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earthspirit10 · 4 years ago

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Ninjago Angst Week: Day Six - Sickness

@ninjago-angst-week klasdjfal;sjdfas AHHHH I’m sorry this is like, five days late, but I’ve been really busy and stressed and then research, but, uh, it’s here now? Hope it’s not too late :P

And well, this one isn’t as good as the others, in my opinion. (Well, I think it’s better than Day One, but for the others? Meh.) Writing someone sick (especially if I’ve never gotten that . . . particular disease before) is hard and I’m not even sure if I even got it all write. Also, Zane. Zane is hard to write too.

Trigger Warnings: Sickness (because that’s enough to be grossed out at), mention of death

---

As a nindroid, it wasn’t possible for Zane to get sick. He wasn’t a real lifeform like the others, nor was he prone to malfunctioning due to water or anything else a normal robot would suffer from. He was grateful for that, for even though he wasn’t physically human, he was human in his heart. It meant that he could take care of his siblings better without getting sick or injured himself.

When Jay had suddenly doubled over coughing, everyone had rushed toward his aid. Zane, of course, had helped whatever he could—he’d cooked warm meals for him, given him medicine, and made sure he was comfortable. (The others practically had to wrestle him into bed.)

It wasn’t unusual for Jay to be coughing these days due to a cough he’d developed, which wasn’t very uncommon or worrisome, but Zane was worried that the cold had progressed into something worse.

Zane opened the door to Jay’s room and poked his head through to check on his brother, who seemed to be curled up under layers and layers of blankets.

“Jay?”

Jay peeked out from under the blankets and blinked blearily, coughing a few times before giving Zane a reassuring smile. “Hey, tin can.”

Closing the door behind him, Zane entered the room and sat down on the bed next to Jay. He wasn’t afraid of catching whatever sickness his brother had, mainly because it was impossible. Still, he made a note to disinfect himself should he ever get close to any of his other siblings.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, remembering that Jay had sensitive hearing even without being sick.

“Bored,” Jay grumbled, huffing in indignation. “I mean, there’s nothing to do! I’m not even allowed to do anything! No video games, no tinkering, no—” His body suddenly shook as a coughing fit overtook him, and Zane watched anxiously as it dragged on. It seemed to take hours—though his internal clock told him it was only twelve seconds—before it passed, with Jay shivering and panting for breath.

Coughing. Fever. Chills. Immediately, Zane scanned the blue ninja’s body, his optical sensors switching into X-ray vision. It was difficult to do so with all the blankets surrounding Jay, not to mention that he was curled up.

“Jay,” Zane said softly, trying to keep his voice as even as he could. Jay blinked again, head tilting up in question. “Are you able to sit up?”

Jay nodded, though his expression still remained confused. Shifting around in his blankets, he sat up slowly, coughing weakly.

Now that his brother was sitting up, Zane was able to fully scan his chest, eyes narrowing. And as soon as he detected something, his metaphorical heart dropped, and he inhaled sharply, sensors switching back to normal vision.

No. That couldn’t— his brother couldn’t have—

“Zane, what— what is it?” Jay asked frantically, his voice edging on borderline panic. “What’s wrong?”

Zane swallowed, turning his head away. Now with this new knowledge, his advanced senses could clearly detect the wheezing whenever Jay breathed, the rapid pumping of his heart, the abnormal air flow in his lungs.

More worrying symptoms of— of—

“Zane, please, you’re really starting to worry me—”

Abruptly, he stood up, cutting off whatever Jay was going to say. Turning, Zane set his shoulder back, plastered on a smile, stopped his hands from shaking. He answered cheerfully, “Oh, nothing you should worry yourself about.”

Jay stared back. “Are you . . . sure?”

“Of course.” Zane nodded, already moving toward the doorway. “You should rest. Try not to exert yourself.” He said the last few sentences with more emphasis than he would normally put in.

“It’s not like there’s anything else I can do,” Jay sighed, but he flopped back onto the bed. Almost immediately, his body was wracked with coughs, but he waved aside Zane’s concern. “I’ll be fine, Zane,” he rasped. “Not goin’ anywhere. See?”

Zane eyed his brother for a few moments, then he exited the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door was closed, he laid his head on it, pressing his hands to his eyes.

Why was he overreacting with this information? It wasn’t like this was fatal, nor was it dangerous, so why was he acting like Jay had a life-threatening disease that could potentially take him away any moment? It wasn’t— it wasn’t like—

His back sliding down the door, Zane buried his head between his knees, tears springing to his eyes, tears that weren’t supposed to be there in the first place, and yet he was human enough to have them.

Sometimes, he wished that he didn’t have emotions, that he didn’t have to feel the pain, the guilt, the worry.

If Jay’s illness worsened, if fate decided to be cruel again, Jay might die. It was Zane’s fault for detecting it so late, for not scanning him the first time he’d shown signs of a cough a week ago. And that meant a higher risk for this sickness to become deadly.

And they had let him participate in training, in patrols, in crime scenes. Mainly because Zane had told them that it was okay, when it wasn’t okay. Not anymore.

What kind of brother was he?

Footsteps approached him, and Zane raised his head, blinking as his vision sharpened on Cole’s face.

“Zane?” the earth ninja’s voice was concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Zane inhaled. Exhaled. He shouldn’t lie to them. Shouldn’t give them the false sense of security he’d stupidly given to Jay.

“Jay has pneumonia.”

⸺

After that, everything basically descended into chaos and panic. Calls were made, antibiotics were bought, and new rules and patrols were assigned. Zane had to hold Kai back from bursting into Jay’s room and fussing over him, mainly because this type of pneumonia was contagious, partly because Kai looked incredibly mad and that wouldn’t do well for Jay’s mental health, which could also affect his physical health.

Eventually, Zane had to tell Jay of his condition, which he oddly took well. At least, considering how much the blue ninja would normally panic.

“It’ll just— it’ll just pass, right?” Jay asked hoarsely, though there was a hint of fear in his voice. “Nothing much to worry about?”

Zane could tell that the others were pressed against the door of the room, anxiously eavesdropping on the conversation.

He nodded. “If you get enough rest and medicine, and there are no complications, then you should be fine.” The word should echoed ominously, silently, and he knew that all of them knew that not everything went as it should go.

Jay breathed out a sigh, before he dissolved into a bout of harsh hacking. Immediately, the mood spiraled into worried buzzing, and the door creeped open the tiniest bit. Zane rubbed his brother’s back, anxiously waiting for it to pass.

“Jay—”

“‘m fine,” Jay murmured, voice raspy from all the coughing. He closed his eyes, snuggling closer to his blankets.

Zane eyed him for a few more moments, heart clenching at his brother’s pitiful form. Swallowing, he stood up and patted his shoulder. “You should rest,” he whispered. The lightning ninja didn’t reply, but the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was already asleep.

Zane turned on X-ray vision for a brief moment, scanning for any other unusual activity, then on to infrared, before he switched back to normal human vision. Slowly standing up, he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him, and was immediately met with the anxious gazes of his other siblings.

“He’s fine, for now,” he told them, keeping his voice carefully even. “He’ll simply need more rest and medicine. His immune system will do the rest.”

They all relaxed, if only slightly, but Zane knew that they would never truly be at ease until Jay was completely healed. After all, they had a bad history with luck.

⸺

As the days passed, Jay only got sicker. Almost the entirety of the week was filled with him coughing, the tense atmosphere rising every time it worsened. Still, Zane knew better than to give him cough medicine, especially since coughing was meant to help with the pneumonia. He made sure to monitor his brother every hour, checking on his lungs, his heart, his blood pressure—basically everything. It hadn’t gotten bad to the point where Jay would need to be admitted into the hospital, but he was dangerously close.

Once, as Zane left Jay’s room, he nearly bumped into Cole, who always hovered near. He nodded silently at the earth ninja and was about to resume his day when he suddenly felt a hand grabbing his wrist, holding him back. Surprised, Zane glanced back, and he blinked in alarm at the barely noticeable tears in Cole’s eyes.

“I—” Cole swallowed, looking away, as if embarrassed. His hand let go of the ice ninja’s wrist. “Jay’s going to be fine, right?” His voice was small, but it was pleading, desperate, almost like he was afraid of Zane’s answer.

Zane closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them. “He will be alright,” he said quietly and firmly, but he couldn’t help the fear that surged in him as he heard Jay emit another cough from within the room.

“That’s what the doctors told me,” Cole whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, and Zane wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or himself.

After a while, Cole shook his head, his eyes reopening. “I— well, when I was little, my mom— she was really sick.”

Oh. Oh. Zane stared back at his brother, not sure if he liked where this was going.

“A-and the doctors said that she’d be okay, that she was going to survive, but—” His voice stuttered to a stop, and Cole made an odd noise that sounded like he was choking, and he turned away.

The silence stretched on, very painfully loud, with Jay coughing occasionally in the background. Zane continued staring at his brother, not sure what to do in this situation. He wasn’t used to seeing Cole like this—so vulnerable and open, and it made his mechanical heart clench.

But he knew loss. All of them do, all too well. And he knew how it felt to feel so hopeful, hopeful for the future, only for that hope to be shattered.

So Zane did what anyone would normally do. He hugged his brother, wrapping his arms around him. Cole stiffened in surprise, but eventually, he relaxed into the embrace, hugging the ice ninja back.

Patting Cole’s back a little awkwardly, Zane whispered, letting his emotions seep into his voice, “Jay will be fine.” A beat. “I promise.”

And it wasn’t an empty promise. Logically, Zane knew that pneumonia wasn’t deadly, especially since Jay had a really good immune system. But for the sake of his family, for the sake of Jay, Zane wasn’t going to let his brother die.

He’d die himself before that would happen.

#ninjago #ninjago-angst-week #ninjago zane #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #i really hope i did this all right #is pneumonia even as bad as people make it out to be #because i was pretty surprised when i searched it up #tw sickness #tw mention of death #phoenix writes

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writingithink · 4 years ago

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Tangled Timelines Chapter 1 Rated: T Wordcount: 5,895 Summary: The Doctor and Rose have some news to share with Jackie, but the trip doesn't go quite as planned. Notes:Hello! This is my fic for the Classic Tropes Event. Mine was Fix-It Fic. This one is going to be a multi-chapter, with more tags added as I go. For those of you who have been reading the whole series, I actually plan to finish up the honeymoon fics (they've just been giving me grief). So those will come later, with edits to series order etc etc. If you haven't read the series, I think you should be okay? They're bonded. It was an accident. That should be all the info you really need. All of the thanks ever imaginable to @hey-there-juliet for betaing <33 All mistakes are most definitely mine (esp since I did a lot of glaring at this thing after it was beta'd). I own nothing.

Multiple trips to the TARDIS' library and seemingly endless cross-referencing all culminated in the moment the large tome slipped from the Doctor's hands and onto the bed. It knocked against Rose’s leg and his eyes automatically moved to her face - still asleep. Since their bonding, his wife had gotten used to him bringing various things into bed with them for when he inevitably got bored while she slept.

“And you couldn’t alert me to this, because …?” he whispered to his ship, voice flat and eyes wide as his brain struggled to assimilate everything he had just read.

There was no answer from the TARDIS, not even a hum of acknowledgement. It figured.

The Doctor scrubbed his hand across his face before leaving the bed, heading straight to the infirmary despite the fact that he was only wearing boxers and a vest. This time he didn’t ask his inconsiderate ship for any assistance, simply pulled up every single file on Rose Marion Tyler that existed, on the TARDIS or not. It only took seconds to hack into Earth hospital files, after all.

Not that they helped much, as the technology used in Rose’s time was appallingly primitive.

“Level five medical garbage,” he muttered to himself, zooming past all of her records. Vaccines, minor illnesses, nothing that gave him a good picture of Rose Marion Tyler before she stepped onto the TARDIS. Which, overall, was a good thing - it meant that she had never been so hurt that she needed a CAT scan or an MRI. It would have just been nice to have the data, what with his near obsessive compulsive desire to have the most complete picture of his wife’s biological history.

It’s as if no one had ever heard of voluntary medical data filing. But so be it. The TARDIS had more than enough base scans, starting from the first moment Rose set foot on the ship. This time he wasn’t going to cut corners like he had before, when he’d looked at just her telepathic centers and absolutely nothing else.

Thinking about the last time he and his wife had been in here, weeks ago, the Doctor opened a new screen to check the progress of the six-dimensional comprehensive deep scan results. They were nearly complete.

A feeling of dread lodged in his stomach.

They should have been finished ages ago. The fact that they weren’t -

He shook his head, wiping a hand down his face as he swiveled back to the primary view screen. The base scans should be able to offer him an explanation. Would. They would, because he needed to know exactly what was going on.

The TARDIS had automatically compiled all base scans since their last visit, and his previous parameters were still in place, focused solely on what in humans was called the pineal gland. The Doctor wasn’t sure that name quite applied for Rose’s brain anymore - Epiphysis Cerebri seemed like a much more accurate name for her telepathic center, which was still showing slow, incremental growth.

Fingers moving quickly, he navigated away and started gathering new information. Graphs of brain capacity and function, cellular activity and health, levels of all hormones and neurotransmitters and molecules with a special search for anything that wouldn’t normally be found in a 21st century Earth human.

Waiting for the TARDIS to compile all of these graphs felt like torture, even though it took a relatively short amount of time.

And then he had screens and screens of data all vying for his considerable attention and painting a picture that had his hearts going into overdrive, adrenaline throttling through his systems. Terror. Elation. Fear. Hope. All of his emotions were muddled and changing by the nanosecond. Panic was a constant, however.

All of it was so overpowering that the Doctor soon found himself actively fighting his traitorous body as it tried to enter a completely unnecessary healing trance, confused as it was by his sudden inability to keep control of processes that he generally had a tight grip on.

Two hands fell onto his shoulders, shocking him into jumping up, nearly crashing into the infirmary’s computational system. He whirled around to see the confused and frightened face of his bondmate.

“Doctor?” she asked, hesitating.

He wondered how long she had been trying to speak to him, both verbally and through their bond. Covering his face with both hands, he finally got his breathing back in order and his hearts-rate down.

“Sorry,” he finally managed, once he was capable of speech again, though the single word came out hoarse and scratchy.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Rose asked, still not moving, hands fisted at her sides.

Focusing on their connection, he could feel her overwhelming concern … for him. Well, it did make sense in the ironic way these things always tended to. Since she had been asleep when he left her, the Doctor hadn’t put any thought into shielding. All of his emotions must have barreled into her like a freight train. Couldn’t have possibly been a pleasant way to wake up.

Reluctantly he dropped his hands, palms sliding down his face slowly as he gave up their paltry defense.

“Nothing’s wrong per se,” he hedged, wincing as her mental disbelief permeated their link. “It- it’s more complicated than that. It’s-”

He didn’t know how to explain it. His normally ever-present gob seemed to be offline now that he desperately needed it. Telepathic communication seemed to also be out, as his brain was still in the process of resettling from the accidentally self-induced bulldozing of his basic systems.

“It’s what?”

As the Doctor took another deep breath, Rose looked around, seeming to just realize where they were. She must have raced through the TARDIS to get to him in her worry. He felt incredibly guilty.

“It’s something that we would probably be much more comfortable discussing somewhere else,” he decided, scratching the hairs at the nape of his neck and looking down, shocked to realize that he was nearly naked. “Maybe after getting dressed. And a shower. Breakfast. Not in that order!”

Rose sighed and crossed her arms. The Doctor took a moment to notice her clothing, which consisted of a housecoat and slippers, but he couldn’t tell what she had on underneath (if anything).

“And then we’ll talk?” she questioned, both eyebrows raised, getting his mind back on track.

“Yes. Definitely. How does tea in the library sound?”

Her lips were pursed, but she eventually nodded.

“Good. Great! And I- I’m really, truly sorry for worrying you,” he sighed, finally moving forward and wrapping his arms around his impossible wife. It took a few moments before Rose relaxed into the embrace.

“This is about me, isn’t it?” she whispered after a few long, silent moments.

“Shh,” he scolded. “Shower first. Shower, clothes, food, then talking.”

Procrastination really is just a different type of running, and no one knew that better than the Doctor. He also knew that he wasn’t fooling Rose for a moment. Their bond was still wide open, the contents of their impending discussion only hidden due to the fact that it was all categorized in his mind as ‘scientific information’, and therefore held back by one of the many barriers he kept permanently in place so that he wouldn’t inundate his bondmate with headache inducing amounts of information.

“Alright then,” she conceded, “let’s get going.”

The Doctor took her hand as she pulled away, allowing himself to be led through his time ship. In his current, nebulous state he doubted he’d be able to find their room if he tried. He was just grateful that Rose understood that his desire to put off this conversation didn’t mean he wanted to be separated from her in the slightest.

It was funny, sometimes, to imagine that all of the effort he had previously put into studiously trying to not overwhelm her with just how much he wanted to almost always be in her presence had been completely inverted now that all of their cards were forever on the table.

They got into the shower together and he began to wash his wife’s hair as if on auto-pilot, only refocusing on the present moment when feelings of relaxation and contentment began to pierce through the veil of unpleasant emotions tangled across their shared minds. Once the shampoo rinsed away, the Doctor couldn’t stop himself from cupping her face and pulling her into a relatively chaste kiss. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince himself that everything would all truly be alright (for once). Because one thing that had been clear while looking through her scans was that Rose was perfectly healthy. Her life wasn’t threatened in the slightest.

Things were just … different.

Before he was quite ready, they had finished showering, were both fully clothed, somehow tea and toast had been made (though he barely remembered being in the galley), and they had reached the library. Rose immediately sat down on the sofa, a fire already crackling away in the grate. He followed her, taking a large gulp of his beverage the moment he sat down. For all of the time he had spent trying to organize his thoughts, they were still less than refined.

The problem was, despite being bonded and therefore having an intimate knowledge of her thought processes, the Doctor still couldn’t predict how she would react to any of what he’d discovered in the hours his wife had spent sleeping. And despite the fact that she wasn’t actually saying anything, he did know that she was growing more and more impatient by the second.

“Sooo,” he began, hoping that the rest of the words would just happen, as it were, “this is cozy, innit?”

Obviously it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she suggested.

“Oh, blimey, alright then. Well, billions of years ago, a cataclysmic explosion of a singularity caused what you could refer to as the Big Bang, Event One, or even just ‘creation’. It resulted in a very compact, tiny universe that was very dense and very hot, riddled with dimension pockets and full of space-time anomalies that are now considered exceedingly rare. These were the beginnings of the Dark Times, of which not much is known - time travel so far back was-”

“Doctor,” Rose interrupted, “does this have anything to do with what has you so upset? The, erm, results?”

“Ah, well, no … not as such. I mean, it’s tangentially related to absolutely everything, of course, but it … right, sorry.” He took another sip of tea, followed by a deep breath. The beginning, but not that beginning. “I finally tracked it down. Old texts, ancient, that had descriptions of telepathic marriage bonds. Took ages to find one that sounded right, though. Apparently most ancient Gallifreyans needed to have the assistance of an experienced telepath who specialized in this kind of thing in order to join their minds. Knew that couldn’t be right, so I kept on digging and when I-”

The words were flowing out now, faster than he could keep track of and for once he was aware of just how irrelevant they were. With a huff he stood up and began to pace in front of the fire, hoping that the movement would help.

“Very old, very rare, very specific. That’s what our bond is. There isn’t even a translation for what they called it, the word would be absolutely meaningless to anyone else, anyone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. It’s the specificity, though, that made me realize that there was much more at work than just your growing telepathic abilities. When I went to the infirmary, it was really a toss up - either I was right or I was wrong and hadn’t found the proper information yet.”

“But you weren’t wrong, were you?” She bit her bottom lip, eyes tracking him as he moved back and forth across the sitting area that for once seemed much too small.

“No,” the Doctor sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “The 6D scans will probably be ready later today, but I didn’t need those. Just different graphs of your base scans to measure different things. The thing is,” he nearly shouted, “if I hadn’t been about to regenerate, and then freshly regenerated, and then unpardonably distracted, I should have done this all ages ago! Quick as I could after I’d taken the Vortex out of you.”

“Think we were a bit busy savin’ the Universe to bother with all that,” Rose pointed out, comfort and understanding passing over to him through their link, along with a few spikes of irritation and general chastisement for pointlessly blaming himself for something yet again.

“And what’s my excuse for after all that?” he drawled, unwilling to let her absolve him for this appalling negligence of her health and well-being. What kind of doctor was he, if he couldn’t be arsed to take adequate care of the woman he loved?

“Maybe, I dunno, the fact that I felt absolutely fine? That we were busy navigating all your new quirks and preferences while still saving planets? Anyway, you still haven’t even told me what’s going on.”

The Doctor scrunched up his face as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. She was right, obviously. Somehow he was still managing to procrastinate. His teeth ground slightly as he set his jaw and made his way back to the couch.

“You have a large amount of artron energy,” he began. “More than just background radiation. Way more. I would say life threatening amounts, except you also are absolutely riddled with huon particles. Also deadly.”

“Huon particles?”

“Eradicated by the Time Lords near the end of the dark times - oh, look at that, it all came back ‘round, sort of.”

“But you just said they were deadly,” Rose frowned. “Why does it sound like they’re a good thing? I mean, your people obviously had a reason for gettin’ rid of ‘em all. How’re they even there?”

Oh, his magnificent, brilliant, fantastic bondmate - always asking the right questions. A small smile lighted her face as she caught the thought.

“See, the TARDIS is connected to the Vortex, which goes all the way back - remnants of huon particles exist in her heart, which you opened up and used to merge with her, a whole fifth dimension running through the both of you. The huon particles are stabilizing the artron energy - it’s feeding them instead of overtly impacting the rest of your body. So in this case, this one case, the reemergence of deadly particles from the dawn of time is a good thing. Even so, that wouldn’t be enough, except you didn’t just merge with the Vortex alone but with the TARDIS. The TARDIS emits chronon particles, and one of the key differences between Time Lords and non-Time Lord Gallifreyans is that our bodies are surrounded by a bio-plasmic field of chronon energy, allowing us to bond with a TARDIS.”

“Oh. Right, that’s why when you were sick the TARDIS wasn’t working properly. Couldn’t translate for us.”

“Yes, yes, exactly.” The Doctor got back to his feet, the need to pace outweighing his desire to remain close to his wife. “Now, the thing about having a surrounding field is that it can, er, leach on to others. Infect them. Not in a bad way. It’s what provides me with protection from the time stream, helps with cell rejuvenation, etcetera. So actually, if a bit of it didn’t migrate away to those I’m close with, I’d never be able to bring anyone along on the TARDIS with me. Too dangerous. Thing is, you have your own now, not just an echo of mine. Which makes sense. You two became one, of course she would bond with you as well. Thing is, to do that - your DNA, Rose. Becoming Bad Wolf. It’s given you symbiotic chronon nuclei.”

“And what’s that, then? Something to do with the chronon particles?”

“In a sense. It’s only viewable with a temporal reading, which the TARDIS base scans do automatically, because that’s what’s normal for me. She doesn’t change protocols just because the other person she’s scanning happens to be human. I’ve mentioned before that I have TNA. Triple helix instead of double, yes?”

Rose nodded, taking a wary sip of her tea.

“Well, it’s actually a bit more complicated than that. Properly, temporally scanned it’s actually four strands. That symbiotic chronon nuclei is the physical, quasi-symbiotic link between the TARDIS and I. Now you have one too.”

“So wait, I’ve got four strands of DNA now? And we didn’t even notice?” Her mug clattered onto the table as she deposited it and stood quickly.

“No, no, no, just the three. No TNA. But this is where things get complicated.”

“You mean there’s more ?” she screeched, going paler than she already had been, thoughts becoming a whirl of panic. “Isn’t it complicated enough?!”

“Weeeeeell, let’s go back to that third strand I’ve got, yeah? It’s pretty much, and by pretty much I mean almost the sole reason, that regeneration is possible. Stores all the information for past and future incarnations, as well as other things,” he explained, waving his hands around, “and as far as I understood it, that’s what allowed for a Gallifreyan’s self-replicating biogenic molecules.”

“Your what?”

“Remember the nanogenes?” he asked, finally walking back to her in order to weave their fingers together.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Gallifreyan bodies have something like that. Biological nanites. Not only do they allow for regeneration, but on a daily basis they repair and prune any damaged or malformed cells. Hence why we age so slowly. I’ll look just like this for hundreds of years yet.”

She nodded slowly. “And lemme guess, I’ve got those too, somehow.”

“Yes. Though wired differently than mine, You’re still human , Rose. Just … with genetic modifications. Powerful genetic modifications. Obviously meant to keep you alive, because really, thinking about it properly, you shouldn’t have survived the trip back to the gamestation, much less been able to accomplish everything you did. A symbiotic self-renewing cell structure is really the obvious solution to the problem, and if you did have TNA like I do, the gigantic surge of artron energy would have triggered a regeneration, just like it did for me. But your body doesn’t work that way, so it just- just healed the damage, no mess, no fuss.”

“And they’re still there now, healing stuff?”

The Doctor nodded.

“So what does it all mean, then, exactly? Without all of the science babble.”

“Without it?” He winced at the way his voice nearly squeaked.

“As little of it as you can get away with,” Rose conceded, the smidge of laughter in her voice doing wonders for his frayed nerves.

“Alright. Well, your cell death is almost non-existent. Your brain activity, in addition to the new telepathic adjustments, has increased in both capacity and function. You likely haven’t noticed because you haven’t tried to stretch things more than average, and why would you? Despite all of these changes, it’s not like you really knew about them or have had any sort of training on how to incorporate them aside from our telepathy lessons. With the way you’re connected to the TARDIS, you could probably learn to sense time. That’s what allows for most of my time senses, by the way.”

“Doctor, less babble,” his wife helpfully reminded him.

“Right, yes, well,” he swallowed audibly, “the main thing is … you’re not going to age at the same rate as everyone else you know. Everyone human, that is. There’s no way for me to be certain how long your life might be, since our timelines are too tightly wound together.”

“They are?”

“Of course they are.” At this, the Doctor finally smiled, wrapping his arms around her. “That’s the thing, the crucial thing, about the bond. Why I needed to check the scans to make sure. It exists not just because we love each other, not just because we have compatible minds, but because our timelines were able to be synced. Literally able to be together forever, however long forever might be. This connection we have, it’s not the kind that can be forced, it can only happen spontaneously. In fact, from what I’ve read, the existence of this form of bond is exactly why the practice of making less deep and all encompassing ones came into being. Others who weren’t as, as destined for each other, for lack of a better word, wanted the same kind of intimacy. And of course it fell out of favor, not just because of Gallifrey’s abandonment of emotional ties in general, but because of the pain associated with losing a partner you’ve permanently telepathically merged with.”

“So that, us … we won’t have that?”

“I can’t view my own timeline and I can’t view yours, but I do know that they’re so tightly twined that you can’t tell the two apart. I can feel it, and maybe someday you will be able to on your own, but for now I can always show you,” he offered.

“I- I’d like that, but …” Rose trailed off, biting her lip and looking away.

“What?”

“’S just, you were so, so upset earlier. And it’s definitely a lot to take in, but, I mean, doesn’t it all seem like a good thing?” she asked, turning back toward him, eyes locking with his and broadcasting her pained confusion just as adequately as the bond itself was.

“For me? Of course it is, and the selfish part of me has never been more happy. But Rose, you have to understand that I wasn’t trying to be dramatic that night, outside of the chippy, when I said that my lifespan was a curse. You’re going to outlive everyone you know and love, aside from me. You won’t age at the same rate that they do. And I know that it’s expected for children to outlive their parents, but you’re going to spend far longer without your mother than with her. This … it was never something I wanted for you, the pain of so many goodbyes.”

Rose shut her eyes before burrowing her head into his chest, holding him tighter. For a long time they were silent, though the Doctor could hear her racing thoughts as she tried to process all of the information he had shoved at her in such a short period of time. He was content to just hold her, rubbing a soothing arm up and down her back until a singular thought rang out across their bond that had her gasping and him groaning.

We have to tell mum.

The Doctor spun around the console in a whirlwind, Rose clinging to the jumpseat. He could feel her trepidation as they landed, her worry about her mother’s reaction to their news. So he wasn’t surprised in the slightest at her shock upon opening the TARDIS' door and finding them very much not on Earth.

“Think your driving’s a bit more off than usual,” she noted vaguely as he finally stepped away from the console to grab his jacket.

“Is it really?” He gave her a look of wide eyed bewilderment, just as his thoughts inevitably revealed that he had had no intention of making the trip to Jackie’s - yet.

Rose crossed her arms, giving him an unconvincing glare as the Doctor finally met her at the door and stuck his head outside.

“Ah, perfect!” he exclaimed. “Right where I wanted to be.”

“Oh, really? And where’s that then?” his wife asked, finally stepping out of their ship and having a look around. There were rows and rows of stalls and booths as far as the eye could see.

“It’s a bazaar. On an asteroid. Moves around every four cycles to a different asteroid in a different sector. Used to just be a handful of merchants and artisans and performing artists, a sort of circus, if you will, only without the mistreated animals and exploited people. Was called Mz’trak’s Marvelous Moving Menagerie - gotta love that alliteration, absolutely amazing. But as you can see, it grew. Doesn’t have a name now. Too much going on. Still, organized enough to make it’s trip across the quadrant. They span galaxies, Rose Tyler! This is the place to go to find anything you could possibly imagine!”

“Okay,” she said slowly, drawing out the word as she turned back to face him. “And what, exactly, are we lookin’ for that’s so important that you’re putting off visiting mum?”

“Oh, right, see, about that - I thought, maybe, just maaaybe, you’d be able to find something for her here. To, erm, soften the blow, as it were. Butter her up a bit.” Make her less likely to regenerate me, he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to. The thought was pretty much blaring on a loop that his bondmate was unlikely to miss.

“Seriously?! Doctor, if you hide away again and force me to have this talk all on my own, I swear-”

“No, no, I won’t! We’ll do this together, I promise!” he hastened. No need to have two angry Tylers on his hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you’re so afraid of her,” Rose said with a roll of her eyes before taking his hand and beginning to walk through the market.

Normally she buzzed up to nearly every stall, wanting to see as many strange and novel alien things as possible, but this time his wife was quickly passing them by, categorizing everything in their immediate vicinity as ‘too alien’. Admittedly, the Doctor hadn’t given that much consideration when he decided that a gift for his mother-in-law would be a good plan.

“It’s a premonition I have, really,” he told her, “that your mum will be the death of me. Unlikely, I’ll give you that, but you never know. Sometimes these things have merit. I was once very good at that kind of thing, seeing the future. Well, not really. More like an unconscious tracking of future timelines that seems like a form of prescience but is really-”

“You are so full of it,” Rose laughed. “But speaking of past yous, I’m not going to regenerate, am I?”

While the Doctor had thought that he’d been very clear in the library earlier, perhaps he hadn’t explained very well. Too much ‘science babble’, probably.

“Nope,” he assured her, popping the ‘p’ and giving her one of his best grins.

“So Bad Wolf didn’t make me into a Time Lord. Just …”

“Bad Wolf didn’t do any such thing,” he frowned. “If you want, I can show you the second by second time stamps of the scans the TARDIS took of you during all that - constant state of danger, there’s hundreds of them. But no, the TARDIS did all of that herself so that you two could become Bad Wolf. If you recall, our ship is a multidimensional alien being that even I don’t completely understand. And she likes you. A lot. Didn’t want you to die.”

He stopped himself, barely, from continuing on (again) about how he should have realized this all ages ago. There was really no point to it, just his wounded ego. Plus, who had time for brooding, anyway?

“Sure she doesn’t just like you a lot?” his wife asked with a smirk. “Y’know, making sure the girl her pilot likes so much has a matching lifespan?”

The Doctor abruptly stopped his near-skipping and pulled Rose into his arms with a growl.

“Oh, I much more than like you, Rose Tyler.”

“That so?” his cheeky wife asked him with a tongue touched grin.

Minx, he chastised telepathically, his mouth now busy as he dipped her into a snog that was likely inappropriate for public, but for once she wasn’t complaining.

“Also,” he added, after breaking the kiss so that she could catch her breath, “it would be Time Lady, you know. And that is a little complicated, now that I think about it. Because you’re not Gallifreyan, but not all Gallifreyan’s are Time Lords or Time Ladies. Then again, you have the bit of genetic jiggery pokery that makes a Gallifreyan a Time, er-”

“Let’s just go with Time Lord, yeah?”

“It’s a hypothetical political correctness jumble,” he muttered with a grimace.

“So I’m a bit like a human Time Lady? Kind of?”

“Kind of. Eh. Doesn’t really matter, though, does it?”

Rose had gone back to scanning the booths, but was quick to turn her sharp gaze back to him. “How could it not matter?”

“Well, I mean, you’re still Rose Tyler. Doesn’t matter to me, what kind of species you call yourself. The important thing is that you’re you, and I get to keep you.”

And the Doctor could tell that she didn’t exactly agree with him, all of the ramifications of this still buzzing around in her head and the impending talk with Jackie making her permanently anxious. But still, she smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Finally some stalls came up that looked promising and his bondmate began looking at things in earnest. As he watched her flit about, the thought began to really settle in. They would be able to stay together, not just for the very short human forever that he had struggled to come to terms with, but for his forever.

The weight of the Universe on his shoulders had never felt lighter.

It suddenly did seem a little bit ridiculous, all of his worries about Jackie’s reaction. At least when it came to him . Over 900 years old, he could (probably) take it. If anything, he was more concerned for Rose. If (or really, it was more likely to be when) her mother reacted poorly, she would undoubtedly be hurt.

Flashes of their ‘marriage announcement’ briefly passed through his mind.

This time, though, he would be there for her. Absolutely no swanning off or hiding or cowering of any sort. Well, minimal cowering. Can’t set the bar too high, knowing he was about to get a smack (even if none of it was actually his fault). It would all be worth it in the end, being able to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved.

“Do you think mum would like this?” Rose asked, interrupting his chaotic stream of thought.

“What’s that?” The Doctor walked closer to the booth, finally taking notice of his surroundings instead of blindly following his wife. “Oh! These are all made of bazoolium! That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed, touching a large piece that was either intended to be abstract art or a Raqkle Bear about to attack, unsurprised by the neutral temperature. After all there was no weather to speak of on the asteroid.

“Yeah, he was just tellin’ me that they could predict the weather,” she said, gesturing toward the shopkeeper. The Doctor barely spared him a glance before investigating the ones that were combined with wind chimes, surprised when the chimes were actually made of bazoolium as well.

“They’re not incredibly unlike the barometers you lot have, only much more accurate. The truly impressive part is the fact that this property is naturally occurring in the mineral. Plus there’s really not much interpreting to it - if it’s hot, you’ll have a nice sunshine-y day, and if it’s cold there’ll be rain. Or snow, I suppose. But all you have to do is touch it. Definitely simple enough for Jackie to get use of-”

He winced when Rose telepathically zapped him, which he really should have seen coming.

After apologizing, the Doctor (for the most part) kept his mouth shut as she selected a small one that looked as un-alien as possible, something that any of Jackie’s friends would look at and think was some random tchotchke, just a thing and then think nothing of it. As soon as she finished her purchase, he took her hand and reluctantly headed back the way they came.

In a private corner of his mind he had come up with thousands of different ideas for putting this next trip off, but eventually discarded every single one of them (even if some were astonishingly brilliant). His wife wanted to get this over with, so that’s what they were going to do.

If anything, he regretted putting all of their efforts into getting her mother some bauble to put her in a good mood when they should have also been coming up with a plan for distracting her after this ‘talk’.

“Distracting her? How would we possibly distract her?” Rose wondered aloud.

The Doctor felt strangely giddy, knowing that she’d been paying attention to him over the bond. They were starting to get pretty good at not constantly acknowledging all of the thoughts that were projected without real intent, so much so that he sometimes wondered if his wife was listening most of the time. His thoughts were very interesting, after all, so he wasn’t sure how she could ignore them if she wasn’t just tuning it all out.

She rolled her eyes, making it clear that she’d caught all of that as well.

“I don’t know,” he went on, “I’m not sure what would hold her attention, aside from gossip and telly. Maybe we should nip into the future, get some Eastenders DVDs. Or some tabloids. Then again, I doubt your mother could keep her future knowledge a secret and next thing you know, we’ll have a paradox on our hands. Can’t have that.”

Rose laughed as they entered the TARDIS.

“Dunno if it’s really much of a distraction, but I do have some laundry I’ve been meaning to bring over.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “I refuse to believe your mother actually enjoys doing your laundry. There’s a perfectly good laundry room in the TARDIS. You don’t even have to do much of anything. Just put your clothes down the chute and she’ll do all the rest, even the folding.” And yes, he had told her all of this before, on multiple occasions - every time she had laundry to bring back, in fact.

So the Doctor wasn’t surprised when she said, “It makes her feel useful. She likes doing mum stuff for me.”

She said something along those lines every time. This time, however, his responding ‘fine’ was telepathic, rather than verbal as he began piloting them into the Vortex and she disappeared down the corridor to gather said laundry.

Since he was going to have to wait until Rose was finished before flying them to Jackie’s (let it not be said that he can’t learn a lesson) he almost followed her to their room. But just as he moved away from the console, he sensed that his bondmate could use some privacy while she got her thoughts in order, trying to decide exactly what she was going to say to her mum, not wanting to get into absolutely everything.

So he sat down on the jumpseat, kicked his feet onto the console, and focused on sending soothing emotions over their bond. Eventually, Rose reappeared with her giant red duffle, looking plenty nervous but definitely less so than she’d been before.

“Ready?” he asked, hopping back to his feet.

“No,” she sighed, dropping the bag onto the newly vacated seat before flashing him a wary grin. “Let’s go.”

#dw fanfiction #ficandchips #ten x rose #timepetals #tenrose #dw classic trope event #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #my fic #fic: tangled timelines

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particularemu · 5 years ago

Text

Insanity | A Hwang Hyunjin Series | Part 2

Part: [Prologue] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Epilogue]

Word Count: 4668

Type: ANGST, FLUFF

Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, violence, blood, gore? (kind of but not really), suicide, manic episodes? Idk what to call it, but someone goes nuts.

Tag List: @alightiny @joojoosiwa (bby tumblr won’t let me tag you 🥺)

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long. I’m hoping to have a chapter out every other day, but please don’t quote me on that in case it doesn’t happen.

Thank you @jisungsjheekies for helping figure out where tf to end this chapter lmao.

Panic filled every fiber of Hyunjin’s being as he raced down the hallways, following the older boy through the maze of doors. “What’s going on?” Hyunjin panted, mentally cursing himself for refusing to work on cardio when he was at the gym.

“One of my patients,” Minho turned a corner, nearly bumping into a nurse before he rushed down to door 304. “David… He’s trying to kill himself.” He panted.

“So you decided to leave him alone and call me?” Hyunjin’s brows creased as he stared at Minho. Why on earth would he leave a suicidal patient by himself? That’s a recipe for disaster! Besides… Hyunjin knew about a lot of things. He knew about many different medications to aid mental illnesses, he knew how to diagnose mental disorders, hell… he even knew the entire medical dictionary front to back. Talking someone out of suicide? That’s something Hyunjin has no experience in, nor does he know how to handle it.

Minho sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to calm his nerves. “Look, I know it sounds stupid, but you’re his only chance.” Minho paused, catching his breath before continuing. “I told him that I knew a guy who’s trying to take down the hospital.” Minho lowered his hands, eyes boring into Hyunjin’s, “You’re the only one who’s willing to admit that this place is fucked up.” He paused, trying to find the right words to say. “Look, you’re his only chance. I need your help.”

“How do you know you can trust me?” Hyunjin’s brow raised up as he asked the question.

Minho chuckled. “I wouldn’t be here if you tattled.”

Hyunjin couldn’t help but wonder what the older boy meant. Would they have fired Minho if Hyunjin talked about the confrontation in the janitor’s closet? Minho did mention something about being admitted to the hospital… Would he…

“There’s no time. Let’s go.” Minho’s voice shook Hyunjin out of his thoughts.

Right! The suicidal patient!

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as Minho opened the door, lips pursing together to hide the quiet gasp that slipped past his lips. An older man stood in the corner, chair in front of him as if the rickety piece of oak would shield the man from any attacks. A long shard of glass, taken from the broken lamp on the floor, was pointed to his neck, blood running down his palm from where the jagged edges sliced the skin.

The boy couldn’t help but panic. He had to suppress his reactions, or he might make the situation worse. The last thing Hyunjin wanted to do was end up pushing the man to take his life. Hyunjin knew all the medications that would help the man, he knew about different methods to prevent suicide — but how on earth do you convince someone to put the weapon down and allow the doctors to help? All he needed to do was get that jagged shard of glass away from the man… Then they could talk to him — convince him that life’s worth living.

“This hospital is a fucking prison.” The man sneered, arm frantically waving the jagged shard of glass around as if the two boys were attacking him. “Get away from me! None of you fuckers want to help us!” The man’s wide eyes darted around the room, searching for men wielding sharp needles, waiting to strap him to the bed.

Hyunjin could feel his heart drop into his stomach. He’s seen lots of mentally deranged patients when he was training, but he’s never seen such genuine panic in a person’s face. This man clearly thought that Hyunjin and Minho were going to hurt him.

“That’s not true David.” Minho backed away from the man, hands fumbling behind him to slide the drawer open, just enough for his fingers to grab a syringe from the contents in the drawer. “This is Dr. Hyunjin. He’s the man I told you about. The one who wants to burn this place to the ground.” Minho’s eyes darted to Hyunjin — a silent nudge begging him to go along with it, to be a distraction so the boy could get enough of the sedative in the syringe to knock David out before he could hurt anyone.

To successfully distract the man, Hyunjin had to improvise — to pretend that he had a plan. Knowing the man’s name helped… That’ll give Hyunjin a fighting chance to relate to the man — to convince him that someone out there cared about him. “I already have a way out.” Hyunjin reached his hand out to the frightened man, pulling back when the glass was thrust towards him. Hyunjin raised his hands in surrender, caring eyes crinkling gently as he smiled. “I just need you to put that down. Then you and I can get out of here. David, you’ll be free.”

The crazy man lowered his hand, eyes glazing over as he thought about Hyunjin’s request. “You have a way out?”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide. He didn’t think this far ahead. Think Hyunjin think… How could a runaway man escape the asylum?

“Yes. Hyunjin dug a tunnel in the basement.” Minho cut in. “It took him weeks to dig that thing. Where does it let out again Hyunjin? Isn’t it out by the lake?”

Hyunjin nodded, reminding himself to thank the older boy later for saving his ass. “It’s out by the lake, where no one will find it. David, we have to go. If we don’t —”

“You’re lying!” David screamed.

Three things happened over the span of a minute.

1. Minho took the opportunity to open the syringe and stab the needle into the sedative. The boy tipped the bottle up and filled the syringe with the proper dose before turning to check up on Hyunjin.

2. Hyunjin dropped to the ground, missing the bloody shard of glass by an inch as David rushed forward, arm swinging wildly. The boy managed to slip under the table, dodging yet another swing from the crazed man. Hyunjin moved around the table, waiting for the man’s next strike until he heard something that made his heart drop.

3. “Hyunjin?” Your frightened voice made the crazy man stop — the pure genuine fear in your eyes making him wonder if you were like him, if you were stuck there too. Seeing Hyunjin get attacked like that scared you beyond all reason. He was the only person you could trust. You couldn’t lose him.

Hyunjin kept facing the crazy man, refusing to look away in case David decided to get violent once more. He backed up to your shivering form, hand reaching behind him to feel for you, to reassure him that you’re safe. Hyunjin sighed in relief when he felt your hand against his back. “It’s not safe here. Go back to your room.”

Your bright eyes glassed over at his stern tone, but you couldn’t leave him. You wanted to help — you’ve been there too. “Why are you trying to hurt these people? If you want to get out of here, violence isn’t the answer.” You tried to keep your voice strong, but fear took over, leaving you a shaky mess. Hyunjin glared at you as you stepped beside him, grabbing his arm for comfort.

“Go back to your room. Now.” Hyunjin spoke through his teeth, the deep voice throwing you off guard. You didn’t want to piss him off, but if there was a chance — any chance — that you could save this man’s life, you wanted to try to talk him out of it.

“This place is a prison.” David spat at Minho, making the boy scrunch his nose in disgust. You would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire. “Get out while you can. These fucking people will do everything in their power to keep you here!” The man swung the shard of glass a couple times. “I’ll hold them off. You get out of here!”

“It’s not bad.” You mumbled. “Minho’s your caretaker right?” You sighed in relief when the man nodded. “He cares about his patients.”

“No, he doesn’t.” David snapped, pure hatred in his tone as he waved the jagged piece of glass at Minho. “That piece of shit doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

For a second, your eyes darted to Minho’s defeated frame, once sparkly eyes turning dull as his shoulders fell. The image of Minho’s guilt-ridden face was engraved in your memory, even when Hyunjin nudged you with his shoulder.

“Get out now.” Hyunjin turned his head, lips brushing against your ear as he practically snarled. “This isn’t a game. This man will kill you.”

“That’s not true.” You tightened your grip around Hyunjin’s arm, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as Hyunjin attempted to shake you off. “Minho has always taken good care of me.” You paused, noticing Minho start to make his way behind the suicidal man. “He was always there to hold me when I was going through panic attacks.” You tried to smile through your tears. “He’s one of the best caretakers in this institution.” As soon as Minho was positioned behind the man, needle in hand, you put the pieces together. They were going to sedate him. You kept talking, trying to keep the man distracted. “You’ll get out of here soon if you put the glass down, but you won’t be going anywhere if you kill someone.”

David looked frightened, eyes glassing over as he tightened his grip on the glass, slicing a deeper cut onto his palm. “You have no idea what this place is.” His shaky voice shook you to the core.

“You do?” You gestured to the room. “How do you know what this place is? We aren’t allowed out of our rooms.” What on earth could he be talking about? Sure, this hospital wasn’t the best in the country, but you were getting help right? Was this place evil? You knew Dr. Henry was an asshole, but you didn’t know the whole institution was fucked up.

David’s gaze shifted to his feet, hand lowering “I used to work here.”

Your lips parted in surprise, arms tightening around Hyunjin as your brain tried to process the unexpected information.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin asked. Does this have something to do with what Minho said? People who don’t listen get admitted…

“I used to work here back in 94.” David’s face turned sour. “It wasn’t like this back then. The doctors cared about their patients, and the institution wasn’t fenced in and gated like a prison.” David paused, trying to remember the good days before everything went to hell. “My wife was pregnant, and I needed to find a job closer to home so I could help her raise the baby. When I tried to quit —”

Minho took the opportunity to rush forward, hand knocking the jagged shard of glass out of David’s hands. David’s eyes instantly filled with rage, teeth-baring as he dodged the needle in Minho’s hands. “You fucking people.” He laughed maniacally. “I should have known.” David grabbed the glass on the ground — ready to kill.

“GET OUT.” Pure adrenaline took over Hyunjin, hands pushing you out of the way as the man lunged for Hyunjin. The pure force of Hyunjin’s hands sent you tumbling to the floor, fear filling every fiber of your being at his rough behavior.

Hyunjin managed to dodge the man’s attack, but before he knew it, the jagged shard of glass was pointed right at his throat. “Lookie here.” David’s evil laughter made your knees shake as you stood up off the ground.

“No!” You cried out and lunged for the man, knocking him into the wall.

As quick as it happened, Hyunjin pulled you back, pure anger evident in his features. “What are you thinking?” Hyunjin’s tone of voice hit you straight in the heart. You were trying to save him. You didn’t think it would make him mad. Oh God… You can’t do anything right.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, chest tightening as your mind started to race — various scenarios playing through your mind like a fucked up slideshow. “I’m so sorry.” A sickening sound made the two of you turn around — your choked scream echoing in the room as you saw the man’s body slump to the floor.

Hyunjin’s eyes remained fixed on the body. He couldn’t see or hear anything else going on around him. The scariest part? The man had a wide smile on his face, matching the one across his throat. Hyunjin could see the man’s face fall slack, right as his soul left his body. “God, Minho I’m so sorry.” Hyunjin pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes clenching shut in a sad attempt to keep his emotions in check. “I fucked this up, I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I wasn’t expecting her to —”

“No, it’s fine.” Minho slumped to the ground, resting his head in his hands. “He’s been unstable for a while.” Despite his emotionless words, Hyunjin could see the defeated look on Minho’s face.

“Did he actually work here?” Hyunjin asked. Sure, the man might have been crazy, but… what if he was right? If this institution wasn’t always a bad place, that means the person in charge is responsible for its downfall.

“No.” Minho sighed. “He’s been here for a long time — since before I started working here.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I looked it up. He’s not in the system.”

Hyunjin couldn’t shake the feeling that David wasn’t lying. “Do you think they erased his information? Maybe they put him under a fake name?”

“It’s possible.” Minho chuckled darkly. “This place is fucked up.” Minho’s head fell into his hands. “I know the head of security. I’ll ask him about it tomorrow.”

“Can you trust him?” Hyunjin was a bit worried. Blindly trusting other people in this institution could lead to their downfall.

“Oh I’m not going to tell him anything.” Minho sighed. “I know the program like the back of my hand. I can distract him and get in the system to see if there’s any record of David. Last time I checked the system, I only had a few minutes.”

“I just can’t believe he worked here.” Hyunjin pursed his lips, brows creasing as he tried to figure out the truth.

“Hyunjin.” Minho sighed. “David was mentally unstable. Yes, he did believe he worked here, but he also believed he was an elephant for a solid year.”

“You’re right. But, promise me something.” Hyunjin reached his hand out, helping the older boy off the floor.

Confusion spread across Minho’s face, but he agreed anyway. “Yeah, sure.”

Hyunjin lowered his voice, worried that someone might overhear their conversation. “Tell me when you spot something off. I have a feeling this is much bigger than it seems.”

“Deal.” Minho nodded, eyes widening when he spotted something off. “Hyunjin?”

“Yeah?”

“Your patient’s gone.”

“Fuck.”

-------------

Your uneven breaths echoed in the room as you stumbled to your bed. Finally — after so many months you had someone who treated you right — someone who actually cared about your mental well-being and you had to fuck it up. Not only that, you killed a man!

Maybe Hyunjin and Minho had it covered? Maybe you barging into the room was the thing that set the crazy man off? Maybe that’s why he ended up killing himself? God, you were such a horrible human being.

Broken sobs ripped through your throat as you sunk to the floor. If you were going to get through this, you had to try and think of happy things. What made you happy?

Well… Hyunjin.

Hyunjin made you happy.

Hyunjin was your only safe place — your solace in an unforgiving world full of pain and anxiety — and you fucked that up. You made him mad. You took the sweetest guy in the world, and you upset him. Hyunjin was probably going to leave you, and you’d be stuck with Dr. Henry again.

Your hands threaded in your hair. You wished you could crawl into a hole and disappear. Your only happiness was gone.

Why couldn’t you breathe?

Your mind was in such a haze, you didn’t notice someone walk into the room until you were being pulled into his arms. You couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but you felt the small puffs of air coming from his nose, lips moving against your head as your arms wrapped around his neck. He was speaking in a kind, gentle tone, swaying you back and forth slowly. Your fingers clawed at his back, grabbing the soft material of his uniform as if the fabric would help you find your breath.

You felt horrible — like a drama queen making a big deal out of nothing. Nothing happened. You weren’t harmed, and yet… here you are, sobbing into this man’s neck, unable to breathe properly. Was it Minho? Minho always seemed to find you when you were having panic episodes.

Somehow, you managed to catch your breath enough to open your eyes, relief flooding your system as you spotted Hyunjin’s ebony tufts of hair. His words were clear now, “It’s okay. I know you were trying to help.” His hands ran along your back. “You’re doing great. I’m so proud of you. You can beat this. I know you can.”

Your hands tightened around his neck, pulling the boy impossibly closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for,” Hyunjin whispered in your ear, voice sounding like velvet as he rocked you back and forth slowly. “You were trying to help.”

“I killed him.” You sobbed. “He was fine until I came in.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for his death.” Hyunjin pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “He was going to do it anyway. You did nothing wrong.” Hyunjin pulled you closer, heart dropping when he felt your body shake.

“There was so much blood.” You couldn’t get the memories seeing the man’s body, dead eyes staring into your soul as blood poured from the open wound on his neck.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that.” Hyunjin ran his fingers through your hair, hoping to ease your nerves. “And I’m sorry for pushing you. I was worried he was going to hurt you.” Hyunjin relaxed as he felt you nuzzle further into his chest — a silent sign that you forgave him.

In all honesty, he felt so calm holding you close like this. Perhaps he was crossing a line — the fine line between a doctor and a patient, but he couldn’t just leave you like that. You needed someone by your side, and Hyunjin planned to be that person.

“Did I do the right thing?” You couldn’t help but wonder if you were the tipping point — if your words pushed him to finally do it.

“I don’t actually know.” Hyunjin sighed. “I don’t know if I made the right choices either.”

“I thought you knew everything.” You chuckled. Hyunjin sure gave Dr. Henry a verbal lashing when they were talking about electroconvulsive therapy. You figured the boy was a genius.

“Why is that?” Hyunjin laughed. The lighthearted giggles helped brighten your mood as you sat up, legs naturally straddling his hips to get more comfortable. This didn’t phase either of you. You two were comfortable being this close.

“When you were arguing with Dr. Henry, you seemed to know your shit.” Your face fell. “But I kind of lost the conversation when you guys started to yell.”

“Does yelling frighten you?” Hyunjin’s innocent eyes looked into yours, eagerly waiting for your response.

“Don’t change the subject.” You lightly smacked his shoulder.

“No, you don’t change the subject.” Hyunjin chuckled. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, but I’d rather you tell me that you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You couldn’t help but laugh when Hyunjin frowned. You pressed your thumb between his brows, making the boy beneath you smile. “I want to talk about your superbrain.”

“I don’t have a superbrain.” Hyunjin laughed. “But I do have an eidetic memory.”

“The fuck is that?” You’ve heard of a photographic memory, but not an eidetic memory. Does that boy literally remember everything?

“It means I can remember things by looking at them once.” He laughed at your reaction.

You stared at Hyunjin, mouth agape as you frowned. “College must have been so easy for you.” You wished you had an eidetic memory… Or any memory. Being in a fucked up institution while suffering from amnesia was really difficult. You couldn’t figure out how to heal from your trauma when you couldn’t even remember what your trauma was.

Hyunjin laughed. “Retaining information is a bit easier I guess, that’s why I like to try and learn whatever I can about the medications out there so I can help people.”

Your eyes met Hyunjin’s — and for a moment, you completely lost yourself in them. His chocolate brown orbs seemed to look into your soul, seeing you for who you really were instead of the crippling anxiety you suffered from. Your nose bumped against his and you realize just how close you actually were. You flushed bright red, sliding off Hyunjin’s lap as you mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Hyunjin smiled sweetly. “Does that help?”

“Huh?” Your heart panged in your chest as you lost yourself in his eyes once more.

“Sorry, I should have specified.” Hyunjin chuckled. “When you’re having anxiety attacks… Does skinship help pull you out of it?”

You couldn’t help but wonder… did you crave the comforting feeling of someone else’s touch, or was it his touch. After a couple of seconds, you realized… fuck… it was him. It wasn’t even about skinship — it was his gentle touches, his velvety voice, the feeling of his hands resting on your waist. You craved him and — oh no… He’s only been here one day and you’ve already started to crush on your caretaker.

“I don’t know…” You shrugged. “I guess so.”

Hyunjin smiled and pulled out a notepad from his bag and began writing notes. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how dense he was. You brushed some stray bangs out of his face, cheeks flushing even darker when he quietly thanked you and resumed taking notes.

“Can we talk?” You haven’t had an actual conversation with a human being in ages. Talking to Hyunjin sounded like fun. You were dying to learn more about him.

“Of course.” Hyunjin smiled. “You can tell me anything. It’ll stay between us.” Hyunjin clicked his pen a few times. “Plus, if we can get to the bottom of your anxiety, we might be able to work on teaching you how to repair your mindset when you start to panic”

“Hyunjin.” You stopped him. “Can we just… talk?” You paused. “I just want to talk like people. For once, I don’t want to feel like a mental case.”

“Oh…” Hyunjin trailed off. Shit, he didn’t even think of that. “Yeah, go for it.”

“I don’t know what to talk about.” You chuckled. “I’ve been here for the past few months.” Great! You felt like a complete idiot. Here you were, trying to talk to the man of your dreams, and you were making a fool of yourself.

“You don’t remember anything about the world outside this institution?” Hyunjin’s eyes widened. What if your memory loss directly correlates with this hospital? Could they be making you lose your memory?

“Hyunjin I-”

“No, I’m not trying to pry.” Hyunjin chuckled. “I’m trying to decipher what type of amnesia you have.” Hyunjin pursed his lips together before continuing. “See, you have retrograde amnesia. You’ve lost nearly all of your previously existing memories.” Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he came to a realization. “You’ve been through electroconvulsive therapy, which can also cause retrograde amnesia for a period of time. According to the number of sessions you’ve had in the chart, it matches perfectly.” Hyunjin smiled brightly. “Plus, you might have a form of dissociative amnesia from any past traumas. But if we stop your electroconvulsive therapy sessions completely, you might get your memory back!” Hyunjin paused, cheeks flushing bright red when he looked into your eyes. “Oh, I’m rambling again. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes glassed over as you thought about everything Hyunjin said. “They’re making me lose my memories? That’s not possible.” You sighed. “Dr. Douglas said they’d help.”

Hyunjin’s heart dropped when he saw your expression. You looked tired, overwhelmed, and afraid. “Why don’t we talk about something else? What do you want to know about?”

“What were you like in college?” You figured college was the type of environment Hyunjin would thrive in.

“Well, when I was going to college, I used to go to the college library for fun.” Hyunjin chuckled.

“Did you go with your friends?” You longed to have that college life, going to parties, hanging out with friends, studying art at a good school — you missed out on all that… but you don’t remember why…

“Oh.” Hyunjin’s face dropped slightly, fingers playing with the pen in his hands. “I didn’t have any friends. No one cared about books and studying.”

“You’re telling me that you didn’t have tons of girls flocking to you?” You were shocked. The boy was perfect. Hyunjin’s smart, beautiful, kind, he has it all.

“Oh, I did.” Hyunjin frowned. “I never understood why though.”

“Hyunjin you’re like… the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Huh?”

“Oh, sorry.” You mumbled.

“No.” Hyunjin smiled brightly, eyes crinkling in happiness as he looked at you. “Thank you.” He chuckled. “Most people get turned off by my personality.” Over the years, Hyunjin couldn’t really keep a good group of friends by his side. After trying for so long, he finally gave up. Why be worried about making friends when you could be helping people?

“What? Are you a closet asshole?” You laughed, lightly pushing on his shoulder.

“No.” Hyunjin fiddled with the end of his notebook, turning the hundreds of pages packed full of notes in front of your eyes. “I do lots of research so I can make things better for people like you.” Hyunjin looked down at the various dog-eared pages. “This is what I do — I’ve spent my whole life working to become a doctor. It’s all I know how to do.” He smiled. “So most people don’t stick around long.”

“I won’t leave you.” You rested your hand on his arm in a sad attempt to comfort the boy.

“No, you will.” Hyunjin smiled. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“What are you two doing?”

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anxietycalling · 4 years ago

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how i spent my summer vacation

Or, where the fuck have I been these literal years? (I can’t believe it’s been years.)

I feel like I need to, at some point, talk about everything that happened between now and the point where I dropped off the face of the earth. And, like, actually talk, not that thing I do where I make a joke out of everything. So... I’m doing this up front, so if anyone actually still follows my shitshow of a life, you know what you’re getting yourself into before it’s too late.

Okay. Where to start.

Um, obviously, after the 2016 election I gtfo’d the US. Because I couldn’t legally work in the US at that point, I had pretty much no savings and no money because every dollar I did get went to supporting me and Dash because of the absolute nightmare that happened there. I’m not... mad at her anymore, not quite - I recognize that a lot of actions on both sides were the result of severe, untreated trauma and mental illness, so it’s hard to look at either of us and say that someone was the villain there. It’s hard to recognize when you’re in survival mode that your actions are self-destructive. But, anyway, because of that, I had no choice other than to move in with my parents. Which many of you are aware is not the healthiest choice for me mentally or physically.

And, again, it’s not that my parents are bad people. They’re good people who are trying their best, but there are two factors that lead to me living with them being a terrible idea. 1) My mother has a lot of unprocessed intergenerational trauma due to mental illness that she is still dealing with, and 2) Neither of my parents have ever lived in an urban center, which lends itself to a specific mindset when it comes to dealing with mental illness and LGBTQ+ issues. Which is to say, it’s hard to have a regular dating or sex life when everyone knows your business while your parents are simultaneously trying to pretend you don’t have genitals that they’re uncomfortable with. Also, I didn’t have my license at the time because I let it expire before getting my permanent one, so I was pretty much at the mercy of whoever could drive me places. (I lived in cities before that, so not driving was never much of an issue. I am highly proficient in public transit.)

So living with my parents was this precarious balancing act of trying to do everything they wanted me to do, because they were letting me live there for free, and meeting the demands of my bosses (who immediately demoted me once they found out I wasn’t planning on living there forever), and trying to have a social life outside of my family. And, like, I had just come out of the closet, so I was also trying to date without my parents finding out, because, like? It gets exhausting trying to explain why you have a right to exist and love who you want to love and I tend to get defensive when I feel like I have to justify myself. But all that secrecy really wears on you. I think in the worst of it I was probably sleeping 3-5 hours a night between the anxiety, having to walk or wait for rides everywhere, and staying up late enough after my parents went to sleep to try to meet guys on dating apps.

Dating apps when you live in a rural area are the worst. Not only is there a limited dating pool to begin with, it sucks when someone ghosts you and then re-signs up for the same dating app using a fake name and you catch them at it. I get it to some extent; people are afraid of being outed, even if on paper we’re one of the premier retirement destination for gay couples near Toronto. (Read: affluent, white, cis gay men.) It’s gotten better in the last couple of years, but... Yeah, there just was nothing for me there.

Obviously I had to widen my perimeter for who I was willing to date, and that’s how I met Husband. Completely by accident. My phone provider was out one day, so I didn’t get any messages from anyone for almost 24 hours while I was figuring that out. His message to me was one of the ones that got pushed through when my phone service restored itself. (I still, to this day, don’t know why or how this happened.) And there was nothing there that was inherently like, “Hey, you’re going to date and then marry this guy,” other than the fact that he actually put effort into his message instead of sending “hey” over and over again to get a response. But he was funny, and he was charming, and we fell for each other really quickly. Pretty soon all my money (which, again, limited, because the awful ladies I worked for decided I wasn’t leadership material even though they gave me no training or direction, ever) was going to taking the train here pretty much every time I had a day off from work. And I was lying to my parents about it, because they decidedly do not like or approve of dating apps or internet friendships in general.

Something happens in relationships where one or both of you are chronically ill. There comes a sink-or-swim moment in the relationship where you either step up and deal with the shit that happens, or you realize you can’t handle the intensity or uncertainty of it, and you gtfo. And... obviously, I chose the first option. Pretty much immediately after my first visit (as in, I was still on the train) Husband calls me, because his doctors are afraid that he has cancer. I go home, work exactly one day and turn the fuck around and go back so we can meet with the hematologist and find out whether he has bone cancer, Jesus fuck. Thankfully, it turned out that he didn’t; it’s something that comes up a lot because he doesn’t have a spleen and that, apparently, makes it look like you’re dying a whole lot. We ended up moving in together a month later because living at my parents was making me suicidal, which isn’t the greatest love story of all time, I know, but I had wanted to move out anyway and living with him was a much better option than random roommates.

I didn’t talk to my mother for... a month and a half, after I moved out. She kept trying to contact my friends on Facebook one day and I was ready to freak out on her for being controlling or something. Turns out, my biological father died. At the time, I was calm. Like, I wasn’t surprised - he had nearly died of alcohol-induced cardiac failure before I moved to the US, and it’s not like he had done anything to make his situation better - but it turns out I was actually in shock, I guess. The whole situation was fucking terrible; not because he died but because it kind of cemented that my only value to his side of the family was being “the only granddaughter” and not that they gave a shit about me as a person. They misgendered me in his obituary; they spelled my brother’s girlfriend’s name wrong.

I think the worst part is that they tried to make his celebration of life thing about how great he was as a person, though. And, like, I’m sorry, but great people don’t molest their children, or their children’s girlfriend. They don’t have sex in front of their children with their children’s physical abuser. They don’t make their teenage child in charge of being the sober adult when they want to go drinking. They don’t let their partner physically abuse their child when that child tries to get them both help for their drinking. They don’t trap their kid on a boat for a week with a creepy adult male stranger and freak the fuck out when that child has their first anaphylactic reaction to a novel food 20 kilometers from land or the nearest hospital. They don’t call that child on their birthday every year to remind them what a woman they are and always will be when they were the first fucking parent I came out to.

Actually, no - the worst part of him dying was that I had to deal with his hellbeast girlfriend afterward, because apparently there was money for me in an RESP that he had never cashed, but all that got me was a shady financial representative who repeatedly wanted my mother and me to break the law over it. Like, my mom got her lawyer involved and everything, and once the legal letterhead came out the financial dude dropped off the face of the earth, stopped answering my calls and I never got my thousand pity dollars.

And, like, things were okay for a little while after that because Husband and I were close with our roommates up until the point where it became clear that one of them had severe, untreated borderline personality disorder. I’ve lived with someone with BPD before; I’ve lived with a hoarder before. I was not prepared for the level of hoarding that this woman could produce. Or just, like, generally weird and shitty behavior and refusal to seek treatment for her condition. We tried everything we could think of, but ultimately we had to have secret meetings outside our house with our other roommate (who was dating her at the time) to figure out what to do with her. The things we found out... I’ve never wanted to genuinely harm a person before. Because she had been r*ping our roommate for months, and convincing them we didn’t want to be their friend, and using all their money because she wouldn’t go to work or apply for welfare or do the bare minimum required to be a human being. We had to get her removed by the police (who I do not advise contacting unless there is genuinely no other options) and the police acted like it was a typical roommate squabble even though we had fucking proof. So, anyway, we had to contact hell roommate’s parents and sister, and do all the packing to get her shit out of our house.

I will add that there were a few golden months right after hell roommate moved out. We got very close with remaining roommate, and it was nice, but then they started dating their current boyfriend and it just got... uncomfy for everyone somehow? They never outright said they were dating him, it was weird, one day they were like “Hey, I have a friend coming over!” and then he was just... there all the time? And they never told us they were dating? And, like, I’m happy for them, they’re great together and genuinely like each other, but it was weird. It was uncomfortable when we had to have the “We want to move out” conversation, too, because originally we had wanted to move to a bigger place with all of us, but ultimately we ended up keeping the apartment.

So that should have been fine, right? Especially since they moved in with one of Husband’s friends. Except that that friend turned out to be secretly awful and took advantage of everyone around them, and accused good roommate of being secretly racist and a bunch of other stuff that wasn’t true. (Trust me, good roommate would rather sever their left leg than do something that would hurt someone’s feelings.) And, like, I’m sorry, but you can’t use your master’s degree in social work to push around people who you know freeze during confrontations and have memory issues due to trauma, and then turn around and lead healing from trauma workshops. No. You’re a garbage human being who deserves to step on a thousand Lego. (Legos? Anyway.)

OH. Right. Before that, I had surgery. I had surgery and then pretty much the day we got home from that, the pandemic happened. At the beginning of it, good roommate and a woman who would later become one of our best friends came to stay with us because, again, horrific garbage pile of a human being in their house. Recovering from surgery took forever - I still don’t have feeling back 100% in my chest - but thankfully I was better enough by the time they moved to be somewhat helpful there. (They were incredibly smart and hired movers. We were pretty much there because we had just bought a car and could move breakable stuff.)

Ugh. God. Sorry, I have to jump back to 2018 for a second, which is when I was diagnosed with OCD. Like, officially, I mean. It was probably pretty obvious to everyone who wasn’t me, but I always kind of thought that since I wasn’t on My Mom-level germophobic, there was no way I could have it. Uh! Turns out! Normal people don’t cry when a garbage bag that is clearly about to be taken outside touches the floor while they are putting their shoes on to take said garbage bag outside. So... I take pills now. And go to therapy. Which is very expensive. But, yeah, my symptoms were pretty fuckin’ bad then. And continued to be bad - like, bad enough that I had to quit my job in 2019 because my bosses weren’t taking it seriously enough or even listening to me. (It’s Mcdonald’s, it’s chill, they ruin or fire all their best employees.)

Okay. Back to now. Pandemic! School! Suffering through all my pre-requisites so I can take actual interesting classes! Somewhere in there we started watching Twitch streams - I think it was because Husband found out Felicia Day streamed, and he loves her, and it kind of spiraled from there? But anyway, I somehow ended up part of this weird, delightful community that’s genuinely nice and non-trollish, and now I stream sometimes. Or attempt to stream. Or attempt to keep a regular schedule. It’s nice, though, to feel like there’s someone to hang out with when you pretty much can’t leave your house. There’s a sense of normality to being in a place at a specific time and seeing specific people. And Twitch has given me a lot of ideas on research topics I’d like to pursue in grad school.

Like I said, it’s been a pretty mixed bag. There have been some really bad parts, but there’s a lot of good stuff that happened too. I just. I miss Old Me a lot, lately. I miss who I was before all the trauma. (I mean, obviously not all the trauma, because I don’t miss being a literal child, but like... 18-23 or so.)

I think this might be the most I’ve written outside of a school context in actual years. Part of me keeps thinking about adding in APA formatting, but uh. You can’t really cite something when it’s just memories inside your own head. Anyway. I need to work on liking myself more, and working through some of the baggage that goes with trauma, and... I don’t know. It’s nice to have an outlet that’s not my husband or my cats. (Again, Husband is awesome, Husband is amazing, but we’re around each other 24/7 right now. I think he deserves a break sometimes.)

So... Yep. Thanks, if you made it this far. I promise not all my posts are going to be like this. I just figured, if you were going to stick around, you probably deserved to know what happened while I was gone.

#personal

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doof-doofblog · 4 years ago

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"It's All Her Fault!"

Double Episode Special

Thursday 25th February - Friday 26th February 2021

Hello everyone! I apologise for this post being so late, I've been away from my computer since Friday and I've not had a chance to watch EastEnders at all. I realise I'm a few episodes behind, but in this blog post, I've decided to review both Thursday's and Friday's episodes together, that way through-out the week I can catch up and be up to date with you all. I do however have to say that this week, I will possibly be missing out Thursday and Friday again as I have some personal time away from my computer. I want thank you all though for being incredibly patient with me and allowing me to write up my blog as and when I can. You're all amazing people and I can't thank you enough for the on-going support.

There is SO much to cover, so let's discuss a few things, the first thing I'm going to focus on is Ben, Phil and this new business deal that's supposed to be going on. I have to be honest though, this storyline I'm finding a little bit confusing. Maybe because I've been away for a few days, but what was the whole business agreement/plan that Ben, Phil and this new character were involved in in the first place? All we know for sure really is that this new character, who I still can't recall the name of, "Stas" or "Stan", has been a loyal customer/client of the Mitchells for years and now he's taking his business elsewhere, to Kheerat. Of course this is going to upset and annoy the Mitchells, but after a lot of confrontation between Ben and Kheerat about nicking potential business plans/propositions, it looks as if it all comes down to money at the end of the day. Who is this new character? We really don't know much about him at all, and to be honest, I'm getting sick of seeing his face ... he doesn't speak clearly and I can't quite understand what's going on when he's onscreen! Thursday's episode shows Kheerat celebrating his new business prospects, and of course Ben kicks off as he feels that Kheerat is flaunting his celebrations right in front of them, nicking their clientele.

However, the following day, it looks that maybe Kheerat has got himself in a bit too deep as "Stas"/"Stan" demands more money that was originally agreed. Vinny notices that his brother appears to be doing some kind of business and might have been in the foresight of the Mitchells. He warns his brother to be careful and whether they should include their Mother, Suki, for help. But Kheerat is adamant that he was to do the business his way and will only inform Suki when he's ready. Has Kheerat taken on a bit too much? Meanwhile Ben seems to be seething that Kheerat is laughing at his family, mainly himself and Phil. But Phil informs his son that they should do absolutely nothing. Instead of getting worked up about lost business and money, he suggests that they should just lay back and watch from the side-lines and watch things go to pot! As that way, if things do turn out wrong, it won't be their problem, it'll be Kheerat's. As much as that appeals to Ben, watching things crash and burn would be some form of entertainment for him, he seems to ignore his Dad and approaches Kheerat whilst he's sat in Ruby's club. Interestingly, he seems to warn to Kheerat about the clientele he's working with, informing him to be on his guard and proposes that if ever he needs help in anything, he's willing to step up. Ben is clearly trying to worm his way in to be involved, just once I wish he'd listen to his Dad's advice and leave things be.

Whilst on the subject of the Mitchell's, who else has Phil been involved with lately? Kat! And after overhearing him bad-mouth her and humiliate her to Ben after their romp, she took it things into her own hands. Initially, she is the one who kind of caused the Mitchell's to lose their business proposition as she went blabbing, which turns out why Stas/Stan took his business to Kheerat instead. During this whole section of Ben trying to figure out who blabbed, Kat has been lying low, but her family are starting to notice that someone or something has seemed to upset her. Stacey mentions that if it happens to be a bloke who has let her down, then he's not worth it. Eventually Kat takes it upon herself to give Phil a visit, informing him that she's not someone to be messed around with, also dropping the bombshell that she was the one to blabbed, I think it's this point that Phil realises he has met his match in Kat, after their little fling, Kat announces that things are over between them. Only later on, it looks as if Phil realises that Kat is right and he shouldn't have bad-mouthed her the way he did, he decides to pop over to her and, in not so many words, apologise. Maybe things between Kat and Phil could get serious? Who knows, I think they'd made a very big power couple!

The next thing I have focus on is Isaac. So it's now been revealed that the illness that Isaac is suffering from is Schizophrenia. Now I've had to do a little bit of research for this as I'm not 100% sure what that entails. I think this is the first time that EastEnders have brought up the subject of Schizophrenia. For those of you unsure, Schizophrenia is a mental illness which affects how people think and how they understand the world around them. The symptoms brought on could be things such as hallucinations or delusions to an extent that they can't tell what's fantasy and reality.

But now we know what Isaac is having to deal with in his personal life, it all makes complete sense as to why Sheree has been acting so protective of her son. Of course, at this moment in time, only Isaac and herself are aware about his diagnosis. I'm intrigued to see how the rest of the family are going to react once they find out the truth, Patrick, Denise and Kim. One thing I hope, is that Isaac isn't seen as a freak or anything, I don't mean that in a harsh way, but people might begin to think they he hears voices or something? I don't know, we'll have to wait and see. But poor Lola has also been left in the dark, for now. Sheree has warned her to stay away from her son, of course she means well where he son is concerned, but she didn't really go the right way about it. Isaac is left furious at his Mum when he learns that she was the one who warned Lola to stay away, but Isaac truly feels that he's ready to move on and have a relationship.

After learning from Patrick that Sheree warned Lola to stay away, Isaac storms to the salon to confront his Mother. In this moment, I kind of feel sorry for Sheree - well both of them really. I'm not too sure how long Isaac has had this illness, but he claims to have things under control where his medication is concerned. The fact that he hasn't had a normal life for a long time seems to be interesting, he admits to his Mum that he genuinely has feelings for Lola and is ready for some happiness in his life. But Sheree is deeply concerned, concerned that she doesn't want her son getting hurt if people find out the truth. This is where Isaac really passionately aches to be heard, he's not scared of his diagnosis and is ready to reveal it to the people close to him. He demands his Mum to say the name of his illness, but she simply refuses, which is when the big reveal is announced and we learn of his Schizophrenia. Later on, Lola is sat alone in the Cafe and Isaac is quick to join her, she claims that she's not willing to put her job on the line if her job is at risk if they were to start dating. But Isaac reassures her that he will put his Mother straight, regardless of her worries, and he convinces Lola to go out on another date.

I know this has have already, but I'm really looking forward to seeing Monday's episode tomorrow so I can comment on Lola's reaction to Isaac's medical news. Let's just hope things won't get worse for Isaac and he and Lola might be able to have a relationship that works, regardless of his mental illness.

Okay so we know that Ruby has been the main focus of these two episodes, but before we delve into her storyline, I want to mention Dotty. Early on in the week we saw her approach Ruby with a business proposition of having a hostess at the club, as a way of gaining more customers and making more money for the club. At first, Ruby seems really against the idea as it'll look as if they're prostituting young women. However, as the episodes have gone on, Dotty seems to have convinced Tiffany to be the hostess of the club, as she would be earning more money for herself and Keegan, in an exchange Dotty has allowed them to move into Sonia's house and live with her, Whitney and Kush. I guess it's fair to say that both Tiffany and Keegan have been struggling for money in recent months, with Keegan working at the club as bar-staff as well as doing his own sandwich business. But to get Ruby on board with this hostess idea, Dotty is eager to find out more information on Ruby. She approaches Tiffany and asks her to tell her everything she knows about the club owner, when she learns about Ruby's Dad and her past and how she became so wealthy, Dotty seems to approach Ruby - I'll mention Ruby's mental state and emotional state shortly, but Dotty catches her at the worst possible time. I thought that Dotty kind of manipulated Ruby into allowing to go forward with the hostess job, complimenting how far she has come in her life and how successful she's been, mentioning that they both have Dad's with bad reputations and she simply wants to make something of her life and make her Dad proud. All this seems to fall on deaf ears, Ruby understandably has other things on her mind, but when Dotty claims she wants 50% of the profits, Ruby claims that she'll have to settle for just 10% otherwise there will be no deal, to which Dotty happily agrees.

I wasn't going to mention much about it, but I do fear for Tiffany. Maybe taking this job at the club may not be a good idea? And how on Earth with Keegan react when he finds out? Tiffany has said she's going to keep it a secret from her husband for a while, until she's ready to tell him. But I guess she's only doing it so they can afford a house for themselves? What do you think? Could Tiffany be putting herself in danger?

Okay so the main event I need to mention is Ruby. Oh Ruby ... poor Ruby! I do really feel for her, but I feel like she's so struck by grief and loss that her whole world is crumbling around her. She tries to do something nice but things get thrown back into her face. So, before I mention the devastating loss that Ruby has gone through, we need to start with how this all happened and kicked off. Martin proposes to his wife that she deserves and break and plans a holiday to Greece during the Easter holidays, but Ruby voices her concerns about leaving the children behind during Easter, to which she suggests maybe taking the children with them. Of course that is a really nice gesture, I still can't tell whether she's trying to do one over Stacey or not, but it could simply be a nice gesture for the children, considering that during this moment, Ruby is pregnant and her child would be a sibling to Stacey's children. Unfortunately though, Stacey isn't too keen on her taking the children on holiday. It's revealed that they would take the children away for two weeks, which in Stacey's mind, gives Ruby enough time to turn her children against her. But really, why would Ruby do that if she was pregnant with her own child? Know what I mean?

To try and come up with some sort of an agreement, Stacey, Martin and Ruby decide to meet for a discussion about the holiday plans. However Stacey is furious when Ruby turns up with nail polish for Lilly, when just a few moments before Stacey refused to buy it for her daughter. Stacey once again feels like Ruby is wading in on her children, but honestly, I really don't think that's the case. All Ruby has ever truly wanted is to have a family of her own. To get away from the confrontation she goes to visit the restroom whilst Martin tries to calm Stacey down. Only when Ruby returns, she is visibly very quiet, only she doesn't approach the table to join Martin and Stacey. She grabs her phone and calls up the clinic, informing them that she's 7 weeks pregnant and worryingly, she's bleeding. Without anyone's knowledge, she goes on her own to the clinic where unfortunately the nurse can't seem to pick up a heartbeat on the baby monitor. Devastatingly, she has last her baby, the child she has always wanted.

The following day, she seems to be completely in a world of her own and the previous days events seem to play over and over again in her mind. Martin is trying to do his best to cheer up his wife, even making the kind gesture of putting the baby scan picture in a cute small baby picture frame. However, I still have to mention that that baby scan picture, really isn't hers. Perhaps she never got to have a picture scan? I'm assuming because she was only 7 weeks, she doesn't get a picture? Do you only get a picture when you're 12 weeks? I'm unsure. But regardless, she sadly has no baby scan picture of her own baby. Ruby tries to go on about her day, heading off to work, but whilst she's there Stacey pays her a visit, informing her that if she wants to take her children to Greece for a holiday, then she can pay for it because Stacey simply cannot afford it.

I found this scene between Ruby and Stacey really really gripping actually. Even though they seem to be at each other's throats right now, it was nice to see them actually having a conversation about their teenage years. Recalling on how their memories as best friends and their wishes of having children around the same time as each other, both being Mum's walking their prams around the Square, each of their children calling them "Auntie". I really enjoyed watching this moment, they truly were very best friends for a long time. It's a crying shame how things have changed between them. Okay, Ruby being with Stacey's ex-husband isn't a good start, but I don't know about you guys, but do you miss the friendship that they once had? Would you like it if they were to move on and forgive each other for their wrong doings and become friends again? Honestly, I think they both could do with a good friend right now.

Sadly, their discussion and happy memories doesn't last for long. Ruby claims that she can't see what Martin saw in Stacey, but to clash once again, Stacey gives her the same insult. Does Stacey still have feelings for Martin? Before she found out about them being married, Stacey did confess to Martin that she still loved him, but does her feelings still remain the same? Stacey claims that because she was married to him for quite a long time, plus she's the Mother of his children, she and Martin will always have a history and he will always hold a spark for her. As she goes to leave Ruby alone in the club, Ruby follows her asking her to elaborate on what she means. She stands her ground and informs her ex-best friend that she and her husband are solid and nothing and no one is ever going to come in between them.

As Stacey goes to leave, Ruby follows her up the stairs, but in the commotion of their argument, as Stacey turns to tell Ruby to leave her alone, Ruby's ankle gives way as she steps on one of the stairs and she goes falling backwards along the stairs. Of course Stacey is absolutely terrified for Ruby, knowing that she's pregnant and had a dangerous fall. She stays by her side and places a cushion under her head, calling up Martin to inform him of his wife's accident. Poor Ruby pleads Stacey not to leave her and they both clasp hands. Later on, when Ruby is alone in the hospital, Martin arrives after hearing the news from Stacey. As Ruby looks up at her husband, she absolutely crumbles and bursts into floods of tears. Apologising to her husband and claiming that she really tried, Martin tries his absolute best to console his devastated wife over the loss of their baby. Only, when me mentions that Stacey called him, Ruby is more than furious, I don't know whether it's the grief that's really struck her, or whether she's feeling angry for losing the child she's always wanted, who knows what she could be feeling? Maybe everything just builds inside of her, she makes the horrendous claim that Stacey is to blame for her losing her child as she sobs into Martin's arms.

I do feel that things are going to going to turn dark and more upsetting for all involved in this story. Of course Martin is going to believe his wife, which means that Stacey is going to have a huge battle to fight. If there wasn't a battle before, there most definitely will be a war. Ruby did sadly lose her baby, but Stacey was not to blame. To be honest, she had lost the baby even before she fell, she had miscarried the previous day when she bled and they nurse couldn't detect a heartbeat. But now she's taken a bad fall and Stacey was there, I suppose it gives her the opportunity to put Stacey in the frame and blame her, anything to get back at her, or to even keep her husband on side. Who knows? I do feel for Ruby, I really do, but blaming Stacey for something which wasn't her fault is really not the right thing to do.

As I said, I don't know whether because she's grieving, she's angry, jealous? She could be feeling all these emotions right. But one thing is for sure Stacey is going to have a huge battle on her hands now to prove her innocence. I'm really looking forward to reviewing Monday's episode. I might do the same thing tomorrow and blog about Monday's and Tuesday's episode together, just to make sure I catch up! Thank you all for reading, I apologise for this being so late, but all your support really means the world. I'll be back again tomorrow! Love you all xXx

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chimswae · 4 years ago

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BTS Caretaker CH7

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 2,445

- Author Note: Finally update on time! i appreciate your feedback and comment, just drop in my ASK BOX :)

Previous | Next

Chapter 7

It was Monday again. The light from the sun illuminating her room, shrinking all her thoughts and feelings at once. She really did not want to be in the same building as Bangtan Sonyeondan again. Not after the incident that she tried hard to forget. Yet she failed to do so.

Yesterday, her mother came with bad news claiming she had requested a weekend break from the company. She told them the truth about her health condition which started to deteriorate these past weeks minus the part she couldn’t perform the job and made Seul to replace her instead. At least, she informed them about being sick. Therefore, they agreed on letting her mother work daily instead of everyday. The only change made was her work schedule but not the contract termination.

Groaning mentally, Seul wished her mother would request for contract termination instead of the change in the work schedule. Since Bighit seemed pretty lenient and understanding when it came to their staff’s welfare, she’s sure they wouldn’t force a sick old lady to work her ass off. Unless, the individual didn’t ask for it, so they might assume things were alright. Gosh, as expected who could stop her stubborn mother.

Strutting to the main door, Seul put on her black converse with heavy heart. Deep down in her heart, she hoped none of the boys would be home at this time like before. Even worse, if Min Suga was there again to ruin her day. She would not let him for the second time. Actually, Seul was still embarrassed over the kiss, after contemplating so many times, she decided to face the day as if nothing ever happened previously. She planned in her head, if she ever bumped into Min Suga, she would ignore him without uttering anything.

That would be the best thing to do, right? Maybe for now.

Walking along the street, Seul watched how the mother nature switched from sunny to cloudy in the blink of an eyes. She didn’t even realize, she dragged the time a bit due to her reluctances to tend Bangtan’s dorms today. Seul even purposely took the longer route in hope to clear her messy mind. However, upon seeing the change of weather she decided to head straight to the tiger’s den.

The journey took only 10 minutes from where she stopped to daydreaming a while ago. She entered the password to the apartment with sweaty palm. First of all, she was not ready mentally and physically to face any of the members. Her nervousness soared even higher when the main door opened. Inhaling a deep breath, she stealthily entered the den and to her relief Seul was welcomed by the emptiness and shirts scattered on the floor.

“Thank god” she heaved a sigh of relief.

Seeing how messy the place was, the boys might be barely back at home. It hasn’t even a week, and the place was awfully wrecked. She grunted at the thought of cleaning up the three days mess. It would be a long day for Seul.

Without further ado, she went straight to tend her job started with the living room and pile of dishes. She glanced at the amount of takeout boxes on the table, as she bit her lower lips feeling sympathy for them.

“They are not even eating healthily” she murmured while cleaning the leftover.

---------------------

“Make it quick Namjoon. We have to be there on time, you don’t want to be late” warned Manager Sejin. Namjoon dashed out of from the vehicle as fast as lightning without even bother to look back.

“I’ll be quick” he hollered as his body disappeared inside the building.

Clumsy Namjoon stumbled in between the journey whilst running for his life to get his stuff. He approached the door to their place and opened the door hastily as soon as he heard the click sound. His nose caught the smell of detergent from the other side, and he tilted his head curiously at the image in front of him. Their place was cleaned and organized in contrary to few hours ago.

“The ahjumma” his round lips broke into a cheeky smile. His head peeked at the kitchen until he saw a glimpse of shadow coming from the room that he shared with Taehyung. Seul heard a rustling sound coming from her back, and her body froze momentarily. She pulled the mask over her nose covering half of her face. Frankly speaking, her heart pounded furiously against her chest as if it might jump out from it by any seconds from now.

Panic. She shouldn’t be panic.

“Ahjumma?” Seul was taken aback by the manly voice. Who was it this time? She held onto the fibre duster tightly while holding her breath. Seul did not know how to react to that question so instead she chose to remain quiet. Judging from his voice, he didn’t sound like Suga.

Namjoon scratched the back of his head, taking few steps towards Seul “Ahjumma right?” he inquired again.

Silence.

Another silence.

It’s killing Namjoon.

“Ahjumma? Are you alright?” Namjoon decided to slide in front of Seul. There he was standing straight while eyeing the person in front of him worriedly. Seul averted her eyes from meeting Namjoon’s curious one, that guy was trying to read her.

Giving in, Seul nodded indicating she was okay. Soon after, she heard a sigh of relief from the guy in front of him. Funny thing, she found the guy has a unique face and very weird accent. His puffy cheeks and dimples were attractive. Then it hit her, this guy in front of her is the leader, Kim Namjoon. To make it worse, he was a real genius and there was no way she could lie to him without being caught.

Let’s just hope, he is only good in his studies and not that genius when it comes to reading others thought. Seul crossed her fingers.

“Wow, I didn’t expect to meet you after so many years ahjumma. Oh, before I forgot, hello I am Rap Monster, but you can call me Namjoon. I am Bangtan’s leader” he bowed out of respect with a wide smile.

It baffled her for a short while to receive such a deep bow from someone like him, considering Namjoon is older than her. Shoot that, he doesn’t know about her. All he knew was the caretaker is an old ahjumma. Nonetheless, Namjoon is a good guy with manners.

The corner of her lips was tugged into a small smile as she returned the politeness by bowing slightly. Her body went numb. Her mind had stopped working. Should she just play along? As long as she had facemask to cover her face, it should be alright.

“You look younger than I expected. You really took a good care of your skin” Namjoon said sheepishly. The older guy was confused by Seul’s action since she hadn’t uttered any words. He wondered if she was feeling ill or she was just shy.

“Oh I really want to say this since forever, I am not sure when will ever meet again. We are very grateful to have you as our caretaker. And it must be hard to clean up the place by your own considering how messy it could be sometimes. We will try to clean when we can, we apologize for putting all the loads on your shoulder” Seul softened at his sincerity. How can a celebrity like him be so down to earth and even apologize for something that is not even his fault?

Namjoon continued with a shy smile “Ahjumma, thank you for the food that you prepared. You fed us well despite all the rough years that we faced when we first debuted. The food really warmth our heart. It was one of the reasons to keep us going until where we are now” Seul brows flinched together seemed affected of his brief but meaningful speech. She swore to god, she really admires Namjoon’s kindness and humble side. It is rare to find someone like him nowadays.

“I really have a lot of things to say but I am running late. I hope we can meet again soon with others. I will try to talk it out with the management team” he clasped his hand together as his eyes glimmered with hope.

Seul eyes met his as she smiled genuinely under his mask but enough for Namjoon to see it through her eyes. Namjoon was caught at the moment until Taehyung’s voice broke the awkwardness between them.

“NAMJOON HYUNG FASTER FASTER!”

Namjoon blinked with a soft sigh “That is the cue, it is nice meeting you ahjumma. Don’t overwork yourself, I will ask the maknaes to clean up the rest. I guess I will get going now. Have a good day” he bid her farewell and stole a last glance at Seul’s small figure.

I wonder why she didn’t talk, and she does look young. It must be my mind. Namjoon walked up to impatient Taehyung who’s leaning his back against the door.

“What took you so long? Manager hyung is nagging us!” Taehyung frowned.

“I am sorry. I met caretaker ahjumma inside so-“ Taehyung squealed got Namjoon bled in his ears as he held back the excited boy back to where he stood.

The younger guy grinned like a fool “Oh my god where? Let me meet her!” he exclaimed excitedly. Namjoon only shook his head stopping the guy before he could crash inside frightening the hell of the caretaker lady in process.

“Tae, we have shows in few hours. We need to go now. I have told her what we felt, so let’s hope we will be able to meet her again soon alright? Now chill dude, let’s go” he shut the door behind him, dragging the latter using a little force.

“Man, how’s the ahjumma? Is she young as what Yoongi hyung claimed?” he pursed his lips in frustration. He continued to pry answers from Namjoon mainly on the ahjumma’s appearance.

------------------------

As clock strikes 2 in the morning, they were finally back at their place. Fatigue. Hunger. Mental exhaustion. You named it, it was written clearly on their forehead. Jin was the first one whom dragged his aching body to the kitchen. A smile appeared on his face upon seeing the amount of food on the table.

“The ahjumma is really back I guess” Jin yelled from the kitchen.

“I told you so” Namjoon grumbled with his eyes close, “I saw her, and she looked sick. I told her to take the cleaning slow today” Yoongi’s ears perked up, showcasing his interest. Could it be the young lady or the real caretaker now? He really had no time to think about the girl who caused chaos to his heart.

Jimin sat up “I think it comes out as habit. Cleaning the place and cook something for us. I am hungry” he got up, pulling sleepy Taehyung with him.

“Chimmy, I want to sleep. Leave me alone” he protested with a pout.

“Let’s eat first! The ahjumma prepared this for us, so show your gratitude by eating it” Jimin patted his friend’s back with a slight chuckle. He even forced Taehyung to sit down on one of the seats and as soon as his butt landed on the cold stool, he rested his forehead on the table.

Cheerful Hoseok entered the scene, stood beside Jin helping him to warm the food for them to savour. A pink sticky note on the fridge caught his attention. With a smile, he took the notes “Guys, ahjumma left us a message” Jungkook yawned loudly resting his chin on Jin’s shoulder watching the older guy doing things with the food inside the pan.

“What did she say?” Jin tapped Jungkook’s head with a clean spoon ordering him to get off him instantly. Jungkook pursed his lips, moving backwards and took a seat beside Taehyung.

“Okay I will read it aloud… Dear boys, I want to make it up to you for my absence last Friday. So here is a feast for you guys. But I seem to miscalculate BTS members, therefore there is no food for Min Yoongi. I apologize, I must be getting old already. Eat and rest well..” Hoseok gawked at the last sentences “Is this a prank?”

At the mention of his name Yoongi arose from his seat, charging towards Hoseok, snatching the pink notes from his hand. He scanned the notes diligently ensuring the notes were not a mere tease by Hoseok. His breath hitched “What the fuck?” he cussed lowly.

“Are you kidding me? Hoseok stop joking around” Jin placed the heated food on the table. Even the sleepy Namjoon and Taehyung looked at Yoongi’s direction with so much interest. Now, that was dramatic. Out of all the members why would she pinpoint Yoongi?

“She seemed to be holding grudge against you? Was it due to the last week incident?” Jimin poked his chopstick at the food in front of him, while shoving some inside his mouth.

Yoongi rubbed his temple, digesting this new information again “I am sure she is hiding something. Can’t you believe me? She is the sasaeng fan! The girl that came into our place pretending to be the caretaker ahjumma. Joon, come on you saw her earlier. You could tell if she is old or not!” he scowled.

Yoongi believed that was the way of Seul to get revenge on him. It never dawned on him that he would hear from Seul again. This thing with Seul was driving him up the wall. Just who on earth is Seul?

“Well…She doesn’t look that old. I can’t tell much since she is wearing a facemask. But, if she really is a sasaeng, why would she clean our place? Seriously hyung. You must have done something to upset her” Namjoon crossed his arms, looking alarmed.

Hoseok rubbed the back of his head “Maybe she is sick of cleaning your messy room” earning a deep glare from the older guy.

“Okay maybe not” Hoseok chickened away and immediately settled down beside Jimin.

His tummy was screaming for food at first now he’s slowly losing his appetite. Yoongi turned to leave others for a long bath, but only to come at halt “Yah, aren’t you going to eat?” said Jin.

“Nevermind. I am full. Go ahead and eat” he ditched the kids behind and headed straight to his room. Because after all there is no food for Min Yoongi. He grinded his teeth together.

Just wait, I will expose you for sure. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

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ashtheshortstack · 4 years ago

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take my scars & make them stars - ch 5

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna Chapter Five

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Fic, Cancer Fic, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Character Death

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter

Anna usually went to the coffee shop after treatments, but she decided to have a different routine that day. Surely, Kristoff wouldn’t mind if she popped in on a different day. If Anna was honest with herself, despite their constant messaging and videos…. she missed him. And she was having one of her bad days, so it’d be nice to see him. The need to see him seemed so silly since they’d just gone to the park a week prior, but Anna could never really get enough of him. She didn’t know a--whatever they had--could feel like this. She’d spent so much wasted time with Hans, but she’d never felt like this.

Never had she felt so cared for… Even from her own family. Sure, Elsa tried her best now. And it wasn’t her fault she was kept away when they were children. But, her sister had stayed a little distant until the diagnosis. Which was probably because of Hans, and Anna didn’t blame her for that.

Anna was grateful that Elsa opened her door to her when she said she was leaving Hans. She was glad Gerda and her sister still wanted to be with her after she left, despite both of them warning her that Hans was bad news. They probably believed she would eventually come to her senses. And hoped she would move on. And although Anna hadn’t expected to move on so quickly after such a long term relationship, it was like a breath of fresh air. Even though… if she were honest with herself, the time with Hans hadn’t felt like a relationship in years. It had just become a regular constant in her life. Not actually anything with true meaning anymore.

So, walking into the coffee shop and seeing that familiar smoothed back ginger hair had Anna completely disoriented. Her chest tightened as she swallowed thickly. There was a familiar crowd of frat boys at the table, including those two guys--Erik and Francis--that Hans had started to hang out with frequently right before their break-up. There were cute sorority girls attached to their arms, smiling and laughing along with them in their seats. There must’ve been some event nearby, and they’d all stopped by for coffee.

Of course, Anna rationally knew by living in the same college town that there was a chance of running into Hans. Arendelle was big but not that big. But she just didn’t think it’d happen. She’d gone months without seeing him, so he’d not really been on her radar. What were the chances he’d show up in the very coffee shop her new, uh, not boyfriend worked at?

Kristoff saw her when she entered, and while he seemed a bit stunned to see her, he grinned fondly--completely unaware of the mental collapse she was experiencing. Anna kept glancing in Hans’ direction, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. She forced a small smile, and instead of approaching the counter, she pointed to the table that they normally occupied during her visits. Kristoff furrowed his brows, looking a bit concerned, but nodded anyway.

She returned the gesture and headed towards the seat. Anna huddled herself in the corner, busying with her phone in an attempt to avoid drawing any attention. God, she wanted to kick herself for not wearing makeup that day… or just dressing up at all. She hadn’t felt great that day to begin with, that’s part of the reason she’d wanted so badly to see Kristoff to cheer her up. She’d just left her house in an Arendelle University sweatshirt with leggings and comfy running shoes. And one of her beanies, of course. She was full “sick girl” style… and it pissed her off that Hans could see her in such a state. Anna wanted him to know she was strong, didn’t need him, and was fighting her cancer just fine. In fact, she’d felt better than she ever had. The therapy included in her treatments worked wonders… It was group therapy, but it helped to rant about Hans in the times she needed it.

Her eyes kept flickering around as she scrolled through her phone. Not really reading the content in front of her, she was mostly paranoid about being seen. She felt her blood boil when she recognized the blonde girl she’d caught him macking on the day of her diagnosis. There was part of her that wanted to confront him. To call him out on what a bastard he was.

But she couldn’t. It wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. Anna just wanted to enjoy her day, despite how utterly drained she felt.

Kristoff’s gaze never left her. That frown was plastered on his lips. She knew he could tell something was wrong. That was just one of his many quirks: reading her like a book. Anna watched him as he called Ryder over to take the register and he stalked over to her, apron and name tag still on and everything. Quickly, he pulled up a seat next to her and looked her over.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Anna simply shakes her head. The last thing she wants to do is to upset him while he’s working. She knows how fierce Kristoff’s sneer is, and she doesn’t want to get him fired for glaring down a paying customer. “It’s nothing. J-Just a lot of people in here is all.”

The blonde scoffs at that. “You got that right. They had a fall festival event for the Greek organizations at the park,” he smirked leaning in to her. “You would not believe how many pumpkin spice lattes I’ve had to make in the last hour.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at that. Pushing him gently back by his shoulder, Anna smiled up at him. “When is your break?”

“In about twenty minutes? But if you need me, I’m yours, okay?”

Her heart fluttered at that. Nodding, she agreed. “Yeah.”

Kristoff gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulder with a reassuring smile. Giving her one more once over, he seemed hesitant to leave her, but he stood and went back to work.

Despite her spike in anxiety, he really had helped her calm down. At least a little. She felt safe when he was there, but now she felt exposed to the world again. So, she returned to scrolling through her phone. If only she had earbuds so she could drown out the crowd. But she was pretty sure she’d forgotten them on the counter.

Her phone suddenly chimed, startling her but when she saw the ID was Elsa, she instantly answered.

“Hello?”

“Anna, where are you?”

Blinking, she was a bit stunned by her sister’s harsh tone. “I’m at Arendelle Roasts, why?”

“Did you cook something?”

“Uh, yeah? I wanted to lighten the load on Gerda since I was at home all day and baked the chicken for dinner ahead of time.”

“You left the oven on.”

“Oh. Oh, God, Elsa… I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean--I’m so--ugh!” Anna grimaced, smacking herself in the face. God, chemo brain was so stupid! So, not only had she left her earbuds on the counter, she’d also almost burned the house down. Fuck, could this day get any worse!?

“Hey, hey, hey--calm down, Anna, it’s okay. No one got hurt. Just double check from now on, okay?”

“Okay… I just--I’m sorry, it’s only the afternoon and this has already been a horrible day.”

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you with Kristoff?”

Anna tapped the table, glancing her in her ex-fiance’s direction, glad to see his back was still to her. “Yeah, it’s who else is here. Uh--you-know-who.”

“Hans is there!?”

“Yes. And he hasn’t seen me yet, and I’m just trying to keep it that way.”

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

After a few more brief reassurances from her sister, they exchanged “love you”s and “goodbye”. When she hung up the phone, she was grateful that she was still alone. There was a small glance from Kristoff, but she just grinned at him and he bobbed his head before returning to customers. It was very crowded. She was lucky their table wasn’t taken when she walked in. Kristoff and Ryder were busy bees as they sped through multiple orders. Their teamwork was impeccable, really. Anna wasn’t sure how on earth Kristoff would be able to take his break.

She was so lost in watching the boys work that when Hans suddenly stood, it completely startled her. Gasping, she hurriedly looked down at her phone, hoping he hadn’t noticed her. He was at the counter, ordering something else it seemed. When he turned towards her, Anna felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She glanced up fully, and Hans was staring at her. He arched a brow, squinting harshly at her as he slowly processed who she was. It disgusted her to see Kristoff speak so politely to her ex as he handed over the drink. Hans’ expression changed to that fake pretty boy smile as he thanked him for the drink. But she saw the way his eyes changed, the way his lips quirked into a smirk as he meandered towards her seat.

Feeling her eyes widen, she went back to piddling on her phone. She could just pretend she had no idea who he was. Maybe, he’d think she was some other girl with cancer? The treatment center was highly regarded around the country, so there were a lot of patients in the area. Anna just lucked out with living in such a prosperous town.

Hans pulled out the chair, sitting down in front of her with that smarmy look on his face. She ignored him. Not even sparing him a glance.

“Well, this is the last place I expected to see you,” he said with a chuckle.

His voice made her skin crawl. She hid her flinch pretty well, she was sure. Anna still didn’t pay him any mind and casually played a word game on her phone. Maybe her constant swiping would pester him enough to leave. He usually had a problem with the way she did anything.

Tapping the table, Hans took a sip of his drink. “You could at least acknowledge me, Anna. You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you while you look like that.”

Anna decided to muster her best Kristoff scowl as she slowly lowered her phone. She kept her gaze hard, lips in a harsh frown. “What do you want ?” she growled with as much venom as she could muster.

His brow twitched. “That’s rude. Is this how you treat all of the men who spare you a glance?”

“Too bad you’re not a man, you’re just a cheating coward,” Anna said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

Hans laughed at her words. Which fueled her anger even more. “Such big bad words for someone who looks like she can’t even fight off a fly.”

“Everything is about appearances for you, isn’t it!?” she spat, standing quickly.

Anna felt her nostrils flare, her body shook as hot hatred brewed inside her. Heart pounding, her hands clenched against the table. And while Hans seemed a bit shocked at the display, he still didn’t move. He would learn that she wasn’t that meek little girl she manipulated for far too many years despite how she looked on the outside.

She wasn’t even sure when Kristoff got there.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?” he asked, voice cool and professional despite the anger Anna recognized in his eyes.

He was glancing at Anna seeming to beg for an answer, but she just crossed her arms. Staring her ex-fiance down with as much fury as she could.

Hans waved him off. “Oh, nothing to be concerned about. Her bark is far worse than her bite.”

Kristoff’s lips parted at his words, brows shooting past his bangs. “Uh, do you know her?”

“This is Hans. My ex-fiance,” she murmured.

The blonde gaped. “Your what?”

Hans snorted. “Yes, it’s embarrassing to even admit I was with someone like you. You know I’ve always had more of a preference for blondes? Maybe, if you had looked a little more like Elsa, I would’ve found you sexier.”

Kristoff’s jaw snapped shut and clenched. If Hans didn’t shut up, Anna was worried her ex may get decked. Not that she would complain. But Kristoff was working, and that would definitely not look good with his boss.

Shaking her head, Anna scoffed. “Oh, c’mon. You’re pathetic if you think you can goad me.”

“Goad you into what? I’m not afraid of a fragile, desperate, little wallflower like you. Do you know how much it pained me to deal with you for all those years when I didn’t even get the pay out? And I already knew how I wanted to spend our money.” he smirked.

She knew what he was doing. Trying to manipulate her into reacting. Into doing what he wanted. Forcing her into acting. Just as always, trying to be the victim. Make her look like the aggressor to the crowd of people.

He can’t hurt me anymore , she reminded herself. His words meant nothing. Hans Westergaard was nothing to her.

“Look at yourself, Anna. All you ever wanted was for someone to love you and now? What man would ever desire someone like you?”

Kristoff’s hand slammed onto the table, startling both of them, and a few customers at nearby tables. “I would,” he snarled. Anna’s breath caught in her throat. A flood of emotions began to overwhelm her. Gripping Hans by the arm, the blonde brought him to a stand. “I would appreciate it if you’d leave, sir. I’m sure my boss would not be too pleased to hear you’re harassing one of our favorite customers.”

Hans glanced between the two of them before jerking his arm away. “I see. Well, don’t expect any more business from any of us,” he retorted with a glare.

“I can live with that.”

As Hans began to move away, Anna’s feet were suddenly moving on their own. She hadn’t thought through her actions. She didn’t know what came over her. But there was a sick sense of satisfaction when she smacked Hans’ cup in his hand, making him pour the contents all over his clothes. He shouted, gaining more attention from the crowded shop. There was a chorus of laughter from his Greek comrades as Hans flicked coffee off his hands and looked down at his ruined shirt.

“You bitch,” he hissed taking a step towards her.

But Kristoff was faster, getting between the two of them. “Touch her, and you answer to me.” His voice was deep and dark. The fire in those honey-brown eyes spoke more volumes than his words ever could.

Anna blinked innocently. “I’m sorry. I get muscle spasms sometimes. It’s a side effect from chemo,” she chimed loud enough for the witnesses to hear.

With a glare, Hans straightened out his shirt, standing taller and stomping back over to his friends. They quickly gathered, standing and leaving the shop as some of the girls went back to buy a few sweets to go. When he was finally out of the coffee shop, Anna felt her shoulders deflate. Her wobbly legs somehow led her back to a chair as she practically collapsed into it.

She knew the spike in blood pressure was not good for her. But she was so proud of herself. Even though… she honestly just wanted to cry. Her eyes watered, tearing pricking the corners as she quickly wiped them away.

Kristoff’s expression was almost unreadable. There were so many emotions etched along his face. With a sigh, he turned to her. “Are you okay?”

Sniffling, she nodded. “Yeah.”

He cocked a brow. “I’ll be back.”

When he walked off, Anna felt her heart plummet to her stomach. She should’ve told Kristoff about Hans much sooner. She was kicking herself for not being honest with him. It was just something she wasn’t fond of talking about. Just springing “hey, i was engaged!” on someone wasn’t a reasonable thing to do. Especially not in a relationship that wasn’t labeled yet.

Anna was stunned to see Kristoff come around the corner in his regular clothes. No apron or name tag in sight. He bobbed his head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“Go? Go where? What about your shift?”

“I have time I can put in. Honeymaren is already here in the back to cover for me. I’m taking you home.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, God, Kristoff. I’m so sorry. I’m totally disrupting your life. I didn’t mean--”

Taking her hands, he pulled Anna to a stand. “Hey, hey, none of that. We’ll talk on the way, okay?”

Anna nodded. “Okay…”

o~o~o~o

They didn’t talk on the way. The truck ride to her home was awkwardly silent. Anna couldn’t help but feel like Kristoff was upset with her. And he had every right to be. She just waltzed into the coffee shop while he was working, had a confrontation with her ex-fiance he didn’t even know about, then forced him to leave his shift early to take her home. It was completely justified if he was furious with her.

When they reached her home, Kristoff put the truck into park. Before she could change her mind, Anna turned to him. “Do you want to come in?”

He seemed stunned, but nodded nonetheless.

Anna opened the door, grateful when she noted there was no one there to ask questions as to why he was here. Kristoff followed her up the stairs as she guided him to her room. He seemed just as in awe of the inside of her home as he had of the outside. Hopping on the bed, Anna patted the place across from her so they could talk face to face about this.

She crossed her legs as Kristoff mirrored her position and looked at her. He sat silently, waiting for her to speak. It took a few moments for her to gather her courage, but Kristoff never rushed her. He just sat patiently as he always did.

Finally, she sucked in a breath. “Hans and I met in high school. I was young and dumb and desperate for a happily ever after. People talk about how romantic it is to marry your high school sweetheart, so I convinced myself that’s what we were,” Anna gazed down at her lap, watching her thumbs fiddle in her lap. “It was all a lie. Hans was so, ugh, convincing . I believed every word he said. I believed him when he told me I was a bad girlfriend if I didn’t do as he wanted. I’d never been in a relationship, how was I supposed to know? As you saw today… Hans was only with me because I have money. And don’t get me wrong his family is loaded, but he didn’t want to have to share with his brothers.”

Kristoff was nodding, absorbing her words like a sponge. “So, what happened? How’d you get out?”

“I had been miserable since we graduated. As soon as he started college, he got worse. More...manipulative than before. Loved drama. Knew how to get under my skin and pick a fight. I knew he was cheating on me, but I just kept pretending he wasn’t. It was just too much. Then… I got diagnosed. And I knew if I was going to be in the fight of my life, then I didn’t want to spend it with Hans. Plus, like hell would I let him get my money if I didn’t make it.”

Snorting at that, he agreed. “True,” he said. She watched him purse his lips, seeming to think something over. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anna smiled sadly. “I planned to. I just never felt like I had a reasonable opportunity. Our first date already had such heavy discussions that I didn’t want the added bonus of ‘hey, I had a fiance’ on top of it. I just never wanted to ruin the moment.”

“I understand.”

Sighing, she felt her shoulders deflate. “I’m sorry for all the shit I caused today. This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

Kristoff chuckled at that, nervously scratching at his neck. “It was a shock, for sure. But you have nothing to apologize for. You were so badass.”

“Really?” she giggled, hugging herself slightly.

“Yeah. And when smacked his coffee on him? I had to try so hard not to laugh.”

Anna busted a breathy laugh. “It felt pretty great. You know… the day I left I punched him in the face.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah…”

“God, you’re amazing.”

They shared a small laugh, but suddenly… Anna felt all of the anger and hatred she felt for Hans bubbling to the surface. All of the horrid things he’d said to her floated in her head. Despite not caring for Hans for a long time, what he said still hurt. It hadn’t been too long ago that he was still a part of her life. When she still let him control her. And she didn’t want to give him that power over her again, but it was hurtful anyway.

She felt herself fall silent, hugging herself tighter and looking away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

Anna gave a bitter hiss. “I just… He basically admitted that I was nothing to him. Even said I wasn’t as pretty as Elsa and said that I’m even worse off now. It’s so disgusting. It makes me so angry that I let him touch me when he didn’t even find me attractive. That I gave him my virginity. He didn’t deserve me like that. And I deserved better.”

Crawling towards her, Kristoff came to sit beside her. His hand rubbed comforting circles on her back. “You’re right, he never deserved you. But you made the right decision for yourself in getting out. I’m grateful you’re here now. I… I really like being with you, Anna.”

“Me too,” she smiled up at him. “You have no idea how much you’ve helped me through all of this.”

“I’m glad I can be here for you,” he said. His smile was so sweet and genuine. She’d never seen someone whose honesty was plastered on their face.

Anna felt her cheeks heat a little as she leaned in closer. She noticed his eyes flick to her lips and back to her eyes. It had her heart pounding. Was he going to kiss her? Did he want to? She wanted to…

Kristoff cupped her cheek, pulling her in slightly before closing the gap between them. The kiss was featherlight. Barely just a brush of their lips together. But it was enough to have her eyes fluttering shut, and leaning into his touch as he deepened the kiss. She sighed, letting out a small, happy hum. Kristoff chuckled in response, laughing against her lips.

For an absolutely shitty day… Anna decided it didn’t end as badly as it began.

#kristanna #kristoff x anna #the queen & her reindeer king #ash writes #frozen fic #anna x kristoff #kristanna fic #tw: cancer #tw: character death #cancer fic #angst #hurt/comfort #mentions of chemotherapy #tms&mts #take my scars & make them stars

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anotheronechicagobog · 5 years ago

Text

I’m Sorry Pt. 2 Matt Casey x Reader

Warnings: angst, mention of death, child neglect, mental illness, low self confidence, daddy issues

by: @anotheronechicagobog

“You have to know why I’m here.”

“To tell me you’ve realised your mistake and broken up with that firefighter.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. You haven’t changed. At all! That stint in prison did nothing!”

“Y/N-”

“No. It is my turn to talk.” Your voice was cold and violent. “I hate myself and it is your fault. I felt abandoned by you and I saw you everyday. Nothing I did was ever good enough, first you put all your energy into Justin, and then Erin. I was the best student in my grade for seven years straight, was that important to you? No. Did it catch your attention? No. I thought there was something wrong with me for my entire life. I broke my own soul trying to impress you. I put myself through hell to try and earn your pride. Late study nights starting years before they should have, I spent so much time with mami trying to imitate her because you loved her so much and I wanted some of that affection to be directed towards me. When she died, I lost the only parent I’d ever had, because you didn’t do jack. The only thing that you contributed to the person I’ve become is making sure that I know that I am worthless. That I am nothing. That I do not deserve love. That the world would be better off without me. That I deserve the excruciating pain that you embroidered into my spirit. When I was 18, I joined the academy. Did you know that? Wait, why am I even bothering asking? Of course you didn’t, when has my life been of any interest to you? I graduated at the top of my class, I broke three records. There were precinct captains fighting over where I’d be assigned. I got assigned to the 17th district. I was asked to take the detective’s exam after six months. I would’ve been the youngest detective in the CPD. But it was during the meeting after I passed the exam, when my captain was telling me how intelligent and adaptable I was, how he was so proud of me, and said that I reminded him of you. I felt like throwing up. All that I could remember were the nights gang leaders would meet in our dining room to “talk business” with you. I remember all the guns, drugs, and money that was stashed in various places around the house. Yeah, that’s right, I knew. I just let it slide when mami was dying. I remembered when you were taking Justin and I home from school and you pulled over to kill someone. I don’t know who they were, but I don’t care that wasn’t nor will it ever be, okay. The fact that I reminded my captain and so many others in the CPD of you made me realize that I needed to get the hell out of there before I became you. I quit on the spot. I left the force that day and never looked back. I joined the military the day after I legally changed my last name, became a medic. I decided to become a doctor to help people, and I didn’t have the money to pay for med school, so the military seemed like the best way to do it. When I was honourably discharged, with numerous awards under my belt, I was a sergeant. But still I’m not proud of my accomplishments, I should be, but I’m not. No, I’m just standing around waiting for the shoe to drop, for everyone around me, including Matt, to realize that I am nothing but the scum on the bottom of their shoes and that I do not deserve anything even remotely simulating happiness. And that is all thanks to you. I love Matt, so much, and I want a future with him so badly, but because of you, all I’m doing is waiting for him to leave. You were a terrible father, and I blame myself for it. I blame myself for all the illegal shit you did, for mami’s death, for Justin’s alcohol and drug problems, for Erin being brought in as my replacement...” Tears had started streaming down you face when you started your rant, but now, when you’d finally voiced out loud your thoughts, you couldn’t hold back your sobs. “I’m sorry.” It was all you could choke out before turning and sprinting to your car.

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When you made it back to your apartment you were worn out. You just wanted to curl up in your bed let the remainder of your tears free. You’d passed the last stair and were met with the sight of Matt at your door. You could feel the dam you’d managed to patch up in the car threatening to burst again at the sight of him. You sniffled and he turned around at the sound. “Y/N? Are you okay?” It only took a couple of determined strides for him to reach you and put his hands delicately on each side of your face. All that you could think about were your own words, and this time you couldn’t ignore them, bury them deep in the recesses of your mind and hope they never resurface. “What happened? Your shift ended an hour ago, where were you?”

“I-I was w-i-ith my fa-ther... and we- I just- It’s over Matt. I-I’m sor-ry.”

“What? No, Y/N, no. Did your father say something? Did he do something? Did I do something? Y/N, please, don’t do this. Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“It’s over, you didn’t do a-anything wro-ng. I pr-promise. You were ama-zing.” You kissed him on the cheek, your having officially become niagara falls, and ran to your door. You managed to unlock it, get inside, and lock it before Matt could process what was happening. He started banging on your door, calling your name, begging you to open your door, to listen, to talk. You slide down to the floor and let all your tears free, your sobs drowning out Matt’s desperate pleas.

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“Why did you break up with Matt?” You woke up on the floor, still in your clothes from yesterday with dried up tears on your face. You got up and decided that a shower and some food would make you feel better, in that order. When you were almost finished eating you were interrupted by Erin calling your phone. “Sorry Erin, I’m still waking up, what’s going on?”

“Y/N are you okay? It’s noon, you’re always up at six.”

“It’s what?!” You checked the time and, surely enough, it was noon, give or take a few minutes. “Um, okay, last night was rough, it must’ve messed up my sleep cycle, hell I slept on the floor... Now, what’s going on? How do you know that I broke up with Matt?”

“You slept on the floor? What? I- you know what? We’ll discuss that later. Anyway Matt is here, at the 21st, yelling at Voight in his office for making you break up with him. So, did he?”

“No, he didn’t. He clearly still wanted me to, but I didn’t break up with Matt because he told me to.” Your voice went quiet, remembering last night clearly, unfortunately.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” Your voice was still quiet, hurt. “I think you should come down here.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in ten.”

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You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you walked up to the desk in the 21st. You started to address the woman who’s nametag said Platt “Hi, I’m here to-”

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes.”

“Go on up.” You heard a buzzing sound and made your way to the door, not at all ready for what you were about to walk into.

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“FOR THE LAST TIME, WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HER?!”

“I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING!”

“HONESTLY VOIGHT DO YOU EXPECT-”

“He’s telling the truth, Matt.” Everyone turned to you. “Y/N” He choked out, blue eyes pleading and sad. “Matt, let’s do this somewhere else.”

“No. Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I’m not good enough for you, okay? I shouldn’t have let our relationship drag out this long, it was selfish of me.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about? You are more than good enough for me, I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who isn’t you. So please, talk to me, how on earth did you come to that conclusion?”

“It’s just something I’ve always known.”

“No, it’s not.” Your father butted into the conversation. “It’s my fault that she thinks like that, that she believes that about herself. I was a terrible father and Y/N’s paying the price. Y/N, you deserve happiness. You... are better than me at everything, but you don’t have the self-confidence to go along with your achievements and that is my fault. You are an amazing, intelligent young woman and I’m the one who failed, Y/N, not you. My biggest regret is the way I treated you and that I chose not to be a part of your life and accomplishments. I’m really proud of you.”

“Do you really mean it? You can’t joke about something like this, dad.”

“With all of my heart.”

“Y/N, I shouldn’t have interfered with your relationship. You clearly love Lieutenant Casey and he clearly loves you. I was wrong, there’s no excuse for my behaviour. I’m sorry.”

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You sat across from Matt in the Mills family diner. You were pushing your food around on your plate, the weight of his stare making you nervous to look up. Neither of you had spoken since you agreed to leave the 21st together, you decided to be the one to break the ice. “I’m in love with you and I’ve never faced anything more terrifying in my life.” You heard Matt splutter, spitting his coffee back into his mug. “I’ve never felt like I’ve been worth much and I just, I love you so much, and after the confrontation I had with my father I just realized that I couldn’t wait around for you to leave me.”

“You mean more to me than anyone else has, the past twelve hours have been absolute hell without you. I’m in love with you too. I have to admit, though, what you think of yourself really concerns me. I still love you like crazy, but I think you need some professional help.”

“How could you still love me knowing that I’m a basket case?”

“You’re not a basket case, everyone has their own issues, I guess the difference with mine is that you already knew about them and that I’ve been going to therapy.”

“I’ll... talk to Dr. Charles tomorrow morning.” Matt sighed in relief and the tension washed out of his eyes and shoulders. He reached his hand across the table and held yours tenderly. “I love you so much Y/N.”

#matt casey #matt casey x reader #hank voight #hank voight x daughter!reader #erin lindsay #One Chicago #Chicago Fire #Chicago PD #chicago med

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stories-sometimes · 5 years ago

Text

Party Blues

Peter Parker x Reader

Set post Homecoming, but pre Infinity War. Characters aged up to 18.

Summary: Peter saves a friend after she gets into some trouble with a guy at a party.

Warnings: Drug misuse, attempted sexual assault

Word Count: 3053

Masterlist

He was sitting at the back of the chemistry class, secretly working on an upgraded version of the web fluid, one that would work better with all the new technology in his suit. He’d been there for a while before the class started, easier to hide his work. Unbeknown to him someone else walked in early.

“Boo!” She startled him, causing him to drop the test tube back into the drawer, he cringed knowing how long it would take him to clean that up later. “Sorry about that,” she said, clearly having heard the smashed glass. “You just seemed so distracted and I thought that scaring you would be the best ‘earth to Peter’ thing to do.” She rambled. Peter couldn’t help but smile at her, she was the most gorgeous girl he’d ever had the pleasure of setting his eyes on. Despite all the popularity and attention that followed her since high school began she’d always held onto her lifelong friendship with him. “So, what were you working on?”

“End-of-year project.” He quickly lied, “but I want to keep it a secret, surprise everyone.” She nodded her head, still slightly suspicious. Soon other students trickled in, including the new kid Aaron. He was the guy all the girls had their eyes on. The typical bad boy, the kind no one’s mother would approve but people would do anything to catch his eye even for a second. He was more often found smoking behind the school building than caught in a classroom. Yet here he was, in the chemistry lab, early. It was immediately obvious to Peter why he’d arrived at this time, she was in this class, and she was the one he tried to pursue.

“Hey.” He said to her, flashing his signature, dazzling smile. She seemed mostly unfazed by this, unlike many people’s reactions to him, still she joined into his conversation.

“Hey, look at you, actually in a lesson. This is called a classroom by the way, wasn’t sure if you knew.” She joked, he chuckled softly, eyes roaming over her.

“Yeah, thought I check out what all the fuss was about. Haven’t figured it out yet, but maybe I’ll stay by your side and you could fill me in.” He continued to flirt.

“Well I can at least promise you’ll learn something. There’s a free space next to me and Peter, there’s meant to be a seating plan but I think sir will be too focused on the fact that you’re here to really care.”

“Sounds good to me.” Aaron agreed, slinging his bag on the empty desk space.

“You know Peter right.” She said, dragging to brunette into the conversation, previously he’d just been listening in, attempting to drown out the painfully clear flirting. Suddenly he felt more alert, always ready to chat with her. He smiled at Aaron but was quickly ignores, the soft smiles he was giving her turned to the harsher gaze he usually received from the popular kids - this caused him to shrink back down. However, that look soon turned more malicious.

“Penis Parker, I’ve heard of you.” He laughed cruelly. She turned and lightly hit Aaron on the chest as a warning.

“Glad to know that’s my reputation.” Peter mumbled.

“You really think that’s funny.” She scolded him.

“Kinda.” She simply rolled her eyes at him. “Alright, alright I’m sorry, I was being immature. Hi Peter, nice to meet you.” He greeted Peter, face remaining approachable until she looked away, then it dropped back to his original expression.

That was how the rest of the lesson went, Aaron flirted, she’d try to include Peter in the chat and he’d quickly get shut down. Well that was how lots of conversations with her and one of her friends went for Peter. Luckily for him, this lesson (and school day) was soon over and he would go on his patrol, forget about his problems in his real life for a while. The bell blared out and students poured out of the classroom.

“Hey, wanna walk home with me?” She asked Peter before he could escape the room. They’d grown up living on the same floor of their apartment block, neither families had much money so the two of them shared a far amount of their possessions with one another, putting together their small collections of toys when they had play dates when they were younger. Even now Peter swore every so often he’d see her wearing one of his old sweatshirts. In middle school they would sit for hours studying together so they could get in Midtown, then ate pizzas and marathoned Star Wars to celebrate when they did. Over that summer Peter witnessed first hand her transformation. He’d always thought she was pretty, now he saw her as completely and utterly stunning. She’d found some hidden away thrift store in a forgotten corner of Queens and got a job there, ditched her old tops and awkward fitting jeans for a more fashionable wardrobe. She easily made new friends in high school, whereas Peter remained on the shadows, only really having Ned as a friend. Still she didn’t completely abandon him, she’d still sit and study, or join in some overly nerdy hangout with Peter and Ned.

“Well, I was..” Peter began to answer her.

“Come on, we haven’t hung out together in ages.” She said, her eyes practically begged him. And there was no way he could say no to that, patrolling could wait.

“Alright fine, you’ve convinced me.” He replied, pretending to accept reluctantly. She pulled Peter in for a tight hug and he felt his cheeks burn.

“Thank God, I feel like I barely get to see you anymore.” They walked home, reminiscing about old memories, eventually they reached their floor. “You going to Flash’s party tonight?” She asked. Peter began to debate in his head, on the one hand it would be good for him to relax a bit, and she obviously wanted him to go, but on the other hand, he’d have to patrol, plus it was Flash throwing the party.

“I’m not sure if I can, I’ve got the Stark Internship.” Peter settled on.

“Really, it feels like that’s all you’re doing. Do you actually have to go tonight?”

“Well, not exactly,” he stuttered out, she raised her eyebrow, “but they might need me.” Peter said, avoiding eye contact with her, too worried he’d give in instantly.

“Can’t you come for a bit, bail if they actually need you.” She replied, “It’ll be fun, have a drink or two, let loose, I can get you a lift there. I promise I’ll save you a dance.” At that his head perked up excitedly, she really had him wrapped around her finger.

“Okay I’ll come.” She grinned at him, the same annoyingly cute yet smug look she always pull when she got her way.

“I’ll meet you in your apartment at 9.” She kissed him on the cheek before turning to enter her own apartment. Peter stood outside with a dopey grin on his face, starstruck for a while.

A few hours later Peter heard a knock at his door. May answered it, leaving Peter alone to mentally prepare himself for a little longer.

“Hey sweetie, I haven’t seen you ages.” He heard May say from the lounge.

“I know, Peter’s just been so busy with the internship he hasn’t had any time to hang out.”

“Tell me about it, it’s like that damn internship is all he does nowadays.” Peter joined the two of them, his jaw dropping at the sight of her. The outfit was casual enough, just very tight, showing off every curve. He tried to suppress the dirtier thoughts before coughing to gain the two women’s attention. “There you are, so how are you getting to the party?”

“My friend Aaron’s giving us a lift.” She responded.

“Alright them,” May turned to address Peter, “I’m visiting Sue tonight, so I won’t be back until lunchtime tomorrow, just text me to let me know you’re home safe.”

“I will.” Peter nodded, letting May pull him in for a hug.

“And good luck with her.” My whispered to him, giving a shocked Peter a sly wink as she moved away.

“You ready?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He quickly took it. She lead him downstairs and out to Aaron’s car. She slipped into the passenger seat leaving Peter alone in the back.

“Didn’t think he’d actually show.” Aaron said upon seeing Peter, his disdain clear.

“Well he did, now be nice.” She warned him. Finally they arrived at the party, she offered Peter her arm as they walked into the party. It wasn’t long before she was whisked away by some blonde girl from their English class. And that’s what Peter had feared, she tries to spend time with him, but it was hard not to get distracted by the flood of people grabbing her attention.

“Back off Parker.” He heard Aaron snarl in his ear. Instinctively Peter shrank away from his voice, sliding to the back of the room to avoid the popular group forming in the centre of the room. He grabbed a drink from the kitchen before settling on a coach, watching Aaron’s arm wrapped around her, full of jealousy. He remained seated there until he heard his phone buzz, alerting him of a robbery a couple of blocks down from here. Luckily for Peter, he had his suit on underneath his clothes. He took off, feeling Aaron’s eyes following him, he could sense the arrogant look on his face.

It was an easy enough to stop, it was obvious they were novice thieves. Soon enough they were stopped and the police were on the scene and could take over. Peter thought about just going home, dropping her a text pretending he’d felt ill, needed to go home. However he decided to go back to the party, holding out hope for that dance. Once he got there me was meet with the disappointing sight of Aaron passing her a drink, the two were sat outside, in a more secluded place of the party. He was still in his suit, stuck to the house wall. Peter knew it was wrong, creepy even, he should leave her alone to enjoy a night with a guy Peter thought she liked. But he didn’t, he couldn’t, he felt both physically and emotionally stuck in that position on the bricks. She started to grow drowsier as she finished her drink, that sparked Peter’s concern. He watched Aaron lean down to kiss her. Peter stayed there, trusting that guy less and less every second.

“No, I feel weird, I can’t do this right now.” Peter heard her whimper whilst weakly attempting to shrug him off, “Aaron stop, something’s not right.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, just relax.” The boy said as he moved his hand under her shirt. That was when Peter snapped. He shot out a web, attaching itself to Aaron’s wrist and forcibly removing him from her. “What the hell, what’s your problem.” Aaron shouted.

“What’s my fucking problem,” Peter screamed back, more furiously then he could ever remember being, “She said stop you piece of shit.” He saw red, not in control of the punches he was sending the boy’s way. He trapped Aaron in webs, tipping them off the authorities. As soon as he’d done that he ran over to check on her. She was quickly losing consciousness.

“Hey, hey, come on you need to stay awake. I need to get you home.”

“No I can’t go, I need to find Peter, he can help me.” She slurred out her words. He felt slightly guilty at the swell of pride at the mention of his name.

“I know you want to find your friend,” Peter said, trying to keep his identity secret, “but you need to go home.”

“Can you take me to Peter’s? Please Spiderman.” She mumbled, eyelids feeling increasingly more heavy.

“Yeah I’ll take you to Peter’s.” She smiled. Peter held tightly to her tired body as he swung back to his apartment. “Peter’s in the apartment, I’ll just go get him.” He said, setting her down on the couch, running into his room to change out of his suit as fast as possible. He grabbed a couple items of his clothing for her as well before carrying her back into his room. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked, back to being her friend rather than Spiderman.

“Heavy, I can’t move properly.” Peter grew madder, Aaron had fucking drugged her.

“You’re gonna be okay, I promise, can you change yourself?” Peter asked, holding up the pile he pulled from his closet.

“No, can you help me?” She shook her head, sinking further into the bed. Peter blushed at the thought, nodding slowly as he began to undress her. He tried to be as respectful, avoiding looking at her the best he could when she was half-dressed. She looked so small and vulnerable, curled up on the coach in too big clothes, dazed, completely out of it at this point.

“Goodnight.” He whispered as he wrapped a blanket over her body.

“Stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” She teared up slightly. That broke Peter, watching someone he cared about so much in this position. He curled up next to her, placing his arm over her sleeping body, almost as his way of protecting her from anymore hardships she’d have to face from this world. He slipped into slumber soon after he knew she was resting safely. Morning rolled around and Peter was up before her, he moved into the kitchen, grabbing water and aspirin in case she needed it, as well as started to scramble at few eggs for breakfast. She woke feeling tense when she felt she wasn’t in her own bed. Her memory of last night was foggy at best, the last thing she remembered was going outside for a drink with Aaron, then it was all a blur from then on out. She relaxed when she saw it was Peter’s room, she’d probably just slept over in his room like they did when he was younger. ‘But what if they hooked up?’ She thought to herself panicking slightly, not that she’d mind much, she’s done much worse drunk. However if they did hook up she’d liked to have remembered it. Slowly she dragged herself out of the bed, her limbs felt heavier than usual. She brushed it off, walking into the kitchen.

“Morning.” She greeted him hoarsely.

“Hey, how you feeling?” Peter responded sounding concerned as he offered her the painkiller.

“Not great, think I drank too much.” She tried to joke. “Did we, you know … last night?” She asked awkwardly, unsure how to bring up the topic.

“No, no.” He reassured her, “how much do you remember from last night?”

“I don’t know, I went outside for a drink with Aaron,” She didn’t miss how Peter’s jaw clenched at the mention of his name, “then it’s kinda hazy after that. Why, do you know what happened?”

Peter sighed before starting, “Aaron slipped something into your drink, tried to sleep with you.”

“What?”

“He drugged you, didn’t care when you told him to stop, luckily someone stepped in before he could get too far.” His voice getting angrier by the minute. Her heart dropped to her stomach, why had she trusted him?

“God I feel so stupid, my gut told me he was bad and I just ignored it.”

“No, no, this is not your fault. You were trying to be friendly and he took advantage of that. You are not to blame in this, this is all on that asshole.” Still she looked crestfallen.

“Yeah I know.” She sighed, moving closer towards Peter, seeking comfort in his arms. He hugged her tightly, stroking her hair as she let out a few sobs. “I’m sorry.” She sniffled, wiping away the tears.

“Stop, it’s fine.” She let out a smile.

“I know, it’s just, I can’t believe that happened. I knew he wasn’t the best guy in the world, but I didn’t think he was that bad.”

“I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t get away with this.”

“You sure, the police aren’t always reliable. His family’s rich, they can fix all his nasty little problems.” She spat out.

“I’ve got some pull with some pretty powerful people.” She cocked her head to the side, an adorable sign of confusion on her part, “I’ve been doing well with the Stark Internship, I could probably pull a favour Mr Stark.”

“You’d really do that for me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She lay her head down on his chest, grinning slightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ into his shirt.

“I miss you.” She confessed.

“I’m here right now.” He said confused.

“No I mean hanging out together, sitting together at lunch. I feel like unless I come to you at school, you avoid me.”

“You know how it is with some of your friends, I’m not exactly their usual type. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them didn’t know who I was. I want to talk to you, but every time I try to someone will butt me out of the conversation.”

“I don’t like lots of them, it’s just a little rude to tell ‘em to fuck off. But if I introduce you to the nice ones I’m sure you’d get along great.”

“I’d like that. I care about you a lot, like a crazy amount. And if that would make you happy, of course I’ll do it.” He said, trying to keep up the lighter mood.

“I think I met Spiderman last night. I vaguely remember his suit and being swung through the city.”

“Wow, he did drop you off here.”

“He was nice, reminded me of you.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, your always making sure I’m safe and happy. Whenever I’m with you I feel like I’m with someone amazing, being saved by a superhero.” Peter’s heart swelled, he was always insecure that people preferred his alter ego, that the only time he could be the hero he was when he had the mask on. But she helped Peter feel that he himself was worth enough. He didn’t need the suit.

“I love you Peter Parker.”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x original character #peter parker x reader #marvel fic

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swervavery · 5 years ago

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“Hey” | Zach Herron

Pairing: Zach Herron x Reader

Summary: An alternate universe where everyone has a tattoo of the first thing their soulmate says to them.

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 890

A/N: Hi guys, this is my first Why Don’t We imagine. I am aware it kinda sucks, and I do take constructive criticism, so please hit me up with any tips or advice to help better my writing.

I’m walking down the street behind my friend Maya. She’s been ranting about her soulmate tattoo for the past three blocks when I spot a tiny coffee shop, ushering her inside in the hopes of a conversation changer. “I mean, I don’t even like frappes!” Maya exclaims while slightly lifting her shirt to reveal the tiny black words engraved on her skin. I give her a small smile as my eyes are drawn to the sentence her soulmate first said to her. She giggles at the memory of first meeting Christopher, and his sudden outburst; Please dear God, do not order a Frappuccino. It is kind of funny, but after hearing the story for the twenty-seventh time, I can no longer force a realistic laugh.

Lately, I have felt myself begin to give up hope of finding my own soulmate. For all I know we may already have met without either of us knowing it. There are too many first encounters that start with a “Hey”.

For a while I tried to respond to every “Hey” with something unusual, but that never ended pleasantly. I did not find my soulmate, and I did not make a lot of new friends. I still attempt it once in a while, because if I respond with another “Hey”, how are we supposed to know that we are soulmates? For instance, when Maya and I get to the counter, the barista is a guy at around our age. He looks up at us and says nothing more and nothing less than that one little word that has been haunting me since my birth, “Hey”. Before my brain can think of a normal, yet uncommon response, my mouth decides to go with whatever my brain has lying around. “Marvel: Endgame was a straight up masterpiece.”

The barista looks at me strangely for a second, then turns towards Maya and asks, “What can I get for you?” I feel my cheeks heating up and look down at the floor, staying quiet while Maya orders coffees for us. We walk off to the side of the counter, and while we wait for our drinks, I start to feel my whole face heat up, but this time out of anger. Why couldn’t my soulmate say something I can recognize?I think to myself. It could be literally anything, just something less common than “Hey”.

Once we get our drinks, we leave the coffee shop and keep walking down the street. I worry Maya may keep going with her rant about her perfect soulmate, when she suddenly exclaims, “Look it’s Jack!” She drags me over to two guys standing by the corner of a store and hugs them both before introducing us. “Y/N, you remember Jack”, she says it like a statement, not a question, yet I nod my head in confirmation. “And this is Zach”, Maya gestures to the other, slightly taller, yet younger looking boy. “Hey” he smiles at me, and I feel a sudden burst of anger push through my body. I have been holding it in all day, and that one little word said to me for the trillionth time, finally pushes me over the edge. “Well fuck the universe!” I yell out before I can comprehend what I’m doing. Both Zach’s and Jack’s faces drop, and Maya looks about as shocked as I feel. My face grows hot once again, and I lower my gaze to the ground, mentally scolding myself for being an idiot. I take a breath and look back up, meeting Zach’s brown eyes. He’s looking at me strangely, it feels like he is searching my face for something. Probably signs of some mental illness. “Sorry, I’m just having a really bad day”, I mutter before turning around and walking away, silently wishing the earth would open up and swallow me.

“Y/N wait up!” a voice call after me, but I don’t stop. A couple of seconds later I feel someone grabbing hold of my hand. A rush of electricity runs up my arm, and I turn around, finding myself standing face to face with Zach. I look questioningly at him, not understanding what he could possibly want from me after my abrupt hysteria. “Umm, I just” he begins, stumbling over his words. “I think… It kinda…” I just stare at him, unsure of what he’s trying to say or what to do. He takes a deep breath before saying, “just look”. He slowly pulls down his T-shirt to reveal a small tattoo below his collarbone. Right there, in thin black cursive, it is writtenWell fuck the universe. I let out a small gasp, and frozen in place, I stare at the words I just uttered minutes earlier. “Wha-what does yours say?” he looks at me nervously, letting go of his shirt as well as my hand. I hadn’t realized he was still holding it, yet my first instinct is to reach over and grab his again. I pull my sweater down to reveal the soulmate tattoo on the back of my shoulder, a tiny written Hey. “Wow”, he chuckles, his demeanor becoming relaxed as he smiles at me, making my whole body feel warm and tingly. “I really didn’t make it easy for you, did I?” I shake my head, laughing slightly. “You owe me so many embarrassing first encounters.”

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voidwaren · 5 years ago

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[READ MORE] STORY 2/?

Story Title: idk I don’t have one yet Rating: M for language and themes. Like always. Words: 8k+ Warnings: Video game warnings apply, just in case. In addition: explicit language, dark themes, mental illness. You know, the usual ball game for this AU. (Actually, this one has a little heat to it, but it’s nothing beyond a T rating) Summary: Warren’s called to pick Nathan up from the party he didn’t want to go to. Trevor tags along, because Trevor’s now a central part of the whole AU. Shit goes down. Warren continues to hate parties, but what else is new.

(why is the line break gone. wtf. come on, Tumblr. work with me here.)

Warren’s first warning comes in the clipped voice of the Tenth Doctor saying “Allons-y!” as it signals a text coming in, which he ignores at first, because he’s busy reading about gelatinous rainfall in certain parts of America and knows if he lets this Wiki spiral have a moment of pause, it’ll just start up all over again with renewed energy, and he didn’t want to still be engrossed when Nathan decided to show up again.

His second warning comes about a minute after the Tenth Doctor’s deceleration in the form of Daft Punk informing him that they’re up all night to get lucky, telling him both that someone had changed his ringtone yet again—though he couldn’t easily choose a culprit considering both Chloe and Nathan’s past attempts at pranking him—and that whoever had sent the text was also probably the one calling him. With Nathan out at a house party with Hayden and Victoria and her posse, Warren knows he can’t just let it ring in case there’s an emergency. So he answers it.

His third warning, really, should have been tacked-on immediately following his first, because he’s been through enough instances where his life has been threatened before for there to be some kind of Spidey Sense attached to the notion. Like, come on. Where were the perks to almost dying so many times?

Alas, it only comes after Victoria threatens to dislodge one of his favorite body parts and make him guzzle it if he didn’t do exactly what she was telling him to do right now and have it done, like, yesterday. Even if it wouldn’t make sense for him to do it yesterday, since it was happening in the moment, and she wasn’t aware he ever had the ability to fall through time. The guzzling is still threatened, and the fear is still real.

(He wonders if Victoria learned that one from Nathan or vice-versa, because it wasn’t a new one. He also wonders in what capacity either of them might have learned it in the first place, but then decides he probably really doesn’t want to actually know.)

“And you can’t drive him back to campus, why?” Warren risks asking as he wrangles his legs into a pair of jeans he swiped off the floor of his room, cell phone shoved up with a shoulder and plastered flat to his cheek.

“I have business elsewhere, creepo,” Victoria responds. It’s a wonder he can hear her, honestly, because the music at the party she’d gone to sounds loud in the background.

Warren sighs, replacing the phone in his hand and starting the search to find the one sneaker he’d kicked off the day before and didn’t bother locating today, since he had no reason to leave his room. Well, until now. Apparently. “You were supposed to be their DD. I even asked Nathan if you were really going to, and he vouched for you.”

“Obviously. He wouldn’t throw me under the bus like that.”

Jesus Christ.

“Jesus Christ,” Warren echoes in a sigh. “Okay, fine. Only because I know if I tell you no, he’ll ask someone else, and something tells me everyone there is blitzed out in one way or another and incapable of operating heavy machinery. That’s a non-negotiable factor.”

Victoria’s reply is swift and sharp as anything, “You saying no was a non-negotiable factor.”

“Right. Of course. That one’s on me, I should have known.” Ah, there’s the shoe. Wedged between a rule book and a cardboard box filled with comics. Warren grabs it and crams his foot in. “You have his keys?”

Victoria scoffs, and if she’s at all drunk, Warren can’t tell by the perfect execution of the noise of disgust. She would go places, if there was ever a market for Absolute Destestment and Other Annoyed Noises. “Cut the stupid questions and get over here. I sent the address, don’t bother me again.” And then she ends the call before Warren can say a word more.

Warren sighs and stows his phone away in his pocket, grabbing his jacket from where it hung haphazardly from the corner of a lamp Nathan had stored in Warren’s room earlier that day for a reason he had yet to divulge, and grabs only his car keys after hunting around for a good fifteen minutes and failing to find his room key. If someone stole his stuff, he was going to blame Nathan, because it was his fault Warren kept misplacing the damn thing.

(Not that Nathan would care. He got blamed for things that weren’t his fault enough for things that happened to actually be his fault not to matter much, unless they had dire consequences attached. And there was no way Warren could be dire about anything short of someone getting killed—and Nathan knew that.)

“Grow a spine, Warren,” he mutters to himself grumpily as he veers out of his room and slams his door shut behind him, too caught up in his own self-made petty angst to realize someone was directly in his path until it was too late and he was barreling directly into the chest of one poor Trevor Yard.

“Whoa, Graham my man!” Trevor exclaims, his hands planting firmly down on Warren’s shoulders and anchoring him there. Warren notices offhandedly that he was now taller than Trevor, too, if only just. Weird.

“Hey, man,” Warren greets sheepishly, his hands automatically reaching up to cup the points of Trevor’s elbows. “Sorry for nearly steamrolling you,” he says, then fakes a cough and tacks on, “again.”

But Trevor only grins. “You got places to be, no worries.”

Warren snorts, pulling a hand away to rub it along the back of his neck. “Not ones I want to be.”

Trevor’s smile drops. Warren can feel the fingers curving around his shoulders tighten their hold. “Are you being forced into something?”

There’s a look on his face that Warren can’t interpret. He wonders if Trevor thinks it’s Nathan’s doing, and immediately feels a spike of irritation despite himself. He squashes that down, because he likes Trevor, and it’s not like he was wrong. Trevor was only looking out for Warren, which, had the positions been switched and Trevor had still wanted to be Warren’s friend, Warren can’t say he wouldn’t try to do the same. Nathan was still a sketchy individual to anyone who didn't know him—and, of course, that was nearly the entire Blackwell student body, so, really, he shouldn’t even attempt at faulting Trevor in the first place.

… If that’s what Trevor was even thinking that. Warren was probably jumping to conclusions.

Trevor’s eyes dart towards Nathan’s door, and, okay. Maybe Warren wasn’t.

“Forced is a strong way to put it,” says Warren sheepishly. “It’s not what you’re thinking, though. Probably. Most likely?”

Trevor’s lips quirk back into a small smile, the minute reassurance apparently enough for him to relax away from the tension of whatever possible situation he’d been worried about. It makes Warren question just how much Trevor trusted Warren’s word, because, with anyone else, he knew he’d have more of a battle to gain some calm.

That’s because everyone else knows you lied to them, he reminds himself sharply, and he had. At least at some point in time. In Nathan’s case? Despite having basically told him everything the moment he woke up in the final loop? The fact he’d lied in past loops were what kept him from skimming by under the wire most of the time, because he’d been an idiot and told Nathan that part, too.

That’s not fair, he pushes back against himself. Nathan wouldn’t trust you immediately even if you hadn’t told him you’d lied.

And Warren knows he’s right. Because that was just Nathan. Nathan trusted Warren, but he was careful about that trust. He only gave it immediately when he knew he needed to.

“Hey.” A gentle voice accompanied by a slight jostle to his arm pulls him back, and Warren blinks rapidly at the worried face of Trevor, whom he’d totally forgotten about. “Earth to Warren, did I lose you? You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Warren says hastily—too hastily, if Trevor’s expression is any indication. Warren clears his throat, pulls away slightly. “Long night. Wikipedia spirals! They can be a real bitch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor agrees. “Been there too many times. Creepy shit, some of the stuff you can find.” He pauses, but not long enough for Warren to think of a way to get going before he speaks again. “Where are you going, man? Is it bad?”

“No, no,” protests Warren, still too hastily, dammit. He needed to calm down. “Nathan and Hayden are at a house party with Victoria and Taylor and— Yeah, you know the crew. Victoria’s sticking around, I guess, and Nathan can’t drive how he is after partying. I’m picking him up.” He frowns. “I don’t actually know how the others are getting home,” he realizes. “I was just called to pick Nathan up.”

“We can ask when we get there,” Trevor says, finally releasing Warren, and Warren turns in surprise as Trevor starts walking down the hall towards the exit.

“We?” he repeats, no less than a little tentative as he catches up to Trevor’s side.

“You’re spacing out, dude. You’re always a space cadet, but, man, I’m not letting you out at a party alone when you’re losing it on me in the dorms.”

That throws Warren completely off guard. He knows that Trevor is a nice person, he’d shown as much in the past months with how much he wanted to be included in the nerdy things Warren liked to do, but this? This went beyond what Warren had expected out of the guy. And, really, that was his bad.

Why the hell was he so bad at judging the character of his dorm mates? Jeez. And he thought he was a good judge of character, too. So much for that.

“Okay,” Warren agrees faintly as they lope onto the asphalt of the school’s parking lot, his hand already in his pocket to fish out his keys.

Trevor throws Warren another grin as the doors are unlocked, but then eyes Warren’s car warily as he slides into the seat. “You know,” he starts conversationally, snapping his seatbelt buckle into place while Warren turns the car on, “this thing looks so much better at a distance, no offense.”

“Uh, offense taken! I bought it when I was sixteen,” Warren responds, throwing the shift into reverse and backing up, only slightly knocking his head against the roof this time when he turns around to look. He needed to lower his seat a little more, apparently, and does so. “Some of us here actually need the scholarship we’re on. Take the boons of freedom life offers, Grasshopper. Cheap, shitty transpiration or not.”

Trevor holds his hands up, grinning. Most people would look like a dick, presenting the gesture after a comment about how derelict the state of the vehicle was, but Trevor manages to make it look as innocent as it probably actually was, damn the guy.

“So long as I don’t get tetanus, I’m game.”

Warren rolls his eyes in Trevor’s general direction, mentally patting Trevor on the back for even knowing what tetanus is, before the less asshole-ish side reminds him that just because everyone else at the school might not be as smart as him, it didn’t mean they were dumb. Blackwell Academy wasn’t exactly easy to get into, after all. That didn’t make the accusation any less rude, though.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Warren mutters, pulling out of the student parking lot, and Trevor only laughs in response.

They end up needing Trevor’s GPS about ten minutes into the drive when Warren realizes he isn’t as familiar with the outskirts of Arcadia Bay as he probably should be by now, and then stop needing Trevor’s GPS two streets before finding the one that the house actually sits on thanks to the volume of the music the premises is emitting. Warren is both shocked and amazed no one has called the cops yet, because deafening doesn’t even begin to cover the noise that greets him when he parks the car in an empty lot four odd houses down the road and pulls himself out. Trevor meets him at the trunk, looking like he was second-guessing everything about this whole ordeal, and they share a look before turning and making their way down the street and to the party.

“I knew there were big parties around here, but my imagination apparently sucks, because I didn’t think this is what we were getting into, ” Trevor remarks to Warren as they press close together to be heard, his voice a low rumble just barely heard over the pounding of the bass in Warren’s ear, then jerks away in order to narrowly avoid the careening path of a probably-drunken girl as she thundered between them with another girl on her shoulders, both hollering like they were at a concert and the limited-edition T-shirt gun had majorly misfired off into the distance. Warren turns to watch them continue on, both in curiosity of where they were going and in mental calculation of how far they could get with how much momentum they seem to have gained, but Trevor doesn’t, and it takes him a moment to notice Warren’s lagged behind.

“Blood in the water, Shark Bait?” he calls good-naturedly.

Warren winces and turns, jogging a little to return to Trevor’s side. “That nickname is never going to leave me, is it.”

Trevor snorts. “Not for as long as you keep tangling tongues with a biter. Not that I’m judging!” Trevor says quickly, turning so fast to face Warren that he nearly trips over the toe of his own shoe. No wonder he wipes out so much, Warren thanks.

“If anything,” Warren reassures, “I’d say you were one of the more accepting of the whole ordeal, considering you found out before most of the school.”

That seems to placate Trevor, because he gives Warren a smile reminiscent of a happy puppy dog before suddenly going still as a statue. He clears his throat, maybe twice, but the music is so loud that Warren can only judge by the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the movement, and the count is fairly indeterminate.

“You good?” Warren asks him, ducking his head.

Trevor laughs, but it’s a nervous laugh if Warren’s ever heard one. “That’s why you were bleeding, wasn’t it? That whole fight you two had, back in November. Your mouth was bleeding when I found you in the stalls, and it was because he bit you, didn’t he,” he asks, but it sounds less like a question the second time Warren runs it by himself in his head. The quiet swear Trevor tacks on doesn’t make it sound any more like one, either. “He better not be biting other places.”

Warren cringes and shoves his shoulder into Trevor, knocking him off-kilter. He lets out a faint yelp, but then starts laughing, and all the tension is gone in a flash.

“I hated everything about that statement, just for the record,” Warren mumbles, but, judging by the loud “What?” Trevor offers in return, Trevor didn’t hear him. Warren only shakes his head and grabs Trevor by the arm, and into the fray they go.

They’re met immediately by a gaggle of females in smeared makeup taking selfies on the front porch. Warren can’t help but gawk at the shimmering bikini tops they’re clad in despite himself, like he’s never seen a girl in a scanty swimsuit before (which—come on, he technically hasn’t, if movies and porn don’t count), and Trevor yanking him on ahead is the only thing to save him when one of them looks up and gives him a smile worthy of a lioness.

They don’t get far from the girls, though, before one is calling out to them with a “hey, you two!” and Trevor winces to a full stop two steps up the porch.

“You gotta pay to get into this party,” the girl informs them as she saunters up, a little unsteadily despite her bare feet, and her friend giggles and holds her hand out for what Warren presumes is the fee until the first girl gently pushes her hand away. “Not money,” she corrects, her eyes never leaving Trevor. “Give us something good.”

“Good?” Trevor repeats, frowning at Warren, who can only shrug. He’s not exactly a master of parties, and the biggest ones he’s ever hit have been Vortex ones, which, at most, had a monetary fee. “Uh, we don’t have drugs?” Trevor tries, then starts pulling out his pockets as if to prove his statement.

“Or alcohol,” Warren tacks on.

“Yeah, so— Whoa, okay!” Trevor stumbles away, into the step behind him, and nearly falls when the first girl goes in with her arms like she was trying for a hug with some face. Warren makes a noise of surprise and lunges for Trevor, but Trevor’s a lot heavier than he looks, and they both tumble onto the top of the porch with a thud.

“Ow,” Warren moans.

“Sorry,” Trevor croaks.

“Ew,” the girl sneers, and, before Warren can even blink, she vanishes with her friend without another word.

“Did— Did I just imagine that?” Warren says, sitting up and blinking. The girls were gone. Completely. “Where did they go?”

“You didn’t imagine it,” assures Trevor grimly, rubbing his head as he pulls Warren to his feet.

They huddle together as they flee, Trevor’s face so close to Warren’s that he can hear him breathing as they move around the wrap-around porch to the back of the house.

“Dana’s going to kill me,” he whispers, his fingers twisting in the cuff of his jacket absentmindedly, and Warren finds himself nearly physically restraining his own hand against reaching out and stopping the fidget, like he might’ve had Nathan been the one executing the action.

Get ahold of yourself, Graham, he chastises.

“You didn’t ask for that to happen,” Warren reminds him, pressing a hand against Trevor’s shoulder and gently pushing him away again so he couldn’t trip on Trevor’s close steps. “Dana’s pretty understanding anyway. It’ll be fine.”

He should have known better, anyway, considering the lawn was filled with drunk humans having what looks like either the best or worst time of their lives as they trek their way around and through the house. None of them wore anything identifying them as an admittee, so, clearly, the girls were trying to play them.

They break apart when they reach the backyard, where a giant pool sits steaming into the cold air, filled to the brim with people in various states of undress.

Warren swallows and tries his best not to stare. Again. “Okay. We’re here for Nathan. If I were Nathan, where would I be?”

Trevor glances around. “Uh,” he tries, then shrugs, “literally anywhere? This place is massive. Can’t you call him?”

But Warren shakes his head. “Victoria is the one who contacted me. She wouldn’t bother with me if it didn’t mean Nathan couldn’t do it himself for one reason or another.”

Trevor opens his mouth to reply, seems to consider himself, and sighs. “Yeah, okay. Makes sense. I’ll check inside, yeah?”

Warren turns his gaze back on to the pool. “... Sure. Yeah. Fantastic. Wet people. Love it.”

“Enjoy the sights while you can,” Trevor says happily, clapping Warren on the back, and then all but vanishing into the shadows of the party. How, Warren really can’t understand, but he’s seen enough weird shit not to question it for now.

“Here we go,” he mutters to himself just as someone yells “Cannonball!” and five people jump into the pool at once.

Operation “Where’s Waldon’t Make This Easy For Warren, Why Would You Do That?” ... commence.

Finding Nathan … turns out much easier than is expected.

Keeping Nathan, though? Much harder than anticipated.

Warren finds Nathan not even ten minutes after breaking from Trevor on the independent search, chanting “chug, chug, chug, chug!” with a group of people huddled around a keg with someone—is that Hayden? —upside down and, well, chugging.

“Graham?” Nathan says in surprise before Warren can even get close enough to call Nathan’s name without freaking him out. He blinks a few times in confusion, then pulls a face of annoyance when he realizes why Warren must be here after declining to come when asked earlier in the day. “Aw, fuck me. Vic’s bailin’?”

He’s slurring so much, Warren thinks he maybe should have shown up earlier and not wasted so much time, you know, driving the speed limit. Shit.

Warren reaches out all the same and grabs Nathan’s hand, which turns in his palm and latches on.

“Rescue squad, at your service,” he announces. The person on the keg is released, and Nathan whoops his glee at what is indeed Hayden. Okay. Great. “Am I supposed to be taking Hayden home, too?”

“Warren Graham!” Hayden greets happily before Warren can get an answer, lunging drunkenly at Warren and wrapping him up in a hug. He reeks of alcohol and sweat and beer, so much beer, and Warren tries his best not to gag. He definitely doesn't manage. Hayden doesn’t seem to notice, making a noise deep in his throat that Warren is pretty sure is a half-step from becoming a laugh, but that Hayden is way too drunk to bring to completion.

Yikes.

“Hayden,” Warren struggles, trying to not suffocate in Hayden all on his own, Nathan’s guffawing not helping anything at all. “Hayden. Let me go, for the love of Sputnik, please.”

“Oop, ah, sorry!” Hayden says, finally releasing Warren. He grins down at Warren, and if it weren’t for the way he sways slightly while even standing still, everything about him right in that moment would seem perfectly sober.

Warren struggles to regain himself after the interaction. Nathan’s still laughing, bent over at the waist, and so obviously drunk in clear contrast to Hayden’s weird pseudo-sobriety.

“What are you doing here, dude?” Hayden asks before Warren’s recovered, and, there, he sounds drunk. Mostly. It was all smoke and mirrors, totally wouldn’t pass a standardized field sobriety test.

“Vic’s got ‘im takin’ us home!” Nathan offers, apparently over himself, and Hayden’s face falls.

“No!” he stage-whispers, scandalized, and looks to the house forlornly. “I didn’t get to dance!”

“I gotta talk to Vic,” Nathan announces suddenly, then turns and starts to leave. Warren maybe overreacts just a little and literally jumps after him, grabbing his arm to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait!” he calls frantically, and Nathan looks back at him like he’s lost his goddamn mind. “What if I can’t find you again?” he tries meekly once he’s tried at a recovery. He doesn’t release Nathan.

Hayden offers insight on this: “Not that big of a place.”

“Not a big fuckin’ place, bitch,” Nathan echoes, like it was his idea.

“Nathan, there are so many people here,” Warren says, and he wouldn’t exactly deny that it’s a half-whine. He just really wants to get out of there. It’s so not his scene, and he’s so over parties as a whole, Vortex-hosted or not. “So many,” he pushes when Nathan only frowns, bored. “What if I can’t find you?”

“Call me. Duh.”

“And if you don’t answer your phone like you haven’t been all freaking night?”

Nathan seems to consider this, his free hand tapping on his chin, as the party around them screams, shouts, and generally gives Warren a headache. Then, he snaps his fingers, and Warren is immediately sure that the answer he wants is not coming. Nathan was never this easy.

“I’ll come lookin’ for you,” Nathan decides firmly, and, yeah, definitely not what Warren wanted, but Nathan’s hand slaps over Warren’s mouth before he can say so. “Come on, Graham. I’m havin’ fun. Just need t’ talk to Vic. ‘Kay?”

Too tired to argue about it any more, Warren only nods his head once, and he’s released. Nathan pries Warren’s hand off his arm and smiles his half smile.

“Hold this f’r me,” he slurs, swaying forward as he digs in his pocket and deposits a handful of items into Warren’s outstretched palm, then staggers away to god knows where. Warren watches him go, then looks to his hand to find the stub of what he was pretty sure was a blunt, along with a dime, two quarters, a key—his key, dammit Nathan—and three and a half peanuts.

From his left, Hayden bends over and surveys the contents of Warren’s palm with an almost-sober level of scrutiny, then gives a snort of a giggle and plucks two of the peanuts away from where they’re nestled between the dime and the key. Warren hears the crunch before he has the chance to even think of maybe stopping the drunk guy from eating something that had been in Nathan’s pocket for lord knows how long, and the deed is done.

“Gross,” Hayden comments shortly, without any inflection to his garble of the statement, then ambles off in the direction Nathan had vanished, leaving Warren alone amongst the strangers that littered the backyard.

“Why me?” he whispers to himself, and then has to beg off a girl when she tries to answer the question for him in something that sounds like it’s supposed to be English, but isn’t coherent enough to actually be intelligible.

He finds Trevor again next while he’s trying to hunt Nathan and Hayden back down, looking a little lost in the small sea of people surrounding him as he stands in the dead center of a tiny kitchen with a multitude of snacks in his hands, all the cabinets around him flung open and more than one person petting his face and arms.

His eyes light up the second he spots Warren, but his hands are too full to do anything more than nod his head enthusiastically for a few seconds before one of the girls in the cluster reaches out and jostles his shoulder in that sloppy but endearing kind of way only drunk people can really execute. He looks down at her, blinking in surprise, then says something Warren can’t hear over the noise of the party and starts opening one of the many bags clutched in his grip. Granola, it looks like from where Warren stands. Or trail mix? Something like that.

“Hey!” one guy slurs as Warren tries to wiggle his way closer to Trevor, grabbing Warren around the waist to stop him from continuing his journey. “Wait your turn!”

Warren blinks down at the guy. “What? No, I’m— My turn for what?”

The guy releases Warren to gesture at Trevor like he was presenting Warren with the presence of a god of some higher status. “Magic fingers!” he declares, fumbling on the word “fingers” and punctuating the statement with an ill-timed thrust of both hands. “He’s got magic fingers! You have to wait your turn to use them!”

Warren blinks owlishly, first at the heavily-intoxicated man, and then at his friend, who’s now in the middle of ripping open a packet of fruit snacks and handing it to a sobbing boy who doesn’t look any older than Warren himself.

“... He’s opening food for you guys?” Warren concludes and, as if the universe was on his side for once, witnesses his confirmation in the form of a redheaded girl with raccoon eyes fumbling with a family-sized bag of Cheetos before Trevor takes it from her and does the deed, earning himself a squeal of delight and a clap of the hands like he’d performed a miracle.

“My fingers aren’t magic!” Drunk Guy informs Warren in wonder. Warren realizes a second later that the hand is back on his waist, but he’s not sure if the guy himself realizes it or not.

“I mean,” Warren tries, taking the guy’s hand off so he can move again, “that’s great he’s pulling a Rasputin on you and all, but I kinda need to talk to him.”

The response he gets is one of incredulity, and the guy looks legitimately offended even as his hand latches back onto Warren’s torso the second it’s freed from Warren’s grip of removal. “You gotta wait your turn!”

And then, the next thing Warren knows, he’s being forcibly removed from the kitchen.

The next thing Warren knows, Hayden’s arm is in a vice-locked grip around his shoulders and he’s being lead into the fray of sweating, writhing people the next room over.

Exactly the place he had been avoiding since even being aware he was going to have to set foot on the premises of the party.

“Whoa, wait, hold up,” he says frantically, scrabbling at the hold Hayden has on him. It’s no use—Hayden was a big guy, and his grip was akin to that of King Kong, with Warren as the unwilling damsel in distress. “No, no, nuh-uh, no. Can’t dance, Hayden!”

Hayden laughs, the music doing nothing but amplifying the sound of it. “You don’t have to know how to dance! It’s a party, man, you need to chillax a little more! Have some fun.”

“I’m not here to chillax,” Warren protests as Hayden’s hands grab his and tries their best to get Warren to add to the communal gyration happening all around them. “I’m here to take Nathan back to the school, but he keeps vanishing on me.”

“S’cause he’s having fun. They got all the good shit here—Nathan doesn’t have to play delivery boy for once!”

“Hope he’s not mixing drugs,” Warren mutters to himself, trying his best to twist out of the way when someone’s ass bounces into his hip and pushes him further into Hayden’s hold.

“He doesn’t do that kind of stuff anymore,” Hayden replies, like he heard Warren somehow, then spins Warren around while he’s too caught off guard to physically revolt. The noise he releases in response is decidedly not girly, and, no, he won’t take constructive criticism on that.

Hayden laughs all the same, and then his head drops dangerously close to Warren’s as he leans in, still dancing awkwardly against Warren’s half-stuttered forced moves that are somewhere between trying to get away and trying not to get smothered by the people way too up in his personal bubble right now. “Okay, Sherlock, he’s right over there,” Hayden half-sings. Why, Warren can’t deduce, because his tempo is nowhere near that of the song’s. He also gives no indication of where “right over there” is, exactly, and Warren’s jolted looking around doesn’t remedy the mystery.

Hayden groans, then wrenches Warren’s head in the right direction.“You’re being such a mood-killer,” he grumbles. “He’s gonna hate that if he sees.”

Warren doesn’t have an answer for that, and he doesn’t have a moment to think of one before he finally catches sight of Nathan, sans the jacket he’d been wearing the last time Warren had run into him, dancing in what seemed to be dead center of the dance floor (of course, where else would Nathan Prescott be?) with Victoria close at hand.

They make a remarkably good-looking pair, is the first thing that Warren thinks once they register in his brain as people he knows and can put names to amongst the sea of strangers. Nathan’s head is bent in such a way that his light brown hair, freed from its usual styled prison by means Warren doesn’t think he wants to know of, mixes with Victoria’s golden blonde as their foreheads press together, Victoria leading the dance with one hand wrapped around Nathan’s jaw and the other at his hips. Nathan, high on whatever the hell it is he’s actually taken, does nothing more than sway with Victoria, and yet it still manages to come off as exactly what the music calls for.

It’s hot—they’re hot, Warren thinks, and holy shit—it spikes a hot flare of irritation from somewhere deep inside him, that they looked so perfect together, that they looked like they were made for each other—and that, in reality, they probably were. It must result in some physical reaction, because Hayden stills momentarily, something like a question coming from his mouth without registering as actual words in Warren’s head, but then Victoria’s eyes are opening and centering on him in, and the green coating his vision immediately melts away as she throws him a smirk and pushes away from Nathan.

“About time, Pumpkin Boy,” she calls cryptically, Nathan raising his head just in time to witness Victoria grab Warren by the collar and haul his ass right where she wants it—which apparently is where she’d been dancing just previously. He nearly wipes out when his foot lands wrong on the floor, but Nathan catches on fast enough to keep Warren from eating anything more than his own yelp of alarm, his cold hands gripped tight on the skin under Warren’s shirt where it had rucked up from Victoria’s ministrations.

“The fuck am I going to do with you?” Nathan asks acidly as he helps right Warren, shaking his head in a way Warren’s pretty sure he’s seen on a principal once. In a movie. About delinquents. Which he certainly wasn’t.

(Those past brawls notwithstanding, as they weren’t part of his current loop, thank you very much.)

“I’m not here to dance, Nathan,” Warren protests, but he’s already moving along with Nathan despite himself, and it seems like all of Nathan’s moves were in Victoria, because he’s not much better at it. “I’m here to take you home.”

Nathan all but ignores everything coming out of Warren’s mouth in favor of sliding his fingers through Warren’s belt loops and holding him anchor. “Yeah, well I’m here to fucking dance,” he all but growls, somehow sounding leagues more sober than he had just before. “Pick up your feet.”

“Oh, at least make it worth my while,” he whines sarcastically, voice low, and then sighs heavily as a new song starts up, a little slower than the previous one. He isn’t aware Nathan can even hear him until the moment when Nathan’s eyes flash something dangerous in response. His lips curl, his hands tug, and, before he realizes what’s happening, Warren finds himself flush up against Nathan’s chest. His heart nearly stops right then and there.

“Nathan—” he chokes, then stops abruptly when Nathan tilts his head back and runs the sharp of his teeth against Warren’s ear. It’s more action than he’s ever gotten in real life, and the fact it’s not happening in his head sends him into a tailspin of contradiction as his body both wants to respond and knows now is not the time or the place.

He feels, rather than sees, Nathan grin in triumph, and Warren realizes he was having trouble breathing, making his mindset on the whole thing blatantly obvious. Nathan’s hands crawl up Warren’s sides, his ever-cold fingers tracing icy paths along Warren’s skin, and Warren closes his eyes and gulps loud enough to break the sound barrier.

“Oh, my god,” he gasps, and Nathan’s laugh puffs against his neck. “Now? You’re choosing now to do this? You’re playing so dirty! I’m supposed to be taking you home, Nathan.”

Nathan hums, deep and enticing, and Warren feels it resonate in his sternum.

Jesus. That was so not appropriate. Warren hates what that does to—well, all of him. He’s lucky Nathan isn’t in the consenting mindset, because, otherwise, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to stop himself from allowing Nathan to take it elsewhere. Thank you, moral code.

It doesn’t stop Nathan from being the most attractive thing he’s ever seen, though. He wonders, vaguely, if he can convince Nathan to keep the messy look, but the thought is gone in a blink when Nathan presses his nose into the hollow under Warren’s ear.

Shit.

“Nathan—” he tries again, only to fail once more when Nathan’s fingertips turn to nails and it’s all he can do not to outright gasp.

“Tell me to cut the shit, and I will,” Nathan murmurs, the words ghosting along Warren’s jaw, and everything in Warren’s brain comes to a screeching halt. Nathan’s breathing hitches, the warmth of the bodies around them seeping in deep, and Warren feels it race all along his spine. “I will stop,” Nathan continues, so quiet Warren almost can’t hear him, “I swear.”

Warren swallows, gentler this time, and Nathan brushes his lips against Warren’s chin.

“Tell me,” he breathes, “and I will.”

Warren drops his head and doesn’t say a word.

The night from there is a blur, up until the point where the songs pick up to a speed even Nathan finds he’s too tired to keep up with, and Warren is positive he doesn’t come away unscathed. A public setting and dubious consent from Nathan while drunk means he didn’t allow anything more than a lot of close movement and fluttering touches, fingers drifting and breathing stuttered—but that doesn’t mean he won’t be having dreams of more, even after Nathan pulled him from the trance he’d been put under with a jostle of a shoulder and a grin so sharp Warren could have used it to carve ice.

They find Hayden sprawled out on the porch deck when they go looking for him, waiting for them to wrap it up and move on with their night, a few equally worn out people sitting around him and listening as he told a tale Warren doesn’t manage to catch more than a few words of before they’re all saying goodbye to one another and Hayden is walking away with a few numbers and emails scrawled on his arms in purple ink. They stumble away from the party and head towards Warren’s car, heads echoing with the phantoms of the songs they leave behind.

Warren doesn’t see Trevor anywhere on the outskirts and, if he doesn’t find him along the way, decides he’ll just text or call him once he gets the other two safely in the car, because he doesn't want to risk taking them back in and potentially get caught up in something else, like he knew his luck was bound to allow.

Nathan and Hayden flank Warren’s sides as they amble along, Hayden with his eyes closed and humming one of the songs from earlier, and Nathan with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, recovered from God knows where, because Warren hadn’t seen him do it, and his cheeks ruddy from either the cold or his own ministrations, Warren isn’t sure.

His heart is just managing to slow its rhythm after the strain it’s been put through, and he tries to focus on relaxing completely before starting up the drive back, listening to Hayden softly hum his own tune, completely different from the bass that still echoed from the house and down the street. It’s an easy thing, Warren thinks.

But then he spots something out of the corner of his eye and turns to it fast enough to get whiplash, almost knocking himself off his feet with the momentum of the action.

And, suddenly, Nathan is completely sober.

“What? What is it? Where’s the fucking inferno?” he barks, the words coming out so fast they nearly clip each other off as they’re spoken. “Graham? Hey!” Nathan pushes when Warren only slumps down, holding his chest like he’d nearly been startled to death. He grabs Warren by the shoulder in a pinching hold and shakes him. “What was that, you bitch? Tell me!”

“Deer,” Warren explains tiredly, gesturing to the only animal decoration capable of giving him a panic attack by doing nothing more than existing. It was just a plastic deer that lit up at night, sure, but it was a bastard in its own right, adorable exaggerated eyes and all.

Nathan curses sharply in response. Warren reaches up and presses a hand to Nathan’s, and Nathan’s fingers immediately relax.

Hayden stares at the both of them, the alarm on his face so wrong that Warren accidentally lets out a startled laugh. Hayden’s gaze centers on Warren alone, and Nathan leans away from Warren in obvious distaste.

“The fuck was that?” he accuses, and Hayden nods his head once.

“Uh, yeah, was gonna ask both of you the same, actually,” he says hesitantly. He doesn’t stop looking at Warren. “Did you just get jump-scared by a fake deer?”

“I, uh—” Warren starts, but Nathan smacks him in the chest to stop him and finishes quickly with: “got attacked by one as a baby. Walked right up to his stroller and tried to eat his face off!”

Warren blinks down at Nathan, and Hayden looks as if he isn’t sure Nathan is exactly telling the truth, but doesn’t know enough about deer attacks to exactly question it.

“Er—” Warren offers, scrambling, and just then Trevor manifests on the scene, looking haggard.

“Who tried to eat whose face off?” he asks breathlessly, turning wide, haunted eyes on Warren, and Warren immediately feels bad for leaving him alone.

“Graham,” Hayden offers faintly, then frowns and reaches out to finger the object Warren just then realizes is hanging from around Trevor’s neck. “What—”

“Is that a bathtub plug?” Nathan asks loudly, effectively cutting the quieter inquiry from Hayden off.

Trevor ducks his head. “Uh, yeah. They gave it to me. Said it was a prize for being the miracle man and—um, saving the party.”

Nathan gapes. Warren tries not to start laughing again. Hayden hasn’t removed his fingers from the rubber bung.

“The shit did you do?” Nathan asks incredulously.

“Opened—food?” Trevor replies, so hesitant that Warren thinks he’s possibly questioning the reality of what he just went through. Warren can’t say he doesn’t relate.

“Wow,” Nathan muses. “The world has low standards.”

“Look who’s talking,” Warren mutters, and only snickers when Nathan turns and slugs him on the arm before walking off again.

Hayden releases Trevor’s makeshift medal, and they all follow after. They’re maybe a house and a half away, walking in relative silence for no more than a minute, when Nathan does what he always does best: decides quiet is not his favorite way to occupy the time.

“So why’d you bring that fuckbucket?” Nathan asks, eloquent as always, jabbing a thumb in Trevor’s direction and effectively breaking the—in Warren’s opinion anyway—enjoyable silence.

Trevor jumps, blinking rapidly, like someone just slotted a coin in and brought him to life. The plug swings violently with the motion. “Ran into him in the hallway,” Trevor explains after a moment, and Warren thinks it’s pretty nice of him to dignify Nathan’s childish acid with a response they all know it doesn’t deserve. “Didn’t think it was a good idea sending him into the fray alone like that, when people could take advantage of him.”

“What?” says Warren, blinking at Trevor in surprise. He didn’t know that last part.

Nathan scoffs. “It’s just a college party. Warren’s not some candy-assed pansy man, he can manage the scene. Victoria wouldn’t have texted him if he couldn’t handle it.”

Trevor just slides his eyes in Warren’s direction, radiating dubiousness over Nathan’s statement, but he thankfully keeps his mouth shut. Warren wants to be on Nathan’s side, because Warren certainly can handle it, but Victoria? Would truss him up in a Chicago overcoat and throw him in the deep end just to watch him drown. She’d even supply the cement to help the deed along. There was no love lost between them, and Warren knew she would have texted him to come collect Nathan even if it meant bodily injury along the way.

Nathan meant far more to her than Warren did, far more than Warren knew he ever would. And Warren was okay with that.

“Shotgun!” Nathan hollers suddenly, nearly leaping off the street as he bolts towards the shadowed shape that was Warren’s car. Hayden makes a noise of offense, reminding Warren of his presence, and takes off at a run after Nathan.

“You still happy you signed up for this?” Warren asks Trevor as they watch their two classmates barrel into first the car, and then each other, cursing and spitting and laughing.

“No,” Trevor admits, fidgeting with his rubber prize, “but I’m not mad I came with you. I really didn’t want to just let you go to something like this on your own.”

Warren huffs quietly. “I can handle myself, you don’t have to be my knight in shining armor.”

Trevor looks over at Warren, his face wrinkled up, and he shakes his head. “No, not like that. You’re my friend. I got your back, Warren.” Trevor’s arm reaches out, and Warren feels his hand pat once, twice, before transitioning into that comforting rub Warren could never quite perfect without it coming off as slightly creepy, but that Trevor seems to be a master of. Warren feels tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in his shoulders relax.

“Thanks, man,” Warren says, and he means it. “Not exactly easy finding the real ones in a school full of wannabes and fakesters.”

“And yet you seem to be racking them up,” Trevor replies with a pointed look in the direction of the car, where Hayden and Nathan have piled in the back and can be seen pushing each other back and forth in the back seats. So much for Nathan’s declaration of shotgun. Trevor sighs. “You ready for this drive back?”

“Not even close. Don’t be surprised if Nathan argues with you about getting the front seat.”

“But he’s in the back.”

“You think that’ll stop him?”

Trevor puffs his cheeks out. “Right. Prescott, coming in hot. I’m ready.”

“That’s what you think,” Warren mutters, then reaches for his door in the same moment Trevor does, and into the car they go.

They stop at a drive-through farther away from the school than where they started, solely to distract Nathan from pestering Trevor about taking his seat up front and from badgering Warren to do exactly what he ended up doing. It’s a little chaotic, going through the window at such an early hour when only one poor employee was working the entire establishment, especially when both Hayden and Nathan decide they absolutely have to give the guy their order themselves and not relay it to Warren because they “know Warren will fuck it up” (Nathan’s words, but Hayden’s nod had been an affirmation, so Warren was holding the insult against him, too), and then take entirely too long trying to make their order coherent.

Warren tries to give the guy his best “I’m so fucking sorry we exist” expression when he rolls up to the window, but the guy is not impressed, and Warren really can’t blame him. Nathan shoves his card up before Warren can even reach for his wallet, decidedly paying for all of them, and Warren only sighs when Nathan refuses to let Warren hand the card up.

(Nathan nearly climbs over Warren’s lap to give the card over, and Warren finds absolutely none of the action enticing in any remote sense. Not even when Nathan sloppily smacks his lips against Warren’s forehead on the way back, because the guy sees, and he only raises his eyebrows before silently handing the food over and closing the window in their face.)

They scarf their meals down with no small amount of stealing from first Nathan, then Hayden and Trevor, and finally Warren once he hits a red light and nearly throws himself across the car to snatch the curly fry right out of Trevor’s grasp, laughing and jabbing and essentially having what Warren might dare even call one of the best late-night escapades he’s ever had in his life.

The food is gone within fifteen minutes of receiving it, and Hayden begs Warren to crank the radio up as high as it’ll go for the remaining ten-minute drive they had into the sound-restricted street the school sat on, his hands on Warren’s seat and his chin digging uncomfortably into Warren’s shoulder. Warren obliges, and they all crow and sing off-tune to 80s favorites—courtesy of the only station his sad excuse of a car can get so late at night. Trevor proves to have the best voice of them all, and Nathan retaliates to this newfound information by trying to smother Trevor’s mouth with his hands, which he fails epically at.

They cut the music as they pull up on the street, but they’re laughing loud enough for it not to matter, giddy and high on the energy between them.

Tumbling from the car, Hayden and Trevor lock arms and take off towards the dormitories, singing Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name in what could probably be considered acapella if Warren had any understanding of music whatsoever, and Nathan and Warren trail behind them, tangled up in each other, Warren laughing so hard he’s sobbing and Nathan’s eyes bright with all the things Warren didn’t have names for. Warren has to stop himself from grabbing Nathan and pressing him close, but Nathan has no such qualms, and the moment on the dance floor comes rushing back when Nathan stops them both in their tracks and tugs Warren down, slotting their mouths together with a practiced ease, the heat between them all but searing him right down to his bones. He feels Nathan gasp into his mouth when he scrapes his teeth against Nathan’s lip in a mimic of a move he’d been shown before, and just about loses it right then and there.

It takes the combined wolf-whistling of Hayden and Trevor to get them to come to their senses, and then both boys grappling them into a foursome of a hug to get them back in motion, and they somehow make it into the hallways as the conglomeration of far too much testosterone and no small amount of affection shared between them all, only to get yelled at to shut the fuck up two feet in the door. Nathan doesn’t go after whoever had yelled, only because he’s laughing too hard to speak.

Though Trevor’s room is technically the closest, they fall into Warren’s room when no one is able to procure a key, discarding clothing and pulling off each other’s shoes. Trevor looks up at Warren with his eyebrows gently raised in silent question from the floor when it becomes clear both Nathan and Hayden are both staying by the way they roll into the bed nearly as one in a botched fight to get to it first, and Warren only has to smile and nudge him with his one socked foot in response. Trevor’s shoulders relax, and Warren reminds himself to maybe treat Trevor as more of a friend in the future, because he knows now he wouldn’t have made it out of that event easily without Trevor there to watch his back. Warren drops to the floor next to him and hooks the metal chain of the bathtub plug Trevor still wore around his neck between his fingers, and then smashes his nose against the curve of Trevor’s shoulder when a pillow nails him in the back of the head.

“Whoops!” is all Nathan offers, his hands out in a pathetic excuse of an apologetic shrug, when Warren whips around to locate the culprit and finds Hayden hanging off the bed in obvious defeat. Warren flips him off, and then gets rewarded with a second pillow right to the face, which sets them all off again.

Three of them end up only in their underwear by the time the communal helping of cloth-removing has ceased, spurred on by no small amount of jibes and playful taunting all around once they had regained their breath and rushed to finish getting undressed for the night, with only Nathan the victor of a shirt in addition to the boxers that were—fuck, Warren’s, okay, alright, he can handle that, sure—and they pile into the mess of what once covered Warren’s bed like the children some of them were robbed of being.

Warren falls asleep with Nathan’s head on his chest, Hayden’s on his stomach, and his head resting under Trevor’s chin, all boundaries lost, at least for that night, in the moment they all needed to share, and Warren thinks, as he drifts off under the hazy blanket of sleep, I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

And it’s a comfort that, never again, would he have to. This was his end.

This was his.

And no one was going to take that away.

#[RM] spoilers #grahamscott #life is strange #warren is strange

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themoonandotherslikeit · 6 years ago

Text

The Hand That Reaches for God, Chapter 1

***Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester. So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again. When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.***

Warnings: Angst, language, illness, mutual pinning

Chapter One

One of these mornings, it won’t be long, you’ll call my name, and I’ll be gone. - Oscar Isaac

-8 Hours Before-

The house smelled like medicine.

Growing up, Emerson always felt like her house smelled like some kind of baked good. It always smelled like cinnamon sugar cookies, and hot lemon tea. Her mother was a terrible cook, but she knew how to bake. Emerson thought it was a miracle that her and her identical twin sister, Ophelia, weren’t unbearably overweight. Especially Pheli, with her inability to say no to just one more cookie. Pheli was the kind of girl that everybody liked. She was made of sugar and breadcrumbs. She looked like the kind of girl that lived among the flowers. Growing up she was always the class favorite. Her smile would light up a room, where Emerson’s bad attitude would get her sent to the principal office so frequently that she had a chair with an imprint of her ass on it. She frequently was jealous of her sisters wiles. Ophelia seemed to have the ability to bat her eyelashes, and move mountains. It didn’t seem fair, but Emerson would soon learn that almost everything in life was unfair.

The house didn’t smell like baked goods, or lemon tea, or the flowers from Pheli’s hair anymore. Now it smelled like medicine. It smelled like sterile bed sheets, and oxygen. It smelled like pre-death. The Maklen sisters changed their last name when their father left, in solidarity, to stand with their mother. The girls were no longer the Wilson’s. They didn’t fit in the mold that Carl and his mustache left. The two tween girls and their mother burned all of the belonging’s he left in the house ceremoniously. They danced around the flames, and consumed an entire bottle of red wine. Both girls adored their mother, from her kind eyes, to her full laugh. They thought she was the most beautiful woman to walk the planet Earth. All the girls could hope for when they grew up, was that someday they would be half the woman their mother was and twice the cook. They didn’t expect to have to say goodbye to her so soon, but then again, saying goodbye was never something that can be planned for. It always seemed too soon, even if there was all the time in the world. The house smelled like medicine, because their mother was dying. Her MS had gotten so bad that she was on a ventilator. She couldn’t move, and she had a permanent live in nurse. Emerson was convinced that she wasn’t even there anymore.

“She’s a husk, Pheli. We should just be done. Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?”

“How could you say that?” “Look at her!” Emerson gestured to their mothers slumped body in hospital bed in the living room. “She doesn’t go to the bathroom by herself. She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t talk!” “She’s our Mom, Em.” Pheli said weakly, her hands dropping to her side. “I know who she is.” Ophelia forced Emerson to be the logical one. To be the harsh one. Emerson liked to think it was because she was the big sister, even by two minutes. It was her duty to carry the difficulties for both of them.

I took a lot of talking, crying, and shouting to finally come to an agreement. It was time. It was time to let her go. So they packed up their bags at the beginning of Summer break, during their senior year of college, and decided to come back home.

They came back to the town they grew up in, to the green grass, and lazy people lounging on their front porches with an early afternoon beer in hand. Emerson went away to college to escape their old neighborhood. To escape the people who still saw her as the stringy haired girl with braces. The one who beat up all the boys. She wanted to escape their stares, and their jokes, but most of all she wanted to escape him. So, imagine her surprise, when the girls pulled up to their childhood home, just to see Dean Winchester waltz out of his front door to grab the newspaper, of all things. “Sam.” Emerson hissed, eyeing Ophelia’s boyfriend, and Dean’s younger brother, in the rear view mirror. “What is he doing here?”

Sam shrugged, and ran his finger through his shaggy hair. He was trying to grow it out for a man bun, and Ophelia supported the idea. She was always trying out new kinds of braids, and was excited to have someone to practice on. “Dunno, Em.” Liar, Emerson thought. She knew the boys kept in pretty constant communication. They were almost as needy as she and Ophelia were. Dean was four years older than the girls and Sam. He seemed to always be around when she was growing up, but the older they got the more annoying he was. He’d bring bimbos to their hangouts, and he always ended up smoking pot or sneaking alcohol into their basement.

“Dean you’re going to get us in trouble,” Ophelia complained as he lit up a cigarette.

“God you’re such a girl.”

“That's offensive, ass.” Emerson said, punching his arm.

“Sammy, you seriously gonna let them talk to me that way?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably.”

The four of them were always stuck together. The boys were inseparable, just like the sister’s, and once Sam and Pheli started dating, the four of them were laced and tangled together. No matter what Emerson did, she couldn’t shake Dean Winchester loose. He was always there, seemingly lurking around the corner. “This is just not what I need this weekend.” Emerson complained, quietly. Pheli reached for her sister and squeezed her arm. “Hey, don’t worry about him. This weekend is about us. It's about Mom.” She said softly. “Don’t let anything else distract you.” Em sighed, letting out all the breath in her lungs in a single huff. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.” The girls smiled at each other warmly, as Emerson parked the car. Sam ducked out of the back seat stretching his arms into the air. “That drive will never not suck.” He complained gently, before resting his arm across Ophelia’s shoulders. He was almost an entire foot taller than her, and sometimes when they were together it was almost comical. Dean was still standing in the driveway, looking dumbfounded in his pajama pants and ratty AC/DC t-shirt. He gave Emerson a half wave, and she wiggled her fingers back at him. When she was a junior in high school, and he was twenty-one he decided to join the military. He was gone for so long that she barely remembered what he looked like, that was until he came home for his first Christmas back. It was her last Christmas before college. His hair was short, and he had developed muscles that she didn’t know existed. He was wearing his camouflage uniform, buttoned and steamed pristinely, as he waltzed up to her door.

“Hey Em.”

“Dean.” “Hm.” “What?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Just not used to people calling me that. I’m just Winchester in the military.” He was standing up completely straight, and there was little snark to his voice. Emerson raised her eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess they would, wouldn’t they?”

“It’s pretty weird.” He said, scratching the back of his head.

“Did you need something?” “What? Oh… no. I don’t.” He said curtly. “Just letting you know I’m home.” “Cool.” She said awkwardly, leaning against the door frame. “Well, guess I’ll see ya later.”

“Guess so.” She said, slowly shutting the door. His hand slipped in, catching the door before she could shut it. “What?”

“Merry Christmas.” He said, before letting the door click shut.

He looked different now. His hair was longer, not long like Sam’s, but longer than she saw him with in awhile. He looked tired, his shoulders were slumped and he had purple half moons under his eyes from lack of sleep. “This weekend is about us. It’s about Mom. Don’t let anything else distract you.” Her sisters words echoed in her head. She was right, of course she was.

Emerson pulled her bag out of the backseat of the car and walked up the steps, unlocking the door to the house. She instantly got a whiff of something musty and her nose curled up. “Phel, go open up all the windows?”

The nursing staff had taken their mom back to the hospital per Emerson’s request. She didn’t want to have to take care of the body once they pulled the plug, if they were in the hospital the staff did that. She knew she would have bigger things to worry about. She knew Pheli wouldn't handle it well. She was such a delicate flower.

“Sure.” She went to go open up the windows, and Sam followed her like a puppy. He’d been doing that his whole life, and if Emerson was being honest, it was beginning to lose its charm. Maybe she was just turning into a cynic. Their mothers hospital bed was still in the middle of the living room. A flimsy mattress on wheels. Medical supplies were covering every spare counter space. An IV bag still hung on its pole over their mothers bed, the tube swinging in the fresh air that rushed through the house.

This is going to be such a pain to clean up. Emerson started to make a mental checklist of everything she had to do. She had to return all of the medical supplies, call the funeral home, set up a service, call the lawyers… her thoughts rattled off, only being interrupted by a rap at the door.

Christ, what now?

She drug herself to the front door, swinging it open. “Yes?”

Dean grinned back at her. She looked him up and down, noticing that he decided to change into some real pants, even if the jeans did have holes in them. “Wow, so chipper, Em.”

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

He shrugged, pushing past her. “Just noticed you guys pulling up. I’m going to this party tonight, if you guys want to come.”

“A party? Seriously?” Her eyes followed him, locking on his bare skin poking out from his short sleeved shirt. “Did Sam not tell you why we were here?” “No?” He groaned, hopping up on the counter. Emerson rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She eyed the six foot tall man that was now swinging his legs like a child off the edge of her mothers counter top. “But I did forget that you’re boring. You’d never go to a party. Can’t have any fun.” He teased, his green eyes challenging her. Emerson rolled her eyes. “Get a fucking grip, Winchester. We are here for Mom.” Her tone hit him like a truck, causing him to suck in his breath.

“Mom… is Jana okay?”

“No. She isn’t.” Emerson said harshly, even though she shouldn't have. He obviously didn’t know.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, before gathering up her long blonde hair, and twisting it in to a bun on the top of her head. “We are letting her go, Dean. She’s been on the vent for a year. It’s time.”

His eyes softened, his lips parting to let out a whoosh of air. “What? Shit… I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She snapped. “How could you know? Not like we talk anymore. All you’re worried about is the fucking party. So go would you?”

He winced and hopped down off the counter. “Fine. Don’t have to ask me twice. Tell Sammy to come by and see his big brother.” He said before pushing out into the yard, slamming the door behind him, causing the frame to rattle.

“What was that?” Ophelia called from the back room.

“Nothing Phel!” Emerson called back, before pressing her back against the door, and slowly sliding to the floor. She captured her face in her hands and let out a low scream, tears stinging her eyes. It was all just too hard. Too damn hard. She let her head hit the door, hoping for a little clarity that didn’t come. Maybe she should go to the party after all. -4 Hours Before-

Sam was being unsurprisingly helpful. He was able to reach everything on the top shelf, and he and Pheli weren’t even being as flirtatious as they usually were. They’d been cleaning, and organizing, and making calls for the last four hours and Emerson just about had it. She fell back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling fan.

“Sam?”

“Sup?” He asked, poking his head out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water. “The fan is so fucking dusty. I doubt anyone has cleaned it in ten years.” She commented, staring at the fluff that was poking over the edge of the fan, threatening to float down, directly into her face.

“I’m on it, boss.” He said with a grin. She didn’t see it, but she heard it in his voice. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m getting a headache.” Pheli complained. “Can we get something to eat? Take a little break?”

“Oh that sounds awesome.” Sam agreed.

The couple poked their heads over the side of the couch, and Emerson slowly opened her eyes to catch them staring at her. “What do you say, Em?”

“We have so much to do, Phel.” Emerson sighed. I’m the bad guy, again. “I’m sure you need a break, too.” She said quietly. “Come on. Look at you, you’re wiped. We have all Summer to clean the house... it doesn’t have... it doesn’t have to be done before we go to the hospital in the morning.” Emerson watched her sisters fingers go into her mouth, as she bit at her cuticles. It was an anxious habit that their mother had tried to break her of, but she never quite could. Emerson didn’t bother mentioning it in that moment, though, it wasn’t important. Not really.

“But I did forget that you’re boring. You’d never go to a party. Can’t have any fun.” Dean’s voice entered her head at that moment. Maybe she couldn’t have any fun, but that didn’t mean Pheli didn’t deserve some. She was about to lose her mother, after all. Emerson pressed her lips together, making a decision that she was sure she would regret. “Fine. Let’s have fun tonight.” She swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Dean mentioned a party to me earlier.” “You talked to Dean?” Phel asked, raising her eyebrows. “Do you want to go, or not?”

“Yes!” Ophelia said quickly, eyeing Sam. He shrugged in response. “Call him, tell him we’re in.” She looked excited, her face lighting up. It was enough to make Emerson stand up, and walk right over to the Winchester house and knock.

“I got it!” She heard Dean shout from behind the front door. The lock clicked and the door swung open. His green eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, Em, hey.” He scratched the back of his head, exposing a bulge of muscle under the skin on his bicep. She shifted uncomfortably, tugging on a hair that was coming out of her bun. “I talked to Pheli, and she is interested in the party... so do you have the details?”

“You want to go to a party?” Dean asked, flustered. Emerson raised an eyebrow, confused by his reaction to her. Maybe it was all the time that had passed, or maybe it was the fact that he knew that her mother would be dead in less than 24 hours, that was making him squirm. “Not me, but Pheli, and well, where she goes I go.” “Right, I’m just surprised.” “I can see that.” Emerson smirked. “You going to give me the details, or not?” “Actually... not.” Dean said, his eyebrow quirked upward. “And why the fuck not?”

“Relax, Maklen.” He laughed lightly. “I just don’t think that party is a good idea, but I do have something else in mind. I’ll pick you up in an hour? Tell Sammy to come over here. I want to talk to him.” He shut the door before she could argue. Her lips were hung open, her jaw slack. She let out a huff of air and turned on her heels, marching back to her own front door. He is so fucking annoying. She shook her head, not believing she agreed to spend her last night before the worst day of her life with him, of all people. You’re spending the night with Pheli. Not him. She reminded herself.

“So, what’s the four-one-one?” Pheli asked, anxiously, the moment Emerson walked in the front door.

“Well, we aren’t going to a party.” She began, and watched her sisters face melt in front of her.

“Oh.”

“Hey don’t give me that. We aren’t going to a party because Dean Winchester has something else in mind for tonight.” Emerson pursed her lips. “So if you’re wanting to risk that, then he is picking us up in an hour.”

Ophelia’s face lit up again. “Sweet! I’ll get changed.” “Oh, and Sam, he wants to see you.” Emerson added before pointing to the front door. “So, I guess we will see you in an hour?”

“Guess so.” Sam offered, with a shrug, before kissing Pheli’s forehead and walking out the front door. The girls went up the stairs to their old, shared bedroom. It was all flowers and sheer curtains. Lanterns were strung over their beds. Clearly Ophelia was the interior designer, and Emerson was just living in it. “So...” Pheli started, as she lowered herself in front of her vanity. “When did you see Dean?”

“In the yard.” Emerson said, dumbly, sitting on the edge of her bed. She had no intention of changing out of her jeans and t-shirt to hangout in some mysterious location with the boys next door.

“I was with you in the yard, he didn’t mention a party. So try again?” Her sister asked her, eyeing her in the mirror as she let down her own blonde hair.

“He came by after that. When you were opening all the windows.” Emerson said, nonchalantly. “Oh, sure. That’s not worth mentioning.” Ophelia rolled her eyes, before running a brush through her hair. “Then what happened?” “He came inside and was an ass, like usual. He invited us out, and I told him we weren’t exactly here to party.”

Pheli sat her brush down and turned on her stool. “Ah, Em. You told him about Mom.”

Emerson pinched the bridge of her nose and shrugged. “Guess I did.”

“I know you guys don’t get along, but do you really think he’s that big of a monster that he would just gloss over that fact once you told him?”

“Kind of.” She admitted with a sigh. “I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to knock him down a peg. He is so... infuriating. You know? Cocky.”

“Cocky.” Ophelia echoed. “That’s what I said.” Emerson said, her cheeks heating up. “I know.” She grinned back at her sister. “Just making sure you heard it, too.” She shrugged. Dean Winchester had always been a lot to handle. Between his car and women, the only reason she could deal with him at all, was the way he was with his brother. He never let anyone bully Sam growing up, and in turn, never let anyone mess with the girls, either.

“You know, you two are freakishly similar, right?” Pheli added, as she touched up her makeup. “Excuse me?” “Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t see it? Even after all this time, you’re both the same.” She rolled her eyes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Emerson asked, standing up. She crossed her arms. “Okay, I guess we have to do this now.” Pheli said, finishing her lipstick. She glanced at herself one more time before turning to her sister. “Ever since we were kids you’ve both liked each other. Don’t bother arguing, I’m your sister. I have twinsense. I can tell who you like, even if you’re too stubborn to see it. When he came home for Christmas from Afghanistan he was here to see you. Now you just have to decide how you feel, because watching this dance is honestly exhausting.” She stood up and walked to her sister. “Now lets get you changed, because I’m not letting you go to this thing wearing jeans and a t-shirt.” Emerson rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother arguing. She never bothered with Ophelia. She could talk her face blue, just to get the person she was arguing with to give in. Emerson didn’t see the point in trying to prove someone wrong who refused to listen to reason.

Ophelia dressed Emerson in a black dress, and let her hair down. She slid into her ankle boots, and hid behind her red plaid flannel, before meeting the Winchester brothers on the front porch. Dean leaned against his Impala with his arms crossed. He wore a flannel that was pretty similar to Ems, over his AC/DC shirt, jeans, and boots. Sam had a blue button up, and looked like he finally brushed his hair. Ophelia leapt into his arms and he spun her around, kissing her. Emerson walked to Dean. “So, where are we headed?” “It’s a surprise, Em. Don’t you know how to relax?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

“No.” She said, before opening the back door and sliding into the back seat. She watched the scenery fly past them as they sped down the road. The world blurred like sidewalk chalk in the rain.

“Here we are.” Dean said, pulling up to the pier. Emerson raised her eyebrow. “Please tell me we aren’t going fishing.”

“No.” Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Better.” He pulled out the keys and slid out of the car. The girls eyed each other and Pheli shrugged, taking Sams hand.

The brothers lead the girls to the end of the dock where a large sail boat was tied. Dean gave a goofy grin, before hopping up on the deck. “All aboard!”

“Do you say that to all your dates?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“Whose is this?” Emerson asked, watching Sam hoist Pheli up onto the boat. “Dean Winchester, whose boat is this?”

“One of my officers, relax. He’s still overseas, and I clean it for him.” He shrugged. “He’s fine if I take it out.” “You never cared about sailing before.” Emerson said, pursing her lips.

Dean rolled his eyes and offered her his hand. “Like you said, we don’t talk anymore, so you don’t really know what I’m into. Just trust me.” There was something about the softness to his green eyes that made her groan and rest her hand in his. He pulled her up, whipping her into his arms. ”Hey there, Sweetheart.” He murmured, his face close to hers.

“Let me go.” She said shortly, and he released her from his grip.

“Alright, folks. So we have refreshments down below, I hope you are all ready for the most epic goodbye party I could come up with in an afternoon.” He grinned widely and started to untie the boat from the dock. Emerson met her sister at the front of the boat, while Sam helped Dean get the boat out of the harbor. “Do they know what they’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” Pheli admitted. “But it sure is beautiful, isn’t it?” “It is.” Emerson admitted, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The girls watched the boat leave the harbor and Emerson suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. She turned her face away from Pheli. She promised herself a long time ago that she wouldn’t cry around her sister. There was only one emotional Maklen sister, and it wouldn’t be her. “Phel, come here! I got you a drink.”

“Duty calls.” Her sister said with a grin before walking back to her boyfriend.

Emerson gripped the railing and felt the tears sting her eyes. She blinked a few times, urging them to leave her, like the boat left the dock. “Hey.” His voice invaded her space, causing her to jump. “Shit, Winchester.” She exhaled, eyeing Dean. “Got you something.” He said, offering her a beer.

“May need something stronger.” She admitted as she took the beer from him. She took a swig and wiped a tear from her cheek. If he noticed it, he didn’t mention it, and she was grateful for that. “Got that too.” He grunted, pulling a flask from his pocket.

“Thank god. Your wild ways are finally worth something.” She said, taking the flask from him. She unscrewed the top and took a swig, letting the warm whiskey roll down her throat.

“Damn.” Dean laughed, as she took another swig. “Maybe I was wrong about you after all.”

She eyed him. Could she be wrong about him too? “Maybe you were.” She handed him back the flask, and he met her eyes as he took a swig himself, replacing the cap.

“Don’t put it away so fast.” She said softly, her voice almost lost in the wind from the sail.

“Keep pace, Sweetheart.” “I’m not your Sweetheart.”

“I know.” He said, his eyes traveling from her eyes to her lips. “Trust me, I know.” “Good.” She said, peeling her eyes away from his, and back out to the ocean. “It’s endless, isn’t it?” “Sure seems that way, sometimes.” “I like it.” She admitted. “I hate endings.”

“I know what you mean.” He said, leaning over the railing. “But sometimes an end can be a new beginning. One door closes another opens, and all that.” “Where’s the other door for this?” Emerson asked him. “Where’s the way out?” She turned to him, catching him staring at her. Her blonde hair blew in the sea breeze and he reached forward pushing a piece behind her ear.

“This time it may be a window. Sometimes you gotta get creative.”

“You think you’re so fucking cute, don’t you?”

“Do you think I’m cute?” He wiggled his eyebrows, and suddenly she was shot back to reality.

“No.” She took a swig of her beer and focused on the horizon again. “Sky's beautiful.”

“Sometimes, when things are real shitty, I look up at the sky.” He said with a shrug. “Sort of makes everything else seem small. All my problems, what the fuck are they compared to the sky?”

“They feel pretty big from down here.” She admitted. He cracked a sad smile. “I get what you mean.”

“Why are you back, anyway?” Emerson asked, eyeing him. “Where’s the famous Lisa that I’ve heard so much about?” Dean’s jaw tightened at the mention of her name and he turned to Emerson. “We aren’t exactly friends, Em. Maybe we should just keep the talk to the sky, and the sea. Not get too serious.”

“You invited me here to... what? Get fucked up before I have to kill my mom in the morning? Not exactly a time to be telling me what I’m allowed to talk about.”

He ran his fingers over his face, almost as if he was trying to wipe away the growing frown on his lips.

“You know your face is going to get stuck that way if you keep that up.” They’d tell him when they were kids. “Yeah, fuck you, too.” He’d cleverly retort. “I heard keeping shit bottled up makes you have premature wrinkles,” she said, running her fingers over her own forehead where his had deep thoughtful, frown lines.

“There’s nothin premature about me, baby.” He said, looking at her through perfectly curled eyelashes.

“God.” She groaned, turning away from him. “I don’t know why I even bother.” She pulled her flannel together, suddenly feeling over exposed. “You’re exactly the same as you’ve always been. You’ve never said a single thing that’s real in your entire life! Have you?”

“And you do?” He laughed, turning toward her. “We all have defense mechanisms. Mine is humor. Yours is bitchiness.”

“I’m sorry, bitchiness?”

“Did I stutter?” He asked, inching so close to her that their chests brushed gently.

“I do not hide behind bitchiness.”

“You’re doing it right now.” Dean laughed, gesturing to her. “You’re too busy worrying about how Phel’s doin that you don’t even let yourself be sad about your mom. That’s thirty levels of fucked up.”

“And what about you? Sargent Dean Winchester with the US Army, back at home at twenty-seven living with Mommy and Daddy? What the fuck is that about? Where’s your fiancée, Dean?”

“That’s none of your goddamn business.” He stared down into her golden eyes, challenging her. “You offered up the information about your mom, I didn’t pry. So stop weaseling into my business.”

“Whose hiding behind bitchiness now?” He made her crazy. She wanted to punch him, like she did when she was eight and he pissed her off. She broke his nose. It was a life highlight for her. She wanted to hit him, but there was something else. He smelled like pine soap, and the whiskey he was drinking. His face was damp from the sea spray, and the sun had finally dipped below the ocean. She could see him clearly in the silver light of the moon. Every fleck of gold in his green eyes. Every hair that pushed through his skin on his cheeks and chin. Every freckle on his nose that could make constellations like the endless night sky. He made her crazy. Dean Winchester was made of something entirely different from anyone she’d ever met. He was made of oil, car parts, sass, and a honey so sweet it made her teeth ache. His tongue darted out of his mouth and ran over his bottom lip, so quickly, that if she hadn’t been staring at his mouth she may have missed it, but she saw it and it made her stomach flip. “Guys?” Sam said, coming up behind them. “Not to interrupt or anything but...” The two turned to look at Sam, breathing heavily. He held Pheli’s hand in one hand, and pointed out past them with the other. Ophelias hand was covering her mouth, and even in the silver glow of the moon Emerson could tell that her sister was pale. Sam’s eyes were wide, as he stared past them. Their chests were still touching as they followed his pointed finger out toward the shore, where in the distance an orange glow lit up the sky. “What the...”

The world shook. The sea collapsed over itself, sending the four young adults slamming against the railing, and barely keeping the sail boat upright. Seawater sloshed aboard, and into their shoes, across their shins. Emerson tumbled over the side of the boat in a single, fluid motion, the rail slamming into her stomach. She groaned in pain, as Dean grabbed ahold of her hand at the last possible moment. His grip was tight, even in the spray from the ocean. She hung freely over the edge, gripping at his hand, trying to pull herself back on board, as the wave rocked the boat back upright. Dean hoisted her small frame up easily, back over the rail. He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, his feet planted on the deck, as if the simple force of his stance could keep them from capsizing. They turned back to the orange light, white clouds seeming to rush up from the ground.

“Is that...?” Pheli asked, her voice trembling.

“It’s a mushroom cloud.” Dean confirmed. His eyes were focused off in the distance at the explosion. The clouds of dust, or smoke, curled up like a hand toward the sky. It was gripping for God.

“Is it a bomb?” Pheli gripped Sams chest, and he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“Dean, maybe we should go under?” He asked, quietly.

Deans hands still gripped Emersons wrist. Her eyes traveled from the explosion to Deans solid expression. She could see him working out a plan. “Yeah.” He said suddenly. “Let’s go under. We can try the radio, and see if anyone’s talkin. We need to get some kind of cover, because if its a terrorist attack they may strike again.” “Terrorist?” Pheli started to cry. “Oh my god.”

“Hey,” Emerson said, turning her attention to her sister. “It’s okay. We are okay. Look at me, we are okay. Dean knows what to do.” Pheli pulled her fingers up to her mouth and bit down on some loose skin around her thumb, but she nodded at her sister. She believed her. What other choice did she have?

“You three go down, I’ll get the sails back up and get us a little further out to sea.”

“Do you need help?” Emerson asked, eyeing him.

“Not safe.” He grunted. “Go down. Now.” She nodded. “Okay, but hurry. If it’s not safe for us, it isn’t safe for you either.” She took her sisters hand and let Sam lead them down below. She made her way to the radio next to the bed. Sam lowered his girlfriend to a seated position, she looked like she was losing it. Other than the tears rolling down her cheeks she seemed pretty catatonic, staring blankly forward, past Sam, at nothing.

Emerson clicked on the radio and flipped through the stations. Click. Click. Click. Buzz. “Nothing. Fuck.” She said to herself.

She met Sams eyes and shook her head. All of the stations were dead. The air on the other end was empty air. It was like the smoke reached up, and ripped God straight from the sky, leaving it empty, void of communication. Pheli gripped the cross around her neck and mumbled some kind of prayer. Emerson moved her eyes from Sams to her sister. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that she didn’t think anyone was listening, not anymore.

—————

Chapter Two

Get caught up!

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