisis. They were all running in and out of Simons room in a high pace, and in the middle of all the chaos sits Jennie, shakily ripping a napkin into a hundred tiny pieces while tears stream down her face.

The upcoming months, which normally would consist of hard studies and exams, callously got replaced by a hollow darkness that was impossible to shake off. My sister and I moved in with Jennie and her family for two months. This gave our relationship a whole new depth that none of us had experienced before. Since those days, we have been sisters.

As the childhood home of Jennie and Simon filled up with flowers and condolences, the sun made sure to send a reminder that spring was on its way by making the sparkling snow melt. The trees slowly turned green and people walking outside were surrounded by daffodils and birds chirping peacefully. To anyone else, it was just like any other spring. In August 2009 Jennie wrote on her blog:

”We have three photographs in the house that we’re okey with being around. It hurts seeing him. It hurts seeing my own little brother. It’s painful, because it’s so close. His face. So close. His facial expressions. His smile. It’s Simon. Why is he not here? Our cat is scratching the door to his room at night. She wants to reach something I’m also missing. Something I’m missing so tremendously that I cannot take opening that door anymore. Untouched, sacred. I love you Simon, you are my heart.”

Jennie, her mother and stepfather were given pills in order to sleep. However this sleep always came with terrible nightmares. Nightmares that made it impossible for Jennie to cope with daily routines and studying. Two months later she showed up at school for the first time after Simon passing away, to try and go back to something that she found herself not caring for anymore.

Every year, the number of people committing suicide in Sweden is five times higher than people with traffic related deaths. Suicide is the number one cause of death amongst people aged 15-24. Yet, the government spends millions on improving road safety and nearly nothing on preventing suicide. Before Simon passing away, Jennie’s knowledge about suicide was small to non-existent. Considering the statistics, one would think that one of the most vital priorities in schools across Sweden would be to inform teenagers about mental health, depression and suicide. However, talking openly about suicide today is still very taboo. This is something that dawned heavily on Jennie and her family after losing Simon.

”Everytime I mention Simon, people freeze and change the subject, and I have to fake that I’m happy and pretend that oh, you know what, no problem! I see how people look at me as if I’m about to burst out in tears every single time. ’Simon liked that, Simon used that, Simon did that, Simon said that’. It’s not like those things aren’t true anymore just because he’s dead? I’m never going to stop talking about Simon. For me he’ll always be here no matter what happens.”

In our final year before graduation, we were having a ten minute presentation which could be about literally anything. With that creative freedom just thrown at us, people talked about pets, sports, anecdotes or anything else that’s less significant. Jennie on the other hand, calmly walked up in front of the class and outshined us all by talking openly about that one thing people were terrified of asking her about, bringing up statistics and how one can prevent depression and suicide thoughts. For those ten minutes, we had our fullest attention on her, united in a respectful silence.

Jennie is one of the very few people I know who’s actually talking about suicide. Before knowing her, I knew very little about it, as did any other teenager in my surrounding. The lack of help in Sweden for young people suffering from suicidal thoughts, makes the mental health system unsustainable and corrupt. Corrupt to the extent that very few know how to get help when having suicidal thoughts. In the meantime, there are websites available with explicit step-by-step guides in how to take your own life. There is information about different ways to go, where to get the equipment needed and what drugs or substances you could use. These websites are easily accessible to anyone googling the word ’suicide’. There is no age limit to read what’s on there. If it wasn’t for one of these websites, Simon could have still been alive.

With hundreds of people sending their deepest love in letters, condolences, flowers and messages, a very small number actually showed up at Jennie’s door. Those who used to be really close, took distance from the family when they needed compassion and intimacy the most. For Jennie, who was already filled to the brim with sorrow, this struck her immensely hard.

”My advice to all of you who are close to someone who’s lost a family member, mother, father, brother or sister, is to just be there for them. It’s not enough just saying that ’I’m here for you’. When you’re in the darkest place you don’t have any energy to contact anyone. You have to contact them, and respect them even though they might not even show any appreciation for you being there, because they just don’t have the energy for it. Listen to what they have to say and what they feel, and never ever claim that you know exactly what it feels like if you haven’t been through the exact same thing. Show them that you’re aware that you’ll never understand. If you’ve lost a family member yourself it can well be relieving to know that you’re not alone, it helped me.”

In the summer of 2015, Jennie’s mother Pia got married with her newfound love. The outdoor wedding took place in an almost fairytale-like forest with a sunset that coloured the entire sky pink. People were dancing, singing, mingling and having fun, the food was lovely. The happiness and love was so contageous that even the most skeptical person could get inspired. When Jennie held her speech in front of the bride and groom, she once again, talked about what no one else had the courage to bring up. ”There is someone that should have been here with us today”, she said, hands slightly shaking when reading from her notes. At the end of that speech, everyone at that ceremony was crying.

During our friendship Jennie has, in multiple different ways, showed her surrounding that Simon will never really be gone for real, that he is still alive in our hearts. Just because he is not here physically, he hasn’t stopped existing. Photos of a young, beautiful boy with messy hair, dimples and bright blue eyes decorate her blog, and on his grave, right next to the school he used to go to, there is always a candle lit.

”It’s hard to keep going after a tragedy like this. To live but not have the energy to exist. The thought of taking my own life has struck me countless of times, but Simon showed me what death really means. I would never make anyone go through what I’m going through every day. Today I know I can survive everything. So instead of saying that I would die for my little brother, I’m gonna live. I live for you Simon. I live for you.”