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akinnie75 · 5 years ago

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The Tale of a No Body

Pair: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst, Slow Burn, Fantasy, Mildly Tragic, Pinocchio!AU

Word Count: 25.3k

Summary: Would you still fall in love with Taehyung, even if he isn’t the real one?

Note: Taehyung is the FAKE one, and V is the REAL one.

There never was a normal way to describe what kind of person your father was, so it was always the most difficult question to answer whenever people ask. Even till this day, it’s complicated pinpointing exactly who he was, and the reason why you feel conscious is because you know what kind of face they’ll make when you tell them that he’s a self-acclaimed black magician who is obsessed with V from BTS.

And when you do respond that he’s simply a black magician—because mentioning his unhealthy fascination over V would be too strange to bring up in any conversation—either they’ll have no idea who he is, or they’ll call him ‘the guy who made the hoax video of reviving a dead mouse.’ He wanted to prove to everyone that black magic exists and became blinded by the possibility of fame, so he killed a mouse for the sake of returning it back to life and posting a video of it onto the internet.

What he was not expecting was the excessive amount of negative reactions. Though the experiment was a success, no one believed him. Your father was the face of mockery for weeks, scientists rejecting his beliefs without giving him a proper chance to express his side of the argument, and people tore down his video, making their analysis videos/articles explaining why your father is a hoax. Others focused on the animal rights aspect, putting him down for animal cruelty by killing the mouse for the sake of his own personal gains. There was even a petition for your father to be put to jail, but fortunately for him, there were no police actually involved with the situation.

With all of this unsupportive feedback, your father became more reclusive by hiding himself in his basement. You two have hardly ever say a word to each other for years, and it’s partly because you became too conscious being around him, especially after what the general public has made of him. You two barely speak that you can’t remember the exact day when he first asked you about V.

What you do remember is coming home one day to find him waiting for you by the front door. There were no greetings, just a ‘I hear a lot about V from this Korean music group, BTS. Do you know anything about him?’ You didn’t think too much about the question back then. Almost everyone knew who BTS is, so it’s not a surprise that your father would eventually find out about them. However, you’re not as much as a hardcore fan compared to the other girls in your school, you’ve just heard about them from your classmates.

Since then, he would ask you to research more about V by befriending fans and searching on the internet. He began printing dozens upon dozens of photos of V, pasting them to the wall and admiring him as if he is a work of art. Whenever he brought up V, it was always about how gorgeous he is. His physical appearance was perfect in your father’s standards, ogling V more than he ever did with your mother before she left him.

Had you known what your father had in store, you would’ve done anything to stop him. However, you wanted nothing to do with your father, so you never bothered talking to him unless it was about V. It wasn’t until in high school when there was something off about him. He’s always been a strange person, but that day specifically was peculiar. Despite that, it took you days to realize that there was a horrid stench protruding from the other side of the basement door, so out of curiosity, you finally decide to see what was happening downstairs. Opening the door only release the unfathomable smell that you’ve never smelled before.

Pinching your nose and taking one slow step down at a time, you were face-to-face with your father’s lifeless body decaying on the cold, cement floor. His eyes are still open, but they’ve sunk deeper into his eye sockets, and his lips as pale as his white skin, absent of blood.

The sight of your father’s body is enough to make you forget that he smelled of rotting flesh, having lost all strength in your knees and collapsing due to shock. But that wasn’t the only horrifying discovery in the basement—two wide eyes stare at you behind the shadows of the other wall. The eyes reflect a clean shine that you knew that they were no ordinary human eyes.

A deep voice croaks out from the shadows, getting louder the longer those artificial-like eyes stare at you. You cover your ears, your entire body trembling with the thought that there hides a monster. The stairs are next to you, but you’re too frozen in fear to move your feet. The voice only groans louder, the sound of the unknown monster moving closer to you.

A loud clatter rumbles, making you flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. You peek one eye open to see that the monster had been lying on a metal table and fell off in an attempt to reach out to you. Rather than a monster...it was something else. The hand that tries to reach out to you has plastic ball-joints that helps curl its fingers. It’s a lifesize body is made of vinyl, with the joints in the elbows and knees made of plastic balls to make the rotation of the limbs smoother.

Watching it stare at you with its artificial eyes, you can see its bottom lips moving up and down ever so slightly as if calling out to you. And that was the moment when you realized that your father’s years of obsession over V was for the sole purpose of replicating him into doll form. The resemblance was spot on with the exception of his body being to closer being that of a ball-joint doll.

That day, you learned that conducting black magic has its consequences: enabling black magic is the manipulation of the spiritual forces around you. Whoever bends what is originally natural in exchange for your own personal desires will receive negative karma. And that discovery you found is the result of your father’s selfish desires to prove that he truly is a black magician in exchange for bringing a doll to life—a doll who looks just like V.

------

Your shift has finally ended, so you stand up and grab your bag. It’s already late into the evening, and there aren’t that many people left in the office. Unlike the rest of the desks that are filled with Christmas-themed decorations, there isn’t much in your cubicle other than your computer and office supplies, so you never worry about forgetting anything. You walk out to the elevator to go down to the main lobby and leave.

Just after you press the down button, you hear a male voice calling your name. You turn around and see three of your coworkers, two females and one male. You’ve been working with them for a couple of years now, but you still have trouble remembering their names.

“(Y/N), were you just heading out?” The male asks.

You nod, staring down at the ground. “Y-yea, I am.”

“We were wondering if you’d like to eat dinner with us. We’re going to that Mongolian grill place just off the freeway.” One of the female asks.

“I’m okay. I have to head back home.”

“Aw, your boyfriend waiting for you?” The male asks teasingly.

“No.”

The sign above the elevator lights up and dings as it opens.

“Good work today. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You enter the elevator with your head down as you don’t want to see their faces. Your negativity plays with you when you see their faces. You were never really good at reading expressions in the first place ever since you were a child and you were always conscious that everything you say will upset the other person. Because of that, you could never find yourself to get along with your coworkers. Confrontation was something you were never really good at.

But that isn’t the only reason. You feel anxious whenever you’re out of the house for too long, that foreboding feeling crawling up your skin as your paranoia mixes with your imagination. Restlessness overwhelms you if you don’t head straight back home after work. So no matter how much you isolate yourself, it doesn’t matter because there’s something more important than making friends.

------

You enter your home through the front door, letting a peek of the winter breeze inside before shutting it off from completely blanketing your home. You take off your shoes and coat, sighing as you felt like you were about to freeze outside. Winter is no saint, and if you had stayed longer, then you wouldn’t be able to feel your fingertips anymore. You breathe hot air into your hands and rub them together to get the blood circulating again.

“Taehyung.” You say in a light voice.

In the living room, Taehyung turns his head around when he hears your voice. He sets down his journal and pencil that he was just using then approaches you. The first thing he does is wrap his plastic-like arms around you, just as he always does as a greeting whenever you finish work. You return the hug, then he pulls himself back.

“Welcome home. How was work?”

“Fine. What were you up to just now?”

“Journal entry.”

You set your bag down and take off your shoes before walking to the living room. You sit on your knees in front of the coffee table as you flip through Taehyung’s journal. The latest entry is just like any other—he was looking through the window and watching people and animals passing through the neighborhood. He wrote all the people that he saw, including the old woman who walks her five dogs every morning and that one kid who’s always ditching class to be by himself.

In the last paragraph, Taehyung says that he came across a stray cat in the backyard. He said that he tried playing with it, thinking that it’d be like those playful cat videos. However, the cat ended up being frightened by him and scratched him.

“A cat scratched you? Where?”

Taehyung rolls up his sleeve and reveals numerous scars all over his forearm. He points to the newest scratch mark, three thin lines from his elbow down to this wrist. You take him by the hand, stroking your index and middle finger down the mark as you stare at his past scars.

“I need to replace your arm soon. It’s starting to wear out.”

Taehyung nods, wrapping his scarred hand over his other arm. Unlike the first arm, this one is completely wooden, not the same one that your father previously gave him. You look up at his crystal eyes, noticing some smudges and dusk in it. You grab cotton cloth from nearby and begin wiping the, and he doesn’t blink at all when you clean them.

“How can you see with your eyes that dirty? You’re lucky there are artificial limbs nowadays to replace, but what am I going to do when you lose an eye?” You scold him with a soft voice. “How come you never clean your own eyes?”

Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change—just the same stoic expression he’s always had since the day you found him. The only things that ever move are his eyes when he’s observing something or his mouth moving up and down when he speaks.

“Because I like it when you do it.”

You heave a sigh and smile at his innocence. “I know, but you have to learn how to take care of yourself sometimes too. There are going to be times when I’m not there for you.”

He doesn’t say anything, only staring blankly at the carpet. Because his face can’t make expressions, you can never read what he’s thinking. But you do know enough about Taehyung to somewhat have an idea of what he might be thinking about.

To make the mood lighter, you decide to change the subject. “Did you let the cat inside?”

He nods. “I tried, but it left when it saw me.”

“That’s too bad.”

It’s been eight years since your father created Taehyung. Shortly after finding him, you held a small funeral. A few number of people on the internet made fun of his death—saying that he probably killed himself because he thought he could revive himself while others say that he deserves it for being an insane person.

However, that was the least of your worries because you had Taehyung to worry about. In the beginning, you were terrified of him because you didn’t know what he was capable of, whether or not your father created him to become a destructor or a peacemaker. You quickly learn that he’s tame as he didn’t even know how to control his limbs or how to speak any language. You had to teach everything to him from scratch, and luckily he was a fast learner. He caught on to things rather quickly, and he was interested in learning.

For most of his existence, Taehyung has been holed up into your house. You don’t know how the public would react if they saw a life-size doll that looks just like V wandering, so you warned him to never go outside. You were his source of outside information, but when you were out of the house, the television and books would be his teachers. Taehyung was always hungry to learn, but he tried his hardest to keep it within the barriers of your rules. You feel bad for restricting him of his own freedom, but you think that it’s for the better—for Taehyung and for the world. At least, for now.

------

After washing up for the night, you head to your bedroom to find Taehyung sitting by the edge of your bed reading a book. You sit next to him, looking over his shoulder to find him reading one of his favorite books, Pinocchio.

“Again?”

He nods his head slightly. “Yea, I really like the story.”

You weren’t familiar with the story of Pinocchio prior to Taehyung. When he was still just learning to speak, you went to the bookstore and bought classic fairytale books for him to practice reading. Though he’s read all of the fairytales at this point, it’s always been the tale of the boy puppet that Taehyung can’t help but bring himself to reread.

You don’t need to ask why Taehyung is so drawn to the story; it’s about a puppet who will become a real boy if he proves himself to be a kind and unselfish person. Though Taehyung has never directly stated that he wants to become a human, you can somewhat tell based on how much he reads the book. He’s always interested in learning about humans and their culture, so it’s no wonder that he wants to join them too.

“Hey, Taehyung,” you start off. “I was able to get a few days off of work a few days after Christmas. Maybe we can do something.”

He rotates his head to you, staring his lifeless eyes into yours. “Really?”

“Yup, it’s to make up for not being able to spend that much time with you last Christmas. You must’ve been lonely while I was working.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t lonely because I know you work hard for both of us...and that no matter how long you’re gone, you’ll always come back.”

Taehyung leans over and rests his head on your shoulder, his hair made of synthetic fiber tickling your cheek. His glossy eyes stare at his lap, quietly contemplating something to himself. Taehyung has almost never retaliated against you before, listening to everything you tell him to do. It almost feels as though he puts 100% of his trust on you, but you don’t particularly mind it.

“I know you say that you don’t mind, but I still want to spend Christmas with you. I wanted to see you open your present last year, but couldn’t. Now that I took a few days off, I get to see your reaction.”

“But...I can’t change facial expressions. You’ll just be disappointed.” He raises his head up from your shoulder, waiting for you to respond.

“Well, if you can’t convey it through your face, then you can always tell me.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best.”

You yawn, seeing as it’s almost your curfew. You stretch your arms outward, allowing your exhaustion to take ahold of your body.

“Taehyung, tell me a story.”

“Which one do you want to hear?”

You contemplate for a couple of seconds, tapping your index finger on your cheek. “How about Pinocchio?”

“But I always tell you that one. Don’t you get tired of it?”

“I’ll get tired of it when you do.” You grin.

“...Okay.”

You settle into bed, pulling the blanket over you as Taehyung closes the book. He’s read Pinocchio countless of times that he knows it like the back of his hand. He waits for you to get comfortable before he begins.

“Once upon a time, there was a woodworker who’s always wanted a son, so he made a marionette that resembled a young boy. He named that puppet Pinocchio. That night, a young fairy granted his wish and brought the marionette to life. However, Pinocchio did not turn completely human, as the fairy said that he would have to prove himself to be truthful and unselfish in order to become a real boy. But Pinocchio easily fell for tricks, and whenever he got in trouble, he would lie. Every time he lied, his nose would grow longer.”

Taehyung can see that you’re already beginning to fall asleep. Still, he continues the story.

“No matter how hard Pinocchio wanted to become a real boy...he would easily fall into temptations. He was a young boy who wanted to know the world as it was, and the world that persuaded him was not a forgiving one.”

As you fall deeper into your slumber, Taehyung brushes your hair from your forehead, gazing at your tranquil expression.

“But with the help of his guardian, the woodworker was able to guide him the right away by never shaming him and still held his hand until he was on the right path, and in return, Pinocchio cared for his father figure. So much so that he was even willing to sacrifice himself for him.”

Taehyung caresses your cheek with his artificial hand. He feels the pressure when he touches your cheek, but he doesn’t know how your skin feels like. With his fake hands, he can’t feel temperature, materials, or pain. No matter how many times he tries touching your skin, it all feels like nothing.

Seeing as you’ve fallen asleep rather quickly, Taehyung assumes that it was another tiring day at work. You talk a lot about working, but he doesn’t know exactly what ‘work’ is. Whatever ‘work’ means, he doesn’t like it because you always return home looking exhausted. If he could, he would do anything to make sure that you’d never have to work again.

Once you’re in a deep sleep, Taehyung gets off of the bed and walks to the windowsill. He slides his fingers down the glass as he stares at the full moon, spending yet another eight hours without you.

------

You’re wandering alone in the middle of an abyss. You see nothing but black with the exception of your reflection on the floor. With nothing else to do, you proceed to walk forward, thinking that walking will help you find your way out of the dark void. Though your legs move, the setting that surrounds you doesn’t, making it feel as though you’re not moving an inch.

After walking for quite a while, you finally notice something in the distance. You can’t make sense of it yet, but once you moved closer, you realized that it’s a figure. Though you tell yourself to run towards it, you only continue to walk in a slow pace., but it didn’t feel like it took you a long time to get to the figure.

Upon closer inspection, you realize that it’s Taehyung, curled up into a fetal position and burying his face in his knees. Taehyung lets out haunting cries that echo throughout the empty space. You reach out for him, but before you do, Taehyung suddenly stops crying.

“...(Y/N)...why do you lock me up in your home?”

You open your mouth, but no matter how hard you try, your voice doesn’t come out. You touch your throat, using all your might to scream. With his face still hidden, he rolls up his sleeves to reveal his wooden arm and his scarred arm.

“Is it because you think I’ll get hurt like last time?”

Now your body has become stiff to the point where you can’t move. You try to lift up your hand, but even you can’t do that.

“Or...are you afraid that everyone will see me as a monster?”

You try to shake your head, but your head doesn’t move.

“You think that everyone will see me as a monster, just like how you saw me as one, right? Like that night when you found me with your father’s dead, cold body.”

You can feel a surge of tears welling up in your eyes, your heart pounding with fear as you so desperately want to deny those accusations. However, no matter how much you want to move, you can’t.

Taehyung gets up with his head still facing down. He drags his feet to you until he’s inches away from you.

“But I think what you’re afraid of the most is being called a freak…”

“Just.”

“Like.”

“Your.”

“Father.”

Taehyung lifts his head up to reveal his empty eye sockets. They’re just as dark as the void around you, but his sockets felt emptier. He croaks as you stare deeply into the absences of his eyes, letting the black world soil you with doubt, paranoia, and terror.

------

Your eyelids shoot open, waking up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat. Your room is dark with the exception of two glaring eyes staring at you from the side of the bed. It’s Taehyung, sitting on the carpet as he observes you while you slept. Waking up to someone staring at them would’ve definitely scared anyone, but you know that Taehyung doesn’t have any malicious intentions; he’s just curious about how you sleep.

“Did I wake you up?” He asks.

You sit up, turning on the lamp next to your nightstand. Taehyung doesn’t flinch at all when you turn on the light.

“No,” you rub your eyes and wipe your forehead with your forearm. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“I didn’t want to take up the space on your bed.”

You sigh as you smile, scooting to the opposite end of your bed to give Taehyung space to sit. You pat the empty spot to grant Taehyung the permission to take it. Taehyung stares at it blankly before accepting your offer. He sits with his back straight and legs criss-crossed.

“Your face is wet again.”

You wipe the sweat from your chin. “Oh, I just had another nightmare.”

“A nightmare? But you said that those are scary dreams. Why do you keep having them if they’re scary?”

“Dreaming...is not easy. Sometimes you dream about things you think a lot about or you have in the back of your mind. Some of these thoughts are hard to get rid of so they haunt you in your dreams where it’s most vulnerable.”

“That...does sound scary. I don’t understand why humans have dreams.”

Because Taehyung is literally a soul stuck in a lifesize body of a doll, he doesn’t need to sleep, eat, or rest. He can barely close his eyes, so of course it wouldn’t make sense why he doesn’t know what it’s like to dream.

“To be honest, me too…” You mumble.

“But...if I did dream, I’d like to only dream about you.”

Hearing Taehyung saying it with such an innocent tone makes you forget about your nightmare. You can’t understand why you had that dream in the first place. Of course you were scared of him in the beginning because you had no idea what your father created, but now you know Taehyung won’t even hurt a fly.

“You wouldn’t want to. You see me every day already, so definitely seeing me every night too is going only make you tired of me that you’d want to leave.” You chuckle.

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he takes his hand and brushes a lock of your hair in between his fingers. One strand gets tangled with the joint of his index finger, but he was able to smoothly pull it off.

“I’d only leave when you don’t want me anymore.”

He said it like he meant it, which broke your heart. You pull him in for a hug, making sure that there will never be a day where you’ll abandon him.

“I’d never leave you. The day I saw you in that basement...I knew that I was never supposed to leave your side.”

Taehyung doesn’t know how to process your words. In a way, it sounded like you were destined to be with him for the rest of your life, but Taehyung doesn’t particularly dislike that idea. He hugs you in return, wishing he could smile.

------

It’s another morning like any other. You wake up, prep yourself in the bathroom, and get dressed for work today. While preparing a small breakfast for yourself, Taehyung is in the living room watching TV. Though Taehyung is glued to the screen, you’re too focused on waiting for your waffles to pop out of the toaster. That’s when you hear something that captures your attention.

“International K-Pop group, BTS, has just landed safely and are currently exiting the airport today at 9 A.M., December 23rd, 20XX. Hundreds of fans gather around the airport, holding their hands and almost what looks to be a clear path for the boys, with a few of them holding banners with purple hearts. Even after five years after their last world tour, their fans are still dedicated, which is remarkable.”

You turn your direction to the television, watching the seven Korean musicians, security, and their managers pace their way out of the airport. Rather than be screaming fans, they were surprisingly polite and all shouted ‘welcome BTS.’ The members are all wearing bucket hats, sunglasses, and face masks. They don’t acknowledge the fans, at most simple waves to the crowd. But it’s understandable since they must be jet lagged.

Now drawn to the screen, you lean on the side of the couch that Taehyung is sitting on and watch as the camera pans to each individual member. Due to your father’s obsession with V, you had to become his spy and learn about the band. He knew that it was bizarre for a forty-something-year-old to be oddly attracted to a man who’s twenty years younger than him, so he had you gather all the information because it was more acceptable for someone your age to be interested in him. Because of that, you’re practically familiar with all of the members, even after eight years of ending your endeavors into their world.

Out of all the members, V is the one who stands out the most. While they still look just as young as they were during their prime years, V definitely is the one who looks stunning with his messy hair and tucked in collar shirt with slacks. Comparing V with Taehyung, your father was spot on with V’s features eight years ago. You look at Taehyung for any change of mood when the camera cut to V, but he was staring at the screen like it was any other mediocre thing. But then, it isn’t like Taehyung can change his facial expressions.

“The news reporter said that they’ll be staying in the city next to us.”

“Oh really?”

You look at Taehyung to see if he looks the slightest bit interested in wanting to see them in person, but you can’t tell by his stoic expression. Judging by how much he’s staring at V, he must have some interest in meeting him.

“They’re going to be here during Christmas before performing at the stadium.”

“Oh...that’s really sad. They won’t get to spend time with their family. Speaking of Christmas, today is my last day, so I’ll be able to spend Christmas Eve with you too. We should stay up until midnight!”

Judging by Taehyung’s lack of words, he might be excited for it as well. Usually when he speaks, it’s about how he doesn’t want to bother you with anything, so perhaps he’s just as thrilled for it like you. You look forward to the end of your shift and return home to Taehyung.

------

You wanted to buy a real tree for Christmas, but your budget didn’t allow you to, so you had to settle with the fake tree from last year, not that you mind it particularly. Taehyung helps you decorate the tree with ornaments that you kept in the back of the closet just for this time of year.

You aren’t much of the type to cover your entire house with holiday decorations, but you do enjoy Christmas music. You have a playlist of winter songs on your phone, letting the musical notes dance around the living room. The Christmas tree is shorter than you, so it didn’t take long to hang the ornaments. You and Taehyung sit on the floor, mesmerized by the artificial plant.

“Looks the same as last year’s, huh?” You ask Taehyung.

“Yea...but I like it like this. We only get to see it for a week.”

You nod your head. You thought about how strange it is to make the effort of putting up a tree only for it to be taken down a few days later.

“I’m glad we put up the tree on Christmas Eve. It kept us busy at least.”

Taehyung nods his head. He’s staring blankly at the carpet again, meaning that he’s thinking about something.

“And then in a few more days, isn’t it Mr. V’s birthday?”

It was strange for him to suddenly bring up V. Was it because of the news report yesterday morning?

“Yea...it is. I’m surprised you remember.”

“...It’s not that hard to remember his birthday. He’s the model your father used to make me, and his birthday is after my favorite holiday.”

Your smile fades away, recalling that fateful day. “Right…”

Because Taehyung brought up your father out of the blue, the mood has become serious. Neither of you say a word, only the jolly music that plays in the background.

“I wonder what kind of person Mr. V is.”

You only knew of V whenever he was in front of the camera. You didn’t know who he truly was behind the lenses or when he wasn’t being constantly watched. The V that you knew was very kind toward everyone and had a creative mindset. He always thought differently from the rest of the members, and he had that aura whenever he was on stage that captivated everyone. Whenever he was off-stage, he was very bubbly and chatty. For a time, even you were attracted to his charisma.

One thing about V you notice is how he is very good at expressing his emotions. If he was sad, then he would rarely smile and not a word would come out of his mouth. When he was happy, he’d be the liveliest person in the room. On the other hand, Taehyung is very calm. He’s limited in making expressions because his face isn’t made of muscles. But you don’t want to compare them because they each are their own person, even if Taehyun is a doll.

The clock on the wall finally hits midnight. Thinking that this is a good opportunity to change the subject, you crawl to the coffee table and take out the present that you kept hidden under the table. It’s in the shape of a rectangle, and it’s a little bigger than your hand. It’s also wrapped in purple wrapping paper with a red bow on top. Taehyung watches you move back to him, extending the small present to him.

“Merry Christmas, Taehyung!!” You exclaim.

Taehyung takes the present from you. It looks so pretty that he doesn’t want to tear it, especially the glitter sprinkled on the bow. But since his present is under the paper, he tears it, but carefully enough so that it doesn’t create that big of a mess. It’s a white box, and when he takes off the top, it’s a pair of snow gloves.

“I hope you like them.”

“I’m thankful, but I can’t feel the cold with my body. So why…?”

“They’re not only for the cold,” you take Taehyung by the hand. “You must be tired of being cooped up here...so I thought that you should go out a little to get fresh air.”

“Outside?”

You nod. “At least to the backyard or front yard. I’m sure people are going to give you a weird look when they see your hands.”

Your father gave each joint in the fingers a ball to make it easier for Taehyung to grip onto things with his hands, but it made it obvious that he isn’t human. Each part of the finger has a small gap in between, which makes it easy to see the ball-joints.

“You can blend in with other people when you wear these gloves. That way, you can go out whenever you want.”

You thought long and hard when considering to let him go out and explore the world. You still don’t think he’s ready to face the outdoors, or at least it’s better that you help Taehyung take each step before he can walk on his own. There would be no reason for him to be alive when all you do is lock him up in your home.

You put the gloves on his right hand, then you open his palm to press your hand onto it. You flat your hand out and align your fingers with his, realizing just now how large his hand is. You smile while tilting your head to the side.

“See? Now we don’t look all that different, do we?”

Taehyung looks at your hand, then his. He never knew that wearing a glove could make his hands look so...normal. He folds his fingers in, intertwining it with yours.

“Thank you.” If he could, then he would smile to show how grateful he is for this wonderful gift.

You continue to grin to let him know that you understand. You look out the window to see that many of the lights in the neighborhood are turned off. It might be a rash decision, but you want to do this just once.

“Wanna build a snowman?”

“What?”

“Let’s do it. I’ll go get my coat on and build one.”

------

Unfortunately, your backyard is elevated in a way where there is no flat ground for you two to have a snowman to stand, so the front yard is your only option. Luckily, everyone is asleep around this time, but even if people are awake, it wouldn’t be that completely strange for two people to be building a snowman on Christmas. Besides, Taehyung will be covered up in winter clothes so anyone passing by will think he’s a human.

You head out first, and Taehyung stands right by the door frame, a bit nervous to step outside. He holds onto the frame, staring at the snow as he debates on whether or not he should go outside.

You extend your hand out to him. “It’s alright! You can do it.”

Taehyung takes your hand, and you hold onto him tightly. He extends one leg first, his foot pressing down on the white puffs. He flinches when his foot fell through the snow, not expecting snow to be this fragile. He takes his other foot out and it also falls into the same fate as the other foot after stomping on the flakes.

You walk backwards, both hands holding onto his as you guide him out of the front porch. At first, Taehyung dragged his feet in the snow, letting it pile up in front of him before he catches note of you lifting your feet out of the snow to move. You giggle witnessing his first experience in the snow, resembling that of a child and their first snow.

Once he gets used to standing on his own, you get down on your knees and take a handful of snow. With both hands, you mold it into the shape of a sphere. Taehyung watches, presumably with a look of awe as he watches what was at first a clump of snow turned into a perfect circle.

“Let’s start with a really small one first, then we’ll make a bigger one.”

Taehyung nods his head.

After an hour, you two were able to build two large snowmen, though it was you who did most of the work. Taehyung tried to make snowballs, but he was having difficulties controlling his hands while wearing gloves. He isn’t used to using his hands with something wrapped around it, so you told him to just gather snow for you to build the snowmen.

Once that’s done, you two stand back to appreciate the work that was put into it. Although the snowmen weren’t in a perfect sphere shape, you were proud of both yourself and Taehyung. You haven’t built a snowmen in many years, so it was fun to do it again.

You drop to the ground, and not knowing what else to do, Taehyung does the same. You exhale, letting the warm fog form around your mouth. Taehyung gazes at the fog, wondering how you’re able to do it when he can’t. He also notices how your face changed colors—your nose and cheeks turning as red as cherries.

“So?” You turn to Taehyung. “How’s it like being outside again?”

He looks down, using his index finger to draw three circles, attempting to draw the snowmen. “I feel the same. The only difference is that there are no walls.”

You thought he’d be more excited about it, especially after refusing to let him out since the incident a few years back. However, his tone is still the same as any other day. You think about the dream you had a few nights ago. It pushed you to let him go out for once, and you thought he was feeling suffocated, but you were wrong.

You let out a disappointed chuckle, worrying for nothing. “I’m surprised you’re so calm. I thought you’d be jumping with joy.”

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it. I felt the same because you’re with me, and I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

You blush slightly. Everything Taehyung says or does is always for you, as if his entire world revolves around you. While it is a bit obsessive, you don’t hate it. You’ve spent all your life being abandoned and neglected—your mother leaving, your classmates ignoring you, and your father dying. Sometimes it feels nice to have that relationship where you can rely on Taehyung, and he can rely on you.

You rest your head on his shoulder, smiling as you close your eyes. “Taehyung, I’m glad you’re with me. I want to remember this moment forever.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting him to say anything. Instead, he snuggles his face into your shoulder. You make eye contact with Taehyung, and you notice snowflakes in his glass eyes. You imagine that it must be annoying having frozen water stuck in your eyes, but Taehyung doesn’t care. Amidst the snow in his eyes is you—the one and only thing that matters the most to him.

“Getting to spend time with you is already a gift…(Y/N)...I’m really happy right now, and I’m really happy that when I woke up in this world, you became the first person I saw, my first teacher, my first caretaker...and my first friend.” If he could, Taehyung would be smiling and crying tears of joy.

For a while, it felt like time stopped for you two. Taehyung gently holds onto the sleeve of your coat, wanting to hug you. While you two sit silently next to each other, it feels like no one else existed in each other’s world, just you two. You feel your heart race whenever Taehyung is honest about his feelings. Whenever he speaks, you know that you can trust him. How can you ever think of Taehyung as a monster? You’re afraid of what people will think of Taehyung, but no matter what, you’ll never leave him.

------

While you’re asleep, Taehyung keeps staring at the snowmen from your bedroom window. Unfortunately it started to snow, so you and Taehyung had to return inside. Soon after that, you got ready for bed, and Taehyung has been staring out the window since. He keeps replaying the time he spent making the snowman with you, having that fluttering feeling when he was with you.

Taehyung keeps looking down at his imperfect hands, one being wooden and the other being scar-filled. The size of the wooden hand is smaller than the other, but the fingers are longer on the wooden one. He folds his hands together, trying to imitate when he holds your hand. He always thinks about how you hold his hand so casually when you have many opportunities to hold normal hands. It makes him happy that you always choose him over anyone else.

When he looks back at the snowmen, he noticed that one of them has toppled over due to the strong wind. He’s sadden to see one of them has fallen over, thinking about how all that hard work is going to waste. It’s not yet the time for people to wake up yet, and you did mention that if he were to wear enough clothing, he can hide his body. He puts on his coat, scarf, snow pants, and boots. Just as he was about to head out, he returns to grab his new pair of gloves.

Taehyung scoops piles of snow in his hands, trying to do what you did and make the snow into a ball. But whenever he tries, one side would be bigger than the other side. The ball that you created earlier has become a lumpy oval. He doesn’t know any other way to solve this other than matting it with more snow.

He’s worried about taking too much time trying to fix the snowmen, otherwise other people will wake up to find him. Either that, or you will spot him outside and hate him forever for going out without your permission. To shorten the time to make it, he decides to grab more snow. He has his hands dig deeper until it hits the ground. He tries his hardest to pick up the snow, but his vinyl hand gives in to the weight, bending his hand backwards at an inhumane angle. Despite that, he doesn’t feel pain whatsoever; he didn’t even realize his hand bent backwards at first.

Taehyung drops the snow to look at his hand. He takes off his glove and rolls up his sleeve to find that he ripped an opening in his wrist right below the palm. He traces the hole, seeing how his arm is aging due to the excessive amount of times he’s been using this arm. Pretty soon, he has to tell you that he needs another arm. But, how is he going to tell you that he made this hole because he snuck out during the middle of the night? He’s afraid that you’re going to get upset, and he doesn’t want to bother you anymore about his accidents. For now, he rolls his sleeve back up and decides to keep it a secret.

That’s when he hears a voice call out. He tilts his head up, shocked to see a man standing in front of him. He’s wearing a long, tan trench coat and circular glasse. His hands are in his pockets, protecting them from the cold. Taehyung has nothing to say to this man because he’s never spoken to another human before, but it’s not only that. This man looks just like Taehyung...or rather, Taehyung looks just like this man.

------

It’s nearly three in the morning, and you hear quick stomps in the hallway. You raise your head up, eyelids still heavy with sleepiness. The footsteps gets louder until it reaches to your bedroom. You manage to open one eye to see Taehyung standing in the middle of your room. It’s too dark for you to exactly make out the details of Taehyung, but you know that it’s him based on the outline of his body.

“Taehyung? What’s wrong?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. You thought that he didn’t hear you the first time, but he was just trying to collect his thoughts. You sit up, but when you do, Taehyung scurries to you, putting one hand on your knee and the other on your back as he kneels down.

“I’m so sorry for waking you up.”

“What? No, it’s fine. You seemed like you were just doing something. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. You should go back to sleep.”

Taehyung gently settles his hand on your stomach and slowly pushes you down so you can return to your slumber. If you were fully awake, then you would’ve continued to ask him more questions, but you were too tired to pursue. You don’t pay too much attention to this, so you head to sleep.

When you close your eyes, you didn’t think too much about how nearly for the entire night, Taehyung was holding your hand. You never noticed that Taehyung is missing one glove.

------

You hear the sound of your doorbell ringing. You groan, checking the time as you don’t see the reason for someone to be visiting you on Christmas day. When you sit up, Taehyung is nowhere to be found in your bedroom. You thought that he would be getting the door, but the bell keeps ringing. You slide off of bed, yawning as you walk down the halls and to the door.

When you open the door, your heart nearly stops beating at the surprise. You wipe your eyes, making sure that who you’re looking at isn’t a hallucination. The person standing before you is none other than V. Your jaw drops, and seeing as that is a common reaction that V has seen a dozen times before, he lets out a radiating smile.

“Good morning. Do you speak Korean?” Taehyung asks with a Korean accent.

You’re too shocked to let out a word, so instead you shake your head. He was already expecting you to answer with a ‘no,’ but he wanted to give it a try. He extends his hand out for a handshake.

“Hi, I’m V from BTS. Nice to meet you.”

You shake his hand, your eyes not once off of this man’s face. You can’t believe that he’s standing in front of you. You haven’t even shaken a real hand in so long that you almost forgot what it feels like. Just like Taehyung’s hand, V’s hand is nearly twice as big as your hand, nearly devouring yours when greeting you.

You finally break out of your trance, realizing that this is no dream. “Excuse me. Sorry for my rude behavior. My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice meeting you, (Y/N). Mind if I come in?”

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink profusely. You thought you didn’t hear that right the first time. Why would he feel the need to come inside? Why is he here during Christmas in the first place? You have no idea what’s going on and what his purpose is for being here.

“I’m sorry, but I just woke up. If you need anything, then you can tell me here.”

He continues to smile with an underlying meaning, and it’s unnerving. “Okay. Do you have other people living here too?”

‘Other people?’ You immediately thought of Taehyung. Now you’re worried that he spotted you and Taehyung out last night playing in the snow. Internally, you beat yourself up because you might’ve dragged Taehyung into potential danger. But you still don’t understand why V would be out so late, especially since he’s a celebrity with a tight schedule.

Suddenly, you feel nauseated the longer you stay with V. Being with him brings back bad memories that you don’t want to remember, such as the time when you found your father’s dead body.

“No, it’s just me.” You let the lie flow right out of your mouth.

But Taehyung is sharper than that. He doesn’t need to get familiar with you to know that you’re lying.

“Last night there was a person here. He dropped this.”

Your eyes widen once you saw what he had hidden in his pocket. It’s one side of the glove that you bought for Taehyung. You look up at V with your eyes asking how he got ahold of it. Did he drop while you two were returning back inside?

You take the glove from his hand, crossing your arms and avoiding eye contact as you feel defensive. In your mind, you’re in panic mode, not sure how to get rid of V, or even where Taehyung is at.

“I-it’s just me. You must be mistaken. Now please, do you mind leaving me alone? I’m sorry.”

“I know someone lives there too. I would like to meet him and talk to him,” He beams. “Merry Christmas.”

V walks off, and you close the door behind him, questioning what just happened. Immediately, you thought of looking for Taehyung and ask him what happened. He was behaving strange last night, and it wasn’t just your imagination.

“Taehyung? Where are you?”

You continue to call out his name, and eventually, you find him at the end of the hall, hiding in one of the spare rooms. He’s peeking his head out, and you’re unsure if he’s trying to hide in fear that you’re furious with him or if he was trying to hide from V.

You walk toward Taehyung at a leisurely pace, tilting the upper half of your body to the side while smiling to let him know that you’re not upset. He’s inside the room that you set up for him a few years back. You thought that Taehyung would want his privacy, but after a few nights, he eventually stopped going to his room. He once said that it was because he didn’t feel comfortable at night without you.

“Hey, Taehyung. What are you doing in there?”

Feeling a bit more secure, Taehyung steps out of his room, but his head is still pointing down with guilt. Once you’re close enough, you cup his cheek and raise it high enough for you to look at him in the eyes. However, he averts his eyes away from you, giving in to the shame to brought upon you.

“I’m sorry...I went out without your permission when you were asleep. I thought it was safe to go out because it was only the front yard but…”

“Hey, I’m not mad at you. If anything, I’m relieved that you’re okay.”

Taehyung was bound to be spotted by another person, especially since you brought him out. Though you were not expecting that other person to be V, you knew that this day would come eventually. You remove your hand from his cheek and take him by his wooden hand. You place the glove in his palm.

“Don’t worry about it. I told that guy to leave, so hopefully he won’t come back anymore. Let’s go make some breakfast. After that, let’s plan what we want to do today.”

You turn around and head to the opposite end of the hall. When you notice that Taehyung isn’t following you, you twirl around and wait for him.

“That man...he’s really Mr. V, isn’t he?” Taehyung clenches onto his glove.

You can’t imagine what’s going through his mind right now, meeting face-to-face with the man responsible for his existence. You want to know what happened and if there were any words exchanged, but you don’t want to pester him about it as he still might be processing it. Besides, it’s Christmas, and you don’t want it to be about V, but about you and Taehyung.

You march right for Taehyung and take him by the hand, dragging him with you to the kitchen. “It doesn’t matter if it really was him or not. Let’s go make breakfast after I brush my teeth.”

------

You thought that V would leave after you had him to leave, but he hasn’t left your front yard since this morning. For a celebrity, he definitely has a lot of time to be loitering around your lawn. Every time you look out the window, V would perk up a smile and wave. You try to forget about him since he hasn’t rung your doorbell since the morning, but you can’t when all he does is stare.

Once again, V’s standing by the sidewalk, hands in his pocket. By this point he should be freezing because he’s been standing there for hours. You initially wanted him to leave because he was disturbing your peace, but now you’re concerned that he’ll catch a cold if you don’t somehow get him to leave.

Taehyung is sitting in the living room, writing another journal entry as he stares at you staring at V. You’ve been looking at him longer than you normally have, which makes Taehyung stop writing and observe you with curious eyes.

“Is Mr. V still out there?”

“Yea...I wonder why he won’t leave. He’s going to get sick.”

“I’m...sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Taehyung. You don’t have to apologize.”

One habit that Taehyung has garnered is his excessive need to apologize whenever he feels like he’s done something wrong to you. He’s afraid of you being disappointed in him, though you’ve never gotten upset at him before. You’ve done so much for him, so it’s no wonder that he has those kinds of worries.

“I think Mr. V wants to talk to me...Maybe that’s why he won’t leave.”

How much does V know about Taehyung being a doll? Does he even know that he’s a doll? Whatever the amount of information he has, you don’t want him talking to Taehyung. Your instincts tell you that you should protect Taehyung at all costs.

You decide to make a move. If you don’t do anything, then V will be standing there stubbornly until you let him talk to Taehyung. You pace to your bedroom and put on your winter clothes, followed by you putting on your boots by the front door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a small chat with him.”

Taehyung stands up to stop you, but you raise your hand to tell him to stop. You let him know that everything will be alright and that you’ll only talk to him. You open the front door, closing it behind you before V gets a chance to get a peek inside.

“Good evening!” V exclaims.

He approaches you, hands still in pocket. You can see him shivering and his teeth clattering upon closer inspection. You start pitying him for leaving him out here alone to freeze.

“What are you still doing out here? I don’t mean to be rude, but don’t you have other things to worry about?”

“My manager said that we can do anything we want on Christmas.”

“Don’t you want to spend time with your friends?”

V smiles, staring into the distance while lost in his own thoughts. “...It’s okay. I want to know you better and become my friend.”

He extends his hand out for another handshake and once again, you take it. His hand is so cold that you feel like your hand could get frostbite if you held his hand any longer.

“Thanks...but I think it’s better if you go back. What if other people start to get suspicious about you standing here all day?”

“Suspicious?” He tilts his head, puzzled.

Assuming that he doesn’t know what ‘suspicious’ means, you try to explain. “People will think you’re a bad guy…”

He shakes his head. “I’m not a bad person. I want to talk to you and another person inside your house. I met him last night.”

V is still determined to see Taehyung, which makes you uneasy. “...What exactly did you see last night to make you think that someone else lives with me?”

“...I saw myself.”

Your shoulders are weighed with anxiousness.

“Well, he looked just like me. But he didn’t look scared. He stared at me like how I stared at him. I thought I was looking at a mirror. Everything about him looked like me...except...more beautiful.”

There’s a look of pain in his face as he stares at his hand. You don’t know anything about V and what he goes through, but you still pity him. You were aware about how V and BTS are open about their struggles, but there is a large portion of it that they’ve kept hidden.

“I just...want to talk to him. My English is not that good yet, but I would still like to meet him.”

You thought that V might have evil intentions if he ever met Taehyung, but after hearing a bit more, you realize that he’s desperate just to see Taehyung once more. There’s an unresolved conflict within him most likely, and he thinks he might find closure with Taehyung, which makes you hesitant in responding.

“I’m...sorry, but I can’t.”

You quickly try to flee from the situation, but V grabs you by the hand, his cold hands sending signals throughout your body.

“Please?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, otherwise you’d regret turning him down. This is for Taehyung’s safety, so it’s for the better.

“I’m sorry, but you should go back.” You pull your hand away from his grasp and walk back instead your home.

------

You close the door behind you, and Taehyung was waiting by the door this entire time. He was worried about you, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to go out. Immediately, Taehyung hugs you out of concern, and he has no idea how relieved you are to feel his rigid body wrap around you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“What did he want to talk about?”

“You’re right. He...wants to talk to you.”

Taehyung goes quiet.

“I don’t think he’s a mean person...but I’m not sure what he wants to talk about.” You peek through the window and see that V still hasn’t left.

You feel bad for leaving him out there, and you debate about whether or not you should bring him something warm to drink. However, you think that by doing so, you’re inviting him to come inside, thus putting Taehyung in danger. You knew that you shouldn’t have brought Taehyung outside. You were just excited about the thought of him experiencing the outdoors on Christmas, but you weren’t expecting it to escalate this quickly.

You turn to look at Taehyung, and he won’t stop staring at V. Though Taehyung can’t change facial expressions, you do know that if he stares at something for a long time, he’s thinking about what to do.

------

“(Y/N)?”

You’re sitting by the window in the living room, watching V sitting by the curb of the sidewalk. You were amazed by his endurance, being able to stay out there for so long without having to eat. To your surprise, no one in the neighborhood has recognized him, but then again it is Christmas and everyone wouldn’t want to go out at this time. Not only that, but your neighborhood is pretty isolated as well, only a few houses in this area.

You’ve been sitting there for hours that you’ve fallen asleep by the time Taehyung checks up on you. It’s late at night, and Taehyung is surprised to see that V is still sitting out there with great determination. Taehyung knows you well enough that you must feel awful for making him sit out there, but it’s always him that comes before anything; it makes Taehyung feel guilty—guilty that you make sacrifices for him, even if it means making others sacrifice as well.

He gets on one knee to be eye level with you. He strokes the back of his index finger on your cheek, wondering if you’re dreaming right now. There are so many things he doesn’t know about the human body, some of which he wishes that he can have as well. That way, at least he’d be more similar to you, and no one would have to be scared of Taehyung if he ever went out.

Taehyung looks out the window once more, knowing full well that V will not leave until he talks to him. Last night, Taehyung ran inside before he got the chance to say a word, but he knew that his identity was discovered the moment they made eye contact. However, during this entire Christmas and seeing V stand out there and having a chat with you, it doesn’t seem as though V was to harm him. V genuinely wants to talk to him.

Taehyung can’t sit any longer, he has to do something. You do so much to protect him, even when it’s his fault, you still do whatever you can to fix it. He wants to become responsible—he wants to protect you as well. You tell him that he can always tell you how he feels, but no matter what, he can never properly convey how important you are to him.

He stands up, closing his eyelids, pecking you on the forehead. Though he feels the pressure on his artificial lips, he doesn’t feel the texture of your skin. Since it’s been almost a decade, the pink color on his lips are fading away, but whenever he stares at your lips, they’re always pink. You said that skin typically feels soft, so maybe one day, Taehyung would be able to know how that feels. But that is merely a faraway dream that’ll never come true. After all, Taehyung isn’t real—he’s just an imitation of V.

Taehyung puts on his coat and scarf to hide his doll-like body. On the kitchen counter are the gloves that you bought for him just for this occasion. He takes them and walks out the front door, heading straight towards V.

------

You can’t remember when you fell asleep. One moment you were watching V from the window, and the next you found yourself sleeping. You raise your head, checking if V is still there. However, you lose all sense of sleepiness when you see Taehyung sitting next to V outside. You jump out of your chair, grabbing a blanket and slipping in your sneakers before running out without a coat.

“Taehyung!”

Both Taehyungs turn their heads upon hearing your voice, and you freeze. You look at both men, and it seems like you interrupted their conversation. Taehyung must’ve gone out when you were asleep again. In V’s hands is a steamed bun and Taehyung is wearing V’s thin-rimmed glasses.

Taehyung stands up, wobbling towards you while still wearing his glasses. His vision is perfect, so you don’t understand why he’s wearing them. Once he gets close to you, he pats you on the face to make sure that you’re really there.

“(Y/N), why do people wear glasses? I thought they were supposed to help you see better.”

You take them off. “It’s because your eyes are already healthy that you don’t need them.”

V approaches you and Taehyung. He smiles as he watches you two interact. His stare makes you uncomfortable, so you consciously bring yourself to stop talking. You feel guilty about making V stand out in the snow all day—you were just afraid that V was going to hurt Taehyung.

“Taehyung went inside and gave me a steamed bun, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. We’ll both be going inside. I’m sure there are people looking for you.”

But right before you head inside, Taehyung holds onto your hand. You turn around to see that he isn’t moving from his spot.

“Can we let Mr. V in?”

You want to ask him why, but you thought it’d be too rude to say it aloud. You turn your attention to V, who doesn’t seem all that excited nor desperate to come inside; he’s simply waiting for your answer.

“I promise Mr. V isn’t a bad person. He lets me use his things.”

You decide to trust Taehyung’s intuition and let V come inside.

------

You serve V chamomile tea at the dinner table while Taehyung gives him a tin pan filled with various kinds of Danish cookies. You and Taehyung sit across from V as he sips the warm drink. He lets the tea heat up his throat, balancing well with his cold skin.

“Tastes great.” He compliments.

You nod slightly, unsure of how everything came together just for this moment where you are in the same room as the two Taehyungs. V can sense that you have a lot of questions to ask, so he sets the tea down and prepares for a long chat.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t hurt Taehyung. We talked for a long time, and he’s a very kind person,” V clears his throat. “I also caught on as well...Taehyung isn’t human, is he?”

You jolt.

“Is that why you kept telling me to go away? You didn’t want anyone to find out that he’s not human?”

Sweat forms on your face. He has a sharper eye than you thought. All those years you spent watching V, you always assumed he was the kind of person who’ll space out and not think too much about things.

“I thought he was mannequin when I first saw him, but when he ran inside, I was confused. I wanted to make sure that what I was seeing wasn’t a dream, so I kept bothering you to let me see him. Is he a robot?”

Do you answer him truthfully or not? How will you explain to him about your father’s undying love for him and how he used black magic to bring Taehyung to life? While lying might be the safest in the moment, building up lies after lies will eventually topple over. So what is the best option in this situation?

“You’re right...Taehyung’s not human. He was created by my dad many years ago and I took care of him since.”

You keep your head down, fearful of his reaction.

“Wow, that’s cool!”

You’re surprised by how well V is took that information. You thought he’d be like any other person and be frightened by Taehyung. Then again, V and Taehyung spoke for quite some time, so all that talking might’ve mellowed the shocking revelation.

“Taehyung is really smart. We talked for hours, and he loves learning about many things. He also tells me he knows how to write? That’s amazing.”

“...You’re not freaked out about this?”

He shakes his head. “People made weirder things of me before. Taehyung is the most normal.”

You find that amusing. If he just hears about your father’s reasoning for Taehyung then this will definitely be on the top of his list. But if creating a replica of him is considered ‘normal’, then you try to imagine what it was that took the cake as the weirdest thing he’s ever seen. Humans do have endless creativity, some of which might be better if it doesn’t exist.

You turn to Taehyung to find him still playing with V’s glasses. One of the few mistakes your father made in trying to make a copy of V was that he made Taehyung have perfect vision while the real V needs prescription glasses.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Eight years.”

“Wow...it makes sense. Taehyung looks like how I did a little under ten years ago.”

V is well into his thirties now. Though he looks roughly the same as he did eight years ago, there is no doubt that his face has changed. He’s become more masculine, even growing a stubby mustache, though not obvious from first glance.

An hour goes by, and the three of you have been chatting. It turns out that you were just paranoid—V is actually a lot nicer than you initially thought. You just haven’t spoken to another person besides Taehyung in a long time that you forgot that there are people out there who have good intentions. Although you still don’t know why V wanted to talk about with Taehyung, V seems sincere.

V checks the time on his watch and realizes he overstayed his welcome. He stands up and takes his coat from the chair. You get up from your seat as well, wrapping your thin blanket around you as you walk him out the door.

“It was nice meeting you, (Y/N). You too, Taehyung.”

Taehyung nods his head. You keep staring at the ground, that small doubt still wandering the back of your head. V can sense that something is wrong with you, so he waits for you to tell him what you’re thinking about.

“You won’t...tell anyone about Taehyung, right?”

V smiles to reassure you. “Why would I? You worked hard to make sure that no one else knows, so it would be rude if I told everyone.”

You sigh in relief, though that doubt still lingers in your head.

“Also, I’m sorry about making you stay out there all day...I wasted your Christmas.”

V chuckles. “You don’t need to apologize. I was the one who chose to stay out there, even after you told me to go away many times. You were just trying to protect Taehyung.”

You nod slightly as V waves goodbye and walks off. You turn to Taehyung, who’s still waving goodbye to V too. Once he’s gone from your peripheral, you close the door and sit on the couch in the living room.

“I’m sorry...I went outside without your permission again. I saw how stressed you were about him so I wanted to do something about it.”

You chuckle. “What did you two even talk about?”

“I told him to leave, but he looked really happy to meet me again. I wanted him to leave...but I wanted to talk to him at the same time, so we kept on talking. I was scared that he was going to be afraid of me, but he accepted me...just like how you did.”

You look down at your feet, feeling awful that Taehyung truly believes that you were accepting of him. Is he trying to deny what happened in the beginning, or has he forgotten about it? It took a long time for you and Taehyung to get into the stable relationship that you two are in now, so now it may seem like a distant memory to Taehyung. But to you, it’s still as fresh as yesterday’s memory because there were things you wish you could’ve changed.

“Yea...it’s been a long day, shall we head to sleep, now?”

------

Ever since Christmas, V has been coming over to your house for the past couple of days. Though he greets you, he mainly comes to talk to Taehyung. They’re always in the living room, chatting for hours without breaks. Even Taehyung seems excited whenever V comes over. It almost seems like they’re twins.

It does make you a little jealous when you see them having fun. Whenever Taehyung talks to you, he always speaks in a calm tone, but with V, his tone is always as if he looks forward to meeting him. You try not to let your jealousy get the better of you since V is his first friend from the outside world. However, today is a little different.

“You’re not coming tomorrow?” Taehyung asks.

Taehyung and V are sitting together in the living room while you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes when you happen to be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Sorry, I wish I can, but I’ll be busy. The members want to spend time together because…”

“...It’s your birthday tomorrow.” Taehyung finishes the sentence.

V nods.

Because V has been coming to this place often, you had completely forgotten about his birthday. When you think about it more, you thought that it’s odd that V has been staying here longer than he should. You thought that they were on tour, so he should’ve left long ago.

“It’s okay...you’re busy, so I understand.”

You lean over to look at the two men, and V doesn’t look all that excited about his birthday. He isn’t smiling or laughing about it—just a serious expression.

“So do you celebrate your birthday on the same day as mine?” V asks to change the subject.

“...We don’t know exactly when I was born, so we always celebrate it on January 1st.”

“Oh, that’s not far from my birthday! Maybe after my performance then we can celebrate.”

“But...what about your job and the members?”

“No, I don’t think they would mind. Besides, I think they would be tired by the time we finish our schedule.”

When you look at Taehyung, you can’t tell whether he’s happy about that or not. Perhaps he is a bit happy about it because he’ll be able to celebrate his birthday with someone else.

“I know! My performance tomorrow will be filmed live, so it’d be nice if you and (Y/N) would watch it and support me.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s been a while since we had our comeback, so I feel a little nervous. We’re going to be performing on the CNL Show at 8 P.M., so please tune in.”

V checks the time on his watch. Seeing that it’s already the evening, he gets up from the couch and heads to the front door. You and Taehyung follow him from behind.

“I have to get going now. I’ll see you two soon.”

You and Taehyung wave goodbye as V walks off. You’ve never seen V get picked up by a car or know where he walks off to, so you do get a bit worried, especially since he’s a celebrity and might get recognized by the public. It is a good thing that your neighborhood is rather isolated with the exception of a few homes.

You also found it odd that V has a lot of free time. He doesn’t stay all day, but he comes during the evenings and talks for a few hours. Unlike the same V that you knew eight years ago, he’s much more calmer than how he used to portray himself, but it could also be that he’s grown up and doesn’t have the same kind of energy he had when he was still in his twenties. He seems very down to earth, and he claims that his English isn’t that great, but he speaks fine.

“You must really like V, Taehyung.” You nudge his arm playfully.

“Yea...I can see why people like him so much. I was scared to talk to him at first, but he’s a lot nicer than I thought.”

You nod. “Yea, V always had a way of charming people whenever he spoke.”

You remember the time when BTS was still fresh to you and how V always stole the spotlight even when he didn’t intend to. There were times when you couldn’t get your eyes off of him because he was that stunning. It wasn’t until your father’s death that made it hard for you to look at him the same. Every time you saw V on TV, your father’s dead body would flash through your mind, and then you’d feel the need to vomit. That was the same for Taehyung as well.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong? Are you tired?”

Recalling all that unwanted memory is making you space out. You comb Taehyung’s hair with your fingers. Because his wig isn’t made of real hair, the tips tend to stand up on its own no matter how much you brush it.

“No, I’m just thinking about how you two look really similar but have contrasting personalities. To be honest, I think it’ll take me awhile to get along with V compared to you.”

“Why? You don’t like him?”

“It’s not him, it’s just me,” you get up and walk to your bedroom. “I should be heading to bed. Let’s go, Taehyung.”

------

You toss and turn during the middle of the night, and despite the frosty air, you still feel sweat forming on your skin. Whenever you try to fall asleep, this lump of anxiousness would jump out of nowhere and attack you. Your mind is muddled with worries that it’s been preventing you from sleeping properly these past few nights.

You feel something cold being pressed against your arm. When you open your eyes, you see Taehyung’s silhouette sitting by the side of your bed and his wooden hand on your arm.

“You keep moving around. Another nightmare?”

You shake your head. “No nightmare. Just...can’t sleep.”

You haven’t been able to sleep since V started visiting, and there has been this feeling of uneasiness growing inside you. There are so many questions you want to ask, such as how V is able to have consecutive visits to your place without getting in trouble or being seen by the public. So far, V has been treating you and Taehyung kindly, but there’s just something unnerving about now knowing V’s exact intentions that makes you unable to trust him immediately.

Taehyung breaks the tension by putting his hand over yours. “Has something been bothering you?”

You feel conflicted about whether or not you should tell him about your concerns. On one hand, you know that withholding your thoughts from him will only bend your relationship with him, but telling him might hurt his feelings, especially since he really likes V. You personally don’t know how to answer him.

Taehyung brushes your bangs behind your ears, mesmerized by the gaze in your eyes. “I wish I can somehow jump into your brain and get rid of all your problems. That way, you don’t ever have to worry about anything anymore when you wake up.”

You chuckle at his heroic words. “You don’t need to do that. Just you being with me is already enough to keep me sane.”

But your smile fades away quickly, thinking about the beginning of Taehyung’s life and how you rejected him coldly. You would’ve never thought that Taehyung would ever become important in your life, not in a million years.

“Hey, Taehyung...do you remember how we first met?”

He nods. “You found me in the basement.”

“...Yea, and when you tried reaching out to me, I ended up running away and locking the door behind me. I left you in there with my dad’s dead body for a few days...Weren’t you upset with me?”

You two had a rough start, and you were constantly scared of him. After discovering what your father had done in the basement, you wanted nothing to do with Taehyung. You were even considering to run away from this mess that your father left behind.

“...No, I’m not upset. I never was to begin with, because in the end, you still chose to open the door and reach your hand out to me, even if you were scared. You gave me a chance to live.”

Once a few days went by, your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to check the basement. Even after all those days, Taehyung barely moved from where he fell. He was still, staring into nothingness while you kept him in the dark. It wasn’t until he reacted to the light coming from the door, and there you were—half of your body peering into the dusty room.

When you found him in the same spot, something in you knew that he wasn’t a monster. You steadily approach him, kneeling in front of him as he reached his hand out as a last attempt. This time, you extended your hand and accepted him, and since then, you’ve been responsible for him. He was like a baby who had just been birthed and had yet to learn about the world, so you knew that it was your responsibility to teach him of that world. You vowed to watch over him and that you would never make him a monster.

Once again, you chuckle at Taehyung after recalling your first meeting, all that fear that you had before is now gone, and whenever you hold onto him, you only feel comfort. You were a hopeless girl eight years ago—going to school, avoiding people, despising your father, holding a grudge against your mother for leaving you with him. All those times being neglected has caused you to naturally feel the need to push yourself away from others before they can push you away, and this goes to V as well.

“How do you honestly feel about V coming by?”

“...I really do like talking to him. It’s like he introduces me to a new world that I’ve never heard of. It’s nice that he comes by often...but…”

“But…?”

“Mr. V is...a very great person...but I’m worried that…” Taehyung trails off.

“Worried about what?”

“...Nothing. I think I’m just being ridiculous.”

It’s rare for Taehyung to change his mind like that and be doubtful of himself. He’s always open about telling you the conflicts he’s dealing with.

“Keeping it to yourself isn’t going to solve itself. You can tell me what’s wrong.”

“...Do you think he’s a great person too?”

You wonder what Taehyung defines as a ‘great’ person. Of course on cameras V’s considered an extraordinary person, and now you know that behind the scenes, he seems just as great as he is when he’s being watched.

“V didn’t think much about you not being human...so I think anyone who accepts you for who you are is definitely a good person.”

Or at least that’s what you like to think. There are a lot of people who’ll use Taehyung for their own self gain or to ‘further science’, but you want nothing more for Taehyung than to live a life no different from other humans, even if it is entirely impossible to reach that goal. Whenever V came, he never pestered him for information about how Taehyung is a living doll, but treating him like any other person. You were preparing yourself for the worst, but you’re somewhat glad that the first person Taehyung met is his reflection.

------

“I forgot what channel he said he’d be on.” You mumble as you go through all the TV channels with your remote.

“I think CNL should be on channel 150.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

You flip to channel 150, and you made it right when the host is introducing V’s band and their latest album. Cheers from teen to middle-aged women can be heard in the background, waving their ARMY bombs. Once the music starts, the fans do the iconic chant where they shout everyone’s names right before the first member sings. Since this is their first performance in a while, they’re a bit stiff—constantly avoiding the cameras and looking down after finishing their lines. But after the first few verses, they eventually became naturals on stage again.

They became the performers that they were once before and a rush of nostalgia runs through your brain. You remember all the hours you spent sitting in front of your laptop and watching all their recorded concerts. Though you weren’t a massive fan, your jaw would still drop at how they would execute dance moves that you can never accomplish. Even after their long hiatus, they truly are natural-born performers.

You keep glancing at Taehyung, whose eyes are glued to the screen, specifically on V. You notice his eyes tracing in every direction that V moves to, not once blinking throughout the entire song. Neither of you say a word, letting the television being the only one with sound playing in the house.

However, seemingly out of the blue, the music stops and everyone stops dancing. V looks the most confused, while the six other members are breathing heavily from the dancing and singing. The fans starts singing the happy birthday song, including the members. One of the members comes with a birthday cake with three, lighted candles in the center. V still looks confused, but it finally hits him that they’re celebrating his birthday.

That’s when V’s eyes begin welling up with tears, and the crowd’s screams become louder. Various people in the audience spout sentences such as ‘it’s okay V’ and ‘we purple you’. V covers his mouth, bending over with his arm wrapped around his stomach to comfort himself. Seeing him break down makes the members feel the need to hug him, so they gather in a circle with their arms around each other with the exclusion of Jimin who’s still holding the cake but patting V on the back.

Jimin wipes V’s tears away with his thumbs, mouthing something in Korean but it’s inaudible. V blows out the candles, tears still streaming down his cheeks, and everyone cheers for him. Soon after, he looks at everyone in the audience, holding the mic close to his mouth to give a speech. He speaks in Korean for a good period of time, and once he finished, RM takes the spotlight to translate his words.

“I wish I could say everything in English, but right now, I feel like it’ll translate better if I say it all in Korean. We were gone for many years and were fearful that our fans have moved on with their lives, getting married, having successful careers, everything. While we are happy that our fans have blossomed into beautiful flowers, we could not forget about our fans because they created who we are today and still feel indebted to them. There are no words to describe how much you all truly mean to us.

During our long hiatus, we were all thinking about how we would make a comeback and surprise ARMY again to express our gratitude for the unforgettable memories we made with them during our primetime. We were scared that we weren’t going to live up to the expectation, and that took a toll on us. Every night was a sleepless night for me, and I cried every time I thought about disappointing our fans. I was so nervous that fans wouldn’t like me anymore because I’ve grown stale, even to the point where I talked to my fellow members about not participating in the comeback.”

The whole crowd begins wailing and screaming at his confession.

“But standing before my fans and performing on stage one more time made me realize that all my troubles were just me overthinking things. Even if all my fans moved on, I will never forget everything that you all have done for me, helping me get back on my feet when I needed it the most and hearing the cheers from thousands of people. So in exchange, I’ll keep on helping my fans get back on their feet even when I become old and wrinkly. Right now, despite our language barrier and different cultural backgrounds, we still had the opportunity to perform to you all again. Thank you for celebrating my birthday!”

The crowd cheers even louder, and everyone hugs V to comfort him. The host of the show takes over and congratulates V on his thirty-second birthday before plugging their album one more time and transitioning to commercial break.

Based on his tone and expressions alone, you can tell that this will be an unforgettable moment for V. Every single one of his words felt authentic. All those days he came by, he’s been harboring those emotions and conflicts to himself, finding it more comfortable talking to Taehyung about everyday life than about his life as a musician.

“Aw, I wasn’t expecting a heartfelt surprise! I almost teared up.” You comment.

However, Taehyung doesn’t answer you back. Instead, he stares off into space as a commercial runs, advertising the latest model of a vacuum. What Taehyung had seen must’ve definitely left a mark on him as well, though you’re unsure whether it is a positive or negative one.

“...Don’t you think it’s strange that millions of people loved V at some point? So many people are willing to sacrifice themselves for him even though they don’t know the true him. They only know the persona that he plays out on camera...” Taehyung rotates his head to you. “Do you think we know the true Mr. V?”

“I think...no matter what, we’ll never know everything about a person. Sometimes, we don’t know ourselves, so knowing another person is even harder. But there’s something that feels accomplishing when we know things about the ones we love that others don’t know.”

Taehyung returns back to the television screen once the show returns. Now, they’re introducing each individual member before the host asks them a series of questions.

“Look at all those people...they all came to see them. Some of these people travelled miles away just to see seven people perform one to two songs.”

“Well, it’s because they’re a band with a historical legacy. People would do anything to have a once in a lifetime experience.”

You don’t know what Taehyung is thinking about. He continues to stare blankly at the TV but not paying attention to the content that’s going on behind the screen. That’s when he rolls up his sleeves to his scarred arms. There’s a gaping opening in his wrist that you never noticed before—that time when he snuck out to fix the snowmen and accidentally ripped a hole in his arm.

“So even after they die, their legacy continues on?”

“Yea...but Taehyung, let me see your arm.”

You extend your hand out and take his forearm. You observe the hole, looking at it from different angles to see how bad it is. Taehyung’s skin color on his arm is starting to fade away, so much to the point where you can see the original color of his arm: white.

“I think it’s almost time to replace this arm. How did you get this hole?”

“I tried carrying the snow, but my hand gave in to the weight and I accidentally tore my wrist.”

“You gotta be more careful. Scratches are okay, but holes are definitely bad. Small things can find its way inside, and it’ll build up.”

On the television, V is saying something, but you’re too focused in finding methods to close the tear. While there are millions of eyes on V, Taehyung can’t help but feel a little happy knowing that there’s at least one person who has their eyes on himself, not on the real V.

------

“Happy birthday!” You exclaim.

In the dining room is Taehyung, V, and you sitting around the table after surprising them with a birthday cake. Since you celebrate Taehyung’s birthday not too far from V’s, you decided to buy one vanilla cake for the both of them to share. In the center of cake it says ‘happy birthday to the Taehyungs’. Since Taehyung doesn’t have lungs, V is the one who blows out the candles. You clap cheerfully, and V claps along with you while Taehyung stares blankly at the two of you.

You slice a piece of cake for V and Taehyung, even though Taehyung can’t eat. You feel that it’s better to have Taehyung be included by giving him a cake.

“V, are you sure you’re fine with spending New Year’s with us? Why not with your friends?”

“It’s alright. Anyway, it’s not about me. What did you wish for, Taehyung?”

It’s strange how dismissive V is about his friends, but you try not to worry about it nonetheless. You and V turn to look at Taehyung, but he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“...If I say it out loud, then it won’t come true.”

You laugh, though Taehyung doesn’t understand what it is that you find comical. “Okay, we won’t ask. Instead, I’ll give you your present.”

You take out the present from under the table, and unlike the Christmas present, it’s bigger. He unwraps it with the same amount of care he had when opening the other present, and it’s a box. He takes off the lid and it is revealed to be another wooden prosthetic arm.

“I’ve been meaning to find another replacement but just didn’t have the money. It was also hard to find an arm that’s your length too.”

Taehyung doesn’t reply immediately, nor does V.

“I guess it was a good thing I bought it because your original arm is starting to wear out. Want me to help switch arms out?”

You proceed to move toward Taehyung before he answers. But as you move closer to him, you notice that he keeps eyeing V.

“It’s okay. We can do it next time. Thank you.”

You were a bit taken back as he usually lets you fix him up. He keeps his head low, not saying another word. You worry that you might’ve done something to upset him, but you keep wearing the smile on your face.

“O-okay! Just tell me when you want to, but don’t do it right when your hand falls off.”

Taehyung nods his head faintly to acknowledge you. He’s always been one to be lost in his thoughts, but you can never exactly pinpoint what he’s thinking about. Whatever he may be thinking right now, you hope it’s not bothering him too much.

------

You spot V sitting by the side of the curb, staring at the night sky. Since everyone is cooped up in their warm homes, you decide to keep V company outside. You wrap yourself in a thick blanket and walk outside. V can hear you approach him, but he doesn’t look away from the sky. You take a seat next to him, sighing as you adorn the blanket to protect your shoulders from the freezing temperature.

“How are you not freezing? I already feel like going back inside.”

“It’s hard to see the stars with windows blocking the way.”

“Are you not afraid of being recognized in public?”

“Do you think people are outside during this time of night?”

“...You never know.”

He smiles, exhaling a single breath of laughter, thankful for your concerned but finding it unnecessary. “Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s inside, writing another journal entry.”

“I notice that Taehyung really writes a lot, but why does he have to write every day?”

You avert your eyes, pausing temporarily. “...It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

You look at him, checking to see if he’s serious. He grins, challenging you to give him the story that you claim to be too long. You chuckle.

“There are a lot of reasons, one being that I want him to learn how to write, and another so that I have an idea of what he does when I’m not home.”

V raises an eyebrow out of confusion.

“He’s still not good at conveying his feelings, and it’s partially because of the limits that his body gives him. I try to have him practice expressing how he feels on paper since his face doesn’t allow it.”

“...Isn’t it kind of obsessive?”

Obsessive? You never thought of it that way because you would excuse it as you protecting him.

“Taehyung is his own person. He didn’t exist just to be locked up.”

You brush your hand through your hair, sighing. “I know...but it’s just that…”

“Are you afraid of how the world will see him?”

“Of course. Not everyone will be understanding. How do you tell people that I have a V look-alike and that he’s not human?”

Only silence roams as V doesn’t respond, but the silence is what pushes you to talk more.

“...Believe it or not, but I used to be terrified of Taehyung. I didn’t know what he was capable of, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him alone after my dad made him. The first few years with him was rough...He barely knew how to walk, speak, or even use his arms properly. I had to teach him everything from scratch, and it was very frustrating. For many nights, I locked the door to my room because I was scared he was going to kill me. Even then, I would still have these random anxiety attacks, the paranoia creeping up on me, and I would suffer from insomnia. To me, Taehyung was a monster.

“Then one day...I got tired of him. I wanted to return to my life where I didn’t have to take care of anyone or anything. So I left the front door open in anticipation that his curiosity would get the better of him and he would walk out on his own, and he did. It was a celebratory moment, like I was finally able to breathe. But...it didn’t take long for me to start worrying. By that point, it was almost two years since I found him, so while I didn’t like having him around, it felt weird without him,” You turn your head to your right, staring at the neighborhood that goes down for a few more miles. “I went out and found him a few blocks down...being attacked by a bulldog.”

V’s eyes widen.

“We had a neighbor a few years back who treated his dogs poorly, so because of that, his dog became aggressive. And while he was being attacked by the dog, the dog’s owner’s children were watching with gleeful eyes. They were even throwing rocks at Taehyung and their dog just so it can become more agitated with Taehyung. But what shocked me the most is that Taehyung didn’t fight back. He just stared blankly at the dog while it bit his arm to pieces. And I think...that’s when I realized...after seeing him defenseless, Taehyung isn’t a monster...He didn’t even know how to defend himself.

“Before I knew it, my feet moved before I could even think, pushing the dog off of him. I also got bitten by the dog, but nothing else mattered as long as Taehyung was okay. Eventually, the children fled, and I had to drag Taehyung with me back to the house before the pitbull could get inside. I didn’t even notice that he was missing an arm. I remember hugging him, so relieved that he was okay, but upset at myself that I made him go through that.”

You remember staring at his missing arm, torn from the shoulder. There was a thick layer of saliva dripping from the tips of his torn skin. You took off his clothes, you saw the dents that the rocks made after the kids threw them. When you moved back to get a full view of the condition that Taehyung was in—one less limb than before and a damaged exterior that can’t be fixed—staring at you with eyes of innocence, you threw yourself onto him.

You cried, apologizing over and over about how you shouldn’t have been careless. You had forgotten about the bite on your forearm, letting the blood trail down and smear onto Taehyung’s vinyl skin. You held onto him to let him know that you won’t let go a second time, and when you held onto him long enough, Taehyung wrapped his single arm around you. You spent two years of being afraid of a threat that never existed.

“Since then, Taehyung and I started getting along. Whenever I taught him something, he picked it up pretty fast. He’s really good at imitating my moves, and I think he’s really smart. It’s sometimes just disappointing that no one else may never see how great Taehyung is,” you smack your lips, deciding to change the subject from you to V. “By the way, how are you so calm about Taehyung? Are you really not freaked out that he’s a living, talking doll?”

“Like I said, I’ve seen weirder things that fans have done. This is still unbelievable, but not the most unusual.”

“What’s weirder than this?”

V tries to list the things in his mind, chuckling as some memories that he comes across. “There are fans who have stalked me, others have fetishized me nearly to the point that I became a god to them, and there are even some slash fiction and audio edits that I wish I never came across. Some were funny, but others not so much. Back when I still had to complete my military service, a fan found the location to my dorm and started cutting herself.”

Your jaw drops.

“She told me that if I left, then she’ll kill herself.”

You knew that fans go to the extreme for their idols, but some of the stories have been exaggerated beyond the point of realism that they’re nothing more than passive stories attempting to get the spotlight. However, hearing personal experience makes it all too real.

“What did you do?”

“I froze. How do you react when a stranger tells you that you’re going to be the reason that they’re going to kill themselves? Luckily there was security to pull her away...but it’s something that I can never get out of my head. I couldn’t never understand what her intentions were. Was I really that important in her life, or was that her threatening me?”

V curls his knees up and rests his cheek on them, chuckling as he thinks about his short but fun time with Taehyung.

“Maybe that’s why I really wanted to talk to Taehyung. I don’t think it’s hit me that he’s not human, and that’s because he’s the most humane person I’ve met in a long time. It’s nice talking to him without my pessimism telling me that he only wants to talk to me because I’m famous. I learned pretty quickly that the more popular you are, the less real you look in other people’s eyes.”

You and millions of other people will never truly understand what V goes through, no matter how descriptive he is. Due to his image, he can’t even talk about this with fans or the public without the concern of backlash. Surely there will be people who will support him, but others will come out and criticize him for not taking immediate action. It’s easy to put someone down when you’re not the one stuck in the situation.

“...Thanks for telling me this.” You mutter, twiddling your thumbs.

He chuckles. “Why are you thanking me?”

“It must’ve been hard to talk about this, especially since we don’t know each other that well. Kinda shows that you trust me and Taehyung.”

“No, I’m only telling you because you told me a secret that nobody else knows,” V stands up, exhaling as he pats the snow off of his pants. “Today was actually the last day I’ll be in your city.”

You had forgotten that V came here for work. For the time that you two spent with him, V made it feel as though he were a longtime friend who came to visit. Despite the short period, you felt like a bond was built with him, and it feels like it was just yesterday when he first came across your neighborhood. Whenever you look at him, you thought about high school when his band meant the world to many people. You don’t exactly feel nostalgic, but a new door opening.

“Taehyung might be looking for you. We should go back inside because you must be cold.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar. Your nose is red and runny.” He laughs.

You jolt, lowering your head and using your index finger to rub your nose. You’re so embarrassed that he had to see you in this condition that you blush. When you look at V, his face is as clear as the sky—no bumps, no facial scars, nothing. He must be wearing makeup to cover it, so it’s no wonder you can’t see any flaws on his face.

From the window of your living room stands Taehyung, watching as you interact with V. He’s never seen you interact with anyone other than himself, so seeing you blushing and smiling with V makes him feel uneasy. This emotion that he’s been feeling these past couple of days are becoming too much for him, and each day it just builds up more and more until he can’t bring himself to look at you. He presses his fingers on the window, questioning his own self-worth as he continues watching you converse with the real V.

------

Before the night ended, V gave you his phone number just in case either you or Taehyung felt like talking to him. He said that he’d like to continue with this friendship because every day felt pleasant, so of course you accepted his contact information. From what it seems, Taehyung is okay with it as well. He didn’t directly tell you if he wanted to talk to him again, so you assumed that he wants to.

One of the most dreadful things about starting the New Year is returning to work after a long vacation, so it was hard for you to go back to the usual schedule of leaving the house. As per usual, you tell Taehyung that you’re leaving, and you head off to work.

“I’ll see you later today. Maybe when I come back, we can watch a movie.”

Taehyung nods his head. “Okay.”

Ever since V left, Taehyung has been somewhat distant from you, but you think that it may be because he misses V. You know that if you were to pry more, then he would be more inclined to not answer you, so you let time heal his temporary ache in the meantime.

When you leave through the front door, you felt this eerie vibe from out of nowhere. You can’t quite explain it, but you definitely feel it. What you feel are two, dagger eyes on you. You look around, initially thinking that it was Taehyung being stare-y again, but the atmosphere didn’t feel the same. This stare felt...dreary. But you thought that it was just you, and you decide to ignore it, thinking that it might all in your head.

As Taehyung watches you walk out of the front door, he notices something strange from the corner of his eyes. He rotates them to what caught his attention, but it hid in the bushes before he got a glimpse of it. He found it unusual, as it’s not common for anyone or any animal to be scurrying around the neighborhood, and there was something from the corner of his mind, telling him that it may not be good.

And that feeling never went away for both you and Taehyung. Every day before and after work, you feel these heavy eyes on you, watching every move you make. You try to play it off as you being paranoid and didn’t tell Taehyung about it, but it’s getting to the point where you couldn’t ignore it anymore; there’s no doubt that you feel a third presence. It can’t be V because he and his band moved on to the next city, so you can’t think of anyone else.

Today you return home, and Taehyung does his usually greeting of hugging you and welcoming you back home.

You hug him back. “How was your day, Taehyung?”

“Good. I was writing in my journal again.”

“That’s great.”

You take off your shoes, tossing your purse to the couch and walking to the kitchen. Taehyung follows you, staring at you while you make yourself a cup of orange juice. You two talk amongst each other about trivial topics, and while chatting, you two move to the living room. Just like every year, you feel as though this holiday was too short, almost as if you barely had any time to be with Taehyung.

You sit by the couch where you’re positioned to see the window to the front yard. Taehyung sits on the couch opposite of you, listening to every word that comes out of your mouth. While talking, you notice someone peering into your front window. At first, you thought it was a passerby, but they don’t move from their spot. This young girl begins taking photos of your house, gidding at each picture she saves.

As strange as it seems, you try to ignore it, thinking that she’ll eventually go away, but it only gets worse when her friends show up. They huddle amongst themselves, cackling about something. They take more pictures, and it unnerves you. Noticing that you’ve been staring out the window for quite some time, Taehyung turns around and sees the girls.

“Taehyung, stay here.” You get up from the couch, not letting your eyes off the girls.

Taehyung almost stands up, but your raise your hand, signaling him not to move anymore than this. You put on your shoes and walk out of your front door. When they hear the front door opening, they begin squealing under their breaths, and you raise an eyebrow as you get closer to them.

“Hello, is there something going on here?”

The girls mutter to each other in low voices, huddled in a circle like in American football games. Eventually, the girls push one of them toward you. The girl in front of you looks flustered, hands behind her back and cheeks red.

“H-hi there...w-w-we were just wondering if V from BTS lives in that house.” The girl stutters out.

Your eyes widen at her question, and that feeling of foreboding resurfaces similar to when V came here. This time, you don’t know if they’re talking about V or Taehyung, but either way, it’s not good that they spotted him.

“I’m staying in my grandparents’ house down the street,” one of the girls points to her left. “And I kept seeing V going in that house.”

“Can we take a picture with him?”

With your jaw hanging, you shake your head, taking each step backwards slowly. “N-no. I’m going to have to ask you girls to leave.”

You turn around and dash back inside, slamming the door from behind. You lean on the door, staring blankly at the carpet as Taehyung runs to your side.

“Are you okay?”

You look up at Taehyung, unsure of what to tell him or where to start. Your worst fear is coming to life, and you might’ve put Taehyung into danger. You look through the hole on the door, and the girls have left. He blinks, and you try to compose yourself.

“I’m going to call V.”

------

V falls silent on the other side after you explained everything. You wait impatiently for him to respond, hoping that he won’t leave you hanging. Taehyung is sitting next to you, his head tilted and confused.

“(Y/N)...I’m so sorry...I didn’t mean for this to happen to both you and Taehyung. I can send you security or have you stay at a nearby hotel or…”

“I think we’re fine now. I just wanted to let you know. They might’ve thought that you were still here.”

“Alright, if anything else happens, then you have to tell me as soon as possible.”

You hang up the phone, and you sigh. Earlier definitely scared you a lot because you thought that the situation was going to escalate. Now that you had some time to think, those fans might’ve come to the realization that V is in another city. But you can’t shake off that anxious feeling, especially since one of the girls is staying at a house nearby.

Taehyung scoots closer to you, closing the gap between you and him. He must’ve sensed how worried you are, so he wraps his arm around you and pulls you in for a hug. Your face lands on his chest, and since his chest isn’t soft, there was a thump sound. It’s been a while since you two held onto each other like this, so it’s soothing.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up. “For what?”

“You called Mr. V because I’m not reliable enough to protect you…”

“What?!” You pull yourself back. “No, it’s not like that!”

You called him partially because you wanted to let him be aware, but also because of what he said about his fans taking things to the extreme. You thought that he would understand, that’s all.

“V knows about how to deal with fans better than we both do. It has nothing to do with you.”

However, Taehyung doesn’t seem all that convinced. “But I still want to protect you. You’re always the one doing everything for me.”

There’s something off about Taehyung, and it’s starting to make you worry. “You’ve been quiet lately. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You give him an intense stare, dying to hear his answer. It’s so rare for Taehyung not to tell you anything, so it’s making you think that he no longer trusts you. You want to do anything you can to fix that.

But before he can give you an answer, your phone rings, which startles you. You look down to see V’s contact number. You glance at Taehyung, letting him know that you have to take this call. He nods, and you accept the number. Although, the moment you cut off Taehyung to answer V, you feel you’ve just distanced yourself from Taehyung even more.

------

You were too naive thinking that that would’ve been the only time you experience strangers standing around your house. Within a few days, it’s escalated to the point where there’s a bigger group of people in your front yard. You can’t even walk out through the entrance anymore because you’ll be enclosed in a circle of unwanted attention, asking to see V.

Today is a weekend, so luckily for you, you don’t have to go to work. However, there’s an even bigger crowd since not many people work on Saturdays. You watch them through the window with your curtains down, biting on your nails as you anxiously wait for them to leave. It’s mainly teenage-to-young adults by your front lawn.

You update the situation with V, and now concerned for you and Taehyung’s well-being, he said that he’s going to do something about it. However, with his tour that’s still going on, V can’t exactly be there to help, but he’s going to try and bring some security. To avoid more attention and increase the chances of putting Taehyung in danger, you decide not to call the police, as it would also affect V as well. The crowd is not large enough to where it’s a hindrance, at most, seven or so people loiter in your area. But still, you don’t feel right letting them stay in your place.

“(Y/N), you should sit down.” Taehyung comments, watching you nervously pace back and forth in the living room.

You stop and smile, but you return to your anxious walking. Seeing as you won’t listen to him, Taehyung takes you by the hand and pulls you down to sit with him. Though he was rather aggressive, Taehyung knew that if he didn’t do anything then you wouldn’t have listened.

“This house is our safe haven, right? That’s why you kept me in here for so long,” Taehyung brushes your hair behind your ear. “So they won’t trespass.”

You chuckle, relieving from the stress. “You’re right...and if they do, then I’ll definitely call the police.”

You don’t like this amount of attention from strangers. It took you awhile to get used to V, so the sudden appearance of a crowd is too much for you to handle. You wish you never welcomed V inside your home. If you didn't, then you wouldn’t have gotten stuck in this situation. Because of your simple decision, it brought you and Taehyung unwanted attention.

You try your hardest to fight off the tears, but you feel so hopeless. Instead, you embrace Taehyung, letting your body fall onto him. Despite his hard exterior, you feel the same amount of comfort you’d feel when hugging any other person. You actually don’t remember how it feels to be in the arms of another human. It’s always been Taehyung. He claims that you’re his first everything, but he’s also your first everything. That feeling of being loved by another person was something you haven’t felt in years. Taehyung may be imitating the ‘love’ that you give him in return, but it’s better than nothing.

“Taehyung...a part of me is worried because they might do something to you, but at the same time, another part of me doesn’t want to share you with the world.”

You hide your face in his chest, finally confessing a bit of your selfishness.

“I’m scared that they’ll see you as a monster, but I’m also scared that you’ll find something better out there. You always say that you don’t do enough for me, but...keeping me sane is the best thing anyone can ever do for me,” You snicker in a distant tone. “‘Sane’...I think I’m as obsessed with you just as my dad was with V.”

You pull yourself back, and Taehyung cups both of your cheeks. He stares back with those dreamy eyes of his. He’s always observing with those eyes, and perhaps you’ve stared into those eyes for so long that they don’t look like glass eyes.

“I don’t mind. I’ll be yours forever if you want me to...and if you want me gone, then I won’t hesitate to do so. If anything I…”

Your phone goes off, and it’s V’s number. You leave Taehyung alone to pick up the call. “Hello? Yes...yea, we’re fine...Yes, yes. Oh, will that be fine? I mean, I think so...but…” You turn to look at Taehyung. “I’m not sure...yea but...okay...I understand. Thank you so much, V.”

You hang up and put your phone back in your pocket.

“V said that after tonight’s concert, if the people are still here, then he’ll have some people come over and tell them to leave.”

You sigh in relief, dropping your entire body onto the couch. You’re glad that this will be resolved tonight because you couldn’t stand going to work with the girls trying to ask if V is in your house.

“What did he say?”

“He sent security to tell the people to go away. They should come tonight.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything immediately. You thought that he’d be relieved too, but he doesn’t say or do anything to express what he’s feeling.

“Okay.”

------

Just as V said he’d do, the security eventually came and swept the people away. Some retaliated, but when the threat of police came into the conversation, that’s when they decided to leave you two alone. It’s nice seeing your front yard being vacant again, and now you can sleep peacefully.

You crawl into bed, finding Taehyung once again reading Pinocchio by your bedside. He hasn’t been reading lately because of V, but it’s not a surprise that he goes back to the book that he loves the most. You lean over to see him reading the page where Pinocchio and the woodmaker are stuck in the mouth of a whale.

“You know what, Taehyung? You’ve read the book a million times, but you’ve never seen the movie.”

“It’s fine. I like to use my imagination and picture everything in my head.”

“You’re always watching documentaries and news, but you never watch movies and cartoons. Why is that?”

“...I...don’t know. I think I like seeing things that feels real. Movies and shows don’t feel the same knowing that they are fake stories created by people just imitating to be real. Books make me think, and at least it makes me feel the most human,” Taehyung flips to the next page. “But whenever I read Pinocchio, I never understood how the fairy was able to give him a personality and everything. Pinocchio knew how to speak and walk without having to learn. He came to life because of fairy dust. When I look at myself...I struggled with all of that. I couldn’t grasp anything easily like how Pinocchio did. Even now, I still struggle with using my hands.”

Taehyung stares at his hand with the open wrist cut. You can tell that he detests his own hands because of how unrealistic they are compared to a human’s. But you take his hand, holding them gently to let him know that you never thought of his hands as disgusting.

“Pinocchio is a made-up story, and you’re real. In real life, people struggle a lot, and sometimes it takes years for them to fix themselves. If Pinocchio was based on a real story, then the book would’ve been thousands of pages long.”

“(Y/N)...”

“Yea?”

“In the story, Pinocchio died saving his creator, and after that, he turned into a real boy. But what would happen if he didn’t sacrifice himself? Would he have remained a puppet for eternity? Or would the spell fade away eventually, and he would become an ordinary doll again?” Taehyung looks up from the book and at you.

You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind. It’s something that you never stop to wonder. What if he didn’t save the woodmaker?

“I don’t know.”

Seeing that you don’t have an answer to his question, he returns to the page, tracing his wooden finger down Pinocchio’s face. “To run out of time and return to being a lifeless doll, or to surpass the life expectancy of the one who cares for you...either way, they’re both scary thoughts.”

Taehyung closes the book.

“Either I’m going to fade away or my body is going to fall apart...I’m scared.”

Taehyung has never once said that he was scared of anything, and maybe the reason why nothing has ever scared him is because death scares him more than anything. Years ago when he was attacked by the dog, the time when he was scratched by a cat, and those strangers standing by your lawn, none of those scare him because there was something scarier crawling on his back, and that was his unpredictable ending.

“Don’t be scared! If a body part breaks, then I can fix it. And...if it makes you feel better, my father once told me that souls are those who are looking for another body to reincarnate into. We were all once souls that belonged to someone a generation before us, we just happen to forget who we were in our previous lives because we don’t have enough space to remember everything.”

“But...what if either of us disappears and forget everything?”

“Hmm...then somehow and some way, we’ll return to this home! After all, this is our permanent home. We may not remember ourselves, but when we feel or see something, it’ll bring back memories. By the way, I never got to fix your hand. How about tomorrow, let’s do it?”

Taehyung nods, thinking about your words. You always find the right words to make him feel better, which is why you’re precious to him. To not be able to see your smile every day will tear him apart, and he would rather be mauled by a dog a thousand times than to be separated from you.

“About Mr. V...I…” Taehyung opens his mouth to say something, but he shuts it quickly. “Never mind. It’s getting late. You should go to bed.”

He gets up and turns off the lamp to let you sleep. Rather than sit on a chair to watch you sleep, he heads downstairs. You know there’s still something else bothering him, but he won’t cough it up. What else is there that he’s afraid of telling you?

------

Taehyung sits by the windowsill, staring at the full moon. By this point, you’ve already fallen asleep. He keeps thinking about the past few days, having so many things happen at once in a short amount of time. It felt as though V was barely even here, despite being the only other human he’s ever spoke to. Time flew by before he knew it, and now it’s returned to the ordinary life he lived with you.

He rolls up his sleeve to look at his worn-out arm, noticing that the hole has become bigger. There are also patches of dirt ingrained in his skin. Just seeing his arm makes him anxious that his arm isn’t sturdy enough to lift heavy objects anymore. Despite that, he still doesn’t want you to replace this arm, and it’s because it’ll remind him that his body parts can easily be replaced, just as he can be replaced for the real V. As hard as he tries to get rid of the image of you two sitting together, it can’t help but think how V is a better match for you, not some makeshift figurine like him.

To distract himself, he picks up his journal that he left on the coffee table. He flips through the pages to skim all the past entries that he’s done. Typically, whenever he finishes a journal, you would put them stacked in a box for safe keeping. One day, he’d like to go through all the entries he’s done and reminisce about the memories he’s made. He opens to a blank page and begins writing.

Suddenly, Taehyung is alerted by the sound of the backyard door unlocking. He shoots his head up, cocking his head as he wonders what could’ve resulted in the click of the lock.

“Oh my god, did you do it?”

“I got it, I got it!!!”

The faint sound of two girls squealing can be heard from the kitchen. He sets the journal down, slowly getting up from the couch and motioning to the source of the noise.

“It feels so weird that we’re in the same house as V! But do you think V is really here?”

“I’m sure!! I swear I saw him.”

The girls continue murmuring to themselves, oblivious to Taehyung’s presence. He stealthily walks towards them and can see a small circular light moving around, assuming that it’s a flashlight. The girls tiptoe while he closes the gap between them, and as he moves, Taehyung thinks of different scenarios in appearing in front of the two strangers. Will they accept him like you and V, or will they run away in fear?

Once both Taehyung and the two girls stand at the corner that divides the living from the kitchen, they both freeze. The three of them stand in silence, making sure that they can hear if there is potential danger that lingers on the other side of the wall.

“Do you think that lady is still asleep?”

“I’m sure. Who the hell wakes up this late anyway?”

“You’re right...I just have a gut feeling that there’s another person here, and it’s creeping me out.”

Taehyung thought he was quiet enough to where he is presence is invisible to the girls, but they felt his presence. He peeks over the corner and sees the two girls with their backs facing him. They don’t notice him whatsoever, so he stands still, figuring out what else to do now.

He becomes so focused in trying not to alert the girls that he doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings. Taehyung accidentally hits his hand against a nearby vase, creating the sound of glass tipping over. He was able to catch it before it fell...but focusing on the vase was a huge mistake. Before he knew it, there was a strong force thrust against his cheek—strong enough that he falls to the ground. Typically, he never feels pain, but this sensation beneath his eye feels dented.

“Oh fuck…”

Both girls stare at Taehyung with wide eyes, one of them holding the flashlight with the light facing upward. The black color on the edge of the flashlight has been scratched off due to it having been used as a weapon and hitting Taehyung against the face. The girls look at each other in horror as the realization hits them of what they’ve just done.

The girl with the flashlight shines it on Taehyung’s face, but he’s too distraught at the dent in his cheek. He tries to blink, but the dent is preventing him from doing so. When they recognize Taehyung’s face, he isn’t met with squeals of admiration, but jaw-dropping silence that they’ve just injured who they think is their favorite idol. Taehung strokes the crater in his face, revealing his ball-joint hands. When he looks up, unable to get a good look at their faces due to the light blinding him, the girls see that this isn’t V, but a monster. They scream at the sight of his artificial face, running out through the back door.

Immediately, you jump out of bed at the sound of the girls’ screams and dash downstairs. You turn on the lights to find Taehyung on his knees, staring at the back door. You breathe heavily from the adrenaline and fear of not knowing what happened.

“Taehyung?!”

He looks up after you called for him, and you see the reason for the screams. He was hit hard enough that his cheek has been pushed inward...and his glass eye is cracked.

You run toward him, falling to your knees as well and putting both hands around his shoulders. You cup his cheek, pulling his head up to see the injury on his face and your expressing changing to horror as you see that the damage is near impossible to fix. There is nothing you can do to replace his face, and your expression says it all.

Taehyung wraps his hand around yours, seeing if he can find a way to soothe you. “I think I’m fine…”

“What are you talking about?! No you’re not!”

Whenever Taehyung’s body was harmed, he would look indifferent, but unlike before, he looks as if he can feel the pain on his face, especially in the eye area as he’s covering his cracked eye. You move his hand away, seeing as his iris is uneven, and in return, Taehyung has a difficult time seeing your face, as there’s a black line drawn across from his face and making your face crooked.

You stand up, pulls Taehyung by the arms to help him up as well. However, Taehyung loses grip and when he tries to stand, he falls back down. You try again, but fearing that you might rip his weaker hand off, you stop. He looks like he’s in a daze, unable to keep his eyes focused.

“(Y/N)...I can’t feel my fingers.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung...Everything’s gonna be alright...Just...let me help you to my room.” You try your best to remain calm, but something in the back of your head knows that this will not turn out for the better.

------

You were able to get Taehyung into your bed without him struggling. Normally, he would say that he’s alright and is in no need of rest, but with the damage to his head, it seems as though he’s too weak to even do that.

You stand in front of the room that you’ve kept locked for many years—the basement. Taking in a deep breath, you unlock the door with a key, opening it and revealing a dark staircase to Taehyung’s birthplace. You’ve avoided going to the dreaded basement as it would remind you of your father’s death. However, it is the place that your father keeps all of his books about black magic.

Because of the lack of presence in the basement, the light switch is buried in dust. The flip of the switch causes the particles to fly everywhere. You cover your nostrils with your sleeve, looking for the bookshelf. Being toppled with dust, you wipe it off to read the titles until you find the right book. Feeling too nauseous to stay in this room any longer, you run back upstairs and turn off the lights behind you.

Flipping through the pages of the aged book, the fonts are fading away. Thankfully, most of the pages are decipherial. You skim through the pages in hopes that you’ll find something that’ll help you fix Taehyung. After reading a few more pages, you found the page that might help, but you don’t feel too excited about it.

The sun rises by the time you finish reading. You return to your bedroom, and Taehyung turns his head to face you. However, his broken eye makes it hard for him to look at you, but he knew based on how silent you were that you did not come to bring good news.

“Hey...Taehyung, how are you feeling?” You try smiling, but the tips of your lips are trembling.

“I can’t move my fingers.”

You bite your bottom lip, sitting by the edge of the bed as Taehyung tries to reach out to you. The last time he struggled with controlling his body was when he first met you.

“I’m sorry Taehyung...because of me, I couldn’t protect you from those intruders. If only I had persisted V to take us somewhere safe then…”

“It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up for it.”

Your eyes begin to well up, but no tears fall. “Why wouldn’t I beat myself up for this!? Taehyung, I read my dad’s books, and it’s nearly impossible to fix you this time. Because I was being careless, you’re going to…”

Saying the words would make you break down, so you hold back that lump in your throat and remain calm. Brushing your bangs behind your ears, you clear your throat for the news that you never want to tell him.

“The eyes...are what kept your soul intact with your body, and they were the only body parts that I had to protect. If they are shattered, then there isn’t a barrier anymore and your soul will disperse. The only way to secure it again is if I find another body for you. Maybe a mannequin, or another lifesize doll, o-or even an actual human body…”

Your heart starts pounding at your dark thoughts, potentially tricking someone into giving their body to you, or go to the nearest store and steal a mannequin. In a moment of panic, anything seems possible as long as Taehyung is okay. He doesn’t even need to look like V.

Then...you start even thinking about taking V’s body. No one would notice that the old V is old, right? Besides, it’ll still be the same body that everyone loves, and this time, Taehyung would be able to do things his current body can’t do.

You feel something brush against your arm, and it’s Taehyung trying to get your attention. He knows that you’re the type to overthink things, and it’s painful seeing you struggle alone.

“Whatever you’re thinking...stop,” he pauses briefly. “I don’t...want you to find me another body. I don’t want you to meet the same end as your dad.”

That’s right—conducting black magic is like bending the world for your own desires, and for that, nature will punish you. Your father was killed for performing ungodly experiments, and it came back to him by taking his life.

“I don’t want to live knowing that my life brought another death, especially to someone who’s important to me. Besides...I don’t want to continue living in this body.”

“Wh-what?”

“It frustrates me that I can’t do the things that you can do, especially seeing how Mr. V can do it all that you don’t even need me.”

“Taehyung...don’t say that.”

By now, you can’t control your tears. You hold onto his hand tightly, despite him not even feeling it. It’s only been a few hours and his body has already drastically changed inside.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life knowing that you have to constrain yourself to me. The only pain I felt was seeing you fix me, but I couldn’t fix you. So please...let me die.”

All you can do now is sob at Taehyung’s last wish. It was always rare for him to make requests, but whenever he did, it was always a difficult one. You hold onto his hand tighter, unable to stop your wails as you’re about to lose the one you love.

“O-okay…”

“I don’t know how much time I have left...but I’d like to spend it with you, (Y/N).”

------

“(Y/N)...I...I’m so sorry. I’ll come to your house as soon as possible.”

“No, V, it’s okay. This is Taehyung’s decision too, and we should respect it.”

“Do you really expect me to just sit still and do nothing?! Why did you wait to tell me this days later?? I’m the reason why he’s dying!!” You could hear the desperation in his voice.

“It’s...okay. There’s nothing we can do now, but I just wanted to let you know anyways because you were Taehyung’s only friend.”

“(Y/N), I...I’m so sorry...I should’ve been more alerted. I feel so stupid for putting you two in danger. I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that you and Taehyung will be okay.”

You choke on your tears, wanting to believe in that hope, but knowing the reality that it’ll never come true.

“I did a little bit of research about souls, and it’s possible that once it leaves the body, it travels to another one. If I can somehow do that…”

“V, stop. I appreciate the help, but it’s not that easy. Anyways, I called you about that so...I have to hang up now.” Before you let him answer, you hang up the phone. You feel awful for closing off V, but you know you’ll break down while on the phone.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch, all dressed up to go outside and play in the snow. His shattered eye has worsened to the point where he’s missing shards of it, revealing a dark void behind his eyeballs. You’re also dressed to go outside to the winter season’s last snow day.

You sit next to Taehyung, helping him put on the gloves you gave him for Christmas, and you see the arm with the hole in his wrist.

“I never got the chance to replace that…”

“It’s okay. I prefer this arm anyways. Reminds me of all the memories we made together.”

You can’t find yourself to smile anymore, knowing that with each passing day, Taehyung is become more and more distant. He no longer has control over his body and practically a speaking doll; not even his mouth moves.

You help him up by wrap his arm around your neck and lift him up. Luckily for you, he’s light enough for you to drag him to the front door. You don’t care if people see you two anymore, and all you want to do is be with Taehyung.

You set him down on the front porch while you start building small snowmen for him to see. The atmosphere feels dead—no more Christmas music, no giddy laughter, just silence as you fulfill Taehyung’s last wish of building a snowman with you.

Unable to bear with this quiet mood, you feel the need to talk. “Taehyung, can you tell me a story?”

You also asked him in part to make sure that he’s still alive. Taehyung pauses for a long time, until he finally thought of something.

“There once was a woodmaker who wanted to have a son, so he created a puppet and named it Pinocchio. Pinocchio was granted to live, but he wasn’t a real boy yet until he proves that he’s a selfless person. But...he didn’t know how to show it because he didn’t know what was right from wrong. He felt lost because the moment he was born...his creator was already dead.”

Your ears perk up, not remembering this part of Pinocchio.

“Then came a beautiful but frightened woman who was brave enough to take care of the naive Pinocchio. He was nothing more than a blank slate, not knowing how to speak or walk, but she was patient. When the naive doll walked out of the house and was attacked by a ferocious beast, the woman held him in her arms, relieved that he was okay. And...that was the first time he felt something. He didn’t know what it was, but eventually he learned that what he felt was love, his first ever emotion.”

You stop making the small snowmen, having your back facing him but too afraid to look at him.

“But what came along with love was jealousy, as he was always afraid that she would leave the doll for a better version of himself. The model his creator used was smarter, more charming, and charismatic. While he was a somebody, the doll was a nobody. He was afraid that he’ll be tossed aside for the shinier version, so the doll lived in fear that the woman would fall for him. But...she didn’t. She stayed with the broken, uglier version, and the doll is so thankful that he wishes he could cry. He was happy that out of millions of people, he had at least one person who would remember his story. (Y/N)...I’m sorry you didn’t fall in love with the real Taehyung. You were probably expecting to be with the real one, but you ended up being stuck with me. You may not like me, but even until my last moments, I’m glad I could love you.”

You turn around to look at Taehyung, and with an ounce of strength that he has left, he leans over and manages to give you a peck on the lips. He couldn’t feel a single thing, but that action alone made him feel happy that he was able to express his immense love for you without words.

“Even though I couldn’t become a real human, thank you…(Y/N), for showing me your world.”

And with that, the last of Taehyung’s soul dissipates, leaving you with an empty doll sprawled on the floor. Small shards of his glass eye trickle down from his eye, reflecting the moon’s illumination and resembling that of tears.

Taehyung was only there for a margin of your life, but he impacted you so much. Because of him you changed for the better, giving you the hope of finding one person that would understand you. You lived with so many regrets, as there were so many opportunities to prevent Taehyung from arriving to his short-lived life. However, he was never happy with his body from the beginning, so perhaps it was better that his life ended the way it did.

You continue to sob with the two small snowmen in front of you as Taehyung’s lifeless body falls off of your shoulder. Though his expression hasn’t changed, you could feel that he was smiling when he left his body, ending his tale that was not meant to exist.

------

Epilogue

You couldn’t stop crying after reading the journals—entries made by a doll who was in love with his caretaker but couldn’t express it, so he wrote it down on these very pages. The journals have not aged well as they are wrinkly and yellow, but they are still legible. You found this man’s life to be unforgiving, as he was a wandering soul forced into a poorly-made body for the sake of man’s obsession. But the young woman’s life is just as tragic, as she soon died of a broken heart. Just like the doll’s physicality, the woman’s mentality was just as shattered.

You find this believable because all your life, you felt as though there was something missing within you. Your mother always said that you were a crybaby, and no one could ever figure out why, not even you. At times, you would wake up while in tears, knowing that a dream was the source but not remembering what it was about. You kept searching for answers, but each lead led to a deadend.

It wasn’t until you ran into an old man while crossing the busy city streets. He grabbed your arm as if he knew who you were, and initially you thought it was strange. It wasn’t until he sat you down and introduced himself as a former musician of a band who is now a dollmaker. He told you the story of his two friends who were in love with his each other, but their lives caused them to separate at the early stages of their romance. He said that you just so happen to look like the girl.

Before he left, he gave you an address and a stack of journals. When you got home, you read all the journals and that was when you figured out what you’ve been missing your entire life. Your previous life never felt fulfilled, so you must’ve seeked for a more satisfying life but had forgotten about it. You knew that in that moment, you had to find Taehyung, even if he doesn’t remember you.

...You make your way to the address that the old man gave you, and it’s a dollmaker shop. You could tell that this place was once a home converted into a store, but this place also feels sentimental. You’re nervous about entering the shop, wondering what awaits on the other side. But standing still won’t resolve anything, so you force your legs to press forward until you inches away from the door.

It feels as though your heart will jump out of your chest from the anticipation, almost making you not want to open the door, but at the same time motivating you to do it. What will you do in the store? What if what you’re looking for isn’t there? What are you looking for? All of these questions hovering around but no answers, and the only way you’ll answer them is by going through the store.

You swing the door open, with the door hitting a bell just hanging from above. It’s a small antiquette-themed place. There are dolls of all sorts on the shelves and limb parts on cabinets with glass doors. The place is surrounded by the smell of oak wood. You peek your head to the side, inspecting the shelves of all the dolls from brand-named to the wooden kinds.

You hear the sound of footsteps coming from what looks to formally have been a kitchen but remodeled to be a backroom.

“Hello! How may I help you?”

You perk your head up to see a familiar man you’ve never met before walking to the cashier. Your jaw drops at the sight of him, knowing exactly who he is, despite looking different than before. Your bottom lip stutters as you try to comprehend the situation laid before you. There stands the man you’ve missed your entire life—that longing that you never knew you had is being fulfilled.

The man standing before you is no longer a doll, but a real human. You don’t know how that happened, but judging by the old man, he must’ve done something to transfer his soul into another body. Whatever the reason, it’s surreal to see him as a human, even though you’ve never seen how he looked like as a doll. You don’t even know how you looked like in the past.

After a wave of shock, you’re now experiencing fear, concerned that while you may recall bits and pieces of your past life’s memories, this man may be unaware. You feel choked up in the throat, but it’s too early to cry.

But that uncertain feeling is swept away once the man freezes and stares at you for a long period. Without a single word, you knew that he remembers you as well, and you feel relieved. There’s a strong signal between you two, but neither of you are saying or doing anything. It’s an unusual feeling of having felt as though you’ve known the other person, but at the same time, looking into the eyes of a stranger.

“T-Taehyung…?”

He chuckles. “Taehyung is the name of this shop’s owner, but he was also called V when he was still a singer.”

You’re disappointed and embarrassed that you mistaken him for someone else. You feel the need to run away after humiliating yourself.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“But...it’s been a long time since someone called me that.”

Your eyes widen.

“You must be (Y/N), right?”

You giggle, your eyes getting teary. “That’s not my name either, but that name is nostalgic.”

‘Taehyung’ cocks his head to the side, smiling as he gazes at you, falling in love with you a second time as you’re just as beautiful as you were before. “Well, I look a bit different, don’t I?”

Instinctively, you jump onto him, letting out all of your tears, feeling as though another being has taken over your body—this other ‘force’ being the person from your previous life being able to hold her loved one again. “Taehyung, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you...Even though I became a new person, I just couldn’t move on.”

Taehyung is puzzled, unsure whether he should hug you back. But when he feels the soft texture of your skin, he loses all composure and begins to cry as well. All the emotions he couldn’t express before is finally released, holding onto you as tight as he could and not wanting to let go. He never knew your skin felt this soft, had he known it was this soft then he would’ve never left your side.

Taehyung knew from the moment he was created, he would never turn into a human like Pinocchio, as the world is crueler than in storybooks. He knew...but he still tried being as selfless as he could. However, his determination to become selfless was selfish because he was driven to be with you for the rest of his life. He was scared that you’d fall in love with the real V and leave him for good, but seeing as you couldn’t even leave him alone in this world, he can’t help but be grateful that you’re the one he loves—in both his past life as a doll, and as a real boy.

In the end, Taehyung got his wish granted and became a human, and there is nothing else he can ever ask for.

“Welcome back…(Y/N).”

[End]

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this until the very end!!!!!! :D I was very iffy about making this story because technically you don’t end up with the real Taehyung...so I hope you all enjoyed it and please tell me whether you like it or not. ^_^

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getoutofthewater · 5 years ago

Text

[Detroit: Become Human Fanfic] Cloudburst

Rating: T

Warnings: Murder, horror elements

Chapters: 5/5 | Words: 21,549 [AO3]

Notes: A mystery/ghost story, vaguest 50′s setting, human AU. Not focused on ships, but there’s some Gavin/Leo and a bit of Markus/Simon. Main povs are Gavin, Tina and Leo.

Summary: When Gavin Reed agrees to drive his cousin Elijah Kamski to the Manfred Manor there’s no way for him to foresee the strange night that awaits them.

CHAPTER 1

“You have to come with me” Elijah Kamski said into the phone

“Why the fuck would I?” his cousin growled, never shy to show his annoyance and aggravation

“To do me a favor”

Skeptical silence was all that was heard on the other side of the line

“Come on, Gavin!” Elijah insisted “There will be good food and expensive booze, you can bring a plus one…” he added uselessly

“Can’t your girl go with you?”

“We have talked about this,” Elijah almost huffed “Chloe is not my girl, and she’s been at her sisters’ for the past month, as she should after what happened with her mother, any news on that by the way”

“If there were I couldn’t tell you,” Gavin barked “but no…”

Elijah huffed in frustration, not that he was expecting a different answer, was it too early to expect results from the police? Or was the case going cold? Not something he could simply ask his cousin without ruffling his feathers, not ideal when he wanted a favor

“So,” Elijah continued “if she were feeling like making it she would have contacted me already, I don’t want to press her at a time like this, but I don’t feel like arriving by myself… or leaving the villa by myself either…” he said in a desperate attempt to use the truth as a hook

There was a defeated groan at the other side of the line; his cousin was not as though as he’d like everyone to think

“Phck!” Gavin said “Listen, I’m picking you up and dropping you off, and that’s it”

“Fair enough” Elijah replied

“Whatever, see you tomorrow” Gavin slammed down the receiver, just like Elijah to drag him into something bothersome like this with such short notice.

“Who are you seeing tomorrow?” Tina asked curiously, sitting at his kitchen table, one of his cats sat on her lap, advising her on their match of Gin Rummy

“Fucking Elijah wants me to be his chauffeur” He replied moodily, sitting opposite to her, picking up his cards again

“Where is the genius going?” she said drawing a card

“The Manfred Manor”

“That’s fancy!”

“Is it?” Gavin asked without any real interest, more focused on his cards than in the conversation

“They say the Manfred Manor is incredible” Tina said enthusiastically “Carl Manfred has collected all sort of amazing things”

“Didn’t think you’d be interested in knick knacks and curios”

“Everyone but you is interested in Carl Manfred’s curious” Tina chided “The man is a legend, he’s traveled all over the world, he’s been a recluse ever since his accident but of course your cousin gets an invitation!”

Gavin sighed “Do you want to come?”

“Yeah, sure” Tina said with a small laugh

“I’m serious, he said I could bring some other damn idiot”

Tina instantly brightened up “I’d love to be that damn idiot!”

“We start at 5,” Gavin said drily “I’m not dealing with the morning rush and it’s 2 hours just to reach his freaking bunker, who knows how much more to reach Manfred’s”

“Perfect,” Tina smiled “Gin!” she called out fanning her cards over the table and scratching the cat’s head

“Phck,”

They started on their way in the dark and cold of the very early morning; Tina soon fell asleep only waking up when the morning sun hit her uncomfortably right in the face, she sat upright in the passenger seat, ironing the fabric of her trousers with her hands, belatedly wondering if she should have put on a dress instead, but she only had the pink cotton she’d worn to her nephew’s christening; it wasn’t unflattering, her mother knew how to pick a dress that’d favor her daughter, but she didn’t recognize herself in it, it made her feel awkward and uncomfortable, things she usually wasn’t at all.

When they arrived to the Kamski Villa, it was everything Gavin said it would be, uncomfortably sterile and silent. Tina was glad they weren’t staying around, Gavin’s place could be messy, and hers could be noisy, but she always thought they felt comfortably lived in, places where she could relax and feel at home, either dancing by herself in her own apartment or reading in Gavin’s couch with two or three cats piled on her, card games on fridays; if she was being honest the Villa left an odd taste in her mouth she hoped wouldn’t carry on to the Manor. She was really looking forward to that.

As they came back outside with Elijah in tow, she rushed to take the back seat while the boys put Elijah’s luggage in the back, leaving the cousins in the front seemed adequate since Elijah would need to guide Gavin to their final destination, she relinquished her usual shotgun without complaint.

“Thank you for taking care of my cousin, Miss Chen” Elijah Kamski said to her once they were on the road

“It’s not an easy job!” she chirped

“I can’t imagine it would be” Elijah huffed.

Gavin growled

“And please, Tina is just fine” she added ignoring him

“Elijah” he said turning on his seat to give her a handshake

“I see your girl has been teaching you manners” Gavin mocked

“She’s not my girl” Elijah said “and yes… she has…”

“I bet that’s not an easy job either” Tina said

“Elijah is worse than me, that’s for sure”

“I hope not!“ Elijah said “That’s a horrid thought!”

The city gave way to the country side, the sight of houses became more and more rare until they found themselves driving with only the sight of trees at either side, all of them in the cozy copper and reds of autumn, although the strong wind and the grey clouds rolling in and looking almost like smoke from a fire forecasted a storm

“Why couldn’t that fucking geezer live in civilization” Gavin complained, not one to enjoy an atmospheric view

“Is it true that he doesn’t leave the Manor at all?” Tina asked

“I’m afraid so” Elijah said “He used to live in the city, he was quite social, I’m told he had many wild parties. The Manor was only meant as a summer house, but after his accident he holed up in it”

“Guess you can relate” Gavin huffed

“I sure can” Elijah replied completely unbothered. That he was a well known recluse did not bother him, he was a young man but his patents and inventions were making him more than enough money for him to give himself the luxury of not holding back on any of his misanthropic tendencies.

Elijah frowned, then opened his mouth as if to say something else but seemed to think better of it, not that Gavin would let him get away with it. Gavin looked at Tina through the rear view mirror, their routine taking over. He’d let her do the talking on crime scenes all the time, she was good at putting people at ease, and people at ease tended to talk.

“Is anything the matter?” Tina asked

“I was just… thinking…” Elijah said with a light scowl “this invitation is slightly odd”

“How so?” Tina added

Elijah shook his head dismissing the idea and remained silent.

Tina and Gavin exchanged a look, they would let it go for now, they had good instincts cultivated by years of training and police work. They knew it was something worth pursuing later, but right now they wouldn’t get anything more.

“Oh! Look!” Tina said, pointing at a hitchhiker down the road, a welcome distraction “We should give him a ride, we are in the middle of nowhere, and those clouds look like the sky will start falling any second”

“I’m already the chauffer for one person, I’m not fucking taking anyone else anywhere!” Gavin spat, even pushing down on the accelerator, unwittingly splashing muddy ditch water on the hitchhiker (unwittingly because Tina always gave Gavin the benefit of the doubt, if she didn’t who on earth would)

“What the hell, fucktard?!” the hitchhiker shouted, if for nothing else than to relieve some of his frustration with the day… the week… the month… the year… his life in general… the first car he’d seen in hours drove away completely unconcerned, and now Leo was muddy and wet and cold…

“Shit!” he slung his rucksack over his shoulder in a careless, rough movement, only managing to unbalance himself, his foot twisted painfully and he fell

“Fucking dammit!” Leo scrambled up, now he was muddy and wet and cold and he’d probably sprained his fucking ankle.

He started walking, now with a newly acquired limp, excellent, but if he waited for another car it could take all day, and wouldn’t it be just like him to die freezing in the woods, or mauled by bears? Or whatever else could happen to you in the woods during a storm, Unknown Man Dead by Freak Lighting Strike (page 30). And hadn’t some people disappeared around here or something creepy like that only a few weeks back? Leo thought he’d heard something, a voice? A scream? Well you always heard all sort of weird noises coming from the woods, foxes were odd little shits always screaming like murder victims.

A cold shiver ran down his back at the thought, and he became aware of how alone he was. If he were to be ambushed and killed right here, right now, nobody would hear him. If he was buried right under that tree with the creepy face-like trunk nobody would even think of searching for him. Markus would only think he’d dismissed the invitation, and to tell the truth that had been Leo’s initial plan.

It seemed almost insulting, a letter from Markus (not even his dad) telling him his dad was planning to have this get together, the first since his accident “I hope you’d like to join us, I’ve heard you are doing so much better now and –“ Leo hadn’t read the rest before scrunching it and throwing it in the paper basket.

He’d dragged himself out of his addiction all by himself, he wasn’t doing “so much better”; he was only barely getting by and keeping away from trouble, he owed like 3 months’ rent because most of his money went to cover old, dangerous debts. He was hungry all the time, he could barely make his bills although his job as a clerk in a bookshop wasn’t all that bad, he was trying to write something as well, that was going alright.

The day before this get together farce he sensed he was about to be kicked out of his apartment, before that could happen he’d grabbed everything he could fit in his rucksack, anything important, told Mr. Doel at the bookshop he would be out of town for a week visiting his ailing father (none of this a lie) and he’d hitchhiked with some farmers as far as they could take him.

And now he was here, essentially because he had nowhere else to go, and there was always that idiotic sliver of himself, that truly stupid yearning buried deep inside him that told him, maybe, maybe his dad would like him better this once.

He’d been walking for a few minutes on his newly injured ankle when a pickup truck slowed down beside him. Leo eyed it suspiciously, an older man was at the wheel, a second one, only slightly older than Leo sat on the passenger seat. Leo smiled at them in relieved recognition.

“Where you going, son? Not getting up to trouble are you?” Lieutenant Anderson said, as his big saint bernard peeked outside the window, drooling all over the side of the car “Hell, Sumo! Let me talk to the kid!” he said placing his hand on the dog’s head softly

“Not this time… I hope” Leo replied with a sheepish smile “Do you know the Manfred Manor?” he asked “It’s okay if you aren’t going that far I’ll take what I can get”

“We are going past it, to the lake” Connor said

“Connor!” Hank chided in fond exasperation “He doesn’t need to know our life story”

“I think it’s only fair when he’s shared his destination with us, Hank”

“Fine, fine” Hank said, “If you are sure you wanna go there, hop right on the back, son. Too much dog in the front to fit another person”

“Thanks a lot!” Leo said with a smile, swinging his rucksack on to the cargo bed and then climbing in himself, awkwardly trying not to put much pressure on his bad ankle. He took his beanie off to feel the wind going through his hair, the clusters of trees, the crisp autumn chill and the wind that already smelled like water seemed much friendlier now that he had company and he was in a car, with the trees passing by in a blur not giving him time to imagine creepy faces in them.

“Look, Hank” Connor said after a few minutes, pointing at a car at the side of the road “I believe that’s Detective Reed”

“Just pretend you don’t see him, Connor!” Hank said gruffly “We are already late and I’m not stopping again”

“Are you sure, Hank? “

“He’ll be fine, look he aint alone, got Chen and some other twit with ‘im”

Gavin looked up to see the passing car, not soon enough to see it was Hank and Connor’s but just in time to see the hitchhiker in the back flipping him off.

“Fucking –“ Gavin said giving the middle finger back to the now empty road

“You sort of deserve it” Tina said, sitting sideways on the driver’s seat “I’m pretty sure that was Leo Manfred too” she smirked

“Yeah, right” Gavin glared at her, then directed his words to his cousin “So, can you do something about the engine or what?”

“I’m trying to concentrate” Elijah said drily as he tinkered under the hood “Cars are not my specialty but I’m sure I can figure it out”

Gavin left him to it, he knew plenty about motorcycles but not that much about cars, plus the fucking genius may leave it better than he found it, didn’t hurt having Elijah doing some actual work for once either.

“Try it” Elijah said, Tina complied turning the key in the ignition; the engine came alive with a loud roar that hid the faint, distant ghostly voices trying to tell them they should go back.

#detroit become human #gavin reed #tina chen #leo manfred #hank anderson #dbh connor #my stories #mandatory ghost story for autumn #mystories

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ladytshelby · 6 years ago

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Stand By Your Gun chapter one

Tommyxamelia

Gifs are from: pcllygray, weheartitsource, miss2lit, sirenjaandthestag. - if wrong please let me know and I’ll fix it.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter. There is plenty more to come in Amelia and Tommy’s story. Please let me know what you think. It would mean the world to me.

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈

Blood is coating the floor. Blood is dripping in her eyes, staining her clothes and her shaking hands. Amelia isn't even sure if it belongs to her because of the adrenaline pumping in her veins. She looks around, her eyes scanning the room finally seeing the damage that was caused in only a few minutes. Bodies littering the floor. Their faces belonging to people that, thankfully, Amelia can't recognize. Bullet holes making honeycombs out of the walls. Blood acting in place of the sweet honey.

Polly said this was a long time coming. A sort of reckoning for the Shelby family. Everyone kept going on and on about how the Italians were going to get what they deserved, but as Amelia walked around, she couldn't help but wonder if anyone actually deserves this end, dying in an abandoned warehouse with the only people who know where you are, are lying dead beside you. Tommy would say it is poetic to die with your brothers and take a bullet in the heart or a knife to your throat as long as it was for your family.

Amelia’s thoughts were interrupted when the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall, slowly coming towards the room. Her hand immediately went for the gun Arthur gave her back at Watery Lane. She raised it, pulling back the hammer, waiting.

Now

“Miss Hastings, are you listening to me?”

Amelia’s head shot up, immediately snatched from her daze by her boss looking at her as if she possesses three heads. “Yes, of course, I am.”

Nurse Smith crosses her arms and looked at Amelia with a crooked smirk, “Okay then, what did I say?”

Amelia sat up straighter and put on her smile that would always get Ada and herself out of trouble when they were younger, running around Small Heath, “you said and I quote, “Millie, you are the best damn nurse on this side of Birmingham, and you know, I like you so much more than Margret Williams. Also, I’m going to give you a raise because I’m feeling quite generous today.”

Nurse Smith is trying hard to mask her laugh behind her scowl when she replies, “That was not it at all Miss Hastings,” She moves to sit in front of the younger nurse, who looks like she hasn't slept in weeks, “I was telling you that all the surgeries have been moved up from tomorrow to today, but never mind that dear, I want to know when is the last time you’ve had a full night’s rest.”

“What month is it again?” Amelia questions jokingly while leaning back in her stiff wooden chair. Her back popping with two loud cracks. There are nurses and doctors cramped into the closet they call a breakroom, all having the same look of tiredness. Even Doctor Anderson is in such a daze that he isn't drinking his tea, he is only staring into the cup, unblinking.

Amelia turns her head back to Nurse Smith who is looking at her with sad eyes, “I am being serious Amelia, you need to rest.”

“And I will,” She replied standing up from the table, “When I’m dead. I have to go check on Mr. Brown, his next round of meds is coming up.”

Nurse Smith stands up with her and blocks the door. Her head only coming up to Amelia’s chin. She may be short, but she makes up for it with her presence. Luckily, Nurse Smith really likes her and treats her as a daughter and doesn't see her wrath as much as the other nurses. “No, I got Miss Williams to take care of that. You, my dear, are going home to get some sleep.”

“But I’m fine, I promise.” Amelia tries to reason with her boss, but nothing was working. “I took a little nap in the broom closet earlier, p –”

“This isn't up for discussion,” Nurse Smith interrupts, pushing Amelia gently towards the exit, “Go home and tell that Shelby boy to leave you alone and let you rest. Doctor’s orders.”

With that, she turns to walk down the hallway, ending the conversation. Amelia waits until she was a few feet from her before she mutters, “Fine, but you’re not a doctor.”

“I heard that.”

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

Small Heath is buzzing with life. Merchants trying to sell goods, children running senselessly down the streets with their parents none the wiser, and evangelists speaking prophecies of almighty damnation. Voices and laughter carried and could seemingly be heard anywhere in the town, and Amelia loved it all. She loves the idea of people walking in the same direction but ending up in different places, and people living in the same city but experiencing it differently. Tommy says it silly to think that way, but she has to remind him that he used to think the same as her. When he came back from France, he changed and so did the world around him, everything now has a gritty film over it covering the good and not allowing it to shine through. With the good, comes the bad. Tommy only sees the bad, and Amelia tries her hardest to show him that there is still light in the world, no matter how dim it seems sometimes.

A voice from The Garrison pulls Amelia from her thoughts as she went to walk past the bar where she used to spend a lot of her time as a teenager. Harry, the bartender, waves her over and starts saying something, but she cannot hear from all the noise in the street.

“Harry, what's the matter? Is something wrong?” Amelia questions when she makes it to him, stepping aside to let a man in the door.

Harry shook his head, “No, nothing's wrong. Tommy came by looking for ya saying if I saw ya, to tell ya to meet him at Watery Lane.”

“Did he mention why?” Amelia asked while racking her brain not remembering if they had a family meeting.

“No, but he had a giant horse with him,” Harry replies shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh shit! I forgot that was today,” Amelia shakes her head, looking at her watch seeing that it is much later than she thought, “Harry, I got to go, but thanks for telling me. I’ll see you later on.”

She turns to leave, not waiting for Harry to reply and runs straight into a girl with blonde hair, who she swears appeared out of nowhere.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” They both said at the same time laughing lightly and continuing on their separate paths. Amelia’s feet going a little faster than before. She is anxious about finding out how the charm went with Tommy and the horse.

~~~~~~~~~

The chaos of Watery Lane will always bring a smile to Amelia’s face. As she walks into the house, she can faintly hear the chatter of the bets being taken behind the door by the fireplace. She usually helps with the boys take up them up but the hospital has been taking up the majority of her time. It seems as though everyone decided to get ill at the same time.

Amelia pushes through the door to come face to face with John who stumbles backward almost falling into the man behind him. “Shit Millie, where have ya been?” He straightens up smoothing out his worn jacket and motions for her to follow him. “We’ve been waiting for ya all damn day.”

“You do know I work at the hospital, John,” Amelia answers John, motioning to her nursing dress and walks into the room where the family meetings are held. “I can’t just up and leave whenever I please, ya know.”

“Yeah speaking of the hospital, we need your he—”

“What the hell happened to his face?” Amelia interrupts John when she sees the looks of Arthur. its as though he has been in a fistfight with a cat... multiple cats. She makes her way over to him and lifts his chin with her finger. He winces a little at her touch. “Who did this to you?”

“That fucker Campbell.” Arthur curses as Polly begins grabs his hand inspecting it.

“Who is that and why is he trying to kill you?” Amelia asks reaching for the rag from Ada. “Give me that Ada.”

“Yeah Ada, Let a real nurse do it,” John interjects, earning a scowl from his younger sister.

“Hey! I’m trained.” Ada pouts and hands the rag to Amelia knowing her brother is right.

Amelia laughs while dipping the rag into the bowl of water on the table and wiping some of the blood from Arthur’s face. “Ada, you ditched after day one of class and left me alone so I had to partner with that horrid Margret.”

“Well, all of ya can just fuc—” Ada begins to swear but gets cut off by Tommy bursting in through the door carrying a bottle of whiskey.

“Let me see him. Here” Tommy comes to stand beside Amelia and holds the bottle up to Arthur’s mouth for him to drink. Once he gets a good swig, he takes the rag from Amelia and pours the alcohol onto it before handing it back to her. Tommy gives her a look that says he is concerned for his brother, but under it, there is something Amelia can’t quite read.

She puts her hand on the back of Arthur’s head to hold him still. She dabs the rag on his cuts to clean them so they won’t get infected, and he hisses through clenched teeth and grabs her arm with his free hand. “Shhh, Arthur it's all right. None of the cuts are too deep to need stitches so you will be okay, only a little sore.”

After Arthur is patched up, Amelia sits down beside Polly and puts her head on her shoulder. Polly rubs Amelia’s knee and smiles. “What would we do without you, girl?”

“Probably have to deal with Ada’s nursing skills,” Amelia jokes and laughs when Ada throws a bloody rag at her.

“Leave me alone. I swear its pick on Ada day!” Ada exclaims and moves to stand by Tommy, who is watching Amelia closely.

“No, it isn’t. Its just quite easy to mess with you.”

The sense of family is what has always drawn Amelia to the Shelby family. She is grateful that they took her in all those years ago when she was new to Small Heath. After her father died and her mother turned into a recluse, Amelia was looking for a place to belong, and thankfully she found that in them. Of course, she knew about the family business and it has never swayed her love for them, she is in on everything that goes on. Tommy confiding in her the most.

Arthur’s voice breaks her thoughts when he says, “That inspector said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham.” Arthur tries to sit up straighter but stops and winces. “He said something about a robbery.”

“We don’t know nothing about no robbery,” John interjects. He has to talk around the toothpick in his mouth.

Amelia raises her hand still confused about who this inspector is. “Can someone explain to me who that is.”

“You would know, Millie, if you were here earlier.”

“Why don’t you shove it, John. I’m sorry I’m trying to help the sick.”

“Will you two shut up for the love of Christ,” Polly exclaims then turns to Amelia. “Amelia darling, Campbell is an Irishman who is trying to clean out the IRA.”

Amelia nods appreciatively, “Thank you, Aunt Poll. That’s all I wanted to know. Arthur, please continue.”

While Arthur is explaining the situation with the BSA strikes and how the inspector wants the family to be his eyes and ears, Amelia keeps stealing glances at Tommy trying to get his attention, but he won’t look at her. Instead, he is keeping his eyes on the floor seemingly very interested in his shoes. Something is not right and she knows it. He knows more than he is letting on, information he deems unworthy for the rest of the family to know, or it is the opposite. They are unworthy of the information. A knot forms in Amelia’s stomach and makes her feel ill at the thought of something being wrong.

She mustn't be the only one who notices Tommy’s silence because Arthur points his finger at his brother and looking at everyone else, his face mad with anger. “What the fuck is wrong him lately? Been doing all sorts behind my back for a while now and I’m bloody sick of it, Tom.”

Tommy finally looks up and looks his older brother in the face, his face the mirror opposite of Arthur’s and just says, “I’ll tell you in due time, brother. It’s none of your concern at the present.”

That was the wrong thing to say because Arthur tries to launch himself at Tommy but is restrained by the table and his injuries. John jumps up and pushes Arthur down into his chair telling him to be quiet.

Amelia takes this time to get up and go over to Tommy. She stands in front of his slouched frame in such a way everyone else in the room can’t see him and can only see her back. She gently puts her hand on his arm feeling the roughness of his jacket under her hands. She waits for him to look up before she nods her head towards the stairs and mutters, “We can go talk upstairs.”

Tommy looks like he wants to say no, but ultimately agrees and turns to make his way to the stairs leaving Amelia to follow close behind.

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby #stand by your gun

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livingmybestfictionallife · 7 years ago

Text

Whatever You Want, Peter

Anon Request: Love your writing 👋🏻 could you do a fic where the reader and Peter are at a club as strangers and they start getting close and dancing ;) together??

Warnings: flirty Peter, saucy(?) dancing

Tags: @yourgayonlinemom, @broken-pieces, @bubblyanarocks3

The Fat Cat was a pretty popular night club in NYC that allowed people under eighteen in so long as they wore indicators that they weren’t allowed to be sold alcohol--normally in the form of a large stamp on their hands the shape of a cat. Since freshmen and sophomores weren’t allowed to go to prom unless invited by an upperclassman as their date, many of the underclassmen decided to meet up at the Fat Cat for a fun time. New to the school and thinking this would be the perfect opportunity to meet people her age, (Y/N) decided take up Flash Thompson’s offer to meet up at the club with a bunch of other kids from her new school. (Y/N) and Flash had been competitors since they were young, mostly for scholarships to the most prestigious schools and positions in once in a lifetime internship opportunities, but overall he had tried to integrate her into the school. He wasn’t necessarily a bad guy, but he also wasn’t her cup of tea. She could take him in doses, but too much flash lead to migraines and long arguments or debates between the two. Going to the Fat Cat would give her the opportunity to interact with her longtime acquaintance for a while and then slip off into a crowd of new potential friends when he got to be too much for her to handle.

(Y/N) hoped she hadn’t shown up too over or under dressed for the establishment. She came from a place that didn’t have ‘teen night clubs’ and was still kind of wary about the place when she arrived. Upon walking in the door, she was immediately stamped with the Fat Cat logo and sent on her way. The different colored flashing lights made it hard for her to see what exactly was happening and who was where. Slowly, she made her way toward a group of people that looked to be around her age and slowly, Flash came into sight.

“Look who decided to show up,” he said in a sly, mocking tone as (Y/N) lingered along the outskirts of their group. “Boys, this is the little ‘protege’ I was telling you about,” he mocked again.

“You’re just going to take that?” one of the guys standing beside Flash asked the girl who just strode up on them.

“I prefer to let the scores speak for themselves,” she said in a sly, confident tone. The previous week, students interested in the decathlon team tested for their positions. (Y/N) hadn’t even known her new school had a decathlon team, but her history teacher was the teacher and had her take the entrance exam after class one day. Needless to say, (Y/N)’s scores soared above Flash’s as well as almost everyone else’s on the team.

“Whatever,” Flash grumbled at her put down.

“I wonder how Parker’s going to feel about that,” another one of Flash’s friends murmured.

“Parker doesn’t deserve to feel anyway about it because he ditched the team,” Flash snapped. “He’s been absent the past week; there’s no way Coach is going to let him test now.” Slowly, (Y/N) started to wonder whether she had ever heard this ‘Parker’ kid mentioned before.

“Who’s Parker?” she asked hesitantly.

“Like I said, (Y/N), it doesn’t matter,” Flash grumbled. “He even ditched us tonight because he’s wrapped around Liz’s finger, so don’t go getting any ideas that he’s some nice guy like everyone else in this school seems to think he is.” (Y/N) didn’t know who Flash was talking about or why he was so adamant on portraying him as a horrid human being, but his attitude was starting to rub her the wrong way. Her lips pursed as she backed away from the group and wandered around the club, waiting for some excuse to dance or leave, or at least get the irritating, sticky ink off her hands.

In frustration, she dropped herself into a seat and gazed out across the dance floor. Quickly, she noticed that most, if not everyone in the club was between the ages of fourteen and sixteen and realized Flash’s parents had more than likely rented the place out in hopes his money could gain him more popularity. (Y/N) huffed. She knew they were good people but there were very selfish things about Flash that she could never get over, and the way his friends agreed so blindly with everything he had to say about this kid named Parker only furthered her understanding that most of the kids at her new school weren’t any better than those who bullied her at her old one.

(Y/N)’s eyes dried to her feet as they poked out from under her dark denim jeans. Determined, she rose from her spot and made her way onto the dance floor. A new school meant a new opportunity; she could start over and didn’t have to wallow in her own self-pity. The DJ at the club had also been paid off by Flash’s parents to make the occasion sort of like a school dance, which made the night a bit cheesy in (Y/N)’s opinion, but she didn’t waste any time thinking too much into the choice of music being played. Once the popular hip hop/pop music faded into what was now considered an old classic, ‘The Cupid Shuffle,’ (Y/N) faded into the swaying crowd of dancers.

The dance floor was too small for the amount of people trying to congregate around it, and (Y/N) was stuck near the middle. She didn’t mind how close her peers were to her so long as no one stomped on her foot, that was until someone in the line beside her turned the wrong direction. A pair of sneakers met toe to toe with her white converse and she lifted her eyes to the person in front of her. From his sneakers, she trailed the rest of the person’s attire: dark denim jeans that hung slightly loose around his legs and a regular black t-shirt with the words “The Physics is Theoretical, but the Fun is Real” written through an atom. She laughed at his choice of shirt for a fun night out and then quickly judged her own shirt that read “HOLDEN CAULFIELD THINKS YOU’RE A PHONY.” As they each continued their individual movements of ‘The Cupid Shuffle,’ she couldn’t help laughing at the floppy haired, brown-eyed boy in front of her. As the lyrics flooded into the ‘walk it by yourself’ portion of the dance sequence, he offered her his hand. Without thinking, she took it and he spun her around before quickly jumping into her line and swaying his hips to the music alongside her.

With each step in the directions given, her hips swayed in small half circles causing her butt to pop back in an intriguing motion for teenage boys. The one beside her was no exception. It wasn’t exactly her intention to draw attention to herself while dancing; she just wanted to have fun and couldn’t help the fact that her hips happened to be wider than the idealized sophomore preppy girl. As the line traveled left, she couldn’t help looking beside her at the boy who had just jumped in line beside her. His hips swayed methodically and his legs and arms flowed as if music was a river in his veins.

As the lyrics signaled for them to turn in line again, (Y/N) swayed her hips back and forth as she lowered herself closer to the ground and then rose. Upon putting the boy behind her and swaying her hips up from her squatted position, she felt a foreign entity pressed against her backside. Immediately realizing what was happening, her heart jumped a beat. Rather than freaking out and pulling herself way from the stranger, she went with it. Looking down, she watched his sneakers and paired her strides with his, shaking her ass along the front of his pants with each step of the dance and allowing him to grind himself against her with the denim of their jeans being the only thing separating the obvious sexual attraction he had toward her.

(Y/N) bit her lip seductively as the music indicated it was time for them to turn and be shoulder to shoulder with one another. Instantly, she turned her head over her shoulder and winked at the boy who immediately realized what he had done. The music faded into ‘Shape of You’ and he took her hands in his and spun her into a sweetheart before pulling her out of the spin and pressing her body against his. His left hand dug into her lower back, pressing her hips against his, making sure she could feel every step he took and hoping she’d follow. (Y/N)’s right hand rested on the back of the boy’s neck as he stared down between the pair’s bodies. Unsure of if he was watching their feet or her breasts, she puffed her chest out as he pushed her out from him and then spun her around twice, bringing her back in toward his body.

They entered a swing-dance like pattern of steps, their bodies so close together they could feel the pounding in each other’s hearts. He wanted nothing more than to lift her, to swing out of the club with her arms wrapped around him just as they are now, but they had attracted quite the crowd and too many eyes were on them. Growing more embarrassed by the second, he quickly spun her off the dance floor and around the stand the DJ stood on, away from the attention of others.

“What’s the matter?” (Y/N) quickly asked with a wink, “can’t handle the heat?”

“You’re new to Midtown High, aren’t you?” he asked, not even slightly out of breath. (Y/N) nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I transferred about a week ago,” she said through her grin, “I’m (Y/N).”

“Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, flashing her an irresistible grin. “So, um, (Y/N), what are you doing the rest of the night?”

“Whatever you want, Peter,” she smirked. The smile on his face widened as he took her hand and ran up to the rooftop, prepared to take the newest Midtown high student on a proper tour of the city, in a way only he could deliver.

#spiderman #spider man homecoming #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland peter parker #peter parker fanfic #fan fic #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x reader #thomas stanley holland

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banjopaterson-stories · 6 years ago

Text

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi

At the hole where he went in

Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.

Hear what little Red-Eye saith:

"Nag, come up and dance with death!"

Eye to eye and head to head,

(Keep the measure, Nag.)

This shall end when one is dead;

(At thy pleasure, Nag.)

Turn for turn and twist for twist--

(Run and hide thee, Nag.)

Hah! The hooded Death has missed!

(Woe betide thee, Nag!)

This is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the Tailorbird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice, but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting. He was a mongoose, rather like a little cat in his fur and his tail, but quite like a weasel in his head and his habits. His eyes and the end of his restless nose were pink. He could scratch himself anywhere he pleased with any leg, front or back, that he chose to use. He could fluff up his tail till it looked like a bottle brush, and his war cry as he scuttled through the long grass was: "Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!" One day, a high summer flood washed him out of the burrow where he lived with his father and mother, and carried him, kicking and clucking, down a roadside ditch. He found a little wisp of grass floating there, and clung to it till he lost his senses. When he revived, he was lying in the hot sun on the middle of a garden path, very draggled indeed, and a small boy was saying, "Here's a dead mongoose. Let's have a funeral." "No," said his mother, "let's take him in and dry him. Perhaps he isn't really dead." They took him into the house, and a big man picked him up between his finger and thumb and said he was not dead but half choked. So they wrapped him in cotton wool, and warmed him over a little fire, and he opened his eyes and sneezed. "Now," said the big man (he was an Englishman who had just moved into the bungalow), "don't frighten him, and we'll see what he'll do." It is the hardest thing in the world to frighten a mongoose, because he is eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity. The motto of all the mongoose family is "Run and find out," and Rikki-tikki was a true mongoose. He looked at the cotton wool, decided that it was not good to eat, ran all round the table, sat up and put his fur in order, scratched himself, and jumped on the small boy's shoulder. "Don't be frightened, Teddy," said his father.

"That's his way of making friends." "Ouch! He's tickling under my chin," said Teddy.

Rikki-tikki looked down between the boy's collar and neck, snuffed at his ear, and climbed down to the floor, where he sat rubbing his nose. "Good gracious," said Teddy's mother, "and that's a wild creature! I suppose he's so tame because we've been kind to him." "All mongooses are like that," said her husband. "If Teddy doesn't pick him up by the tail, or try to put him in a cage, he'll run in and out of the house all day long. Let's give him something to eat." They gave him a little piece of raw meat. Rikki-tikki liked it immensely, and when it was finished he went out into the veranda and sat in the sunshine and fluffed up his fur to make it dry to the roots. Then he felt better. "There are more things to find out about in this house," he said to himself, "than all my family could find out in all their lives. I shall certainly stay and find out." He spent all that day roaming over the house. He nearly drowned himself in the bath-tubs, put his nose into the ink on a writing table, and burned it on the end of the big man's cigar, for he climbed up in the big man's lap to see how writing was done. At nightfall he ran into Teddy's nursery to watch how kerosene lamps were lighted, and when Teddy went to bed Rikki-tikki climbed up too. But he was a restless companion, because he had to get up and attend to every noise all through the night, and find out what made it. Teddy's mother and father came in, the last thing, to look at their boy, and Rikki-tikki was awake on the pillow. "I don't like that," said Teddy's mother. "He may bite the child." "He'll do no such thing," said the father. "Teddy's safer with that little beast than if he had a bloodhound to watch him. If a snake came into the nursery now--" But Teddy's mother wouldn't think of anything so awful. Early in the morning Rikki-tikki came to early breakfast in the veranda riding on Teddy's shoulder, and they gave him banana and some boiled egg. He sat on all their laps one after the other, because every well-brought-up mongoose always hopes to be a house mongoose some day and have rooms to run about in; and Rikki-tikki's mother (she used to live in the general's house at Segowlee) had carefully told Rikki what to do if ever he came across white men. Then Rikki-tikki went out into the garden to see what was to be seen. It was a large garden, only half cultivated, with bushes, as big as summer-houses, of Marshal Niel roses, lime and orange trees, clumps of bamboos, and thickets of high grass. Rikki-tikki licked his lips. "This is a splendid hunting-ground," he said, and his tail grew bottle-brushy at the thought of it, and he scuttled up and down the garden, snuffing here and there till he heard very sorrowful voices in a thorn-bush. It was Darzee, the Tailorbird, and his wife. They had made a beautiful nest by pulling two big leaves together and stitching them up the edges with fibers, and had filled the hollow with cotton and downy fluff. The nest swayed to and fro, as they sat on the rim and cried. "What is the matter?" asked Rikki-tikki. "We are very miserable," said Darzee. "One of our babies fell out of the nest yesterday and Nag ate him." "H'm!" said Rikki-tikki, "that is very sad--but I am a stranger here. Who is Nag?" Darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss--a horrid cold sound that made Rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet. Then inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of Nag, the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail. When he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion tuft balances in the wind, and he looked at Rikki-tikki with the wicked snake's eyes that never change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of. "Who is Nag?" said he. "I am Nag. The great God Brahm put his mark upon all our people, when the first cobra spread his hood to keep the sun off Brahm as he slept. Look, and be afraid!" He spread out his hood more than ever, and Rikki-tikki saw the spectacle-mark on the back of it that looks exactly like the eye part of a hook-and-eye fastening. He was afraid for the minute, but it is impossible for a mongoose to stay frightened for any length of time, and though Rikki-tikki had never met a live cobra before, his mother had fed him on dead ones, and he knew that all a grown mongoose's business in life was to fight and eat snakes. Nag knew that too and, at the bottom of his cold heart, he was afraid. "Well," said Rikki-tikki, and his tail began to fluff up again, "marks or no marks, do you think it is right for you to eat fledglings out of a nest?" Nag was thinking to himself, and watching the least little movement in the grass behind Rikki-tikki. He knew that mongooses in the garden meant death sooner or later for him and his family, but he wanted to get Rikki-tikki off his guard. So he dropped his head a little, and put it on one side. "Let us talk," he said.

"You eat eggs. Why should not I eat birds?" "Behind you! Look behind you!" sang Darzee.

Rikki-tikki knew better than to waste time in staring. He jumped up in the air as high as he could go, and just under him whizzed by the head of Nagaina, Nag's wicked wife. She had crept up behind him as he was talking, to make an end of him. He heard her savage hiss as the stroke missed. He came down almost across her back, and if he had been an old mongoose he would have known that then was the time to break her back with one bite; but he was afraid of the terrible lashing return stroke of the cobra. He bit, indeed, but did not bite long enough, and he jumped clear of the whisking tail, leaving Nagaina torn and angry.

"Wicked, wicked Darzee!" said Nag, lashing up as high as he could reach toward the nest in the thorn-bush. But Darzee had built it out of reach of snakes, and it only swayed to and fro. Rikki-tikki felt his eyes growing red and hot (when a mongoose's eyes grow red, he is angry), and he sat back on his tail and hind legs like a little kangaroo, and looked all round him, and chattered with rage. But Nag and Nagaina had disappeared into the grass. When a snake misses its stroke, it never says anything or gives any sign of what it means to do next. Rikki-tikki did not care to follow them, for he did not feel sure that he could manage two snakes at once. So he trotted off to the gravel path near the house, and sat down to think. It was a serious matter for him. If you read the old books of natural history, you will find they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him. That is not true. The victory is only a matter of quickness of eye and quickness of foot--snake's blow against mongoose's jump--and as no eye can follow the motion of a snake's head when it strikes, this makes things much more wonderful than any magic herb. Rikki-tikki knew he was a young mongoose, and it made him all the more pleased to think that he had managed to escape a blow from behind. It gave him confidence in himself, and when Teddy came running down the path, Rikki-tikki was ready to be petted. But just as Teddy was stooping, something wriggled a little in the dust, and a tiny voice said: "Be careful. I am Death!" It was Karait, the dusty brown snakeling that lies for choice on the dusty earth; and his bite is as dangerous as the cobra's. But he is so small that nobody thinks of him, and so he does the more harm to people. Rikki-tikki's eyes grew red again, and he danced up to Karait with the peculiar rocking, swaying motion that he had inherited from his family. It looks very funny, but it is so perfectly balanced a gait that you can fly off from it at any angle you please, and in dealing with snakes this is an advantage.

If Rikki-tikki had only known, he was doing a much more dangerous thing than fighting Nag, for Karait is so small, and can turn so quickly, that unless Rikki bit him close to the back of the head, he would get the return stroke in his eye or his lip. But Rikki did not know. His eyes were all red, and he rocked back and forth, looking for a good place to hold. Karait struck out. Rikki jumped sideways and tried to run in, but the wicked little dusty gray head lashed within a fraction of his shoulder, and he had to jump over the body, and the head followed his heels close. Teddy shouted to the house: "Oh, look here! Our mongoose is killing a snake." And Rikki-tikki heard a scream from Teddy's mother. His father ran out with a stick, but by the time he came up, Karait had lunged out once too far, and Rikki-tikki had sprung, jumped on the snake's back, dropped his head far between his forelegs, bitten as high up the back as he could get hold, and rolled away. That bite paralyzed Karait, and Rikki-tikki was just going to eat him up from the tail, after the custom of his family at dinner, when he remembered that a full meal makes a slow mongoose, and if he wanted all his strength and quickness ready, he must keep himself thin. He went away for a dust bath under the castor-oil bushes, while Teddy's father beat the dead Karait. "What is the use of that?" thought Rikki-tikki. "I have settled it all;" and then Teddy's mother picked him up from the dust and hugged him, crying that he had saved Teddy from death, and Teddy's father said that he was a providence, and Teddy looked on with big scared eyes. Rikki-tikki was rather amused at all the fuss, which, of course, he did not understand. Teddy's mother might just as well have petted Teddy for playing in the dust. Rikki was thoroughly enjoying himself. That night at dinner, walking to and fro among the wine-glasses on the table, he might have stuffed himself three times over with nice things. But he remembered Nag and Nagaina, and though it was very pleasant to be patted and petted by Teddy's mother, and to sit on Teddy's shoulder, his eyes would get red from time to time, and he would go off into his long war cry of "Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!" Teddy carried him off to bed, and insisted on Rikki-tikki sleeping under his chin. Rikki-tikki was too well bred to bite or scratch, but as soon as Teddy was asleep he went off for his nightly walk round the house, and in the dark he ran up against Chuchundra, the musk-rat, creeping around by the wall. Chuchundra is a broken-hearted little beast. He whimpers and cheeps all the night, trying to make up his mind to run into the middle of the room. But he never gets there. "Don't kill me," said Chuchundra, almost weeping. "Rikki-tikki, don't kill me!" "Do you think a snake-killer kills muskrats?" said Rikki-tikki scornfully.

"Those who kill snakes get killed by snakes," said Chuchundra, more sorrowfully than ever. "And how am I to be sure that Nag won't mistake me for you some dark night?" "There's not the least danger," said Rikki-tikki. "But Nag is in the garden, and I know you don't go there." "My cousin Chua, the rat, told me--" said Chuchundra, and then he stopped.

"Told you what?" "H'sh! Nag is everywhere, Rikki-tikki. You should have talked to Chua in the garden." "I didn't--so you must tell me. Quick, Chuchundra, or I'll bite you!"

Chuchundra sat down and cried till the tears rolled off his whiskers. "I am a very poor man," he sobbed. "I never had spirit enough to run out into the middle of the room. H'sh! I mustn't tell you anything. Can't you hear, Rikki-tikki?" Rikki-tikki listened. The house was as still as still, but he thought he could just catch the faintest scratch-scratch in the world--a noise as faint as that of a wasp walking on a window-pane--the dry scratch of a snake's scales on brick-work. "That's Nag or Nagaina," he said to himself, "and he is crawling into the bath-room sluice. You're right, Chuchundra; I should have talked to Chua." He stole off to Teddy's bath-room, but there was nothing there, and then to Teddy's mother's bathroom. At the bottom of the smooth plaster wall there was a brick pulled out to make a sluice for the bath water, and as Rikki-tikki stole in by the masonry curb where the bath is put, he heard Nag and Nagaina whispering together outside in the moonlight. "When the house is emptied of people," said Nagaina to her husband, "he will have to go away, and then the garden will be our own again. Go in quietly, and remember that the big man who killed Karait is the first one to bite. Then come out and tell me, and we will hunt for Rikki-tikki together."

"But are you sure that there is anything to be gained by killing the people?" said Nag.

"Everything. When there were no people in the bungalow, did we have any mongoose in the garden? So long as the bungalow is empty, we are king and queen of the garden; and remember that as soon as our eggs in the melon bed hatch (as they may tomorrow), our children will need room and quiet." "I had not thought of that," said Nag. "I will go, but there is no need that we should hunt for Rikki-tikki afterward. I will kill the big man and his wife, and the child if I can, and come away quietly. Then the bungalow will be empty, and Rikki-tikki will go." Rikki-tikki tingled all over with rage and hatred at this, and then Nag's head came through the sluice, and his five feet of cold body followed it. Angry as he was, Rikki-tikki was very frightened as he saw the size of the big cobra. Nag coiled himself up, raised his head, and looked into the bathroom in the dark, and Rikki could see his eyes glitter. "Now, if I kill him here, Nagaina will know; and if I fight him on the open floor, the odds are in his favor. What am I to do?" said Rikki-tikki-tavi. Nag waved to and fro, and then Rikki-tikki heard him drinking from the biggest water-jar that was used to fill the bath. "That is good," said the snake.

"Now, when Karait was killed, the big man had a stick. He may have that stick still, but when he comes in to bathe in the morning he will not have a stick. I shall wait here till he comes. Nagaina--do you hear me?--I shall wait here in the cool till daytime." There was no answer from outside, so Rikki-tikki knew Nagaina had gone away. Nag coiled himself down, coil by coil, round the bulge at the bottom of the water jar, and Rikki-tikki stayed still as death. After an hour he began to move, muscle by muscle, toward the jar. Nag was asleep, and Rikki-tikki looked at his big back, wondering which would be the best place for a good hold."If I don't break his back at the first jump," said Rikki, "he can still fight. And if he fights--O Rikki!" He looked at the thickness of the neck below the hood, but that was too much for him; and a bite near the tail would only make Nag savage. "It must be the head"' he said at last; "the head above the hood. And, when I am once there, I must not let go." Then he jumped. The head was lying a little clear of the water jar, under the curve of it; and, as his teeth met, Rikki braced his back against the bulge of the red earthenware to hold down the head. This gave him just one second's purchase, and he made the most of it. Then he was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog--to and fro on the floor, up and down, and around in great circles, but his eyes were red and he held on as the body cart-whipped over the floor, upsetting the tin dipper and the soap dish and the flesh brush, and banged against the tin side of the bath. As he held he closed his jaws tighter and tighter, for he made sure he would be banged to death, and, for the honor of his family, he preferred to be found with his teeth locked. He was dizzy, aching, and felt shaken to pieces when something went off like a thunderclap just behind him. A hot wind knocked him senseless and red fire singed his fur. The big man had been wakened by the noise, and had fired both barrels of a shotgun into Nag just behind the hood. Rikki-tikki held on with his eyes shut, for now he was quite sure he was dead.

But the head did not move, and the big man picked him up and said, "It's the mongoose again, Alice. The little chap has saved our lives now." Then Teddy's mother came in with a very white face, and saw what was left of Nag, and Rikki-tikki dragged himself to Teddy's bedroom and spent half the rest of the night shaking himself tenderly to find out whether he really was broken into forty pieces, as he fancied. When morning came he was very stiff, but well pleased with his doings. "Now I have Nagaina to settle with, and she will be worse than five Nags, and there's no knowing when the eggs she spoke of will hatch. Goodness! I must go and see Darzee," he said. Without waiting for breakfast, Rikki-tikki ran to the thornbush where Darzee was singing a song of triumph at the top of his voice. The news of Nag's death was all over the garden, for the sweeper had thrown the body on the rubbish-heap. "Oh, you stupid tuft of feathers!" said Rikki-tikki angrily. "Is this the time to sing?" "Nag is dead--is dead--is dead!" sang Darzee.

"The valiant Rikki-tikki caught him by the head and held fast. The big man brought the bang-stick, and Nag fell in two pieces! He will never eat my babies again." "All that's true enough. But where's Nagaina?" said Rikki-tikki, looking carefully round him.

"Nagaina came to the bathroom sluice and called for Nag," Darzee went on, "and Nag came out on the end of a stick--the sweeper picked him up on the end of a stick and threw him upon the rubbish heap. Let us sing about the great, the red-eyed Rikki-tikki!" And Darzee filled his throat and sang. "If I could get up to your nest, I'd roll your babies out!"

said Rikki-tikki. "You don't know when to do the right thing at the right time. You're safe enough in your nest there, but it's war for me down here. Stop singing a minute, Darzee." "For the great, the beautiful Rikki-tikki's sake I will stop," said Darzee.

"What is it, O Killer of the terrible Nag?" "Where is Nagaina, for the third time?" "On the rubbish heap by the stables, mourning for Nag. Great is Rikki-tikki with the white teeth." "Bother my white teeth! Have you ever heard where she keeps her eggs?" "In the melon bed, on the end nearest the wall, where the sun strikes nearly all day. She hid them there weeks ago." "And you never thought it worth while to tell me? The end nearest the wall, you said?" "Rikki-tikki, you are not going to eat her eggs?" "Not eat exactly; no. Darzee, if you have a grain of sense you will fly off to the stables and pretend that your wing is broken, and let Nagaina chase you away to this bush. I must get to the melon-bed, and if I went there now she'd see me." Darzee was a feather-brained little fellow who could never hold more than one idea at a time in his head. And just because he knew that Nagaina's children were born in eggs like his own, he didn't think at first that it was fair to kill them. But his wife was a sensible bird, and she knew that cobra's eggs meant young cobras later on. So she flew off from the nest, and left Darzee to keep the babies warm, and continue his song about the death of Nag. Darzee was very like a man in some ways.She fluttered in front of Nagaina by the rubbish heap and cried out, "Oh, my wing is broken! The boy in the house threw a stone at me and broke it." Then she fluttered more desperately than ever. Nagaina lifted up her head and hissed, "You warned Rikki-tikki when I would have killed him. Indeed and truly, you've chosen a bad place to be lame in." And she moved toward Darzee's wife, slipping along over the dust. "The boy broke it with a stone!" shrieked Darzee's wife. "Well! It may be some consolation to you when you're dead to know that I shall settle accounts with the boy. My husband lies on the rubbish heap this morning, but before night the boy in the house will lie very still.

What is the use of running away? I am sure to catch you. Little fool, look at me!" Darzee's wife knew better than to do that, for a bird who looks at a snake's eyes gets so frightened that she cannot move. Darzee's wife fluttered on, piping sorrowfully, and never leaving the ground, and Nagaina quickened her pace. Rikki-tikki heard them going up the path from the stables, and he raced for the end of the melon patch near the wall.

There, in the warm litter above the melons, very cunningly hidden, he found twenty-five eggs, about the size of a bantam's eggs, but with whitish skin instead of shell. "I was not a day too soon," he said, for he could see the baby cobras curled up inside the skin, and he knew that the minute they were hatched they could each kill a man or a mongoose. He bit off the tops of the eggs as fast as he could, taking care to crush the young cobras, and turned over the litter from time to time to see whether he had missed any. At last there were only three eggs left, and Rikki-tikki began to chuckle to himself, when he heard Darzee's wife screaming: "Rikki-tikki, I led Nagaina toward the house, and she has gone into the veranda, and--oh, come quickly--she means killing!" Rikki-tikki smashed two eggs, and tumbled backward down the melon-bed with the third egg in his mouth, and scuttled to the veranda as hard as he could put foot to the ground. Teddy and his mother and father were there at early breakfast, but Rikki-tikki saw that they were not eating anything. They sat stone-still, and their faces were white. Nagaina was coiled up on the matting by Teddy's chair, within easy striking distance of Teddy's bare leg, and she was swaying to and fro, singing a song of triumph.

"Son of the big man that killed Nag," she hissed, "stay still. I am not ready yet. Wait a little. Keep very still, all you three! If you move I strike, and if you do not move I strike. Oh, foolish people, who killed my Nag!" Teddy's eyes were fixed on his father, and all his father could do was to whisper, "Sit still, Teddy. You mustn't move. Teddy, keep still." Then Rikki-tikki came up and cried, "Turn round, Nagaina. Turn and fight!" "All in good time," said she, without moving her eyes. "I will settle my account with you presently. Look at your friends, Rikki-tikki. They are still and white. They are afraid. They dare not move, and if you come a step nearer I strike." "Look at your eggs," said Rikki-tikki, "in the melon bed near the wall. Go and look, Nagaina!" The big snake turned half around, and saw the egg on the veranda. "Ah-h! Give it to me," she said. Rikki-tikki put his paws one on each side of the egg, and his eyes were blood-red.

"What price for a snake's egg? For a young cobra? For a young king cobra? For the last--the very last of the brood? The ants are eating all the others down by the melon bed." Nagaina spun clear round, forgetting everything for the sake of the one egg.

Rikki-tikki saw Teddy's father shoot out a big hand, catch Teddy by the shoulder, and drag him across the little table with the tea-cups, safe and out of reach of Nagaina.

"Tricked! Tricked! Tricked! Rikk-tck-tck!" chuckled Rikki-tikki. "The boy is safe, and it was I--I--I that caught Nag by the hood last night in the bathroom." Then he began to jump up and down, all four feet together, his head close to the floor. "He threw me to and fro, but he could not shake me off. He was dead before the big man blew him in two. I did it! Rikki-tikki-tck-tck! Come then, Nagaina. Come and fight with me. You shall not be a widow long." Nagaina saw that she had lost her chance of killing Teddy, and the egg lay between Rikki-tikki's paws. "Give me the egg, Rikki-tikki. Give me the last of my eggs, and I will go away and never come back," she said, lowering her hood. "Yes, you will go away, and you will never come back. For you will go to the rubbish heap with Nag. Fight, widow! The big man has gone for his gun! Fight!" Rikki-tikki was bounding all round Nagaina, keeping just out of reach of her stroke, his little eyes like hot coals.

Nagaina gathered herself together and flung out at him. Rikki-tikki jumped up and backward. Again and again and again she struck, and each time her head came with a whack on the matting of the veranda and she gathered herself together like a watch spring.

Then Rikki-tikki danced in a circle to get behind her, and Nagaina spun round to keep her head to his head, so that the rustle of her tail on the matting sounded like dry leaves blown along by the wind. He had forgotten the egg. It still lay on the veranda, and Nagaina came nearer and nearer to it, till at last, while Rikki-tikki was drawing breath, she caught it in her mouth, turned to the veranda steps, and flew like an arrow down the path, with Rikki-tikki behind her. When the cobra runs for her life, she goes like a whip-lash flicked across a horse's neck. Rikki-tikki knew that he must catch her, or all the trouble would begin again. She headed straight for the long grass by the thorn-bush, and as he was running Rikki-tikki heard Darzee still singing his foolish little song of triumph. But Darzee's wife was wiser. She flew off her nest as Nagaina came along, and flapped her wings about Nagaina's head. If Darzee had helped they might have turned her, but Nagaina only lowered her hood and went on. Still, the instant's delay brought Rikki-tikki up to her, and as she plunged into the rat-hole where she and Nag used to live, his little white teeth were clenched on her tail, and he went down with her--and very few mongooses, however wise and old they may be, care to follow a cobra into its hole. It was dark in the hole; and Rikki-tikki never knew when it might open out and give Nagaina room to turn and strike at him. He held on savagely, and stuck out his feet to act as brakes on the dark slope of the hot, moist earth. Then the grass by the mouth of the hole stopped waving, and Darzee said, "It is all over with Rikki-tikki! We must sing his death song. Valiant Rikki-tikki is dead! For Nagaina will surely kill him underground." So he sang a very mournful song that he made up on the spur of the minute, and just as he got to the most touching part, the grass quivered again, and Rikki-tikki, covered with dirt, dragged himself out of the hole leg by leg, licking his whiskers.

Darzee stopped with a little shout. Rikki-tikki shook some of the dust out of his fur and sneezed. "It is all over," he said. "The widow will never come out again." And the red ants that live between the grass stems heard him, and began to troop down one after another to see if he had spoken the truth. Rikki-tikki curled himself up in the grass and slept where he was--slept and slept till it was late in the afternoon, for he had done a hard day's work. "Now," he said, when he awoke, "I will go back to the house. Tell the Coppersmith, Darzee, and he will tell the garden that Nagaina is dead." The Coppersmith is a bird who makes a noise exactly like the beating of a little hammer on a copper pot; and the reason he is always making it is because he is the town crier to every Indian garden, and tells all the news to everybody who cares to listen. As Rikki-tikki went up the path, he heard his "attention" notes like a tiny dinner gong, and then the steady "Ding-dong-tock! Nag is dead--dong! Nagaina is dead! Ding-dong-tock!" That set all the birds in the garden singing, and the frogs croaking, for Nag and Nagaina used to eat frogs as well as little birds. When Rikki got to the house, Teddy and Teddy's mother (she looked very white still, for she had been fainting) and Teddy's father came out and almost cried over him; and that night he ate all that was given him till he could eat no more, and went to bed on Teddy's shoulder, where Teddy's mother saw him when she came to look late at night. "He saved our lives and Teddy's life," she said to her husband. "Just think, he saved all our lives." Rikki-tikki woke up with a jump, for the mongooses are light sleepers. "Oh, it's you," said he. "What are you bothering for? All the cobras are dead. And if they weren't, I'm here." Rikki-tikki had a right to be proud of himself. But he did not grow too proud, and he kept that garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bite, till never a cobra dared show its head inside the walls.

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writerspink · 7 years ago

Text

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi

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by Rudyard Kipling (1894)

Edited by Jesse Steele

At the hole where he went in Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin. Hear what little Red-Eye saith: ‘Nag, come up and dance with death!’

Eye to eye and head to head, (Keep the measure, Nag.) This shall end when one is dead; (At thy pleasure, Nag.) Turn for turn and twist for twist— (Run and hide thee, Nag.) Hah! The hooded Death has missed! (Woe betide thee, Nag!)

This is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the tailor-bird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice; but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting.

He was a mongoose, rather like a little cat in his fur and his tail, but quite like a weasel in his head and habits. His eyes and the end of his restless nose were pink; he could scratch himself anywhere he pleased, with any leg, front or back, that he chose to use; he could fluff up his tail ’til it looked like a bottle-brush, and his war-cry, as he scuttled through the long grass, was: ‘Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!‘

One day, a high summer flood washed him out of the burrow where he lived with his father and mother, and carried him, kicking and clucking, down a roadside ditch. He found a little wisp of grass floating there, and clung to it ’til he lost his senses. When he revived, he was lying in the hot sun on the middle of a garden path, very draggled indeed, and a small boy was saying: ‘Here’s a dead mongoose. Let’s have a funeral.’

‘No,’ said his mother; ‘let’s take him in and dry him. Perhaps he isn’t really dead.’

They took him into the house, and a big man picked him up between his finger and thumb, and said he was not dead but half choked; so they wrapped him in cotton-wool, and warmed him and he opened his eyes and sneezed.

‘Now,’ said the big man (he was an Englishman who had just moved into the bungalow); ‘don’t frighten him and we’ll see what he’ll do.’

It is the hardest thing in the world to frighten a mongoose, because he is eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity. The motto of all the mongoose family is ‘Run and find out’; and Rikki-tikki was a true mongoose. He looked at the cotton-wool, decided that it was not good to eat, ran all round the table, sat up and put his fur in order, scratched himself, and jumped on the small boy’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be frightened, Teddy,’ said his father. ‘That’s his way of making friends.’

‘Ouch! He’s tickling under my chin,’ said Teddy.

Rikki-tikki looked down between the boy’s collar and neck, snuffed at his ear, and climbed down to the floor, where he sat rubbing his nose.

‘Good gracious,’ said Teddy’s mother, ‘and that’s a wild creature! I suppose he’s so tame because we’ve been kind to him.’

‘All mongooses are like that,’ said her husband. ‘If Teddy doesn’t pick him up by the tail, or try to put him in a cage, he’ll run in and out of the house all day long. Let’s give him something to eat.’

They gave him a little piece of raw meat. Rikki tikki liked it immensely, and when it was finished he went out into the verandah and sat in the sunshine and fluffed up his fur to make it dry to the roots. Then he felt better.

‘There are more things to find out about in this house,’ he said to himself, ‘than all my family could find out in all their lives. I shall certainly stay and find out.’

He spent all that day roaming over the house. He nearly drowned himself in the bath tubs, put his nose into the ink on a writing-table, and burnt it on the end of the big man’s cigar, for he climbed up in the big man’s lap to see how writing was done. At nightfall he ran into Teddy’s nursery to watch how the kerosene-lamps were lighted, and when Teddy went to bed Rikki-tikki climbed up too; but he was a restless companion, because he had to get up and attend to every noise all through the night, and find out what made it. Teddy’s mother and father came in, the last thing, to look at their boy, and Rikki-tikki was awake on the pillow. ‘I don’t like that,’ said Teddy’s mother; ‘he may bite the child.’ ‘He’ll do no such thing,’ said the father. ‘Teddy’s safer with that little beast than if he had a bloodhound to watch him. If a snake came into the nursery now——’

But Teddy’s mother wouldn’t think of anything so awful.

Early in the morning Rikki-tikki came to early breakfast-in the verandah riding on Teddy’s shoulder, and they gave him banana and some boiled egg; and he sat on all their laps one after the other, because every well-brought-up mongoose always hopes to be a house-mongoose some day and have rooms to run about in, and Rikki-tikki’s mother (she used to live in the General’s house at Segowlee) had carefully told Rikki what to do if ever he came across white men.

Then Rikki-tikki went out into the garden to see what was to be seen. It was a large garden, only half cultivated, with bushes as big as summer-houses of Marshal Niel roses, lime and orange trees, clumps of bamboos, and thickets of high grass. Rikki-tikki licked his lips. ‘This is a splendid hunting-ground,’ he said, and his tail grew bottle-brushy at the thought of it, and he scuttled up and down the garden, snuffing here and there ’til he heard very sorrowful voices in a thorn-bush.

It was Darzee, the tailor-bird, and his wife. They had made a beautiful nest by pulling two big leaves together and stitching them up the edges with fibres, and had filled the hollow with cotton and downy fluff. The nest swayed to and fro, as they sat on the rim and cried.

‘What is the matter?’ asked Rikki-tikki.

‘We are very miserable,’ said Darzee. ‘One of our babies fell out of the nest yesterday, and Nag ate him.’

‘H’m!’ said Rikki-tikki, ‘that is very sad—but I am a stranger here. Who is Nag?’

Darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss—a horrid cold sound that made Rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet. Then inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of Nag, the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail. When he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion-tuft balances in the wind, and he looked at Rikki-tikki with the wicked snake’s eyes that never change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of.

‘Who is Nag?’ said he. ‘I am Nag. The great god Brahm put his mark upon all our people when the first cobra spread his hood to keep the sun off Brahm as he slept. Look, and be afraid!’

He spread out his hood more than ever, and Rikki-tikki saw the spectacle-mark on the back of it that looks exactly like the eye part of a hook-and-eye fastening. He was afraid for the minute; but it is impossible for a mongoose to stay frightened for any length of time, and though Rikki-tikki had never met a live cobra before, his mother had fed him on dead ones, and he knew that all a grown mongoose’s business in life was to fight and eat snakes. Nag knew that too, and at the bottom of his cold heart he was afraid.

‘Well,’ said Rikki-tikki, and his tail began to fluff up again, ‘marks or no marks, do you think it is right for you to eat fledglings out of a nest?’

Nag was thinking to himself, and watching the least little movement in the grass behind Rikki-tikki. He knew that mongooses in the garden meant death sooner or later for him and his family, but he wanted to get Rikki-tikki off his guard. So he dropped his head a little, and put it on one side.

‘Let us talk,’ he said. ‘You eat eggs. Why should not I eat birds?’

‘Behind you! Look behind you!’ sang Darzee.

Rikki-tikki knew better than to waste time in staring. He jumped up in the air as high as he could go, and just under him whizzed by the head of Nagaina, Nag’s wicked wife. She had crept up behind him as he was talking, to make an end of him; and he heard her savage hiss as the stroke missed. He came down almost across her back, and if he had been an old mongoose he would have known that then was the time to break her back with one bite; but he was afraid of the terrible lashing return-stroke of the cobra. He bit, indeed, but did not bite long enough, and he jumped clear of the whisking tail, leaving Nagaina torn and angry.

‘Wicked, wicked Darzee!’ said Nag, lashing up as high as he could reach toward the nest in the thorn-bush; but Darzee had built it out of reach of snakes, and it only swayed to and fro.

Rikki-tikki felt his eyes growing red and hot (when a mongoose’s eyes grow red, he is angry), and he sat back on his tail and hind legs like a little kangaroo, and looked all round him, and chattered with rage. But Nag and Nagaina had disappeared into the grass. When a snake misses its stroke, it never says anything or gives any sign of what it means to do next. Rikki-tikki did not care to follow them, for he did not feel sure that he could manage two snakes at once. So he trotted off to the gravel path near the house, and sat down to think. It was a serious matter for him.

If you read the old books of natural history, you will find they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him. That is not true. The victory is only a matter of quickness of eye and quickness of foot,—snake’s blow against mongoose’s jump,—and as no eye can follow the motion of a snake’s head when it strikes, that makes things much more wonderful than any magic herb. Rikki-tikki knew he was a young mongoose, and it made him all the more pleased to think that he had managed to escape a blow from behind. It gave him confidence in himself, and when Teddy came running down the path, Rikki-tikki was ready to be petted.

But just as Teddy was stooping, something flinched a little in the dust, and a tiny voice said: ‘Be careful. I am death!’ It was Karait, the dusty brown snakeling that lies for choice on the dusty earth; and his bite is as dangerous as the cobra’s. But he is so small that nobody thinks of him, and so he does the more harm to people.

Rikki-tikki’s eyes grew red again, and he danced up to Karait with the peculiar rocking, swaying motion that he had inherited from his family. It looks very funny, but it is so perfectly balanced a gait that you can fly off from it at any angle you please; and in dealing with snakes this is an advantage. If Rikki-tikki had only known, he was doing a much more dangerous thing than fighting Nag, for Karait is so small, and can turn so quickly, that unless Rikki bit him close to the back of the head, he would get the return-stroke in his eye or lip. But Rikki did not know: his eyes were all red, and he rocked back and forth, looking for a good place to hold. Karait struck out. Rikki jumped sideways and tried to run in, but the wicked little dusty gray head lashed within a fraction of his shoulder, and he had to jump over the body, and the head followed his heels close.

Teddy shouted to the house: ‘Oh, look here! Our mongoose is killing a snake’; and Rikki-tikki heard a scream from Teddy’s mother. His father ran out with a stick, but by the time he came up, Karait had lunged out once too far, and Rikki-tikki had sprung, jumped on the snake’s back, dropped his head far between his fore-legs, bitten as high up the back as he could get hold, and rolled away. That bite paralysed Karait, and Rikki-tikki was just going to eat him up from the tail, after the custom of his family at dinner, when he remembered that a full meal makes a slow mongoose, and if he wanted all his strength and quickness ready, he must keep himself thin.

He went away for a dust-bath under the castor-oil bushes, while Teddy’s father beat the dead Karait. ‘What is the use of that?’ thought Rikki-tikki. ‘I have settled it all’; and then Teddy’s mother picked him up from the dust and hugged him, crying that he had saved Teddy from death, and Teddy’s father said that he was a providence, and Teddy looked on with big scared eyes. Rikki-tikki was rather amused at all the fuss, which, of course, he did not understand. Teddy’s mother might just as well have petted Teddy for playing in the dust. Rikki was thoroughly enjoying himself.

That night, at dinner, walking to and fro among the wine-glasses on the table, he could have stuffed himself three times over with nice things; but he remembered Nag and Nagaina, and though it was very pleasant to be patted and petted by Teddy’s mother, and to sit on Teddy’s shoulder, his eyes would get red from time to time, and he would go off into his long war cry of ‘Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!‘

Teddy carried him off to bed, and insisted on Rikki-tikki sleeping under his chin. Rikki-tikki was too well bred to bite or scratch, but as soon as Teddy was asleep he went off for his nightly walk round the house, and in the dark he ran up against Chuchundra, the musk-rat, creeping round by the wall. Chuchundra is a broken-hearted little beast, He whimpers and cheeps all the night, trying to make up his mind to run into the middle of the room, but he never gets there.

‘Don’t kill me,’ said Chuchundra, almost weeping. ‘Rikki-tikki, don’t kill me.’

‘Do you think a snake-killer kills musk-rats?’ said Rikki-tikki scornfully.

‘Those who kill snakes get killed by snakes,’ said Chuchundra, more sorrowfully than ever. ‘And how am I to be sure that Nag won’t mistake me for you some dark night?’

‘There’s not the least danger,’ said Rikki-tikki; ‘but Nag is in the garden, and I know you don’t go there.’

‘My cousin Chua, the rat, told me——’ said Chuchundra, and then he stopped.

‘Told you what?’

‘H’sh! Nag is everywhere, Rikki-tikki. You should have talked to Chua in the garden.’

‘I didn’t—so you must tell me. Quick, Chuchundra, or I’ll bite you!’

Chuchundra sat down and cried ’til the tears rolled off his whiskers. ‘I am a very poor man,’ he sobbed. ‘I never had spirit enough to run out into the middle of the room. H’sh! I mustn’t tell you anything. Can’t you hear, Rikki-tikki?’

Rikki-tikki listened. The house was as still as still, but he thought he could just catch the faintest scratch-scratch in the world,—a noise as faint as that of a wasp walking on a window-pane,—the dry scratch of a snake’s scales on brickwork.

‘That’s Nag or Nagaina,’ he said to himself; ‘and he’s crawling into the bath-room sluice. You’re right, Chuchundra; I should have talked to Chua.’

He stole off to Teddy’s bath-room, but there was nothing there, and then to Teddy’s mother’s bath-room. At the bottom of the smooth plaster wall there was a brick pulled out to make a sluice for the bath-water, and as Rikki-tikki stole in by the masonry curb where the bath is put, he heard Nag and Nagaina whispering together outside in the moonlight.

‘When the house is emptied of people,’ said Nagaina to her husband, ‘he will have to go away, and then the garden will be our own again. Go in quietly, and remember that the big man who killed Karait is the first one to bite. Then come out and tell me, and we will hunt for Rikki-tikki together.’

‘But are you sure that there is anything to be gained by killing the people?’ said Nag.

‘Everything. When there were no people in the bungalow, did we have any mongoose in the garden? So long as the bungalow is empty, we are king and queen of the garden; and remember that as soon as our eggs in the melon-bed hatch (as they may to-morrow), our children will need room and quiet.’

I had not thought of that,’ said Nag. ‘I will go, but there is no need that we should hunt for Rikki-tikki afterward. I will kill the big man and his wife, and the child if I can, and come away quietly. Then the bungalow will be empty, and Rikki-tikki will go.’

Rikki-tikki tingled all over with rage and hatred at this, and then Nag’s head came through the sluice, and his five feet of cold body followed it. Angry as he was, Rikki-tikki was very frightened as he saw the size of the big cobra. Nag coiled himself up, raised his head, and looked into the bath-room in the dark, and Rikki could see his eyes glitter.

‘Now, if I kill him here, Nagaina will know; and if I fight him on the open floor, the odds are in his favour. What am I to do?’ said Rikki-tikki-tavi.

Nag waved to and fro, and then Rikki-tikki heard him drinking from the biggest water-jar that was used to fill the bath. ‘That is good,’ said the snake. ‘Now, when Karait was killed, the big man had a stick. He may have that stick still, but when he comes in to bathe in the morning he will not have a stick. I shall wait here ’til he comes. Nagaina—do you hear me?—I shall wait here in the cool ’til daytime.’

There was no answer from outside, so Rikki-tikki knew Nagaina had gone away. Nag coiled himself down, coil by coil, round the bulge at the bottom of the water-jar, and Rikki-tikki stayed still as death. After an hour he began to move, muscle by muscle, toward the jar. Nag was asleep, and Rikki-tikki looked at his big back, wondering which would be the best place for a good hold. ‘If I don’t break his back at the first jump,’ said Rikki, ‘he can still fight; and if he fights—O Rikki!’ He looked at the thickness of the neck below the hood, but that was too much for him; and a bite near the tail would only make Nag savage.

‘It must be the head,’ he said at last; ‘the head above the hood; and when I am once there, I must not let go.’

Then he jumped. The head was lying a little clear of the water-jar, under the curve of it; and, as his teeth met, Rikki braced his back against the bulge of the red earthen-rare to hold down the head. This gave him just one second’s purchase, and he made the most of it. Then he was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog—to and fro on the floor, up and down, and round in great circles; at his eyes were red, and he held on as the body cart-whipped over the floor, upsetting the tin dipper and the soap-dish and the flesh-brush, and banged against the tin side of the bath. As he held he closed his jaws tighter and tighter, for he made sure he would be banged to death, and, for the honour of his family, preferred to be found with his teeth locked. He was dizzy, aching, and felt shaken to pieces when something went off like a thunderclap just behind him; a hot wind knocked him senseless, and red fire singed his fur. The man had been wakened by the noise, and had fired both barrels of a shot-gun into Nag just behind the hood.

Rikki-tikki held on with his eyes shut, for now he was quite sure he was dead; but the head did not move, and the big man picked him up and said: ‘It’s the mongoose again, Alice; the little chap has saved our lives now.’ Then Teddy’s mother came in with a very white face, and saw what was left of Nag, and Rikki-tikki dragged himself Teddy’s bedroom and spent half the rest of the night shaking himself tenderly to find out whether he really broken into forty pieces, as he fancied.

When morning came he was very stiff, but well pleased with his doings. ‘Now I have Nagaina to settle with, and she will be worse than five Nags, and there’s no knowing when the eggs she spoke of will hatch. Goodness! I must go and see Darzee,’ he said.

Without waiting for breakfast, Rikki-tikki ran to the thorn-bush where Darzee was singing a song of triumph at the top of his voice. The news of Nag’s death was all over the garden, for the sweeper had thrown the body on the rubbish-heap.

‘Oh, you stupid tuft of feathers!’ said Rikki-tikki angrily. ‘Is this the time to sing?’

‘Nag is dead—is dead—is dead!’ sang Darzee. ‘The valiant Rikki-tikki caught him by the head and held fast. The big man brought the bang-stick, and Nag fell in two pieces! He will never eat my babies again.’

‘All that’s true enough; but where’s Nagaina?’ said Rikki-tikki, looking carefully round him.

‘Nagaina came to the bath-room sluice and called for Nag,’ Darzee went on; ‘and Nag came out on the end of a stick—the sweeper picked him up on the end of a stick and threw him upon the rubbish-heap. Let us sing about the great, the red-eyed Rikki-tikki!’ and Darzee filled his throat and sang.

‘If I could get up to your nest, I’d roll all your babies out!’ said Rikki-tikki. ‘You don’t know when to do the right thing at the right time. You’re safe enough in your nest there, but it’s war for me down here. Stop singing a minute, Darzee.’

‘For the great, the beautiful Rikki-tikki’s sake I will stop,’ said Darzee. ‘What is it, O killer of the terrible Nag?’

‘Where is Nagaina, for the third time?’

‘On the rubbish-heap by the stables, mourning for Nag. Great is Rikki-tikki with the white teeth.’

‘Bother my white teeth! Have you ever heard where she keeps her eggs?’

‘In the melon-bed, on the end nearest the wall, where the sun strikes nearly all day. She hid them three weeks ago.’

‘And you never thought it worth while to tell me? The end nearest the wall, you said?’

‘Rikki-tikki, you are not going to eat her eggs?’

‘Not eat exactly; no. Darzee, if you have a grain of sense you will fly off to the stables and pretend that your wing is broken, and let Nagaina chase you away to this bush! I must get to the melon-bed, and if I went there now she’d see me.’

Darzee was a feather-brained little fellow who could never hold more than one idea at a time in his head; and just because he knew that Nagaina’s children were born in eggs like his own, he didn’t think at first that it was fair to kill them. But his wife was a sensible bird, and she knew that cobra’s eggs meant young cobras later on; so she flew off from the nest, and left Darzee to keep the babies warm, and continue his song about the death of Nag. Darzee was very like a man in some ways.

She fluttered in front of Nagaina by the rubbish-heap, and cried out, ‘Oh, my wing is broken! The boy in the house threw a stone at me and broke it.’ Then she fluttered more desperately than ever.

Nagaina lifted up her head and hissed, ‘You warned Rikki-tikki when I would have killed him. Indeed and truly, you’ve chosen a bad place to be lame in.’ And she moved toward Darzee’s wife, slipping along over the dust.

‘The boy broke it with a stone!’ shrieked Darzee’s wife.

‘Well! It may be some consolation to you when you’re dead to know that I shall settle accounts with the boy. My husband lies on the rubbish-heap this morning, but before night the boy in the house will lie very still. What is the use of running away? I am sure to catch you. Little fool, look at me!’

Darzee’s wife knew better than to do that, for a bird who looks at a snake’s eyes gets so frightened that she cannot move. Darzee’s wife fluttered on, piping sorrowfully, and never leaving the ground, and Nagaina quickened her pace.

Rikki-tikki heard them going up the path from the stables, and he raced for the end of the melon-patch near the wall. There, in the warm litter about the melons, very cunningly hidden, he found twenty-five eggs, about the size of a bantam’s eggs, but with whitish skin instead of shell.

‘I was not a day too soon,’ he said; for he could see the baby cobras curled up inside the skin, and he knew that the minute they were hatched they could each kill a man or a mongoose. He bit off the tops of the eggs as fast as he could, taking care to crush the young cobras, and turned over the litter from time to time to see whether he had missed any. At last there were only three eggs left, and Rikki-tikki began to chuckle to himself, when he heard Darzee’s wife screaming:

‘Rikki-tikki, I led Nagaina toward the house, and she has gone into the verandah, and—oh, come quickly—she means killing!’

Rikki-tikki smashed two eggs, and tumbled backward down the melon-bed with the third egg in his mouth, and scuttled to the verandah as hard as he could put foot to the ground. Teddy and his mother and father were there at early breakfast; but Rikki-tikki saw that they were not eating anything. They sat stone-still, and their faces were white. Nagaina was coiled up on the matting by Teddy’s chair, within easy striking distance of Teddy’s bare leg, and she was swaying to and fro singing a song of triumph.

‘Son of the big man that killed Nag,’ she hissed, ‘stay still. I am not ready yet. Wait a little. Keep very still, all you three. If you move I strike, and if you do not move I strike. Oh, foolish people, who killed my Nag!’

Teddy’s eyes were fixed on his father, and all his father could do was to whisper, ‘Sit still, Teddy. You mustn’t move. Teddy, keep still.’

Then Rikki-tikki came up and cried: ‘Turn round, Nagaina; turn and fight!’

‘All in good time,’ said she, without moving her eyes. ‘I will settle my account with you presently. Look at your friends, Rikki-tikki. They are still and white; they are afraid. They dare not move, and if you come a step nearer I strike.’

‘Look at your eggs,’ said Rikki-tikki, ‘in the melon-bed near the wall. Go and look, Nagaina.’

The big snake turned half round, and saw the egg on the verandah. ‘Ah-h! Give it to me,’ she said.

Rikki-tikki put his paws one on each side of the egg, and his eyes were blood-red. ‘What price for a snake’s egg? For a young cobra? For a young king-cobra? For the last—the very last of the brood? The ants are eating all the others down by the melon-bed.’

Nagaina spun clear round, forgetting everything for the sake of the one egg; and Rikki-tikki saw Teddy’s father shoot out a big hand, catch Teddy by the shoulder, and drag him across the little table with the tea-cups, safe and out of reach of Nagaina.

‘Tricked! Tricked! Tricked! Rikk-tck-tck!‘ chuckled Rikki-tikki. ‘The boy is safe, and it was I—I—I that caught Nag by the hood last night in the bath-room.’ Then he began to jump up and down, all four feet together, his head close to the floor. ‘He threw me to and fro, but he could not shake me off. He was dead before the big man blew him in two. I did it. Rikki-tikki-tck-tck! Come then, Nagaina. Come and fight with me. You shall not be a widow long.’

Nagaina saw that she had lost her chance of killing Teddy, and the egg lay between Rikki-tikki’s paws. ‘Give me the egg, Rikki-tikki. Give me the last of my eggs, and I will go away and never come back,’ she said, lowering her hood.

‘Yes, you will go away, and you will never come back; for you will go to the rubbish-heap with Nag. Fight, widow! The big man has gone for his gun! Fight!’

Rikki-tikki was bounding all round Nagaina, keeping just out of reach of her stroke, his little eyes like hot coals. Nagaina gathered herself together, and flung out at him. Rikki-tikki jumped up and backward. Again and again and again she struck, and each time her head came with a whack on the matting of the verandah, and she gathered herself together like a watch-spring. Then Rikki-tikki danced in a circle to get behind her, and Nagaina spun round to keep her head to his head, so that the rustle of her tail on the matting sounded like dry leaves blown along by the wind.

He had forgotten the egg. It still lay on the verandah, and Nagaina came nearer and nearer to it, ’til at last, while Rikki-tikki was drawing breath, she caught it in her mouth, turned to the verandah steps and flew like an arrow down the path, with Rikki-tikki behind her. When the cobra runs for her life, she goes like a whip-lash flicked across a horse’s neck.

Rikki-tikki knew that he must catch her, or all the trouble would begin again. She headed straight for the long grass by the thorn-bush, and as he was running Rikki-tikki heard Darzee still singing his foolish little song of triumph. But Darzee’s wife was wiser. She flew off her nest as Nagaina came along and flapped her wings about Nagaina’s head. If Darzee had helped they might have turned her; but Nagaina only lowered her hood and went on. Still, the instant’s delay brought Rikki-tikki up to her, and as she plunged into the rat-hole where she and Nag used to live, his little white teeth were clenched on her tail, and he went down with her—and very few mongooses, however wise and old they may be, care to follow a cobra into its hole. It was dark in the hole; and Rikki-tikki never knew when it might open out and give Nagaina room to turn and strike at him. He held on savagely, and struck out his feet to act as brakes on the dark slope of the hot, moist earth.

Then the grass by the mouth of the hole stopped waving, and Darzee said: ‘It is all over with Rikki-tikki! We must sing his death-song. Valiant Rikki-tikki is dead! For Nagaina will surely kill him underground.’

So he sang a very mournful song that he made up on the spur of the minute, and just as he got to the most touching part the grass quivered again, and Rikki-tikki, covered with dirt, dragged himself out of the hole leg by leg, licking his whiskers. Darzee stopped with a little shout. Rikki-tikki shook some of the dust out of his fur and sneezed. ‘It is all over,’ he said. ‘The widow will never come out again.’ And the red ants that live between the grass stems heard him, and began to troop down one after another to see if he had spoken the truth.

Rikki-tikki curled himself up in the grass and slept where he was—slept and slept ’til it was late in the afternoon, for he had done a hard day’s work.

‘Now,’ he said, when he awoke, ‘I will go back to the house. Tell the Coppersmith, Darzee, and he will tell the garden that Nagaina is dead.’

The Coppersmith is a bird who makes a noise exactly like the beating of a little hammer on a copper pot; and the reason he is always making it is because he is the town-crier to every Indian garden, and tells all the news to everybody who cares to listen. As Rikki-tikki went up the path, he heard his ‘attention’ notes like a tiny dinner-gong; and then the steady ‘Ding-dong-lock! Nag is dead—dong! Nagaina is dead! Ding-dong-tock!‘ That set all the birds in the garden singing, and the frogs croaking; for Nag and Nagaina used to eat frogs as well as little birds.

When Rikki got to the house, Teddy and Teddy’s mother (she looked very white still, for she had been fainting) and Teddy’s father came out and almost cried over him; and that night he ate all that was given him ’til he could I eat no more, and went to bed on Teddy’s shoulder, where Teddy’s mother saw him when she came to look late at night.

‘He saved our lives and Teddy’s life,’ she said to her husband. ‘Just think, he saved all our lives.’

Rikki-tikki woke up with a jump, for all the mongooses are light sleepers.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said he. ‘What are you bothering for? All the cobras are dead; and if they weren’t, I’m here.’

Rikki-tikki had a right to be proud of himself; but he did not grow too proud, and he kept that garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bite, ’til never a cobra dared show its head inside the walls.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was originally published on PinkWrite

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

Text

“Rikki-Tikki-Tavi”

At the hole where he went in Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin. Hear what little Red-Eye saith: “Nag, come up and dance with death!” Eye to eye and head to head, (Keep the measure, Nag.) This shall end when one is dead; (At thy pleasure, Nag.) Turn for turn and twist for twist– (Run and hide thee, Nag.) Hah! The hooded Death has missed! (Woe betide thee, Nag!) This is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the Tailorbird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice, but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting.

He was a mongoose, rather like a little cat in his fur and his tail, but quite like a weasel in his head and his habits. His eyes and the end of his restless nose were pink. He could scratch himself anywhere he pleased with any leg, front or back, that he chose to use. He could fluff up his tail till it looked like a bottle brush, and his war cry as he scuttled through the long grass was: “Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!”

One day, a high summer flood washed him out of the burrow where he lived with his father and mother, and carried him, kicking and clucking, down a roadside ditch. He found a little wisp of grass floating there, and clung to it till he lost his senses. When he revived, he was lying in the hot sun on the middle of a garden path, very draggled indeed, and a small boy was saying, “Here’s a dead mongoose. Let’s have a funeral.”

“No,” said his mother, “let’s take him in and dry him. Perhaps he isn’t really dead.”

They took him into the house, and a big man picked him up between his finger and thumb and said he was not dead but half choked. So they wrapped him in cotton wool, and warmed him over a little fire, and he opened his eyes and sneezed.

“Now,” said the big man (he was an Englishman who had just moved into the bungalow), “don’t frighten him, and we’ll see what he’ll do.”

It is the hardest thing in the world to frighten a mongoose, because he is eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity. The motto of all the mongoose family is “Run and find out,” and Rikki-tikki was a true mongoose. He looked at the cotton wool, decided that it was not good to eat, ran all round the table, sat up and put his fur in order, scratched himself, and jumped on the small boy’s shoulder.

“Don’t be frightened, Teddy,” said his father. “That’s his way of making friends.”

“Ouch! He’s tickling under my chin,” said Teddy.

Rikki-tikki looked down between the boy’s collar and neck, snuffed at his ear, and climbed down to the floor, where he sat rubbing his nose.

“Good gracious,” said Teddy’s mother, “and that’s a wild creature! I suppose he’s so tame because we’ve been kind to him.”

“All mongooses are like that,” said her husband. “If Teddy doesn’t pick him up by the tail, or try to put him in a cage, he’ll run in and out of the house all day long. Let’s give him something to eat.”

They gave him a little piece of raw meat. Rikki-tikki liked it immensely, and when it was finished he went out into the veranda and sat in the sunshine and fluffed up his fur to make it dry to the roots. Then he felt better.

“There are more things to find out about in this house,” he said to himself, “than all my family could find out in all their lives. I shall certainly stay and find out.”

He spent all that day roaming over the house. He nearly drowned himself in the bath-tubs, put his nose into the ink on a writing table, and burned it on the end of the big man’s cigar, for he climbed up in the big man’s lap to see how writing was done. At nightfall he ran into Teddy’s nursery to watch how kerosene lamps were lighted, and when Teddy went to bed Rikki-tikki climbed up too. But he was a restless companion, because he had to get up and attend to every noise all through the night, and find out what made it. Teddy’s mother and father came in, the last thing, to look at their boy, and Rikki-tikki was awake on the pillow. “I don’t like that,” said Teddy’s mother. “He may bite the child.” “He’ll do no such thing,” said the father. “Teddy’s safer with that little beast than if he had a bloodhound to watch him. If a snake came into the nursery now–”

But Teddy’s mother wouldn’t think of anything so awful.

Early in the morning Rikki-tikki came to early breakfast in the veranda riding on Teddy’s shoulder, and they gave him banana and some boiled egg. He sat on all their laps one after the other, because every well-brought-up mongoose always hopes to be a house mongoose some day and have rooms to run about in; and Rikki-tikki’s mother (she used to live in the general’s house at Segowlee) had carefully told Rikki what to do if ever he came across white men.

Then Rikki-tikki went out into the garden to see what was to be seen. It was a large garden, only half cultivated, with bushes, as big as summer-houses, of Marshal Niel roses, lime and orange trees, clumps of bamboos, and thickets of high grass. Rikki-tikki licked his lips. “This is a splendid hunting-ground," he said, and his tail grew bottle-brushy at the thought of it, and he scuttled up and down the garden, snuffing here and there till he heard very sorrowful voices in a thorn-bush.

It was Darzee, the Tailorbird, and his wife. They had made a beautiful nest by pulling two big leaves together and stitching them up the edges with fibers, and had filled the hollow with cotton and downy fluff. The nest swayed to and fro, as they sat on the rim and cried.

“What is the matter?” asked Rikki-tikki.

“We are very miserable,” said Darzee. “One of our babies fell out of the nest yesterday and Nag ate him.”

“H’m!” said Rikki-tikki, “that is very sad–but I am a stranger here. Who is Nag?”

Darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss–a horrid cold sound that made Rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet. Then inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of Nag, the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail. When he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion tuft balances in the wind, and he looked at Rikki-tikki with the wicked snake’s eyes that never change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of.

“Who is Nag?” said he. “I am Nag. The great God Brahm put his mark upon all our people, when the first cobra spread his hood to keep the sun off Brahm as he slept. Look, and be afraid!”

He spread out his hood more than ever, and Rikki-tikki saw the spectacle-mark on the back of it that looks exactly like the eye part of a hook-and-eye fastening. He was afraid for the minute, but it is impossible for a mongoose to stay frightened for any length of time, and though Rikki-tikki had never met a live cobra before, his mother had fed him on dead ones, and he knew that all a grown mongoose’s business in life was to fight and eat snakes. Nag knew that too and, at the bottom of his cold heart, he was afraid.

“Well,” said Rikki-tikki, and his tail began to fluff up again, “marks or no marks, do you think it is right for you to eat fledglings out of a nest?”

“Let us talk,” he said. “You eat eggs. Why should not I eat birds?”

“Behind you! Look behind you!” sang Darzee.

Rikki-tikki knew better than to waste time in staring. He jumped up in the air as high as he could go, and just under him whizzed by the head of Nagaina, Nag’s wicked wife. She had crept up behind him as he was talking, to make an end of him. He heard her savage hiss as the stroke missed. He came down almost across her back, and if he had been an old mongoose he would have known that then was the time to break her back with one bite; but he was afraid of the terrible lashing return stroke of the cobra. He bit, indeed, but did not bite long enough, and he jumped clear of the whisking tail, leaving Nagaina torn and angry.

“Wicked, wicked Darzee!” said Nag, lashing up as high as he could reach toward the nest in the thorn-bush. But Darzee had built it out of reach of snakes, and it only swayed to and fro.

If you read the old books of natural history, you will find they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him. That is not true. The victory is only a matter of quickness of eye and quickness of foot–snake’s blow against mongoose’s jump–and as no eye can follow the motion of a snake’s head when it strikes, this makes things much more wonderful than any magic herb. Rikki-tikki knew he was a young mongoose, and it made him all the more pleased to think that he had managed to escape a blow from behind. It gave him confidence in himself, and when Teddy came running down the path, Rikki-tikki was ready to be petted.

But just as Teddy was stooping, something wriggled a little in the dust, and a tiny voice said: “Be careful. I am Death!” It was Karait, the dusty brown snakeling that lies for choice on the dusty earth; and his bite is as dangerous as the cobra’s. But he is so small that nobody thinks of him, and so he does the more harm to people.

Rikki-tikki’s eyes grew red again, and he danced up to Karait with the peculiar rocking, swaying motion that he had inherited from his family. It looks very funny, but it is so perfectly balanced a gait that you can fly off from it at any angle you please, and in dealing with snakes this is an advantage. If Rikki-tikki had only known, he was doing a much more dangerous thing than fighting Nag, for Karait is so small, and can turn so quickly, that unless Rikki bit him close to the back of the head, he would get the return stroke in his eye or his lip. But Rikki did not know. His eyes were all red, and he rocked back and forth, looking for a good place to hold. Karait struck out. Rikki jumped sideways and tried to run in, but the wicked little dusty gray head lashed within a fraction of his shoulder, and he had to jump over the body, and the head followed his heels close.

Teddy shouted to the house: “Oh, look here! Our mongoose is killing a snake.” And Rikki-tikki heard a scream from Teddy’s mother. His father ran out with a stick, but by the time he came up, Karait had lunged out once too far, and Rikki-tikki had sprung, jumped on the snake’s back, dropped his head far between his forelegs, bitten as high up the back as he could get hold, and rolled away. That bite paralyzed Karait, and Rikki-tikki was just going to eat him up from the tail, after the custom of his family at dinner, when he remembered that a full meal makes a slow mongoose, and if he wanted all his strength and quickness ready, he must keep himself thin.

He went away for a dust bath under the castor-oil bushes, while Teddy’s father beat the dead Karait. “What is the use of that?” thought Rikki-tikki. “I have settled it all;” and then Teddy’s mother picked him up from the dust and hugged him, crying that he had saved Teddy from death, and Teddy’s father said that he was a providence, and Teddy looked on with big scared eyes. Rikki-tikki was rather amused at all the fuss, which, of course, he did not understand. Teddy’s mother might just as well have petted Teddy for playing in the dust. Rikki was thoroughly enjoying himself.

That night at dinner, walking to and fro among the wine-glasses on the table, he might have stuffed himself three times over with nice things. But he remembered Nag and Nagaina, and though it was very pleasant to be patted and petted by Teddy’s mother, and to sit on Teddy’s shoulder, his eyes would get red from time to time, and he would go off into his long war cry of “Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!”

Teddy carried him off to bed, and insisted on Rikki-tikki sleeping under his chin. Rikki-tikki was too well bred to bite or scratch, but as soon as Teddy was asleep he went off for his nightly walk round the house, and in the dark he ran up against Chuchundra, the musk-rat, creeping around by the wall. Chuchundra is a broken-hearted little beast. He whimpers and cheeps all the night, trying to make up his mind to run into the middle of the room. But he never gets there.

“Don’t kill me,” said Chuchundra, almost weeping. “Rikki-tikki, don’t kill me!”

“Do you think a snake-killer kills muskrats?” said Rikki-tikki scornfully.

“Those who kill snakes get killed by snakes,” said Chuchundra, more sorrowfully than ever. “And how am I to be sure that Nag won’t mistake me for you some dark night?”

“There’s not the least danger,” said Rikki-tikki. “But Nag is in the garden, and I know you don’t go there.”

“My cousin Chua, the rat, told me–” said Chuchundra, and then he stopped.

“Told you what?”

“H’sh! Nag is everywhere, Rikki-tikki. You should have talked to Chua in the garden.”

“I didn’t–so you must tell me. Quick, Chuchundra, or I’ll bite you!”

Chuchundra sat down and cried till the tears rolled off his whiskers. “I am a very poor man,” he sobbed. “I never had spirit enough to run out into the middle of the room. H’sh! I mustn’t tell you anything. Can’t you hear, Rikki-tikki?”

Rikki-tikki listened. The house was as still as still, but he thought he could just catch the faintest scratch-scratch in the world–a noise as faint as that of a wasp walking on a window-pane–the dry scratch of a snake’s scales on brick-work.

“That’s Nag or Nagaina,” he said to himself, “and he is crawling into the bath-room sluice. You’re right, Chuchundra; I should have talked to Chua.”

He stole off to Teddy’s bath-room, but there was nothing there, and then to Teddy’s mother’s bathroom. At the bottom of the smooth plaster wall there was a brick pulled out to make a sluice for the bath water, and as Rikki-tikki stole in by the masonry curb where the bath is put, he heard Nag and Nagaina whispering together outside in the moonlight.

“When the house is emptied of people,” said Nagaina to her husband, “he will have to go away, and then the garden will be our own again. Go in quietly, and remember that the big man who killed Karait is the first one to bite. Then come out and tell me, and we will hunt for Rikki-tikki together.”

“But are you sure that there is anything to be gained by killing the people?” said Nag.

“Everything. When there were no people in the bungalow, did we have any mongoose in the garden? So long as the bungalow is empty, we are king and queen of the garden; and remember that as soon as our eggs in the melon bed hatch (as they may tomorrow), our children will need room and quiet.”

“I had not thought of that,” said Nag. “I will go, but there is no need that we should hunt for Rikki-tikki afterward. I will kill the big man and his wife, and the child if I can, and come away quietly. Then the bungalow will be empty, and Rikki-tikki will go.”

Rikki-tikki tingled all over with rage and hatred at this, and then Nag’s head came through the sluice, and his five feet of cold body followed it. Angry as he was, Rikki-tikki was very frightened as he saw the size of the big cobra. Nag coiled himself up, raised his head, and looked into the bathroom in the dark, and Rikki could see his eyes glitter.

“Now, if I kill him here, Nagaina will know; and if I fight him on the open floor, the odds are in his favor. What am I to do?” said Rikki-tikki-tavi.

Nag waved to and fro, and then Rikki-tikki heard him drinking from the biggest water-jar that was used to fill the bath. “That is good,” said the snake. “Now, when Karait was killed, the big man had a stick. He may have that stick still, but when he comes in to bathe in the morning he will not have a stick. I shall wait here till he comes. Nagaina–do you hear me?–I shall wait here in the cool till daytime.”

There was no answer from outside, so Rikki-tikki knew Nagaina had gone away. Nag coiled himself down, coil by coil, round the bulge at the bottom of the water jar, and Rikki-tikki stayed still as death. After an hour he began to move, muscle by muscle, toward the jar. Nag was asleep, and Rikki-tikki looked at his big back, wondering which would be the best place for a good hold. “If I don’t break his back at the first jump,” said Rikki, “he can still fight. And if he fights–O Rikki!” He looked at the thickness of the neck below the hood, but that was too much for him; and a bite near the tail would only make Nag savage.

“It must be the head"’ he said at last; “the head above the hood. And, when I am once there, I must not let go.”

Then he jumped. The head was lying a little clear of the water jar, under the curve of it; and, as his teeth met, Rikki braced his back against the bulge of the red earthenware to hold down the head. This gave him just one second’s purchase, and he made the most of it. Then he was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog–to and fro on the floor, up and down, and around in great circles, but his eyes were red and he held on as the body cart-whipped over the floor, upsetting the tin dipper and the soap dish and the flesh brush, and banged against the tin side of the bath. As he held he closed his jaws tighter and tighter, for he made sure he would be banged to death, and, for the honor of his family, he preferred to be found with his teeth locked. He was dizzy, aching, and felt shaken to pieces when something went off like a thunderclap just behind him. A hot wind knocked him senseless and red fire singed his fur. The big man had been wakened by the noise, and had fired both barrels of a shotgun into Nag just behind the hood.

Rikki-tikki held on with his eyes shut, for now he was quite sure he was dead. But the head did not move, and the big man picked him up and said, “It’s the mongoose again, Alice. The little chap has saved our lives now.”

Then Teddy’s mother came in with a very white face, and saw what was left of Nag, and Rikki-tikki dragged himself to Teddy’s bedroom and spent half the rest of the night shaking himself tenderly to find out whether he really was broken into forty pieces, as he fancied.

When morning came he was very stiff, but well pleased with his doings. “Now I have Nagaina to settle with, and she will be worse than five Nags, and there’s no knowing when the eggs she spoke of will hatch. Goodness! I must go and see Darzee,” he said.

Without waiting for breakfast, Rikki-tikki ran to the thornbush where Darzee was singing a song of triumph at the top of his voice. The news of Nag’s death was all over the garden, for the sweeper had thrown the body on the rubbish-heap.

“Oh, you stupid tuft of feathers!” said Rikki-tikki angrily. “Is this the time to sing?”

“Nag is dead–is dead–is dead!” sang Darzee. “The valiant Rikki-tikki caught him by the head and held fast. The big man brought the bang-stick, and Nag fell in two pieces! He will never eat my babies again.”

“All that’s true enough. But where’s Nagaina?” said Rikki-tikki, looking carefully round him.

“Nagaina came to the bathroom sluice and called for Nag," Darzee went on, “and Nag came out on the end of a stick–the sweeper picked him up on the end of a stick and threw him upon the rubbish heap. Let us sing about the great, the red-eyed Rikki-tikki!” And Darzee filled his throat and sang.

“If I could get up to your nest, I’d roll your babies out!" said Rikki-tikki. “You don’t know when to do the right thing at the right time. You’re safe enough in your nest there, but it’s war for me down here. Stop singing a minute, Darzee.”

“For the great, the beautiful Rikki-tikki’s sake I will stop," said Darzee. “What is it, O Killer of the terrible Nag?”

“Where is Nagaina, for the third time?”

“On the rubbish heap by the stables, mourning for Nag. Great is Rikki-tikki with the white teeth.”

“Bother my white teeth! Have you ever heard where she keeps her eggs?”

“In the melon bed, on the end nearest the wall, where the sun strikes nearly all day. She hid them there weeks ago.”

“And you never thought it worth while to tell me? The end nearest the wall, you said?”

“Rikki-tikki, you are not going to eat her eggs?”

“Not eat exactly; no. Darzee, if you have a grain of sense you will fly off to the stables and pretend that your wing is broken, and let Nagaina chase you away to this bush. I must get to the melon-bed, and if I went there now she’d see me.”

Darzee was a feather-brained little fellow who could never hold more than one idea at a time in his head. And just because he knew that Nagaina’s children were born in eggs like his own, he didn’t think at first that it was fair to kill them. But his wife was a sensible bird, and she knew that cobra’s eggs meant young cobras later on. So she flew off from the nest, and left Darzee to keep the babies warm, and continue his song about the death of Nag. Darzee was very like a man in some ways.

She fluttered in front of Nagaina by the rubbish heap and cried out, “Oh, my wing is broken! The boy in the house threw a stone at me and broke it.” Then she fluttered more desperately than ever.

Nagaina lifted up her head and hissed, “You warned Rikki-tikki when I would have killed him. Indeed and truly, you’ve chosen a bad place to be lame in.” And she moved toward Darzee’s wife, slipping along over the dust.

“The boy broke it with a stone!” shrieked Darzee’s wife.

“Well! It may be some consolation to you when you’re dead to know that I shall settle accounts with the boy. My husband lies on the rubbish heap this morning, but before night the boy in the house will lie very still. What is the use of running away? I am sure to catch you. Little fool, look at me!”

Rikki-tikki heard them going up the path from the stables, and he raced for the end of the melon patch near the wall. There, in the warm litter above the melons, very cunningly hidden, he found twenty-five eggs, about the size of a bantam’s eggs, but with whitish skin instead of shell.

“I was not a day too soon,” he said, for he could see the baby cobras curled up inside the skin, and he knew that the minute they were hatched they could each kill a man or a mongoose. He bit off the tops of the eggs as fast as he could, taking care to crush the young cobras, and turned over the litter from time to time to see whether he had missed any. At last there were only three eggs left, and Rikki-tikki began to chuckle to himself, when he heard Darzee’s wife screaming:

“Rikki-tikki, I led Nagaina toward the house, and she has gone into the veranda, and–oh, come quickly–she means killing!”

Rikki-tikki smashed two eggs, and tumbled backward down the melon-bed with the third egg in his mouth, and scuttled to the veranda as hard as he could put foot to the ground. Teddy and his mother and father were there at early breakfast, but Rikki-tikki saw that they were not eating anything. They sat stone-still, and their faces were white. Nagaina was coiled up on the matting by Teddy’s chair, within easy striking distance of Teddy’s bare leg, and she was swaying to and fro, singing a song of triumph.

“Son of the big man that killed Nag,” she hissed, “stay still. I am not ready yet. Wait a little. Keep very still, all you three! If you move I strike, and if you do not move I strike. Oh, foolish people, who killed my Nag!”

Teddy’s eyes were fixed on his father, and all his father could do was to whisper, “Sit still, Teddy. You mustn’t move. Teddy, keep still.”

Then Rikki-tikki came up and cried, “Turn round, Nagaina. Turn and fight!”

“All in good time,” said she, without moving her eyes. “I will settle my account with you presently. Look at your friends, Rikki-tikki. They are still and white. They are afraid. They dare not move, and if you come a step nearer I strike.”

“Look at your eggs,” said Rikki-tikki, “in the melon bed near the wall. Go and look, Nagaina!”

The big snake turned half around, and saw the egg on the veranda. “Ah-h! Give it to me,” she said.

Rikki-tikki put his paws one on each side of the egg, and his eyes were blood-red. “What price for a snake’s egg? For a young cobra? For a young king cobra? For the last–the very last of the brood? The ants are eating all the others down by the melon bed.”

Nagaina spun clear round, forgetting everything for the sake of the one egg. Rikki-tikki saw Teddy’s father shoot out a big hand, catch Teddy by the shoulder, and drag him across the little table with the tea-cups, safe and out of reach of Nagaina.

“Tricked! Tricked! Tricked! Rikk-tck-tck!” chuckled Rikki-tikki. “The boy is safe, and it was I–I–I that caught Nag by the hood last night in the bathroom.” Then he began to jump up and down, all four feet together, his head close to the floor. “He threw me to and fro, but he could not shake me off. He was dead before the big man blew him in two. I did it! Rikki-tikki-tck-tck! Come then, Nagaina. Come and fight with me. You shall not be a widow long.”

Nagaina saw that she had lost her chance of killing Teddy, and the egg lay between Rikki-tikki’s paws. “Give me the egg, Rikki-tikki. Give me the last of my eggs, and I will go away and never come back,” she said, lowering her hood.

“Yes, you will go away, and you will never come back. For you will go to the rubbish heap with Nag. Fight, widow! The big man has gone for his gun! Fight!”

Rikki-tikki was bounding all round Nagaina, keeping just out of reach of her stroke, his little eyes like hot coals. Nagaina gathered herself together and flung out at him. Rikki-tikki jumped up and backward. Again and again and again she struck, and each time her head came with a whack on the matting of the veranda and she gathered herself together like a watch spring. Then Rikki-tikki danced in a circle to get behind her, and Nagaina spun round to keep her head to his head, so that the rustle of her tail on the matting sounded like dry leaves blown along by the wind.

He had forgotten the egg. It still lay on the veranda, and Nagaina came nearer and nearer to it, till at last, while Rikki-tikki was drawing breath, she caught it in her mouth, turned to the veranda steps, and flew like an arrow down the path, with Rikki-tikki behind her. When the cobra runs for her life, she goes like a whip-lash flicked across a horse’s neck.

Rikki-tikki knew that he must catch her, or all the trouble would begin again. She headed straight for the long grass by the thorn-bush, and as he was running Rikki-tikki heard Darzee still singing his foolish little song of triumph. But Darzee’s wife was wiser. She flew off her nest as Nagaina came along, and flapped her wings about Nagaina’s head. If Darzee had helped they might have turned her, but Nagaina only lowered her hood and went on. Still, the instant’s delay brought Rikki-tikki up to her, and as she plunged into the rat-hole where she and Nag used to live, his little white teeth were clenched on her tail, and he went down with her–and very few mongooses, however wise and old they may be, care to follow a cobra into its hole. It was dark in the hole; and Rikki-tikki never knew when it might open out and give Nagaina room to turn and strike at him. He held on savagely, and stuck out his feet to act as brakes on the dark slope of the hot, moist earth.

Then the grass by the mouth of the hole stopped waving, and Darzee said, “It is all over with Rikki-tikki! We must sing his death song. Valiant Rikki-tikki is dead! For Nagaina will surely kill him underground.”

So he sang a very mournful song that he made up on the spur of the minute, and just as he got to the most touching part, the grass quivered again, and Rikki-tikki, covered with dirt, dragged himself out of the hole leg by leg, licking his whiskers. Darzee stopped with a little shout. Rikki-tikki shook some of the dust out of his fur and sneezed. “It is all over,” he said. “The widow will never come out again.” And the red ants that live between the grass stems heard him, and began to troop down one after another to see if he had spoken the truth.

Rikki-tikki curled himself up in the grass and slept where he was–slept and slept till it was late in the afternoon, for he had done a hard day’s work.

“Now,” he said, when he awoke, “I will go back to the house. Tell the Coppersmith, Darzee, and he will tell the garden that Nagaina is dead.”

The Coppersmith is a bird who makes a noise exactly like the beating of a little hammer on a copper pot; and the reason he is always making it is because he is the town crier to every Indian garden, and tells all the news to everybody who cares to listen. As Rikki-tikki went up the path, he heard his “attention” notes like a tiny dinner gong, and then the steady “Ding-dong-tock! Nag is dead–dong! Nagaina is dead! Ding-dong-tock!” That set all the birds in the garden singing, and the frogs croaking, for Nag and Nagaina used to eat frogs as well as little birds.

When Rikki got to the house, Teddy and Teddy’s mother (she looked very white still, for she had been fainting) and Teddy’s father came out and almost cried over him; and that night he ate all that was given him till he could eat no more, and went to bed on Teddy’s shoulder, where Teddy’s mother saw him when she came to look late at night.

“He saved our lives and Teddy’s life,” she said to her husband. “Just think, he saved all our lives.”

Rikki-tikki woke up with a jump, for the mongooses are light sleepers.

“Oh, it’s you,” said he. “What are you bothering for? All the cobras are dead. And if they weren’t, I’m here.”

Rikki-tikki had a right to be proud of himself. But he did not grow too proud, and he kept that garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bite, till never a cobra dared show its head inside the walls.

#JungleBook

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