#i did not have a good therapy session today (in fact it was fucking awful lol) so now i must Post Online

[0809sysblings]

maybe this will get rocks thrown at me but i kinda hate when people call the 18+ prisoners "grown adults" as insults and ways to like... shut down any sympathy with them. how because they are "grown adults", they "should have known better". this has just always bothered me. i see it and i have to sit and stare at the wall for 10 minutes.

like. idk. being an adult does not automatically give you skills like Emotional Regulation, Impulse Control, Ability To Learn From Consequences, Ability To Plan For The Future, Critical Thinking, Interpersonal Skills, etc etc. you have to be Taught these things no matter how old you are. if you are not taught these things, and you are not supported in an environment that helps you further develop these things... you just. Aren't gonna be able to do them well.

adults just, typically, have accumulated enough experiences in life to have been able to learn these things. but not every adult has had that privilege. or some adults have had to just shut off the parts of their brain that would allow them to learn these things to be able to function at a basic level.

[madefate]

Stolas is no longer on bedrest, but he's still not back to 100%, probably won't be for a while. The stress of the past few weeks has triggered an early molt, and he'd been pretty much hiding out in his room for a week, attempting to avoid actually seeing anyone. Or at least, that was his usual method of dealing with the embarrassment of losing his feathers. He'd always been told to keep himself out of sight until his plumage was back to the way it should be, that they couldn't risk the Goetia family appearing less than perfect, at any time. And old habits die hard. Which is why he's in the bathroom now, trying to deal with the wings he usually keeps retracted, brushing out errant feathers. Usually, he can deal with his wings in an afternoon, but it's much slower going than usual, with his still-healing injuries. He knows he's been holed up in here too long, but he's still working on getting his confidence and self-esteem back, and right now…., he still wants to look his best when he's around anyone else, especially Blitz. @helldustedstories

❝ Guess who's so fuckin' good at killin' he got to close up shop early ! ❞ There was no denying that it's been a pretty relentless few weeks, in just about every possible way. Blitz hasn't really settled in one place for more than a night - some with Loona, some with Stolas, some passed out at his desk as the business has been piling up at a steady pace for once - and when he's not in the human realm, taking out targets like a certified badass, he's been keeping an ear to the ground for word of Striker - and then, of course, there's Barbie's trail that's come back up that he's been keeping more than an eye on -

Suffice to say, Blitz is pretty damn pleased with himself today.

For once, things were going right. They'd taken three back to back cases and finished them in record time, sending all three human dipshits plummeting right into hell to face retribution ( or, well, one of them to a pretty disgusting makeout session right in his fucking office, but he did charge an extra fee for emotional damages ). Moxxie and Millie were able to slip away early to get some well deserved alone time, and Blitz had given the extra cash to Loona so she could get some retail therapy in.

As for himself ? He'd swung by to pick up some new takeout for Stolas and Octavia - an unexpected delight has been feeding Stolas things he'd never tried before and keeping track of his favorites - and had even washed up to look mildly presentable before actually walking through the front door of Stolas' estate. Something that still sets him a little on edge, despite the fact that he hasn't seen hide nor feather of Stella since he's been camped out at Stolas' bedside during his recovery.

He really doesn't think anything of trodding the familiar path to Stolas bedroom - then the bathroom when he doesn't find him in the bed - and he's about to keep running his mouth when the sight that greets him renders him momentarily speechless.

Wings.

That's all he notices at first - brilliant silver plumage catching the soft light of the bathroom, fluffing out into wings that hang down from Stolas' arms. Blitz's lips are parted, and his eyes wide - and sparkling. He lingers in the doorframe, entranced by the overwhelming awe that comes with seeing Stolas' wings for the first time, heart warmly thrumming up in his throat -

Then he realizes that Stolas is trying to reach practically behind himself and instinct takes over, crossing over to place a hand on Stolas', urging him to lower his arm.

❝ Hey - are you okay ? You're gonna pull something like that. ❞ Up close now, Blitz can't help but admire the soft array of feathers like it's something new and miraculous, because to him it is. ❝ I didn't know ... should I have known ? They're just so - amazing ... ❞

[99liners]

Okay this has been long overdue- I forgot I was writing this until I opened my notes today 👁👄👁 this isn't exactly my best attempt since I kind of gave up but ITS STILL FUN THO- I remember talking to you about this 😂

So uh characters:

@loquacious11 as Ade (just shortened her name but I HAD to add her)

@99liners as Jaimie herself 🥴

@strawberryjimin13 as Al aka me 😭

I present to you! THERPAY SESSION!

The silence is deafening, only the slight pitter patter of the rain against the window is heard as the therapist stared wide eyed at the people seated in front of her.

Jaimie shift uncomfortably in her spot on the sofa trying her best to avoid the therapists gaze. Ade who's seated on jaimie's right side heaves an exasperated sigh meanwhile Al sitting on the left stares out the window pretending to not know what's happening.

"OKAY- so you're telling me that the reason of your visit has something to do with a fanfiction series written by Jaimie here?" The therapist questions pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Precisely...." Ade replies, offering a small smile.

"Alright...so for me to properly understand what your feeling I need more detail of what this series is about" the therapist asks with curiosity lacing her voice.

"OH boy where do we even start" Al finally says as the 3 women present on the sofa meet eachothers gaze as if having a wordless argument on whether to tell the therapist or not.

"Well the series was about toxic relationships and objectification of women-" Jaimie says breaking the silence before being interrupted by a very heated Al and Ade who look like they've been waiting for this moment for their entire lives.

"LOOK WE KNOW IT SOUNDS AWFUL- BUT THESE MEN ARE L O Y A L" Al defends.

"NOT ONLY THAT BUT THESE MEN WIN PETTY FUCKING ARGUMENTS! HOW!?" Ade quickly follows behind Al.

The therapist is startled by the sudden yelling but continues to absorb everything that's being said and jotting it down in her notepad.

"Uh okay so what seems to be the issue here? You guys are pretty defending the series?" The therapist asks a little confused.

"That's the issue! See we find these men infuriating! But at the same time we're too hooked to let go" Ade replies calmly this time.

"Yeah the writing is so good that during nodus tollens Jimin story I realised that shit! I would fall for his manipulation beacuse of my abandonment issues. Jaimie is the culprit in all this" Al replies while fidgeting with her fingers.

An offended gasp leaves jaimie's lips as she  moves forward, "HOW AM I THE CULPRIT!? YOU GUYS READ IT ON YOUR OWN FREE WILL AND CONSENT!" Jaimie defends herself

"Well I wasn't expecting kaiho jungkook to be that uh emotionless?I Felt like the interaction was between a statue who looked like the Greek God ready to unleash hell upon us. Spoiler alert! He did" Ade adds nodding her head with arms crossed.

"OH its also the fact that a goddamn doctor would have an ego as big as Jupiter that that he uses blackmail against his own wife! Like who does that! He's still hot though-" Al continues with a frown on her face.

But before the rambling could continue, Jaimie who has had enough intrups, "okay okay we get it! They are psychopaths! I write about toxic men. Haha look at the time we have to go!" She says as she physically pushes a rambling Ade and Al out of the door.

"Thank you for your time! They'll be fine. We'll all be fine...probably-" Jaimie says before rushing away without another word.

The therapist who is too stunned to speak stares at the now empty sofa for a good 5 minutes before slowly taking of her glasses and pinching her nose bridge. She finally puts her clipboard down and strides towards her office table reaching for her phone. Pulling out the contact she's looking for, while dialing the number she looks at the rain outside the window when someone picks up the phone.

"Uh hey Ellen! Uh this sounds weird but uh- can you book a therapy session for me?"

_____________

It is time for me to go study before I get my ass beaten 🥴

everyone here needs therapy but instead we read/write fictional works based on the fictional perception of characters instead cause it's cheap xD

[knuffled]

Just Practice - Chapter 17

here’s the ao3 link

The hospital garden was nestled along the northern side of the building and overlooked a small pond. Perhaps it was too generous to call it a garden. In reality, it was only a few flower beds of orchids and lilacs stowed carefully in terracotta pots. When the weather was nice, the patients would often spend some time there on the benches to get some fresh air. It wasn’t much but it definitely beat being cooped up in a hospital room with that stale, sterilized air that always made her feel more like a laboratory specimen than a human being.

After her surgery, Annabeth was allowed to visit the garden provided she went in a wheelchair to avoid agitating her knee. The doctor’s initial diagnosis had proven to be accurate once they ran some imaging tests on her: it was, in fact, a torn ACL. Annabeth had suspected as much, and she opted to get it operated on sooner than later. The surgery had gone quite well, actually. She had been lucky enough to only suffer a partial tear, according to her doctor. If she had suffered a complete tear, it could have possibly made both surgery and her subsequent recovery much more difficult.

Nonetheless, Annabeth didn’t feel particularly lucky. Honestly, in the week that she spent at the hospital, she hardly felt anything at all. Just numb. Her physical therapy sessions were the only things she had to look forward to in order to get her mind off of things. Otherwise, she was mainly stuck confined to her bed with her leg suspended in that god awful brace. Piper had brought her some novels to occupy her time, but Annabeth couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to anything she read.

Today was the first day the weather had been clear enough to head outside, and Annabeth had jumped at the chance to get out of her stuffy hospital room as soon as she could. She sat outside staring at the pond with her brain turned off, watching ducks glide across the water’s surface and preen their feathers.

Within another day or two she would be discharged from the hospital and would have to head back home, but she really didn’t want to. Her father had dropped by the day after her injury, but his visit was practically a formality. He had stayed for all of five minutes, only making sure she wasn’t dead really, before he left. On top of every other shitty thing that had happened to her recently, his visit only served to rub salt in the wound.

Sometime mid-afternoon, one of the orderlies told her that she had a visitor. Annabeth had been expecting Piper or Jason, but she was surprised to see Reyna approach her instead.

Reyna gave her a small wave, her hand hidden in the sleeve of her purple sweatshirt. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Annabeth said, blinking. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Reyna shifted on her heels. “I’m not intruding am I?”

“Funnily enough, my schedule is quite free these days,” Annabeth said lightly.

That managed to get the corner of Reyna’s lips to tug upwards. “Glad to see your injury hasn’t done anything to change your god-awful sense of humor.”

“It’s quite bad mannered to bully the infirm, you know,” Annabeth sniffed.

Reyna rolled her eyes and sat down at the bench beside Annabeth. “How’s your leg doing?”

Annabeth sighed and said, “It’s recovering. Just got surgery done a few days ago.”

“Surgery?” Reyna frowned.

Annabeth nodded. “Turns out I tore my ACL.”

Reyna grimaced and said, “Jeez, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“The doctors said that I’m lucky it was only a partial tear,” Annabeth said, smiling weakly. “But I don’t feel particularly lucky.”

“D-Did they say anything about how long it’ll take for you to make a full recovery?” Reyna asked hesitantly.

“They were pretty wishy-washy about it,” Annabeth said, shrugging. “Guessing they don’t want to be liable for being wrong. Only estimate they gave me was that I could walk normally in about two weeks or so. After that, depends on how well I respond to physical therapy.”

Reyna was silent for a while before she said, “Meet me at the college circuit someday. I’ll be waiting there for you. And then we can finally settle things.”

Annabeth picked at the hem of her shirt with a wan smile. “What’s there to settle? I haven’t beat you a single time. There’s a clear winner here, and it sure isn’t me.”

“You of all people should know you’re only as good as your last race,” Reyna said. “People in our sport can never afford to rest on their laurels.”

When Annabeth was silent, Reyna quietly said, “You look like you’ve already given up.”

Reyna’s words stung and made Annabeth recoil. “I’m sick of giving myself false hope.”

“The way I see it, hope has nothing to do with it. The only question is if you still want to try. If you still want to compete, then you’ll keep pushing until you find a way through,” Reyna said, shrugging.

“Now, I’m not here to tell you whether you should keep going or not. That’s up to you. But don’t hide behind hope as an excuse. If you want to stop, then own it.”

Annabeth stared at her lap for a while and said, “I- I don’t know. I need more time to think about it.”

Reyna nodded and said, “I don’t blame you. It’s a big decision.”

There was another pause before Annabeth cleared her throat and said, “I never got a chance to apologize. For what happened at the meet, I mean.”

Reyna furrowed her brow. “What is there to apologize for?”

Annabeth dug her fingernails into her palms. “I cost you the race. If it weren’t for me, you would have won state and placed nationally.”

“From what I recall, a certain someone was screaming at me to let her go because I was, and I quote, ‘throwing the fucking race’,” Reyna said dryly.

“Sorry about that,” Annabeth mumbled.

Reyna gave her a smile and said, “You have nothing to blame yourself for, Annabeth. It was my choice to stay and help you.”

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat. “But why though? Why did you help me?”

“I already told you,” Reyna said, mock-exasperatedly. “Because we’re friends.”

“And that was enough of a reason?”

“There are more important things than high school cross country races, Annabeth,” Reyna said simply.

Annabeth bit her lower lip and struggled to wrap her head around Reyna’s answer. They were friends, but not so close that it made sense for her to abandon the championship for her sake. Maybe Reyna was just like that with people she deemed friends or perhaps it was just a decision made in the heat of the moment.

“And you don’t resent me or anything for it?” Annabeth asked.

“Not one bit,” Reyna said firmly. “I would do it again if I had to. I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”

“You think too highly of me,” Annabeth said quietly. “But thank you.”

Reyna raised an eyebrow and said, “So you would have left me lying in the mud with a fucked up leg just to a win a race then?”

Annabeth paused and said, “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose not.”

“See? Told you: there are more important things,” Reyna said, smiling. “Besides, I don’t want you using your injury as an excuse for when I inevitably kick your ass.”

That got a watery laugh out of Annabeth. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

Reyna rolled her eyes fondly. “Of course not.”

Annabeth hid a smile and stared up at the clear, blue sky for a while before something occurred to her. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Percy told me,” Reyna said, shrugging.

Annabeth furrowed her brow and said, “You have his number?”

“No, we just happened to run into each other somewhere, and I got a chance to ask him.”

Annabeth’s heart beat faster in her chest. “D-Did he say anything else to you?”

Reyna shook her head. “No, but he looked like a mess though. Did something happen?”

Annabeth nodded and felt a lump form in her throat. Slowly, she told Reyna about everything that had unfolded after she had left her with Percy. Reyna listened quietly and intently the entire time that Annabeth spoke, but Annabeth couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

Annabeth finished by saying, “I know I shouldn’t have cornered him like that just because I was so angry about my knee, especially the whole confession thing, but at the same time, I can’t help being frustrated that he still refused to open up, right to the very end.”

When Reyna was silent, Annabeth looked at her and said, “You once said that you thought he lied all the time about how he felt and what he wanted. Is this what you meant?”

“Not exactly,” Reyna admitted. “I thought it was something more malicious, but after seeing how he is around you, it’s obvious how much he cares for you.”

“If he does,” Annabeth said softly, “it’s not in a way that I understand.”

“You’re not alone in feeling that way, I would imagine,” Reyna said. “We all have different ideas of what it means to love and be loved, and sometimes those ideas don’t match up.”

“And there’s nothing we can do about that then?” Annabeth asked.

Reyna shook her head. “No, it just means you both need to talk to about your needs. It’s not wrong to teach someone how to love you the way you need them to.”

“I would if he bothered to listen,” Annabeth said tersely.

“Really? From what you’ve told me about him, he seems to listen to you a great deal,” Reyna said, sounding surprised.

Annabeth worried her lower lip and hesitantly said, “I mean, yeah, I guess that’s accurate. But there’s still something that gets in the way, and I don’t know what it is.”

“I said this before, but it seems like he’s holding something back,” Reyna said. “Not in the way one hides secrets, but in the way you shoulder a burden, quietly and without complaint. Maybe it’s just that over time that weight has become too much to bear.”

Reyna’s words instantly struck a chord in her, even though she hadn’t fully processed them yet.

A wry smile danced on Reyna’s lips. “Reminds me a lot of my sister. Something about how sad their eyes look.”

Annabeth blinked in surprise - she had always pegged Reyna as an only child. “Wait, you have a sister?”

Reyna nodded and said, “Yeah, seven years older than me. Her name’s Hylla.”

She looked like she had more to say, so Annabeth remained silent and watched her. Reyna buried her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt and stared up at the sky with a sigh.

“My dad was a physically abusive piece of shit growing up, so much so that my mother left him. Unfortunately, she didn’t bother to take us with her, for whatever reason, so we had to fend for ourselves. As the older sibling, Hylla took it upon herself to protect me until she was old enough to move out and take me with her,” Reyna said.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Annabeth said quietly.

“It’s whatever. We’re fine now, for the most part,” Reyna said, shrugging. “But sometimes I can tell that it still eats at Hylla. It wouldn’t be that big a deal, but she has a hard time opening up or putting herself first. Over the years, I’ve tried my best to help her through it, but it’s something she still struggles with.”

“Eventually, I realized that there was really nothing I could do,” Reyna said, pursing her lips. “So instead I swore to myself that I would be open and straight-forward about everything, in the hopes that maybe if I could show her there was another way, it might change something. And who knows, maybe it’s all for nothing, but at least I am being true to myself and honest about what I want.”

Reyna traced the lines on her palm and swallowed thickly. “But it’s really tough. People think it’s easy and assume nothing scares me but they’re wrong. I’m terrified, like all the time, but seeing how much it tears away at my sister, keeping everything locked up inside, I— I don’t ever want to live that way.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Annabeth said softly. “I can’t begin to imagine how much courage that takes.”

Reyna gave her a smile and said, “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Annabeth shook her head. “I should be the one thanking you, for sharing all of this.”

“It’s no problem. I only brought it up because your situation reminded me of my sister and I. Maybe I’m totally off base about that, I don’t know,” Reyna said.

“No, um, it was definitely helpful,” Annabeth said.

Reyna took Annabeth’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You still look conflicted.”

Annabeth laughed breathlessly and shrugged. “I-I don’t know. I guess I’m still having a hard time accepting that we’re even in this situation. It just hurts to find out that I didn’t know him anywhere near as well as I thought I did.”

“Why does that have to hurt?” Reyna asked. “What is it that troubles you so much?”

Annabeth had to pause and really think about Reyna’s question because nothing immediately came to mind. It was only now that she realized that it was actually kind of strange that she was so distraught about this to begin with. It wasn’t like there was anything particularly awful about the situation. After all, this sort of thing was totally common, but it still seemed to profoundly unsettle her all the same. She was just having a hard time understanding why that was the case.

“It’s hard to say,” Annabeth admitted. “I think it’s because Percy’s the only person in my life that I have ever truly been able to rely on, and finding out that I don’t fully know him scares me. If I don’t know him, utterly and completely, then how can I count on him? It just makes me feel really insecure, like this is all a house of cards that could come tumbling down at any moment.”

Reyna sighed and said, “I don’t know. I just think knowing someone is a pretty impossible standard to set for yourself.”

Annabeth furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, in my experience, a person isn’t something to be known like a fact in a book,” Reyna said. “The human heart isn’t something quite so definitive. A person is always ever in the process of unraveling, constantly revealing themselves moment by moment, piece by piece. None of us ever really knows one another, but that doesn’t really matter. What matters is the effort we make to know one another, not whether we succeed. That’s all that love is: finding someone that you make the effort to know, to discover and rediscover, over and over again. And they do the same for you.”

“But then how can we ever trust anyone?” Annabeth asked desperately.

“You take a leap of faith,” Reyna said simply. “I wish I could say there was some trick to never having your trust broken but that’s not possible. Trust, by its very nature, is a brittle thing, but that’s also what makes it worth anything. The only reason trust holds any value at all is because it is something that needs to be earned.”

Reyna’s words made Annabeth recall what Percy had told her atop Aspen Peak. She hadn’t fully understood what he had meant at the time, but now she realized that there was a power to vulnerability that she didn’t know existed. It was a paradox but only by opening herself to heartbreak could she ever find what she was looking for: something permanent.

Annabeth managed a half-smile and said, “Percy told me it was like letting someone touch your heart with their hands and praying they didn’t crush it between their fingers, but that it was something we needed to do anyways.”

“That’s a pretty good way to put it,” Reyna laughed.

Annabeth sighed and said, “Would be nice if relationships weren’t so fucking complicated.”

“Agreed,” Reyna said, yawning. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

Annabeth nodded. “Thanks again for visiting me and for the advice. It was really helpful.”

“And thank you for listening,” Reyna said, smiling.

“I hope someday I’ll be able to live as strongly as you do,” Annabeth said.

“You already live that way,” Reyna said, shrugging. “You just doubt yourself too much.”

Annabeth worried her lower lip and nodded. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Reyna offered one final smile and said, “Guess I’ll head out then. Keep me posted about your leg and everything. When you can walk, we should hit up the batting cages again. Take your mind off things.”

“I’d like that,” Annabeth smiled.

“See you later, Annabeth.”

“You too, Reyna.”

Annabeth watched and waited for Reyna to leave before she sighed and headed back inside the hospital herself. She felt lighter for the first time in weeks. Reyna’s advice stuck in the back of her mind, and Annabeth took some time to digest it. She had a feeling it would help her figure out her path going forward.

:::

Piper came to pick her up on the day she was discharged from the hospital. By then, Annabeth could walk with the help of a brace that helped keep most of her weight off her knee, but she could only walk for a few minutes or so at most before the strain piled up and became too much. Piper leaned against the side of her car and watched Annabeth hobble over before she rushed in and gave Annabeth a hug.

“Didn’t realize you were so happy to see me,” Annabeth joked.

“Shut up,” Piper mumbled against her skin. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Annabeth swallowed thickly and whispered, “Thanks, Pipes.”

Piper pulled away and offered a gentle smile. “Ready to go then?”

“Yep.”

Piper opened the passenger’s side door for Annabeth and waited for Annabeth to take a seat before she did so as well. Annabeth rolled down the windows and relished in the late April breeze when it flowed across her face. Piper started the car and turned the radio on before she pulled out of the hospital parking lot and onto the interstate.

Once they were on their way, Annabeth turned to Piper and said, “You’re still okay with me staying with you right? I complete get if that’s not an option anymore.”

“No, you’re totally fine,” Piper assured her. “It’ll be nice to have some company. Besides, my place is too fucking big for only one person.”

“Your dad’s still away on a shoot then?” Annabeth asked.

Piper shrugged. “Probably. Didn’t bother asking.”

Annabeth nodded slowly and turned back to the window, but Piper looked at her and said, “Your parents aren’t going to flip out about this right?”

“Oh, I’m sure Helen will kick up a fuss, but that’s kind of par for the course,” Annabeth said.

“I’m all for it and everything, but have you really thought this through? I mean, leaving your family is a huge decision,” Piper said.

Annabeth gave her a significant look and said, “In all the time you’ve known me, when have I ever not thought things through?”

“Alright, fair point,” Piper admitted. “I’m still worried though.”

“I was going to have to leave for college anyways. This is basically only moving up the schedule. Besides, I’m pretty sure they’ll be glad to finally see me gone,” Annabeth said.

Piper grimaced and nodded. “I wish you didn’t have to go through all this. Especially now, with your leg and all.”

“It is what it is,” Annabeth said, shrugging.

They drove along in silence for a while before Piper glanced at her again and said, “I, uh, wanted to ask you about something unrelated.”

“Fire away.”

“I’m not sure if you know anything, but Percy has been acting really strange lately,” Piper said. “I’ve tried asking him about it, but he just smiles and says that it’s nothing.”

Annabeth sighed. She had been expecting this, but it was still rough now that it was finally here. Slowly, Annabeth began to explain the whole fake dating arrangement from the start of the school year and everything that had happened since then, culminating in their confrontation after her injury. Piper didn’t say so much as word, but Annabeth noticed the way her fingers tightened around the steering wheel so hard they drained of blood.

When she was done, Annabeth watched Piper with bated breath, waiting for the worst. Piper just exhaled forcefully and said, “Christ, what a mess.”

“I know,” Annabeth said mildly.

“So this whole time, you guys weren’t actually dating then? You were just lying about it?”

Annabeth hung her head and said, “Yeah, pretty much.”

Piper was quiet for a moment before she shook her head incredulously. “I mean, I knew something was up with how jittery you were about the whole dating thing, but I never expected this.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” Annabeth said. “I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“Oh, I am mad at you. Furious, actually. But I’m equally as frustrated with Percy. As bad an idea as it was on your part, he should never have accepted. He knows better,” Piper said, fuming. “A pair of idiots, the both of you. What were you both thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth said.

“Well, what’s done is done, I guess,” Piper sighed. “Honestly, maybe this what the both of you needed. Maybe now you’ll finally sort out your relationship.”

“Or maybe this is the end of it for good,” Annabeth said wryly.

“Love the optimism, babe.”

Annabeth huffed a laugh and said, “I’ll try my best to fix this, but I don’t know if I can.”

Piper was quiet for a while before she said, “Give it another shot. Maybe things will be different now that he’s had time to think about all this on his own too.”

“Yeah, you might be right,” Annabeth said.

There was another pause before Annabeth said, “You’re not gonna rescind your offer to let me crash with you, right?”

Piper snorted and said, “I have half a mind to, but I won’t. As stupid as you are, you’re still my best friend, and I’m not going to turn my back on you.”

“I don’t appreciate the insult, but thank you,” Annabeth said, smiling.

Piper glanced at her and jabbed her with her elbow. “Don’t look so happy with yourself or I might change my mind.”

“What, I’m not allowed to be happy that you called me your best friend?” Annabeth asked innocently.

Piper rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t try and schmooze your way out of this, you know what you’ve done. Especially, after that whole spiel about how you always think things through too.”

They pulled up in front of Annabeth’s house, and the brief levity in the air dissipated immediately. Annabeth set her jaw and took a deep breath, but her heart still beat faster in her chest anyways. Piper gave her a look of concern and squeezed her forearm.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with?” Piper whispered.

Annabeth shook her head. “No, this is something I need to do alone.”

Piper nodded but she still looked worried as Annabeth steadied herself and stepped out of the car. She hobbled to the front door and stepped inside with the spare key hidden beneath the flower pot. It was quiet inside the house, but the cars were still in the driveway so her father and step-mother had to be home. Annabeth pursed her lips and made her way upstairs to her room.

There was a suitcase hidden in her closet, and she pulled it out and opened it on the floor of her bedroom. She packed as many clothes as she could inside and stuffed her laptop, charger, phone charger, and water bottle inside her backpack. Once she was satisfied that she had everything prepared, she sat on her bed with a sigh.

Annabeth took a look around the room and felt a sudden rush of nostalgia wash over her. This was probably the last time she would ever come here, she mused. It was littered with all sorts of knick knacks and photos, posters and sketches. As much as she hated living in this house, this was the only place she could call her own. Leaving it almost felt like killing a part of herself off. Her step-mother would turn it into a storage room or something once she was gone, and soon there would be no trace that she had ever lived here. Something about that hurt, even though Annabeth knew it was for the best.

She stood up, feeling more than a little melancholy, and steeled her heart. There was still one last thing she needed to do. Annabeth put her luggage in the hallway and tentatively stepped into her father’s study. Thankfully, he wasn’t there. She riffled through the drawers of his desk in search of the old brown briefcase he stashed old letters in. It was always weird to her that he just kept letters, but he said he liked to have records in case companies tried to swindle him out of money. It was hidden away in some dark corner, and she dumped the contents onto the carpet.

There were hundreds of envelopes so it took her some time to sift through them all, but a few minutes later Annabeth’s worst fears were confirmed. There was an unopened letter addressed to her from Berkeley, dated October 4th.

That wasn’t the worst of it however.

There was another letter from Stanford. Northwestern. Duke. Cornell. Dartmouth. All dated from late September to early October. All unopened.

Annabeth had always felt something off about the fact that her Berkeley letter never reached her. She had dismissed it as a fluke but during her stay at the hospital it occurred to her that there could have been a more malevolent explanation. Seeing the letters now only confirmed her worst suspicions, but the sense of betrayal still hit her harder than she had anticipated.

She snatched the letters and stormed downstairs, as quickly as she could with her brace. Her father and step-mother were in the living room watching the news.

Helen blinked in surprise and said, “Annabeth? I didn’t know you were home from the hospital.”

Annabeth ignored her and held up the envelopes, her hands trembling. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, dear,” Helen said mildly.

“These are college letters. Addressed to me. Why did no one tell me?” Annabeth asked.

Helen shrugged and said, “I didn’t think they were important.”

Her excuse was so bad, it actually made Annabeth’s head hurt. “How could you not think that those might be important to your step-daughter, a senior in high school?”

A gleam of irritation flashed in Helen’s eyes. “You have been getting letters since junior year, and they always just asked you to apply, so I thought these were more of the same.”

“Let’s pretend for a moment that your terrible excuse is valid - you still should have shown me these,” Annabeth said.

“You’re still a child. Talk to your parents with respect,” Helen snapped.

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “You literally lost me the chance to go to fucking Stanford, so you’ll have to forgive me for not having much respect for you.”

“Annabeth,” her father warned.

The smart thing to do would have been to drop it then and there. Nothing good could have come of this. The damage was already done. Continuing this would only make things worse.

Annabeth knew all this, but at that moment, she was filled with such uncontrolled rage, rage that had been built upon years upon years of horrid treatment from Helen and her father who couldn’t be bothered to care about the fact that his new wife routinely emotionally abused his first-born daughter, that she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“She fucking knew this was important and she hid these from me anyways,” Annabeth snapped. “She’s so insecure about that fact that I’m more intelligent than her kids that she has to sabotage me.”

“Annabeth, that’s enough,” her father said sharply.

Annabeth turned to him and balled her hands in fists. “And you! You never say anything. You just let her treat me like absolute dogshit, and you don’t even care.”

“Young lady, you are so disrespectful that it honestly blows my mind,” Helen said coldly. “How you can accuse me of treating you poorly when you never bother to interact with the family and treat us like strangers is beyond me.”

“That’s rich coming from the person who couldn’t be bothered to visit her step-daughter once in the hospital,” Annabeth snorted.

A vein bulged on Helen’s forehead, and Annabeth knew she had her. “The reason I do my best to stay out of the house isn’t rocket science. From day one, you have done absolutely everything you can to make me feel unwelcome in this family-”

“Let me tell you something that you don’t seem to understand: no one is ruining your life, dear,” Helen interrupted. “You ruin things yourself and blame everyone else for it instead. You are just an ungrateful, spiteful little girl that does nothing but cause people pain.”

Annabeth stiffened like she’d been hit in the face with a shovel. Her thoughts turned to radio static and her chest squeezed so painfully that it was hard for her to breathe.

No words came to her.

Without meaning to, she turned to her father.

“D-Dad?” Annabeth asked, her voice cracking.

Annabeth wasn’t even sure what she was asking for, just that at that moment, she felt very much like she was seven years old again, asking him to check for monsters hiding in the closet. Back then she had taken it for granted that he would help her, that he would keep her safe. Suddenly, it made sense why she kept looking to him whenever Helen tormented her, even though she knew he would never come to her aid. She thought she had abandoned that hope a long time ago, but now Annabeth realized some small part of her had still held on to it, like someone tending to a dying flame.

Still, there was nothing that could prepare her for the silence in the living room at that moment as her father simply sat there, his lips pressed in a hard line, still not looking at her.

Annabeth forced herself to take a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to let Helen win this.

No, instead, Annabeth turned to her father and offered him a strained smile. “Since it is apparent that you aren’t going to say anything on my behalf, like always, I just wanted to tell you a few things before I left. And yes, I am leaving. I’m done living in this house, which should delight the both of you. I don’t know that would even worry you, but rest assured: I’ll figure things out on my own, like I always have.”

When Helen bristled at the accusation, Annabeth offered her a smile like poisoned honey and said, “Before you open your mouth, feel free to shut the fuck up. I’m talking to my father right now.”

Helen went red, but Annabeth stared her down, begging her to say something. Helen glanced at her father, but for whatever reason, he didn’t come to her aid this time. She shook her head incredulously and left the living room, leaving Annabeth alone with her father.

When she was gone, he looked at Annabeth for the first time and said, “You went too far.”

“I honestly don’t give a shit,” Annabeth said simply.

Her father opened his mouth to chastise her, undoubtedly, but Annabeth bulldozed on through.

“Don’t bother to defend her. I’ll be gone in a few minutes anyways, and then it won’t matter since you’ll never have to see me again. But until then, you are going to shut up and listen to me,” Annabeth said.

Her father pressed his mouth in a thin line, which Annabeth took as permission to keep going.

“I don’t know when or how things went so wrong between us. I still remember how it used to be, back when mom was still around,” Annabeth started.

“She’s gone, Annabeth,” he interrupted.

“Yeah, I fucking know, but you don’t seem to realize you weren’t the only one she left behind,” Annabeth yelled.

“She left me, too, you know? And you have punished me for that, every day since she left,” Annabeth said, her voice cracking.

Annabeth steadied herself before she got too emotional and shook her head. “But I want you to know something - I am proud to be my mother’s daughter. Despite your best efforts to make me feel otherwise, I will not apologize for that, for being here, for existing. And I’m done looking to you for help or safety or even acknowledgement given you’ve long since proven to be utterly incapable of that. And I want you to know that someday I’ll find people who love and accept me, and I won’t ever have to spare a second of my life thinking about you and how you made me feel. Someday, I’ll heal and you’ll be nothing more than a bad memory.”

With that, Annabeth left to retrieve her luggage from the hallway before he could respond and left the house for good. Piper was pacing around her car and rushed over to her once she heard the door open and threw her arms around her.

“Are you okay?” Piper asked. “It sounded pretty bad in there.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, nodding. “I finally let go of something I should have a long time ago.”

Piper studied her for a moment before nodding to herself. “Alright, looks like that’s settled then. Let’s go get something to eat!”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “You’re dropping it, just like that?”

“You look like you’ve got it figured out on your own,” Piper said, shrugging. “Besides, I can tell this is something I can’t really help you with anyways.”

Annabeth smiled despite herself and shook her head. “I never thought the day would come when Piper McLean would know when to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Piper rolled her eyes and stashed her luggage in her car trunk. “Don’t make me change my mind about letting you stay.”

“That’s an empty threat if I’ve ever heard one,” Annabeth said, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Piper muttered.

“But seriously though,” Annabeth said, clearing her throat. “Thank you. For everything. It means more to me than I can say.”

“You’re welcome,” Piper said softly. “I’m happy for you. Leaving that hellhole was a long time coming. You definitely made the right call.”

“What happened to all the asking me if I was sure about it and stuff?” Annabeth asked.

“I’ve always wanted you to leave. I just didn’t want to influence your decision,” Piper said.

Annabeth was quiet for a moment and said, “You’re actually a really good friend, huh?”

Piper gave her a cheeky grin and started the car. “I’m offended that it took you so long to notice.”

[0verthinking1t]

Down For Maintenance: how I got so good at saying I feel bad

Ok, so I just got off my weekly therapy session, and it left me with thoughts of my experiences in hindsight, the things I've learned about myself after quitting social masking, and the "compliment" I keep getting that I'm so uncommonly articulate about my mental health needs and so good at advocating for myself. Fair warning, this is an unfiltered rant. I'm angry and tired, and I need to be angry and tired out loud for a minute.

Here's the secret trick: I'm not. I'm not articulate, or well spoken, or a naturally good communicator. I'm exhausted, and I'm fucking pissed off. I told my therapist it feels like all the social activities and groups that have been my stable foundation for the last few years are disappearing suddenly, and gave her an example of my most beloved D&D group and the two players whose private beef just forced us to take an indefinite hiatus. I told her that I reacted by flat out telling the one of them still talking to us that I'm very upset neither of them warned the group they were having issues; I'm not taking sides, and I'm not saying I don't want to be sensitive to the awful shit they're in right now, but thanks to the fact that I was blindsided by this I am now also in my own shit situation and they needed to have handled their commitment to their other friends better. She commended me, and asked how I thought I was able to build up the skill to tell someone something like that instead of distancing myself and losing the whole game and group I loved in the name of being sensitive to someone else. That's when it occurred to me, not for the first time, that professionals aren't used to dealing with patients who are this self aware and informed. Everyone I've had to go through on this journey, from my doctor to my psychiatrist to both my therapists, has reacted with shock and amazement that I know exactly what's wrong with me and how it can be fixed; "wow, how did you convince your PCP to get you on antidepressants so fast?" Because I was on them as a teenager and specifically know what to say when I ask for them— hey doc, I've had clinical depression since I was a kid, and I'm starting to have episodes of emotional distress and mild suicidal thinking that I can't handle. I was on Prozac years ago and I want to be put back on something now. "Oh, this outline you typed up and brought to our first psychiatry appointment actually covers everything I needed to ask you today. People aren't usually so well prepared!" I'm not, I've just been through psych, therapy, and CBT before and am already aware of a lot of the things you usually need to coax out of people, including the fact that I have memory issues and problems putting thoughts into speech, and I knew that if I didn't write all this and show it to you I wouldn't present as nearly half as bad as I am. "How did you know to tell your d&d friend how you feel? It sounds like you already have a lot of skills coping with things well" I didn't know to tell him shit, my other group just self destructed like a baking soda volcano because someone kept badgering me to 'share my feelings' when I kept telling them I was upset and needed to walk away from the conversation, which led to me running out of energy to filter myself and giving them exactly the angry, overreactive, barely cohesive essay of a rant they were demanding from me. I used up all my patience on that issue, and I'm fucking traumatized by this endless cycle of my friend groups breaking up over drama just when I was starting to relax and feel like this one was finally going to stick around, and at this point it's a matter of either not pretending I'm fine so we can all drift apart awkwardly in peace or putting myself in the goddamn hospital for the final emotional meltdown that has me screaming in the streets and ripping my skin off. I have not built up a skill, I have had my last defense torn down. Advocating for myself is now a matter of life or death.

To explain it metaphorically (because what's an ADHD brain without confusing metaphors that go on too long until they also don't make sense), I'll give the example that the human brain is designed to automatically force shut down your system if you don't sleep for long enough. In an act of self preservation, you will start experiencing involuntary blackouts as your brain forces you to give it the maintenance time it requires to keep you alive. When you've been physically exerting yourself nonstop for several days, you literally run out of power and just. Stop. Likewise, I feel that, at least for me, the mental/emotional system has its own system override to force you into resting and processing. I've been pretty much flooring it for the last 10 years— masking for a good 90% of my conscious time, forcing myself to fit a way of living that wasn't made for me because that's just what I was told was right, going it alone and without treatment because the trauma I was experiencing was still hanging over my head and silencing me, hopping from job to job every few months until I convinced myself the voice of my insecurity was coming from the people around me, studying the correct ways to have certain conversations ("how to ace a job interview", "how to lock down a sale", "how to impress people at parties", etc)— I have not truly rested in an emotional sense for...... I don't remember that I ever have, really. And it's all because when I was 6 and someone told me my brain isn't built right, I was taught that it was my responsibility to be ever-vigilant and critical of my own reality. It was my responsibility to stop mid argument and tell myself 'they don't understand why I'm upset because my feelings aren't proportionate to what actually happened. They must be right, and my feelings are usually lying to me.' my responsibility to hold it in around normal people, to put myself in time out when I get too passionate for the conversation, to parent myself out of temper tantrums and eating ice cream for breakfast and touching things that fascinate me.

I was never taught how to rest.

Making the recent decision to let myself be healthily unpleasant when I'm upset was a matter of my emotional state forcing me to take rest and heal myself. I have been seriously injured by bosses who not only expect, but require me to forgo my enjoyment of life and dedicate my entire soul to them, one too many times. I have been seriously injured by the sudden loss of entire support systems over some petty drama or miscommunication, one too many times. I am finally ready to give people the "honesty" they think they're asking for, not because I have built up confidence, but because I have lost the energy to hold back. My feelings aren't lying to me; it is a scientific, observable, undebatable fact that I am upset about something, and I am as entitled to voice that as everyone else. Yes, I feel upset more intensely than others do, and I can't always explain in a good way, but that is an unchangeable function of my mental illness that the right people who really want to be around me will do their best to be aware of. I am not going to take twice as much damage from things because you don't want to handle my needs. It's time for me to fucking rest.

the Social Etiquette server is currently offline for required maintenance. We kindly ask for your patience during this unexpected hiatus, and we apologize for the inconvenience. We hope to be catering to your emotions again very soon! ~ 💙

[nekasu]

SnapCube’s Until Dawn Real-Time Fandub Sentence Starters (Part 1)

"I didn't bring my phone. It was in my other pants!" "This is a really long high five." "...I won't tell anyone about this." "Ya see, that's a joke thinger." "Can you see me? Don't answer that." "Who talks to screens? Maybe you can." "We're here in a strange time at a strange place." "Hopefully you enjoyed whatever the hell THIS video was." "When those girls died? That was funny." "My phone still has battery? Holy shit, I gotta keep that warm." "I'm trying to get like 100% on Animal Crossing." "Check it out, I have this gun. It's really really cool." "Are you McCree from Overwatch, hit video game?" "Make sure you don't shoot any guys with that." "Never mind, I do have the key. I just found it in my pocket." "We're all just really good beans at the end of the day." "Why did you hit me? That hurt so much!" "Sorry, I've been in jail a while." "My arm really hurts. Do you have any first aid?" "I just got off the big train in the sky." "This is my Smash invitation and frankly, I deserve it." "It was gonna be a surprise for your birthday, motherfucker!" "Jesus, everyone is so rude. What is this, Rude Mountain?" "This mountain fucking sucks." "I'm here to be rude to people." "I think this is sus. He's definitely the impostor." "As a gamer, I know all about Among Us." "Is this...Tamriel?" "Well, that's a cliff." "No, you got arms!" "I don't speak corn." "Grab my stinky hand!" "I will live on in the vibes!" "No, that's too fast! Oh, god!" "2x4? You're not even a 1x1." "You look so stupid right now." "Hehe, I'm under the bed now!" "It was for a prank video. Come on!" "It's fine, honestly. She has a blanket." "Women never listen to me when I talk..." "Everything's a big deal when you make it." "Oh my god she has pants! What the fuck?!" "No one told me I was wearing pants today!" "It's pretty cold because it's DEAD of winter!" "Hey, tree! Look at me, I'm looming right now!" "Not a blanket, but maybe I can keep you warm." "This fuckin' candle doesn't keep me warm at all.” "At least you're not calling it 'arm pants' this time." "Oh, wow! SHE'S looming! Oh, she can teach me!" "I don't want to play any of your Among Us games." "I have this weird feeling someone's looming around here." "Answer a question for me: how are you feeling today? YEAH!" "Well now, wise guy. Let's see who among us really is the funniest." "Helloooo there! I am Doctor Rabbit. The world's only rabbit rabbit." "Whoa, that guy was straight up looming! I wish I could loom like that.” "Was that that Anus Unnus guy?" "Hey, babe, you wanna go and record a blog with me?" "So are my pranks as good as Markiplier?" "Wait, when did they get the hugging perk?!" "See, that's what I think of your problems, is that they're just some sort of joke." "Got in real trouble with the locals, I did. They don't let me back there." "Maybe you're just trying to be woke or something." "Your insurance isn't covering these sessions, by the way." "We can send, like, aura to each other. You know like, uh, vibes." "I don't guess, I know. I never guess, I know everything. I do the math." "Two plus two equals you're my friend. Just kidding, it's four." "I just hurt all of my bones." "High five? No, you're too far away. My bad." "Did you solve my wolverine puzzle?" "Did you know doors hurt?" "Everyone has a raccoon!" "Why don't you keep it to yourself, tough guy?" "Save the fight until I have the camera ready, okay?" "That's not a view, that's a snow." "I think you're in the corridor of the monkey." "If you throw that me, I'm gonna fuckin' flip my goddamn lid." "You want some snow, bitch?!" "Lady? Girl? ...I should really learn her name." "Water's looking a little green, that's just the way I like it." "Did the ghosts take my friends again?" "I'm actually half ghost." "Is that a lightsaber? Like from Star Trek?" "I'm gonna level with you, I hate being in the same room as you." "BOOOOOOOOOOOK!" "You like the new office? I fuckin' don't." "You didn't read through the contract, did you kiddo?" "I can get fucked? Finally!" "Even the ghost agrees." "I should have fucking known. This ghost is such a libro." "That's great and all, but I'm gonna look like a jackass!" "This is what happens when you pull mean pranks. God punishes an elk." "THAT was a HEALING spell?! Oh god!" "Door key? You're pretty dorky!" "I can imagine a lot of dipshits, in fact." "Get un-naked! Get un-naked! Get un-naked! Get un-naked!" "I'm casting a hex on you now. Have fun getting hexed, idiot." "See? The Kinect causes psychic powers." "I can't believe Blue's freakin' clue is on here." "Ugh...I freaking hate doors." "Blue save me..." "Telling them the vibes made you do it won't hold up in a court of law." "Oh, would you look at the time. It's time for me to rip you a new one again!" "I cannot wait, but I suppose I'll have to." "The hex worked great. Now let's see if I can go shoot what remains of her." "I love running through the forest like a fucking weirdo." "You look like an idiot on the ground there." "If I have anything to say about it, you won't make it back." "I wanna see you, whatever you are, you funny-looking fellow." "Why do I have so much trouble with doors?" "Hey, funny voice! Fuck off, please!" "It's a saw trap, you dumb piece of shit!"

"Seems mysterious, but I won't shoot him this time. Gotta weaken him with the hex." "You're gonna get fucked if you can't say goodbye to a ghost. Trust me on that one." "Hey, uh, do you wanna stop having trouble with doors, now'd be a phantasmical time!" "Unless you want to work with me here, well...we're gonna be stuck here until dawn." "Not like you've ever done anything on purpose in your entire life, you fucking hack." "What, not even a goddamn laugh? Oh, it's gonna be a rough fuckin' couple weeks." "I can't believe I made it up to Rude Mountain only to be discovered by rude people." "I've got all my gamerscore on my phone, so I'm hoping that nobody really touched it.” "That's pretty cringe of you, buddy. I'm gonna put you in my Cringe Tuesday compilation." "If I wanted to talk about beans, I'd hang around with the fuckin' Among Us crew down there." "You know what? I have two arms, so I guess I CAN carry both of them at the same time." "I just got my lips unstuck. Aw, geez. I've been trying to talk to you guys this whole time."  "I left some beans in my backpack. They might be a few years old, but they don't really expire." "I should've known that coming to Rude Mountain would have made you worse as a person." "I've just been playing a lot of Among Us recently and I've just been trying to really get good at lying. "Oh, so NOW you're a funny guy, huh? You think you got your own jokes?! Ya think this is stand up?!" "I have blankets in the back, but I'm gonna go to the front just to see if I can spice things up a little." "I'm here to help you, and whaddya do? You spit in my goddamn face! ...Metaphorically, of course.” "What do you take me for, some kind of clown?! Some kind of Boo Boo the Fool that ain't done this rodeo before?!" "Here at therapy we're here to answer the one big burning question everyone's got: what the FUCK is wrong with you?" "I noticed you don't have much of a sense of humor. That might explain all the shit you've gotten into recently, wouldn't it?" "Well with my ten step plan I'll be happy to go plumb the depths of your sad, scared little mind and see what makes you...tick, as it were."

[jiminrings]

hi hannah! i may have a request 🥺 i've been watching too much tiktok and this two made me want some jungkook skater au 😳 like the reader saw him and went like love at first sight so she purposely buys a skate and goes everyday to the skatepark and start learning just to impress that hot tattooed skater that kinda looks like a bad boy but he's actually a softie. ♡

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSm5Huop/

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSm55usm/

late skate

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: jungkook would rather wash down his grip tape than spend another hour seeing you land on yOUR ass, a smitten y/n and love at first sight, and tae almost losing his bearings (in all aspects) <3 // gif is from pinterest :D

note: thank you so much for the request babie!!! also i’m sorry since i’ve done this a month late hee-hee bUT but it’s here now!!! fun fact: i used to skate but one time i fell on my ass so hard doing an ollie that i quit ( ˙-˙ )

there is nothing

there is absolutely nothing you hate more than walking home alone and at-

wait u need to shudder

night

times like these make you both angry and scared because fIRST of all

you’re angry because if oNLY (you’re still hoping that u win the lottery soon) you were born to wealth and ease (if you see park jimin one more time in a billboard you’re about to lose it), you wouldn’t have to worry!! or even work for that matter!!!!

you could have a car by now!!!

but you don’t have a car and you’re still saving up for that because you have to keep up with your bills and this nice and decent apartment that you’re living in right now

well if you’re being honest, you are splitting it with yoongi and that cuts back your expenses significantly but that’s besides the point

which is why you’re being extra thrifty!! save up all the money that you could so you could by yourself a car amongst other financial decisions and nOT be scared shitless when walking home

you’re working at the animal shelter most of the time and it’s very fulfilling because of cOURSE!! your job is to care for animals and give them a better chance at everything :D

the pay is more than decent but it’s not the highest sO what you do on your spare time is pick up any job you could!!

and the income that you need is more and more than decent because taking care of chimmy is not an easy feat

chimmy, your alaskan malamute!!! he’s the first puppy you’ve properly taken care of in the shelter and you’ve fallen head over heels for him

he kept bumping into the wall when he scrambles after you call for him but eH you love the clumsy giant still!!

so much so that you file your adoption form for him and run over to mr. kim’s office hurriedly :D

your boss seokjin’s pretty sweet after all but at the same time he’s intimidating!! too sweet and intimidating at the same time that when he approves your form without much question, you almost kiss his cheek

...

.... hehe

jin beat you to it and instead he gave you a side-hug with a very strict warning to take care of chimmy and provide everything that he needs

he eats 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓊𝓂 dog food and you could only assume the amount that he needs because of how he towers

the treats?? one time yoongi got overly-excited to take a picture of him and accidentally left the bag on the ground, and when he came back?? chimmy’s managed to inhale all of them

thankfully he’s only loyal to one (1) toy and it’s to this brown angry... entity..? with one tooth that yoongi’s made by himself

but he constantly has to replace the stuffing because chimmy nOTICES when it’s flat and unstuffed from his own doings

hehehe the grooming.....

you thank your lucky stars that jin gives you a discount to have chimmy groomed!! 

one time you were about to have a breakdown because a $100 grooming session simply didn’t click well with your ongoing budget and you decided to do it yourself :D

spoiler alert: chimmy kept barking at you when you held up the mirror to his face because wOOF did you just... d-did you give him bangs.... how was that possible....

and then sECOND of all is that well.,.,.,

you’re scared and that’s it

there is every possible reason for you to be scared :D

you get off from work at 5!! but now it’s quarter to 8 and you totally should’ve booked an uber but it completely slipped your mind

normally, you wouldn’t walk home alone though because chimmy comes with you to the shelter, and then he serves as a therapy dog of sorts to help ease and calm down the new rescues!!

he even has his own little ID oh my god :’)

but he doesn’t come in everyday and well you remember,.,.

no actually, yoongi REMINDS you that today is his day-off at work and explictly implied that he’d very much love to cuddle with a giant alaskan malamute as he gets his well-deserved rest

and yoongs has been the reason to why you don’t unravel every single day and you owe him for your life so yea okay you can have chimmy whenever you need this giant pillow of support <3

but no

no 

you don’t have chimmy with you and you don’t have anyone to bark and be willing to growl n intimidate any creepy dudes you could possibly encounter on this twenty-minute walk home

the extra coffee you’ve drank at 6 in lieu of dinner does not help at ALL

what if you just... run

that way you get home faster and you won’t have to be that antsy!!!

ok maybe just a light jog would do

you wanna go home so badly and take a shower and be sandwiched between your warm sheets and sleep all the way

you miss chimmy and yoongi and you just hOPE that he’d already cooked dinner and you won’t have processed food again for the third time in a week

and after dinner maybE you could treat yourself to online shopping because yoongs has also been pestering you to let yourself indulge once in a while

your thoughts are jumbled once panicked and it reminds you that yes you should definitely get a car and you know what??? you probably should-

wait fUCK

...

....

oh

wait

hold on a second

did you just manage to narrowly dodge what seems to be a skateboard in mid-air??????

“taehyung, you dumbass!!”

said taehyung is jumping down and crouching to pick up the deck at your feet and squeaks an “oop sorry ‘bout that!!” before going back and

well...

mr. “taehyung, you dumbass!!” is who you presume to be the speaker,, because well no one eLSE is in this skatepark at 9 in the evening,,,, is standing RIGHT underneath the light and is right at your line of sight

it’s as if the clouds are opening up and chimmy’s barking could be heard and everything you deem perfect is ringing right in your ears because god.... holy shit.....

he looks and probably feels like a warm-sized bed that smells of baby powder and fresh linen

he has a hoodie on with the sleeves scrunched up and you tHANK yourself that you’ve saved up enough to get lasik eye surgery because those tattoos...,.,. you r positive that they would be your demise

mr. TYD has a loose bucket hat on yet you could still see his features clearly and you aren’t lying when you say he is perhaps the most breathtaking thing you’d ever seen

even more breathtaking than seeing chimmy in the laundry room and having fished for your one good perfect bra in his mouth

oh

huh

you’re pretty sure this is what love at first sight must feel like

suddenly, you aren’t anxious at all and you’re instantly gravitating towards the ramp without much complaint

there’s a bench conveniently placed in which you could see him but he won’t see you

you find yourself sticking around and smiling when you see him goofing around in all good fun

hopefully you don’t look like a cREEP because you swear you aren’t!!!! and hopefully they don’t notice you either and find out then and there that you’re here in a skatepark withOut a skateboard,,, just sitting,,, to see him

this may not be your best idea yet lmao yes you’re gonna admit that

but it’s probably the first and last time that you’re ever gonna see him so might as well watch him for awhile!! that’s all!!!!

ok wait

this is definitely a bad idea because yoongi calls you and you forgOt to put it on silent and it’s his voice that greets you very rudely as soon as you pick up

“y/n where the FUCK are you???”

oh lmao it’s quarter to 10 already

“jeez, i’m coming home!! calm down!!”

“yeah tell that to chimmy who’s been worried sick with me and won’t stop hOWLING!!!”

you’re scrambling to gather your duffel and sneak oNE last look at him and ur practically pouting as you say goodbye to him under your breath 

:((

“... aw, you worry about me?”

you resume back to jogging on your way home and this time for rEAL

you’re gonna miss him

he’s like one of the random dudes you see in the mall that are sO breathtaking and you know you’re never gonna see them again

you didn’t even manage to catch his name :((

but whoever he is, he feels a little more different than a dude in a mall because this time, you feel like you’re gonna cRY at the thought of it

little did you know that jungkook could see you all this time and he’s sad to see you go 

:D

chimmy is the first to leap at you as soon as you come through the door

and if you didn’t anticipate the giant, then you’d probably be toppled over by now

yoongi finds it weird that there’s this lingering gentle smile on your face

well he shouldn’t be so shOcked because he sees you talking to yourself when you’re watching documentaries and cooking

(( he always checks if there’s a camera hidden somewhere in the kitchen and you were vlogging or something but nO!!! ))

it’s like you’re a third-grader again that goes fERAL at just the thought of their crush

you hope mr. tyd has already eaten breakfast and hasn’t had any injuries with his skateboarding

you’re trying to rationalize with yourself that it’s just a stOOpid and pathetic crush to harbor in less than a day and stop thinking about him

the universe must seem to hate aND love you at the same time because well would you look at tHAT

it’s 5 in the afternoon and you have chimmy beside you and you’re walking home

and that’s practically your routine ever since you’ve gotten this job

it would only differ if a situation like last night happens or when you’re too tired to walk home oR when it’s raining

but right now it’s your normal workday, and you’re walking home, and it’s sunny, aND THIS IS THE SECOND TIME YOU’VE SEEN HIM

this is also the first time that you’ve seen him in such a situation that you didn’t expect :O

the fact that you’ve mayhaps watched kimi no nawa last night with yoongi and perhaps 98 times before that, does not help at all

“you uh, y-you wanna go for a run on the grass, chim??”

there’s this mini field besides the skatepark and chimmy happily jUMPS at the mention of grass :D

aha oh well :D would you look at that :D your dog wants to go run on the grass that’s a couple feet away from the skatepark :D who are you to stop him anyways?? :D

chimmy’s more than happy to comply with your wish and vice versa because he’s having the time of his life clearly

he’s your pawman and the perfect variable so you wouldn’t seem like a third-grader with a helpless crush on anOther third-grader

it seems that hE’S more excited than you though because chimmy runs to the ramp instead of the grass!!!

and in the process he goes UP to greet a guy like he does with you whenever you come home!!! it’s harmless pouncing per se

but it’s not entirely harmless because it feels like chimmy knows EXACTLY what’s in your mind and what he’s doing

“chimmy!!!”

.....

...... of course

chimmy has to of cOurse pounce on him

jungkook wasn’t surely expecting a giant and overly-friendly alaskan malamute to pounce on him right when he was about to drop-in

it’s a pleasant surprise either because it’s-

wait

oh my god

is this yOU?????

listen.,.

jungkook was in the skatepark last night with taehyung and they took advantage of it because they were the only ones there!!

tae surely wasn’t kidding when he said that he was a novice because holy sHIT how was it possible that he sent a skateboard flying mid-air after a failed trick??

kook flinches when he follows it in his line of sight and notices that there’s someone down there who might be literally dECKED out of tae’s stupidity

he’s about to yell for this passer-by to dodge and-

time seems to move quicker because you’re already stopping yourself and flinching in place and then looking up

you’re rIGHT underneath this street lamp and jungkook sighs a breath of relief when he realized that you weren’t hit

but at the same time he’s gasping again because wow

t-that’s uhm-

okay

wHEW he has never felt this pressure in his chest ever since he joined a quizbee in 8th grade

would it be-

ok nevermind

WOULD IT BE TOO FORWARD FOR HIM TO SAY THAT HE HAS A CRUSH ON YOU ALREADY

you’re really beautiful??? and frankly he has to look away for a second because you’re tOO beautiful that he doesn’t know what to do with himself

that’s it u are under arrest for being too pretty >:(

jungkook’s flustered because there’s just these types of people that put a knot on his chest unknowingly and he doesn’t know how to act normally

you are the equivalent of him not being able to look at the screen because the kdrama was that good and he feels unworthy to even watch it

it’s goosebumps all over his skin and he’d be lying when he says his cheeks are not heating up at aLL

“taehyung, you dumbass!!”

his first instinct is to scold taehyung because what iF he ended up hurting you with his skateboard, hmm?? and tHEN what

he expected you to leave after that close-call and if everyone must know, jungkook has an incredible talent at being able to scope out things in his peripheral vision

he could look straight ahead and be able to see what you were also doing at the side

he doesn’t know if that’s a talent or uH everyone has it but whatever he can do that!!!

and you were clearly still there and in fact, even sIT down on the bench

he could see you smiling and giggling and a ginormous part of him assumes that it’s because of him

he prays to god that it’s NOT the guy who almost decked you with a skateboard ://

jungkook was acting weird and he kept smiling and laughing mORE than necessary and taehyung can see right through him

“bro all i did was walk towards you wtf are you laughing,,.,”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHHA tae you’re so silly XD”

alrighty then,, maybe jungkook just binge-ate his vitamin gummies which is why he keeps beaming for an unknown reason

koo was so grumpy literally just before he had his skateboard flying and now he’s ???? weird

jungkook was ultimately sad to see you get up and he knows he’s probably never gonna see you again ok alright time to mope

but this

this

he’s beyond surprised to see that said owner of giant dog happens to be yOU!! of all the people!!!!

it’s you!

“i’m so so sorry about him!! he’s just excited to make friends with everyone and i don’t have the sLIGHTEST clue why he came to you!!”

you pointedly look at chimmy and he has the audacity to howl before looking away

it hasn’t dawned on you that you’re talking and apologizing to him but it certainly did on jungkook which is why he’s charmingly laughing already

“no, no. it’s okay, i don’t mind!! his name’s chimmy, then?”

you’re blinking profusely because yes.. right.. HE is talking to you

“yeah, uh, correct!! his name’s chimmy :)”

“that’s cute. anyways, i’m jungkook :)”

aha :D

koo would like to think that he is smooth

and yes you agree

you immediately shake his hand tOO eagerly with a smile on your face as you’re trying to take this all in

“i’m y/n :)”

jungkook’s hand is bigger than yours and your hand fits sNUGLY right into his hold

he has some tattoos on his hands and there’s some peaking from underneath his hoodie

but even with ur lasik vision you cAN’T focus because omg are you seriously holding jungkook’s hand.,.,

jungkook as in THEE jungkook that you’ve immediately clocked and crushed on last night in an instant

your lil moment of just holding each other’s hands is interrupted when taehyung pops out of nOwhere

(( actually he’s been there for the past two minutes and he kept switching between cooing and laughing ))

“yO i’m taehyung!!! you must be y/n, i didn’t nick you last night, did i?”

he takes it upon himself to hug you right then and there

well he’s warm and he passes the internal vibe check yoongi’s hotwired into your brain so you reciprocate!! you like hugs anyway and taehyung’s just like chimmy but in human form

jungkook practically squawks and stammers in his place because w-why.. w-what...... no

chimmy bARKS at taehyung and koo is tempted to do the same too because no man you simply do nOt hug my crush that you know absolutely nothing about

“he’s asking for you.”

kook points to chimmy who’s obviously pouncing on you to come run with him

you excuse yourself so you could go satisfy the giant and jungkook felt like his heart was gonna fall out of his aSS

tae wiggles his eyebrows and has his lips pursed and it’s the shit-eating grin that he immediately flips off as soon as he sees it

“what was that all about?”

you are convinced

you are 100% convinced

your head is fully-set into the game and in no way are you gonna back out

“min yoongi!!”

ah there it is

yoongi’s having the time of his life playing fetch with chimmy! what could possibly be any more important in this world than that

“what did i do now?”

you only call out his full name when a) you’re agitated and when b) he’s ignoring you and you’ve had enough of it

he really doesn’t recall giving you the cold shoulder recently

and he certainly didn’t agitated you when all he’s done is play with chimmy and sleep!!!

“please click this for me pls. click. please. pls click.”

aH yoongi should’ve brought his glasses instead of leaving them on the couch

you’re holding out your laptop to him with your arms outstretched and he has to come really close to decipher and-

... huh

“a skateboard?”

pardon him but he’s really lost on this one ok

he is as lost as he was when walmart decided to completely rearrange the whole store

“... and what do you need a skateboard for? y/n when i said that you should get yourself a four-wheeler, i didn’t mean a skateboard-”

in what part does a skateboard look like an SUV

whY are you like this

“it’s for uh... it’s for fun purposes!!”

you’re trying not to raise any more questions in yoongi’s mind but his head is miles miles away now lol

???? you hate trying new things though ???

one time you traded in your beef ramen for pork ramen because the first one was out of stock and throughout the whole meal you kept thinking how much you regretted it

and besides, skateboarding would be the last thing you’d get into!!!

yoongi distinctly remembers that you’d rather choke on chewing gum rather than get your knees scraped

why was that?? because when your knees get scraped, walking and doing everything else?? impossible 

nice try sherlock but the moment you do so much as to not stand up straight?? sIT down?? yeah your knees would give out 

what has got to be something so special that you’d wanna get into skateboarding and risk yourself into getting your knees scraped??

....

....

omg is that what he thinks it is

“... it’s a crush, isn’t it?”

the way you instantly shut him down and practically have to beg him just to press the check out button.,..

aha 

yeah yoongi’s gotten his answer alright :D

whatever this is

or whatever that’s going on

you’re sure that you’ve never felt this content for a long time

you now bring a change of clothes so you wouldn’t go skating in your uniform because that just honestly sucks

you may be too tired to walk to the skatepark which is why sometimes you’d book a ride, but no you’re never tOO tired to skate and see jungkook :D

it’s frustrating enough as it is

yoongi used to skate and that’s the reason why you’ve found this shortcut in the first place because this was where the park was!! you’d always think at the back of your head on wHY was yoongi struggling!!!

smh that’s so easy yoongs </3

joke’s on you now though because trying to balance on the board in the first place scared you shitless because hOW were you supposed to do this??

you can ride a bike and that has tWO wheels and this has fOUR bearings!!! how come you can’t balance yourself??

even managing to stand up on the board without panicking for more than ten seconds AND managing to shift from left to right even if it’s albeit shaky at first, took you a wHOLE evening

but you’re so proud of yourself and so is jungkook :D

jungkook finds it the highlight of his night when you’d hold onto him

yes he knOws you have it under control now and you barely hold onto him for support

“just so you won’t fall, that’s all.”

he always evades your eyes when you go look up at him dreamily like that because how could he not???

you’ve covered the basics of pushing yourself then simultaneously riding the skateboard!!

you do that for one WHOLE week and both jungkook and tae (and yoongi) think it’s time that you do something else besides skate in one straight line and occasionally to a left and a right

ok you’re kind of scared shitless because you already fell a couple of times but y’know what?? it’s time!!

society has progressed past the need of you skating in a straight path

the society NEEDS you to do tricks now

.....

........

confession time:

dear diary the kickflip is simply not kicking the board in an attempt to flip it by itself. it is not. it is not as easy as it sounds. it is the bane of my existence

it’s evident that you’re stalling out of your way with this one but you just need oNE success and that’s it!!! one win to woo jungkook from his feet and then you’d stop

tae has already shut you up too because you keep talking about how your day went when you already is set four times before that

and it must’ve been a lucky first time because you absolutely nAIL it on the first try!!!

you honestly thought you’d land square on your ass and see bruises on it later in the shower but N-O!! you’ve done it perfectly and-

jungkook’s not looking

he didn’t see your feat!!

or maybe he didn’t see it because he chosE not to!!!

OR

maybe doing a kickflip is nothing impressive and it’s obvious that he’s a pro at this compared to you who’s even more of a novice that makes taehyung look like a god

you can’t have that :((

ok ok hOW can you impress jungkook

there must be something you could do to impress him!!

omg

that’s it

this is practically perfect!!

you’re gonna do your first drop-in at a pipe that is nowhere gOOD for a beginner like you :D

one, two, th-

“easy, doll.”

jungkook materializes out of nowhere and you expected him to be skating at the far end!! not mere inches away from your face holding your hANDS

this is the first time you’ve seen jungkook actually this close and you just have this urge to kiss his cheek

he has you whipped for him and he hasn’t even done anything to you!!!

“not the best idea to go down an eight-foot tall half-pipe for your first time, hm?”

he scrunches his nose at your absurd thoughts because absolutely wHY would you do that??

how could you fall in love with him even mORE

“do the two-feet tall one first. go have taehyung teach you.”

the grin in your face goes as fast as it came

no offense to taehyung but he’s not the one your head-over-heels for :((

practically everyone knows about your crush on jungkook BESIDES jungkook himself

you’re tapping tae on the shoulder to come and teach you while you just watch kook shred it at the other side of the park by himself

it’s okay!! progress is progress and you’re gonna get far with jungkook!!

going to the skatepark right after work is now your new routine

sometimes you even come with yoongi when he’s free and he takes all his time to gloat on how you used to make fun of him when he was skating avidly back then

that gives you a grand total of three (3) people teaching you how to skate and giving you pointers

jungkook also now holds conversation from time to time :D

he’d ask you how your day went and you’d have to pretend that you didn’t wait for him to ask so you’re not spilling detail after detail

he now does this thing of pinching your cHEEK when you get something right 

your heart after doing an ollie goes bEEP when he pinches your cheek and tells you eagerly that you did such a good job

yoongi’s laid off his teasing for you and jungkook but god he can’t deny that he gets these weird vibes from him

eh it’s probably nothing

today you’re especially excited because it was an outfit that you just bought and you feel gREAT in it!!!

tbh your day was the absolute worst but jungkook is always a great pick-me-up to whatever day you could have :)

a tennis skirt with shorts already built underneath is the greatest save of ur life

it’s a little on the more expensive side because it IS a name-brand and those don’t come cheap but it’s ok :D it’s gonna be worth it :D it better be :D

oh uhm

jungkook seems different today.... ?

you were used to him looking intimidating and mad even if he wasn’t, but this time it just felt emphasized even more

taehyung’s here but he’s not the only one!!! there’s two guys with jungkook on the other side of the ramp

“those are his friends, i guess?? i don’t know, he hasn’t introduced them to me.”

so you’re nOT the only one who’s lost

jungkook will probably come around later and you could all hang out again :))

chimmy happily chuffs at your side and that just gives taehyung the most wonderful idea he’s ever had this day

“hEY which one of us do you think could out-skate chimmy???”

jungkook is utterly and without a doubt stressed 

he knew that hoseok and namjoon would come over, but he didn’t expect that they’d visit him while he was in the park!!!!

and he already knows what they’re here for and that just makes him grimace :((

“why don’t you want to go pro?”

koo’s ears feel like bleeding when hobi asks him that for the nth time

god it’s always just the sAME question!! he could practically sniff the air on what they’re gonna say next

“jungkook, i think we all know that you’re more than qualified to be a pro!! look at you!!”

it’s the same conversation over and over again

the next things they’d say are that he’s a natural and he’s wasting all his talent doing this thing cASUALLY

he’s not the next tony hawk or anything like that!!! he’s not gonna book a sponsorship and a collaboration with vans!!! but hobi and joon kEEP insisting that he’s that good

“hyung, i think we’ve already talked about this-...”

“yes and you refusE to listen!! why can’t you just accept the fact that you have a much better future in this??”

jungkook’s currently a freelance graphic designer which means he works from home and he’s in charge of his oWN schedule

but it doesn’t necessarily mean that every single day he gets a new commission or anything grand like that

he’s gonna be honest and say that yES he has thought of being a pro skater!! but he’s trying to be as rational as possible about it

because not every competition would be a win and not competitions don’t happen as frequent as a typical job is!!

and what iF jungkook gets injured?? something of an injury that would lay him off from skating 

and being unable to skate??? = he basically gets nOTHING

he feels pressures because hobi and joon are pro skaters already!! and that gives them all the more reason to make jungkook into one

not to flex but uh they’re both quite already kNOWN

and jungkook hasn’t even started his pro career but he’s already known!!! both by his skills and the fact that he’s friends with these two champions

“i literally do not care if you beat me!! just come take the leap and be a pRO already, jungkook!!! it’s a loss as it is that you still consider yourself an amateur.”

their words, not his 

ok uhm what if

what if jungkook opens a skate clinic?? he can do what he loves and in the same time, earn money!!

... yeah

okay! 

that could work!! and if he feels extra prepared, then yeah maybe he’d be a pro

or would a skate clinic be useless if he isn’t a pro by then???

oh my god

jungkook’s so frustrated with all this sudden bombarding and it makes him want to tug at his hair

as much as he loves his hyungs, sometimes they just can’t seem to know when to back oFF and realize that their nudging is more like shoving

“do something productive and worth your time, jungkook. stop babysitting.”

namjoon says with an edge and that tames jungkook

what makes it worse was what they were implying in the first place

hoseok doesn’t make it discreet to look at taehyung and you

“tae, tae, look!! i’m doing it, i’m doing it!!”

you’re saying over your shoulder because omg you’re getting the lead and chimmy’s slowed down for some reason

well actually taehyung’s took it upon himself to stop behind you

“guys?”

you get an immediate answer when you feel someone effectively hALT you still and you almost fall on your ass just by the sheer strength of someone holding you up

jungkook’s holding you down and his hands are quite heAVy on your arms

there’s this unexplainable look on his face but you’re positive that it’s not one of happiness

“you should probably stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing.”

oh

to be honest you’re unsure of how to react

but the way that jungkook looks like he’s mad at you and retreats back to those two guys with a scoff in his step -- 

it’s enough

it’s truly enough for you to reevaluate every decision you’ve ever made

maybe it’s simply not just a bad day for you and a case of overthinking thigs,, and it’s perhaps the fact that he want you to stop

stop whatever that is happening

you probably must be frozen in place because chimmy bounds and pounces at you

you probably must’ve looked like an utter fool,, skating in a tennis skirt and trying to outrace a damn dog in a fucking skatepark,, right in front of jungkook and his friends

“y/n, you uh, y’okay?”

tae’s worried because there’s an instant shift to your mood and he could only assume what you were feeling

tears prick at the back of your eyes and that’s the signal for you to gather your things in a flash because the last thing you’d want is to cRY in front of him

“y-yeah! i’m gonna go home, tae. chimmy’s looking for yoongi.”

the dog in question tilts his head because w hat now,,,.,., wha t,.,. he is???

you learned that dogs could smell emotions and that makes you even sadder

chimmy was behaved the whole time; didn’t even try straying you around when he keeps seeing umbrellas on the street even if he loves them

you’re okay

:)

you should be okay

....

there’s something definitely off

yoongi’s cleaned everything and did his share of chores

the tv is still mounted and the microwave’s clean!!

chimmy didn’t have a toilet accident because if he did, he would’ve already picked it up

there’s definitely something off with yOU

because first of all, why are you here???

“not coming to the park?”

if he can recall correctly, no matter how knackered you were after work, you’d still go to the skatepark!!

... not unless you were injured??

nah because if you were injured then you’d be whining to him now

“nope :)”

you’re lying on the couch where he usually lies nowadays because you weren’t around!!

and you’re drinking from your mug that he’s claimed as his mug

and chimmy’s squished in between the tiny gap of you and the far edge of the couch

“and why?”

he’s always had answers for everything but his mind’s bLANK for this

“wanna spend time with you guys :)”

oh

okay

that’s gotta be the answer, right???

this is definitely weird

for starters, it’s already 11 PM and jungkook’s still in the skatepark and he’s not even skating anymore

he’s just waiting

weird... you aren’t here.......

aH it’s nothing :D you’re probably just tired and didn’t want to go skate

oh and.. you’re not here the next day

or the next

or the nEXT

jungkook spends almost the entirety of his time in the park

he goes there at 3 in the afternoon and comes home at 11 in the evening

no big deal

half of the time is just spent him actually skating and the other is figuring out wHERE you are

uh maybe you’ve started to take ubers now every time you come home??

you’re not walking home anymore and the car would pass by the skatepark and jungkook wouldn’t have a single clue where you are

it’s also this time that it dawns on him that he has no means whatsoever to contact you

he didn’t ask for your number and didn’t exchange socials so he could only gUESS

he can’t come over to your apartment either because he hasn’t walked you home and therefore he wouldn’t know your address

holy shit he’s so dumb and jungkook misses you a lot

like a whole whole lot

he misses you holding onto his shoulders for support and misses your excited grin whenever you nail a trick and had a perfect run

there’s nothing that jungkook could dO besides wait

and miss you so much

and mope

kook doesn’t want to give up and miss a day because what iF you pass by when he’s not there???

he can’t have that and he wON’t have that

he’s just so antsy and he hasn’t had his fix of chimmy bounding towards him and the malamute intentionally pouncing on him whenever he’d drop-in so he could lose his balance

he just needs to see you and your duffel bag and the precious yet beat-up wristwatch you have and-

WAIT

THAT’S YOU!!!

jungkook’s brought his perfume the past few days because he wouldn’t want to be aND smell sweaty when he sees you again

he’s wearing a shirt this time and nOT a hoodie and it’s actually a nice shirt!! the pale orange makes his tattoos pop

he’s also wearing a watch so he could look business-ish and composed and he kinda hATES watches because uhhhh you ever heard of a phone, buddy??

you’re walking striaght and paying no mind at all and to your surrounding and-

there’s suddenly this cRASH in front of you and it makes you recall in response because that came out of nowhere

... and this feels oddly familiar

only this time though, it’s intentional and it’s jungkook who literally tHREW his skateboard down on the spot in front of you

“y/n? wow, what a coincidence!”

you didn’t expect to see jungkook as soOn as you anticipated that he wouldn’t be here

he laughs nervously and he tries not to overanalyze the fact that your face is blank

:|

“yup. totally.”

you’re avoiding his gaze and meanwhile he’s searching desperately for yours 

what is he feeling and why is it hurt and longing at the same time

“can i walk you home?”

the words tumble out of his mouth before he could even ponder over them longer

“i uh, i rEALLY can’t believe i never asked to walk you home!! or even ask for your number!!! but uHhhh it’s late at night and to be honest i don’t have your number and i just need to know that you’re safe and-”

he stops his rambling right there because he realizes that he’s a stuttering nervous mess

you’re a bit speechless because normally you’re the chatty one but this one.,.,,. this one’s a pleasant surprise

“yeah, yeah. okay :)”

he can’t believe either that you agreed to it but he’s immediately gathering himself and swoops your duffel for him to hold

he’s not gonna entertain a single complaint <3

it’s not exactly the most tensioned silence ever but it’s definitely nOT comfortable

“why didn’t you come to the park?”

okay well sHIT you didn’t expect him to be this straightforward

wait no 

you shouldn’t be surprised!! after all, he probably did mean what he said the last time you’ve seen him

what are u gonna say now

well you coulD say that you’re busy and he’d probably fall for it!!

or reiterate the truth that he’s implied and say it with a straight face

“oh. i started intentionally falling on my ass because i missed you,” jungkook spills out of nowhere while waiting for your answer and he now realizes that might’ve been a little awkward

after all he dID admit that he missed you

ahem

“did i uhm... did i say something?”

he rephrases his question and he knows that this was the more appropriate one

your coping mechanism is to kick on the ground as if there were leaves and there are absolutely nO leaves <3

“jungkook, you told me to stop.”

he blinks rapidly at that as he tries to digest your words

he’s trying to backtrack as much as possible and it wasn’t that!!

he simply doesn’t wanna see you hurt

“i can’t explain it but holy shiT i can’t see you hurt!! a-and i know that being hurt in skating is normal but for sOME reason i can’t stand it when i see you in pain o-or-...”

jungkook just can’t explaiN what he feels

“i just -- i just don’t gEt why you’d want to be hurt?? whY are you doing this to yourself??”

you find him ridiculous and this whole situation is just rIDICULOUS

“jesus christ jungkook i did it to try and impress a guy!!”

that earns you a snort and you immediately go defensive

he seems irked and his eyes are just beGGING to be rolled

“who?? taehyung?? the guy who would’ve wiped you out if he did end up hitting you on the head with the deck just a little harder??”

“what? taehyung???” you’re so confused and jungkook hates it even more, “yeah, taehyung!!”

“i like you, jungkook!”

o-oh

uhm

a.....ha

“me?”

he points to himself to which you eagerly nod your head to

“can you excuse me for one second?”

he barely gives you the time to respond because he’s already walking away and biting his arm

he’s actually sCREAMING

you throw your head back because omg did the two of you just basically admit that you liked each other

jungkook jogs back to where you stand a presses a hefty kISS right on your cheek

he’s on too much of a high that he holds your hand and practically drags you along with him because he’s almost skIPPING from how happy he is

“okay. good. nice. very good!!!” he could now sigh in relief because whEW that robbed him off his breath

“because i fell for you when i first saw you.”

jungkook basically has nO filter now and it’s adorable because god he’s just so soft and you now know what’s going and this wouldn’t be just whatever

“huh. imagine if yOU fell for me too at the same time,,,, that would make me piss my pants.”

he cackles because wow he dO be funny :D

he’s turning to look at you to gauge at your reaction and the waY that you’re holding your eye contact with him is all-telling for your answer

oh my god

jungkook is wrapped around your pinky :’)

[vtforpedro]

long, long health update - tw in tags please read them

I am going to speak very frankly about suicidal ideation; please don't read further if this is triggering for you ;3; but please know that I love you I had my follow-up appt with my neuropsych on monday to go over my results and whatnot. it was virtual, and I was in the middle of a head episode and I told her I wasn't doing well, but within about 5-10 minutes, she was saying I should probably go to the ER lkajflaj I guess it looked pretty bad lmao anyway I told her all the reasons I couldn't. medical trauma, being dismissed b/c I have doctors who manage my headaches, and I know it's not life-threatening even if it is 10/10 agonizing, so why are you here. they're so dismissive. she said that they have medication to possibly help break the cycle of constant migraines but I've been treated with those before and they didn't do shit migraines are secondary to iih. it's the iih that needs to be fixed ._. she said I still deserved to not suffer and that the ER is very strict about keeping covid patients away from other patients and I didn't have the heart to tell her they intubated a covid patient 10-15 feet away from me last time I was in an ER 😭 anyway so the results. she said she wasn't worried about anything going on that was concerning or indicating something wrong in my brain. I DID score quite a bit lower for someone my age on information processing (which is exactly what I said I was struggling with to my two neuros who were both like ehhh) and some issues with memory but they weren't super specific and so it could be something neurological, could be my migraines and constant agony lmao, could be my Emotional State. could be all of them at once, I suppose ;) she went into more detail about some of these things but it was the two questionnaires I filled out that were HNNN. so once all the data is entered from like 300 questions it shows a good look into my personality and perceptions and all that and it makes a cool little graph (OR SO I THOUGHT). the kind that looks like mountain peaks. so she points at the one that is waaay higher than the rest and nearly touching the top of the box and she's like 'do you see this one' me: yeah 😬 her: this is your feelings and ideations about suicide me: 😬 😩 😬 her: when I see a score this high, I stop what I'm doing and I call the police to have them escort you to a hospital me: 😬😬😬😬😬 her: but I didn't do that. because when we spoke in office you told me you felt this way and why you don't do it. you told me it's something you've lived with for a long time and the pain you are suffering is what makes it so bad. and I trust you me: 😭😭😭 okay her: do you see this line down here? this is people who have suicidal ideation recorded on this test. you scored 98% higher on suicidal ideation compared to people reporting suicidal ideation HNNNNNN. she said it probably wasn't surprising to me and asked me if I was safe again and all that. I assured her I was and said in my previous appointment; I've had suicidal thoughts since I was like 12? maybe earlier. there have been very few times in my life not surrounded by abuse and trauma so I'm never really free of it. I've had four traumatic incidents causing increasingly horrible episodes of ptsd in nine years. all through my 20s. still here woo, lol and she said she knew that and had a patient not long after my first appointment who had similar circumstances in their life. and they told her it's almost a comfort having it. cause I was saying it's in the back of my mind at all times and I won't do it, but yeah, it's always there. anyway she said they said the same thing; it's always there, always in the background as 'hey I'm an option!' even though we aren't going to harm ourselves. it's a comfort knowing there is an option even if we plan on never using it? idk it just spoke to me and I felt it in my soul we talked about some emotional stuff after and I cried and it was a thing. it felt really good to speak to a psychologist who, just as she was in the first appointment, seemed genuinely concerned and wanted to help

me. I told her I was ready for therapy and she said she'd already looked for therapists for me lkasjdlkja and gave me a group that I emailed yesterday. I don't think they'll take my insurance but she said to message her through the portal if they don't and she'll try to find someone who does I don't remember if I mentioned it, but since she knew about the head shit before I met her, she dimmed her office lights without asking if I needed it and like as soon as we started the virtual visit, she leaped up and dimmed them and said she should've thought about it before the appt 😭 (I keep my brightness really low on my computer and use the warming feature 24/7 on comp and phone and my apt is really dimmed but it still helped a lot when she did it) she kept saying 'you did nothing wrong. it was the choice of others to do what they did. you don't deserve to carry their choices. you deserve to be able to hand it back to them. you don't deserve to be in pain. you did nothing wrong. you deserve to be free of what they did and you deserve to not suffer in such physical pain' I'm so wary of doctors but I really like her and I feel fortunate to have been referred to her ;3; speaking for a long time and especially emotionally is hard for me, so I might try to do two sessions a month once I find a therapist and see if I'm ok with that. trying to keep everything virtual while delta is out there I read her report and her official diagnosis is uhh really strong for major depressive disorder, severe. and severe ptsd with disassociative symptoms so!!! I claimed both of those on my disability application and the person handling my claim told me when I had this appt to call and let her know because she wanted the info. I signed a release the day I was there when I told my neuropsych that cause MH stuff is different than other medical records. she said she faxed it to the woman handling my disability application but I was gonna call her and ask if she received it and also tell her I have a new neuro so she will probably request his stuff too I called today and her voicemail box is full so lol try again later today's been awful. last night was horrible. got a bill for over $800 from my colonoscopy/endoscopy even though I asked numerous times if insurance was covering it and was told yep, every penny. so I was on the phone with insurance and the surgery center for 45 minutes. insurance seemed confused af but the agent I spoke with got some help from people who handle this stuff I guess finally she told me not to pay it, they're going to send them a letter to get it sorted (idk if this means I won't have to pay it at all or if they're going to try to make it that way. but I think govt insurance, which is what I have, works differently. like doctors kinda have to follow what they say vs. the other way around) and not worry about it for the next 30 days. I'm still gonna worry about it lmao they used a nice scare tactic on the bill that this was the 'LAST AND FINAL NOTICE' despite the fact they've never sent me anything else. my mom and the insurance agent said nah that's just what they do to scare people into paying fuckin love america <3 land of the free. the american dream! greatest country on earth 💜🖕💜 I just don't want it to go to collections and have to fight credit bureaus to get it off my credit so it's not destroyed |: anyway my head hit like 10/10 bad while I was on the phone cause of the talking a lot and trying to PROCESS INFORMATION and stress and also the fucking hold music, which I have to hear in some way b/c I gotta know when they're back on the line hnnnnn bad day. it's 1pm and bad, bad, bad day. bad month all around. I want this shit to stop anyway. I'm sorry about the suicidal ideation talk, but it's important to talk about that stuff. it can get severe but it can also get better. it does, eventually, even if it comes and goes. it always does get better I'm sorry, I also really needed to get this down somewhere. feel like I'm going to explode emotionally AND physically and I need to talk about it. hopefully

soon I'll have a therapist to talk to so I can get a lot of this stuff worked on. got my whole life to chat about so it'll probably take a long time but I'm willing to let it lmao therapy doesn't usually work for me anymore but idk I've had a lot of shit happen in less than two years so maybe it will this time I'm trying! I really am trying if you read this rambling monster, thank you. love you all and please stay safe

[nayutai]

The Task At Hand

Pairing Mingyu x Female OC

Word Count 15.1k

Warnings mentions of infidelity, mentions of racism, foul language, anxiety, insecurities, therapy sessions, dumbasses in love, light choking, dry humping

Summary The first year of marriage is always the hardest. Unfortunately for Mingyu and Kamile, the first year as husband and wife may also be their last. 

Notes This absolute behemoth of a fic is my contribution to The Intimacy Anthology where I, along with many other fantastic writers, have explored intimacy in all of its many forms. This fic is incredibly close to my heart and I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please check out the other stories featured in the project here as well! 

Mingyu fumbles with his keys in the dark as he searches for the one that’ll get him into his house. The alcohol coursing through his system is making this very simple task a lot harder than it needs to be. He shouts victoriously when he finally manages to unlock the front door to stumble inside. He freezes when he hears someone clapping slowly off to his right.

“Two minutes and forty seven seconds. That didn’t take you as long as I thought it would but then again you have been good at finishing quickly these days.” Mingyu groans deep in his throat at the scathing words from the woman staring him down from the love seat in the living room. She lifts a glass of what he can only assume is white wine to her lips, draining it quickly. 

“I’m too drunk for your bullshit tonight, Kamile.” Mingyu grunts as he leans back against the door to steady himself while he toes his sneakers off. All he wants to do is crawl up the stairs to the guest room he’s been sleeping in so that he can go to sleep. He rolls his eyes when he hears Kamile clear her throat from across the room. If he knows anything about his wife, nothing good is about to come out of her mouth. 

“If you didn’t want to hear my bullshit then maybe you should’ve shown up for dinner with my parents tonight.” The venom in her voice makes Mingyu’s blood run cold. He’d totally forgotten about her mother’s birthday dinner tonight. Fuck. As much as he hates to hear her nagging him, even he has to admit that he deserves it this time. This dinner has been planned for months and he should’ve been there. 

He forces his eyes to focus when he looks back over at the brooding woman shooting daggers at him from across the room. It’s then he registers the fact that she’s still fully dressed despite the late hour. Kamile is a huge proponent of being comfortable within the walls of her own home and for her to sit in a dress and heels as she waits on his appearance does not bode well for him in the slightest. He’s surprised that she hasn’t launched her wine glass at his head.

“Whatever or whoever you were out doing,” Kamile rises slowly from the couch, impressively steady in her heels despite the bottle of wine she ran through waiting on her neglectful husband to come home. Silence stretches between them interrupted only by the damning clicks of her shoes against the hardwood flooring. Kamile stops to appraise the man she married when she reaches him, wondering where it all went wrong. 

“…I hope it was worth it.” She silences his groveling with a raised hand. She’s tired of the arguing. Tired of the excuses. Just tired in general. 

Most people would have some sort of emotional response to this but her exhaustion leaves nothing but an empty void in its wake. Mingyu may as well be yelling at a brick wall for all the response he gets from Kamile as she slowly climbs the stairs. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoing around the house may as well have been a gunshot.

“One more thing for her to hold over my fucking head.” Mingyu grumbles as he slowly blazes his own trail up the stairs. He pauses before the closed door to the bedroom they once shared, hand gripping the doorknob in his hand as he contemplates going in to apologize. “What’s the use? Not like she’d listen to me now anyway.”

The bed in the guest room welcomes him like an old friend when he flops down on it, draining him of his energy. Thoughts of how he’ll fix things in the morning drift through his head. Sleep evens out his features, lulling him into a peaceful slumber despite the fact that he’s still fully clothed. The perfect cover for the plans being set in motion right down the hall. 

The sun rouses Mingyu from his sleep way before he’s ready. He could’ve sworn that the curtains were pulled closed when he went to bed but it’s hard to know what’s what when you’re three sheets to the wind at god only knows what time. Blindly, he reaches out for his phone where he’d left it on the nightstand but comes up with a piece of paper instead. It takes a minute for his eyes to focus enough to read the words on the page, but when they do he finds himself bolting for the ensuite bathroom. The offensive piece of stationary gently drifting to the ground as if it hasn’t just ruined his life.

He heaves and wretches until he has nothing left to give. His knees buckle several times as he tries to brush his teeth which is an incredibly difficult task to complete when one is sobbing with everything they have. This can’t be happening. He refuses to believe that this is his reality. Mingyu’s heart sinks even lower when he drags himself back to the bedroom and sees Kamile’s  wedding ring on the night stand next to his phone. He retrieves the letter from where it rests on the floor, reading it over until the tears he’d fought back make a reappearance.

Doing this feels incredibly impersonal but I feel like it’s probably better this way. I realized that the flame I thought would burn forever is barely a spark anymore. Tonight was an epiphany for me. I realize that I deserve better and I’ve decided that I will have it. I’ve always wished you joy and light and I will probably never stop doing that despite everything that’s happened but I can’t do it as your wife anymore. 

Take care,

Kamile Dexter

The usage of her maiden name feels like the final nail in his coffin. He calls. He texts. He emails. He even sends her a message on instagram. Every single attempt to reach her goes unanswered. Anyone could see that things hadn’t been the best between them for a while, but never in his most horrific nightmares did Mingyu think that Kamile would actually leave. 

Time is irrelevant to Mingyu in the days that follow Kamile’s departure. He wakes up when his alarm goes off and drifts through the day. His nights are spent calling Kamile despite the fact that she never answers which then leads to him drinking himself into an alcohol-induced sleep complete with all the blessed numbness that it provides until his alarm goes off once more. This is without a doubt the lowest point of his life and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Kamile grew up with Vernon so naturally Mingyu tries to enlist his help. Unfortunately, it seems that she has anticipated that move and stops answering Vernon’s calls and texts as well. 

With all of his other options seemingly exhausted, Mingyu calls the one person that could possibly help him, Sidra Dexter. A woman with many accolades to her name, Sidra considers being Kamile’s mother to be the most important among them. If anyone knows how to get through to his wife, it’s Sidra. Mingyu prays that she still has a soft spot for him as the phone rings in his ear. If this call goes unanswered, then he really will lose all hope in saving his marriage. 

“It’s about damn time you called me, Gyu Bear. My daughter left you a whole week ago tomorrow and you’re just now enlisting my services? Tell me why that is.” Never a woman to beat around the bush, Sidra gets right to the point with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. 

“I don’t know what to do, Mama Dee. She won’t talk to me.” Mingyu whines, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time today.

“Of course she won’t. She’s stubborn just like her ornery ass father.” The aforementioned father pipes up in the background to defend himself but is quickly shut down. “Now back to you, Gyu Bear. You have messed up big time but I love you so I’m going to help you fix it but I have one question first.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Did you cheat on my daughter? And yes that ‘harmless flirting’ shit you men folk like to do counts as cheating in my book.”

“Of course not! Wait…does Kam think I cheated?” Mingyu is floored and honestly a little angered at the fact that after all these years together Kamile thinks he’s actually capable of infidelity. The alcohol-induced haze clears long enough for his brain to recall a comment she’d made the night she left about whoever he was doing being worth it. 

“She sure does,” Sidra starts up, “but luckily for you, my gut says that you’re telling the truth and it hasn’t steered me wrong in the last 56 years so I don’t see a reason not to trust it now. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

Mingyu listens intently as Sidra outlines her master plan. Not for the first time, he’s in awe of the way her brain functions. The tightness in his chest subsides a little bit with every word she says. For the first time in the six days since Kamile left, Mingyu feels like his life has meaning again. His marriage might not be over after all. 

Despite the fact that Kamile had no intention of answering any of Mingyu’s desperate pleas for attention, the sudden cessation of said pleas only serve to further increase her anguish. She’d originally thought she’d be able to finally find peace when he gave up, but that does not seem to be the case. A part of her didn’t want him to stop trying. Didn’t want him to stop fighting for her.

Did I make the right choice?

The question has haunted her every waking moment as she adjusts to her new normal. She’s been adrift for the last ten days trying to figure out her next plan of action. Should she stay in Korea? Should she go back to America? Should she throw a dart at a map and go wherever it lands? The possibilities are endless but Kamile finds herself unable to fully commit to either option which is how she’s ending up existing on takeout in a hotel for the past week and some change. God, why did she have to be so impulsive? She should’ve made sure that she had a game plan before she just up and left like that. 

Her phone rings on the small night stand, interrupting her self-loathing thoughts. Kamile groans when she sees that it’s her mother. Ever since she’d broken the news to her parents that she’d decided to leave Mingyu, her mom has been giving her grief. Kamile had always had a hunch that her mom loved Mingyu just as much if not more than she loved her, but their break up has made her think that her hunch had been closer to the truth than she’d previously thought.

“Hey, ma.” Kamile greets her mother apprehensively, bracing for the latest round of her mother’s reconciliation efforts. 

“Hello, my lovely daughter. I just landed in Seoul so if you don’t mind coming to get me from the airport that would be great.” Kamile chokes on the mouthful of noodles she’d been munching on. There’s no way in hell that her mother just said that she’s in Seoul. Sure enough, Kamile pulls her phone away from her ear to check her mother’s location and it says that she is in fact at the Incheon Airport. 

“Baby, what did I tell you about making sure you properly chew your food before swallowing. Did you forget what happened to your Uncle Tommy?” Kamile barely hears her mother’s recounting about the uncle who’d died from choking on a fish bone as she rushes around her hotel room gathering her things. She can’t believe her mom really flew halfway across the globe. Thankfully, her hotel isn’t far from the airport so Kamile is helping her mother put her bags in the back of her SUV in no time at all.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?” Kamile questions as she eases her car into the steady stream of traffic bound for the exit. 

“You just left your husband and you didn’t come home to me so I don’t know what made you think that I wasn’t coming out here. A friend of mine is letting me stay with her since I know how you are about your space.” 

Kamile is more than a little thankful for that. Her mother can be overbearing when she’s on a mission and the fact that she’ll still be able to maintain some personal space is comforting. She’s only too happy to let the gps in her guide her to this friend’s house. The closer they get to their destination though the more unsettled she becomes. She has no idea why her gut is telling her to be suspicious, but she’s definitely not about to ignore it. Kamile’s sense are on high alert when she turns into the driveway of a nondescript home in one of the more affluent suburbs of the city. 

“Mom, what’s this friend’s name?” Kamile eyes the structure in front of her as if it could possibly grow teeth and bite her. Something is not right here and if there’s one thing her mother taught her, it’s to trust her gut instinct and right now her gut is telling her to throw her car in reverse and get the hell out of dodge. The only thing keeping her from running for the hills is the fact her mother seems so at ease as she hops out of the car to grab her bags. 

“Her name is Bae Yeojin. She studied abroad at Villanova her junior year and we were roommates. She’s got a pretty successful business now.” Kamile hums in acknowledgement. She vaguely recalls her mom telling her about a girl named Yeojin from college, but that does nothing to assuage the uneasiness in her gut. 

Kamile waits at the bottom of the steps as her mother knocks on the front door. Her fingers are drumming on banister, eyes glancing back and forth from the ornate door and her car. She clutches her keys like a lifeline. At the slightest provocation, she’s ready to bolt. The two women squeal like school children and not the established professionals they are at the first sight of each other. Kamile wonders briefly how long it’s been since they last saw each other.

“Kamile Danielle Kim get your ass up here and say hi.” Not one to disobey a direct order, especially one accompanied by her full name, Kamile reluctantly climbs the short staircase.

“Jesus, Sid, you really spit this one right out. She’s practically your twin.” Yeojin exclaims. She pulls Kamile into a quick hug before ushering the both of them inside. 

One deep breath and Kamile instantly realizes why she felt so uneasy. There’s candles burning in the foyer, but they do nothing to mask the familiar scent she’s spent the last six years smelling. Mingyu is in this house somewhere. She spins around to fix the two women with what she hopes is a threatening glare. Unfortunately, neither one of them appears to be phased by it in the slightest.

“What the hell is going on here?” Kamile’s quickly starting to realize that not trusting her gut has landed her in a situation she most definitely has no interest being in. Her eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two scam artists in front of her.

“I told you she’d figure it out. Pay up.” Yeojin doesn’t take her eyes off Kamile as she holds her hand out to Sidra who is grumbling while she digs in her purse to hand over a few bills.

“Dammit, Kam, did I really raise you to be this observant? You’re costing me money.”

“Yes, now what in the fresh hell do y’all have going on?” The answer to her question comes in the form of timid footsteps sounding off behind her. Her spine stiffens. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She can sense him. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. Now turn your little narrow butt around and have a seat.” Sidra adopts the tone she’d frequently used when Kamile was growing up and even now as an adult Kamile knows that disobeying this direct order is not the right choice to make. 

It’s with a grimace, that she pivots on her heel to face her husband for the first time since she walked out on him. The satisfaction she feels when she sees just how awful he looks is cancelled out by the fact that she probably looks just as bad. It would be a lie to say that she hasn’t missed the comfort and solace his presence used to bring her. That she doesn’t want to let the outside world fade away as she hides away in his embrace. She wants that back. Craves it even, but enough is enough.

Curse words flow like running water through Kamile’s mind as her mother situates her on a love seat in the living room with Mingyu sat right next to her. His large frame dwarfs the slightly undersized piece of furniture. She can feel the body heat radiating off of him and it’s a battle of wills to keep from leaning into him. 

“First things first…” Sidra claps her hands as she and Yeojin take a seat on the sofa opposite the troubled couple, “I think now is a good time to mention that Ms. Yeojin here is actually a therapist who specializes in couples therapy.”

Of course she is.

Kamile rolls her eyes as the puzzle pieces start clicking into place. She could be buried under her blankets, binging on The Golden Girls right now, but no, her meddling ass mother has scammed her into marriage counseling instead. She should’ve ran when she had the chance.

“Based on what Sid has told me, the two of you are exactly one week shy of your first wedding anniversary and already on the verge of divorce. So, who would like to dump their emotional baggage on the floor first?” Yeojin glances between Kamile and Mingyu looking for a crack in their demeanor that she can exploit. Mingyu looks like he wants to hurl while Kamile’s face is a carefully constructed mask of indifference. She makes her choice easily.

“Mingyu, thank you for volunteering. Let’s hear it.” 

Put on the spot, Mingyu chances a glance sideways at Kamile before clearing his throat. Yeojin sits at the ready with her notebook and pen. She listens intently as Mingyu tells the fiasco as he sees it.

“I know I forget things sometimes. I try not to, but I’m an idol. I have a lot going on but that’s no different from when we first started dating so I don’t know why it’s suddenly such a big issue now.” Mingyu seems to find his voice as he speaks up on how he believes that he’s been wronged. The timid nervousness he’d felt before quickly getting pushed down so that his frustration can take over.

“When we first started dating, I wasn’t being abandoned in a house all day with nothing to do.” Kamile may have been grumbling under her breath but Mingyu hears her loud and clear. His head whips around so fas that the two mothers across from him silently worry about the neck pain that may cause him later. 

“You have nothing to do because you’ve turned down every opportunity that’s come your way.” Thoughts of the numerous job and consulting offers from Pledis and other entertainment companies like them that she turned down come flying to the forefront of his memory. Human resource agents have practically been beating down their door for the chance to work with Kamile, a creative visionary in her own right, but she’s rejected them one after another without a moment’s hesitation.

“You mean every opportunity that you have sent my way. Like why would I want to work at that entertainment company and be forced to watch that bitch Miyeon flirt with you every day like you’re not married?” Mingyu is forced to concede to her point with that one. Miyeon is one of the stylists at the company and, despite his repeated rejection, is too flirtatious for his liking as well. Unfortunately, she’s deeply entrenched in the corporate hierarchy and nothing short of murder would make the higher ups get rid of her even if all of the members have lodged complaints against her. 

“Is that the simple hoe you come home smelling like every time you’re ‘out with the boys’?” Kamile adds on as if she’s finally started connecting some dots in her overactive imagination. The fact that she has even entertained the thought of Mingyu not only cheating on her but cheating on her with Miyeon of all people makes his blood boil.  

“Why do you think I’m cheating on you? Why do you always just assume the worst about me? Do you think Vernon would ever let me even think about cheating on you? The man hates violence but he would beat my ass over you and we all know that.” The frown on Kamile’s face falters at the mention of her oldest friend. Mingyu is correct in saying that he would absolutely fight him, but there are still some thing that aren’t adding up. Yeojin attempts to halt the conversation so that they can delve deeper into what Mingyu just said but Kamile beats her to the punch. 

“You come home smelling like warm vanilla sugar every night when everybody knows that I am a Japanese cherry blossom supremacist. What am I supposed to think, Mingyu?” She can’t believe that he has the audacity to sit next to her and still lie. The palms of her hands itch with the urge to throw things but she’s done enough of that plus this isn’t exactly her house either.

“Seokmin always sprays us down with some random perfume because he says it keeps the women away and honestly, it actually works like a charm so I’m always first in line to get sprayed.” Kamile’s anger deflates almost immediately. To anyone that doesn’t know Lee Seokmin that would sound like a crock of shit, but it’s perfectly on brand for him.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“We’re fucking married, Kamile. You could’ve just asked. Better yet you could have come with me to these events like I’ve asked you to do a million times.” 

“You know I hate those things.”

“Everyone hates them, but I would hate them a lot less if I had you there with me. I just feel like I’ve been trying to make an effort but you’re not meeting me halfway.”

“I knew my Gyu Bear wasn’t a cheater!” Sidra, who hasn’t set a word since things had started to get heated, pipes up.

“God, Mom could you at least pretend that you love me more than him?” Kamile throws her hands up in frustration. Her mother’s obvious favoritism is really starting to get to her right now.

“Not until you start giving me less grief.”

“Now, now, Sid. Let’s not derail the progress we’re making here. Kamile, is there anything you’d like to bring to the table?” Yeojin pats her dear friend on the back of her hand to reign her back in. She’d hate to ruin the momentum they got going by having Kamile suddenly switch gears to argue with her mother.

Kamile is only too happy to tell her side of the story as she recounts the events of the night that she decided to leave Mingyu and how it was the tipping point for her. Yeojin listens intently, taking note of the fact that none of the issues that Kamile has with her husband are particularly heinous aside from the debunked cheating suspicions. Each transgression on it’s own wouldn’t be enough to end in divorce, but rather it’s the heaping pile of them that overwhelmed Kamile to the point that she felt she needed to get out.

The more she listens, the clearer it becomes to Yeojin that their marriage is suffering not because they don’t love one another but because they’ve forgotten how to talk to each other which has lead to an unfortunate disconnect. The biggest obstacle is definitely going to be Kamile’s determination to end things. She’s made up her mind and getting her to change her mind is not going to be easy.

“I think I’ve heard everything that I need to hear for today.” Yeojin sets her notepad down on her coffee table, relaxing in her chair a bit before she continues. “The first year in a marriage is usually the hardest, but that seems to have been exacerbated by the fact that the two of you have never lived together before now plus Kamile here has uprooted her entire life and moved to a new country.”

“Saving this marriage is going to take considerable effort on both sides in order to restore the balance you had before you said your vows. Here is what I recommend.”

Yeojin challenges the young couple to separate themselves from their daily lives for the next week and go somewhere remote. A place where it’s just the two of them without any outside influences. Of course, this won’t be just some run of the mill vacation. They’ll have “homework” of sorts that Yeojin will be checking to make sure they complete. Mingyu is all for it but Kamile is much more hesitant. All they’ve done is argue for the past few months and she’d rather not be stuck in a house arguing for two weeks straight. 

“I’ve spent the past year stuck in a house with no outside influences and look at where that’s gotten me. On the verge of a fucking divorce!” Mingyu looks like he has something to say, but Yeojin thankfully stops him before he can rile his wife up any more than she already is. 

“You’re not just going to be ‘stuck in a house’. Think of it like a game of Among Us. The two of you are crewmates and this wall that’s been built between you is the imposter.” Kamile looks at Yeojin as if she’s grown three extra heads. There’s no way she just related this counseling session to a freaking video game. 

“I will also stop bugging you about grandkids for six months if you go.” 

“You should’ve just started there. I’ll go.”

Yeojin claps her hands excitedly. She sounds way too happy to be shipping them off to self-guided marriage boot camp, but Kamile stays silent though that becomes increasingly difficult as her mother’s friends lists out the “tasks” she expects them to complete.

“So here’s the game plan, I want you two to be totally and completely honest with each other as much as possible for the entire time you’re gone. Often times in relationships, both parties will censor themselves as a way to keep the peace but that can be detrimental as it has been for you guys.” Mingyu and Kamile don’t realize it but they both frown simultaneously at the proposal of this honesty idea. Yeojin takes it as a positive sign that they are still in sync on some level. 

“If the thought of doing it all day is too daunting, then start with just one hour. This doesn’t mean that you have to sit and stare at each other for a whole hour and trade statements just act normally but speak honestly. Okay so far?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mingyu casts a glance in Kamile’s direction, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to her. He’s had to stop himself several times since she arrived and it’s not getting any easier.

While Kamile’s mind is running wild with all of the potential for disaster that an hour of honesty could result in, Yeojin powers on with the rest of her required tasks. On top of separating themselves from society and this so called honest hour, Yeojin has mandated that they share at least one meal together every day with one of them being dinner on their wedding anniversary. Just when Kamile thought that Yeojin couldn’t possibly pile more on, she brings up the “activity days”. Each of them will have to plan some sort of activity for the two of them to do together while they’re away. It could be as big or as small as they want, but it has to be meaningful. Mingyu draws Kamile’s attention when he pulls his phone out of his back pocket to start tapping away on the screen like a mad man.

“You guys have a lot of preparing to do in order to be ready to leave tomorrow so we’ll stop here for today. I’ll be checking in on you daily to assess your progress and offer any guidance you may need.” 

Kamile is out of her chair and halfway to the door before anyone can blink. The room suddenly feels too small as the gravity of what’s about to happen sinks in. She’d convinced herself that she no longer wanted to be married to Mingyu. She was so sure that her run as Mrs. Kim, albeit short as it was, had come to an end, but now she’s been confronted that her main reason for ending things was baseless. This is not how she thought things would go.

Day 1

The drive from the hotel to the home she’s shared with Mingyu for the past year goes way too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu had texted her about having to go gas up the rental car so he’s nowhere to be seen when Kamile arrives. She sits in the driveway for a few minutes thinking of the memories saturated into the home that looms before her. The memories she had hoped to create. A stray tear slips down her cheek and she swipes at it furiously. She swore that she was done shedding tears over this but they just keep on coming.

Her pity party is interrupted by an unfamiliar SUV pulling into the driveway behind her. Kamile looks in the mirror to see Mingyu getting out of the driver’s seat. She does her best to erase the evidence of her tears, but the look on his face when she opens her own door says that she wasn’t very successful. 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Kamile cuts him off before he can even finish his question. She stalks to the back of her car to start transferring her bags from her car to the behemoth of an SUV behind her.

“I’ll get them.” Mingyu takes the bag she’d already grabbed from Kamile’s hands, motioning to the passenger’s seat. Kamile, no longer in the mood to speak, wordlessly follows his directive and climbs into the SUV.

It takes Mingyu no time at all to load Kamile’s bags into the back with his own. 

“Obviously this is a sign that we should just leave.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let a lost set of keys stand between me and keeping my marriage.”

“Why do you even care? Why are we even doing this?” Kamile screams. She’s been holding this in for far too long and she can’t take it anymore. 

“For better or for worse.” Mingyu’s face is a mask of carefully controlled fury and it’s giving Kamile pause. She’s never seen him like this before. “We promised each other for better or for worse and yet you’re ready to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. I’ll admit that I’m not perfect and certainly played a role in why we’re here but I’m willing to put in the work to make it better because those vows meant something to me. I thought they meant something to you too.”

Kamile is incredibly taken aback at Mingyu’s fervent desire to stay married. She didn’t think that he cared that much anymore. Without any further protest, she joins him in the hunt for the elusive key to the front door. Fifteen minutes pass and they are no closer to gaining entry than they were when they first arrived. A rep with the rental company calls as they’re checking the bottom of the flower pots that line the front porch and tells them that the keys were mistakenly put in the mailbox. The same mailbox that sits at the end of the mile long driveway. Kamile makes to get back in the car to drive to the end of the driveway but Mingyu suggests walking it.

“It would be faster in the car.”

“You heard that therapist lady. We’re supposed to be spending time together. What better way to do it than by walking two miles?” Kamile walks back and forth as she considers her options. She can resist which will probably lead to yet another fight or she can just suck it up and walk to the mailbox. With a groan, she makes her decision.

“Fine, but if I get tired you’re carrying me.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He bows deeply which almost makes Kamile crack a smile. She steels her resolve quickly though and reminds herself not to get caught up in his antics. He’s going to have to do a lot more than make her laugh in order to get out of the dog house.

The walk to the mailbox and back is quiet for the most part. Their footfalls join the hum of the wildlife in the woods that line the driveway on either side, but the jokes and playful jabs that used to fill the air between them is noticeably absent. Neither one is sure of what to say or do around the other anymore. Thankfully, the key is hanging on a hook inside the rather large mailbox.

Mingyu fully expected for Kamile to ask to be carried on the way back. She’s never been a huge fan of physical activity so it doesn’t come as a surprised to him when she starts whining halfway back to the cabin.

“I can’t do it just leave me here with my flower friends. I’ll become one with the forest.” Mingyu wordlessly moves to crouch down in front of her. He’s thankful that she can’t see his face to save himself the embarrassment of having to explain why he’s so excited to carry her for the last half mile to the end of the driveway.

Kamile doesn’t hesitate a single second to climb onto his back, clinging to him like a koala. It’s not lost on either one of them that this is the most physical contact they’ve had with each other in months. She’s wrapped around him tight enough that he doesn’t need to support her thighs, but he does it anyway. No way in hell is going to let this moment pass by without taking full advantage. 

They opt to spend the rest of the day just getting settled in. Yeojin had encouraged them to share a bedroom but Kamile is not down with that. Mingyu is disappointed when she wheels her suitcase into one of the guest bedrooms but he takes solace in the fact that she’s chosen the one right across the master where he’d dropped his things hoping she’d follow. He hopes that at some point in the next few days she’ll finally share a bed with him again. 

Dinner ends up being Thai takeout. Kamile has to admit that she’s impressed when Mingyu is able to rattle off her usual order with practiced ease. There once was a time when they’d get Thai food together all the time, but they’re so far removed from that time that she was sure he’d have forgotten by now. They eat without a single word exchanged before going their separate ways to bed.

Day 2

Mingyu wakes up before the sun despite the fact that he slept all of two hours the night before. His hands are on the verge of trembling from all of the nervous energy coursing through his body. Today is the official first day of marriage bootcamp and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s barely seven so there’s no way that Kamile has even attempted to get out of bed yet. Like a thief in the night, Mingyu creeps down the hall to peek into the bedroom that she had claimed as her own. A small smile graces his face at the cute way she hugs one of the throw pillows to her chest. It falters a little when his brain reminds him that she used to hug him close to her like that and not a pillow, but he shoves that depressing thought away for now. He has work to do.

The smell of bacon rouses Kamile from sleep, luring her down the stairs. She grunts a greeting at the man currently tending to a pan of scrambled eggs as she reaches for the stack of bacon on the counter to his left. Mingyu is quick to swat her hand away before she can secure her bounty.

“The eggs are almost done. Be patient.” Kamile whines at being chastised, scowling at the back of Mingyu’s head with disdain.

In the midst of her grumbling, she finally takes notice of his attire or the lack thereof. Saliva pools in her mouth at the sight of his muscles flexing as he cooks the eggs. Her gaze moves lower to his trim waist and the pair of gray sweatpants hanging from said waist in a way that has no business being as attractive as it is. Her fingers twitch with the urge to slide her hands beneath the waistband of those sweatpants to get at that prize she knows is there but she keeps them to herself.

“Earth to Kamile.” Mingyu chants as he waves a spatula in front of her face. She blinks rapidly, doing her best to clear the thick fog of arousal from her mind. The uncomfortable sensation of her panties sticking to her skin is quickly forgotten when Mingyu holds up a plate peeled high with bacon, eggs, and blueberry pancakes.

“Thanks, Gyu.” Kamile murmurs as she takes the proffered plate and heads for the table. She falters half a step when she realizes that she’s let his nickname slip. She prays that he didn’t notice and if he did, she prays he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Gyu? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Looks like that prayer went unanswered. The shit eating grin on Mingyu’s face makes her itch. 

“I’m hungry and thankful. Don’t push it.” 

They eat in silence. The only sounds are their forks as they make contact with their plates.  Mingyu is kicking himself in the ass for not saying anything but his brain is short circuiting. Thankfully, the buzzing from the intercom by the front door signaling that someone is at the front gate. It’s the special grocery delivery he’d requested for the first of their planned activity days. 

“What’s all this for?” Kamile asks curiously. She pokes through a few of the bags to see fresh strawberries and a variety of other fruits along with a very large bag of rice cakes.

“I was thinking we could have a picnic today for our first planned activity.” His heart races as he waits for Kamile’s reaction to his idea. She munches on a piece of bacon as she continues to pull things out of bags.

“I dig it.” Mingyu feels weak with relief at his idea being well-received. “Why so many rice cakes though?”

“You’ve been a tteokbeokki fiend since we met. Didn’t see the point in depriving you while we’re here if I could just make it for you.” Kamile groans at the thought. She’s more than capable of feeding her own addiction with the spicy rice cake dish, but she’s never been able to make it as good as Mingyu. Despite the fact that she just ate, she contemplating requesting that he make a batch of it right now.

Mingyu grabs a knife to start chopping up some of the fruit. Kamile takes a seat at the island across from him, propping her chin in her hand as she watches him work. She’s always loved watching him cook almost as much as eating the food he makes. She can’t even remember the last time that she was able to do this. It feels like a lifetime ago. Her eyes with sparkle with fascination watching him prepare the food for their picnic. 

“Open up.” Mingyu holds a strawberry up to her lips and Kamile opens her mouth without hesitation. The berry is perfectly ripe and so juicy that a stream of it runs down her chin. Mingyu reaches out to swipe it away, licking the liquid from his thumb. 

“Tasty.” Kamile squirms in her seat at the way his lips wrap around his thumb. Time for her to make an escape before she does something crazy like fuck her husband in someone else’s kitchen. 

Mingyu watches Kamile hastily retreat with barely concealed glee. He’d thought that she’d stopped being attracted to him, but that is incorrect if the results of the little experiment he’d decided to conduct are to be believed. He smiles to himself as he continues cutting up fruit. There might be hope for them yet.

After agonizing longer than he should have over the best spot to set up their little picnic, Mingyu finally picks a spot. He’s so focused on how best to arrange everything on the blanket that he doesn’t even notice Kamile creeping up behind him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when she clears her throat much to Kamile’s amusement.

“Did I scare you?” It’s clear to her that she did, but making him admit it is too good for her to pass up. 

“No…maybe.” Kamile hums in response, kneeling across from him on the blanket. “That dress is really pretty on you.”

“Thank you.” She mumbles in response. It’s been so long since she’s heard any sort of praise or compliment from Mingyu that she doesn’t even know how to respond anymore. It almost feels brand new. 

Eager to rid herself of the awkwardness blooming in her chest, Kamile grabs a fork and shoves what she thinks is a potato straight in her mouth. In her haste, she fails to realize that the potato she thought she had is actually an onion. Mingyu doubles over with laughter at the pure disgust painted across Kamile’s face. She desperately wants to spit it out but she was raised to believe that spitting out perfectly good food is only a half step below a sin so she powers through. She chugs one of the glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade on the small tray to her right as Mingyu continues to cackle at her plight. 

“You set me up for failure.” Kamile has hated onions from the womb according to the stories her mother told about the smell of onions making her nauseous for her entire pregnancy. Mingyu must pay for this. 

“I purposely cut them big enough for you to easily pick them out. You weren’t supposed to eat them.” Mingyu defends himself breathily as he tries desperately to stop laughing. Kamile reaches out to punch him in the arm which only serves to make him laugh harder.

Silence falls over them again although, unlike breakfast this morning, they’re able to exchange some small talk here and there. The awkwardness that they’d started off with wanes and wanes until they’re left comfortably enjoying each other’s presence for the first time in a long time. 

Mingyu finds himself unable to take his eyes off of Kamile. He’d meant it when he’d said that the yellow sundress she’s wearing looked pretty on her. It compliments the rich mahogany of her skin as if it was made especially for her. The plethora of curls that he’s always loved are full of life as she bobs her head side to side, one of her many habits that Mingyu has always adored. His chest feels tight with the weight of his love for her. He can’t believe that he nearly let her slip away.

“You’re staring, Mingyu.” Kamile says between bites of the strawberry she’d grabbed. Mingyu opens his mouth to answer when a distant rumble beats him to the punch. 

“Oh shit.” 

The two of them hastily toss the near empty dishes back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds are steadily rolling in with the speed of a bullet train. Just when they think they might be able to make it back into the house, their luck runs out. The rain comes down in sheets, drenching them in seconds. Kamile is so thankful that the lack of pockets on her dress lead to her choosing to leave her phone inside.

Kamile is the worst mood when they finally reach the safety of the house. She just went through the stress and physical exhaustion of wash day two days ago and now she has to do it all over again five days ahead of schedule. 

“Did you not check the fucking weather before you decided to turn us into sitting ducks outside?” She seethes. Mingyu arches a brow in confusion at her sudden mood swing.

“Of course I did. It was supposed to be nothing but sunshine all week.”

“Well, clearly that was a lie but I’ve grown to accept that from you. Now I’ve got to go suffer through wash day ahead of schedule.” Mingyu winces at her words, but he’s nothing if not an opportunist so he chooses to ignore it in favor of jumping on the more important statement Kamile just made. 

“Can I help you with your hair?” He asks as he follows his grumpy wife up the staircase. She pauses outside her room to fix him with a glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? I’ve always helped you with your hair.” In his mind, this isn’t a huge request. The Kamile he knew used to be only too happy to allow him to hand over her hair products for him to do her extensive wash day routine for her. He’d actually gotten so good at it that he’d even started doing her younger sisters’ hair whenever he was in the states to visit.

“I barely know who you are anymore and you expect me to let you touch my hair? Not a chance in hell.” Kamile’s voice climbs in volume until she’s practically yelling. 

The last thing Mingyu wants to do today is fight, but enough is enough. Their screams echo through the spacious house as they go back and forth over Kamile’s mistrust of Mingyu. He doesn’t get it and she thinks it’s incredibly shocking that he doesn’t. Kamile’s phone rings somewhere in the bedroom she has yet to enter, effectively interrupting their spat. She leaves Mingyu in the hallway in favor of answering it and groans out loud when she sees that it’s a FaceTime call from Yeojin. She’d forgotten all about the daily check-ins that the therapist had mentioned she’d be conducting. She goes back out to the hallway and drags Mingyu with her to the staircase so they can get this call over with without ruining the carpet in her room. 

“Hello, love birds! How’s everything going?” Yeojin chirps once the call connects. Her hopeful smile falters slightly when she sees the sour looks on her clients’ faces.

Mingyu is only too happy to give the attentive marriage counselor a full rundown of what was happening before she called. Kamile scowls at him the entire time. To hear him tell it, she’s the bad guy but anyone with common sense would’ve left her alone after she’d made it perfectly clear that she was not in the mood to have a conversation. She can’t wait for Yeojin to drag him therapeutically for not picking up on that. 

“Kamile, what do you think lead to you lashing out like that? The rain was not his fault.” The woman in question is thrown off when the outcome she was expecting doesn’t come to fruition.

“He should’ve checked the weather before deciding to have a picnic outside but that’s neither here nor there. I feel like I made it very clear that I didn’t want to talk to him and yet he kept pressing the issue.” Kamile can’t believe that she has to defend herself. Mingyu is so hasty with responding that it sounds like a keyboard smash is coming out of his mouth.

“I would like to make it known that I did not say one word to you when we came back inside until you started yelling at me.” He looks incredibly smug as he watches Kamile’s mouth open and close as she tries to think of a way to refute his statement. “I would also like to make it known that I have been obsessive about every detail of this picnic and I would have never had it outside if there was even a slight chance that it might rain. Maybe if you had a little more faith in me you could see that.”

“And that brings me to my next point.” Yeojin begins. “We’ve established that the infidelity was a myth, so why do you continue to hold on to that mistrust, Kamile? I want you to really think about it and be completely honest with both us and yourself. I’m not saying that whatever you’re feeling is wrong because you are entitled to feel that way but I think it would be good for the both of you if why you feel that way is better understood.”

The theme of the day continues to be silence as Kamile ponders the question put before her. She’s mature enough to admit that not trusting Mingyu while also admitting that she believes him when he says that he didn’t cheat is contradictory. The root of that contradiction is something she’s been trying to avoid ever since she got roped into that surprise therapy session. Mingyu’s alleged infidelity had been her out. Her escape. She had cut and run on the back of a false truth and that reality is something that’s been hard for her to process. Tears well up in Kamile's eyes as she thinks back to Mingyu’s rant about their wedding vows when they’d first arrived. She’d thought that everything was his fault and being forced to face the truth is difficult. Mingyu’s harsh glare softens as he reaches out to wipe the tears from her face as they start to fall. He sighs when she pulls away from him.

“I can see that I’ve found a sore spot so I won’t press this any further today. We’ll revisit this in the future.” Yeojin gives them some tips on how to better communicate before she ends the call.

Kamile is only too happy to end the call so she can lock herself in her room. She doesn’t even come back out for dinner despite Mingyu all but begging outside of her door. He’s not sure what mental dots she connected when they were talking to Yeojin, but whatever it was seems to have upset her more than he’d originally thought.

A weather alert comes through on Mingyu’s phone as he watches TV downstairs. Apparently the storm that had snuck up on them earlier is part of a much larger system of severe weather that changed course and is expected to hang around the area for the next day or two. His first thought is Kamile. She’s terrified of thunderstorms. Always has been. 

He thinks back to a time before they started dating when Kamile was just Vernon’s pretty American friend that he had a huge crush on. She had come to Korea to visit and insisted on sleeping on the couch despite the fact that everyone tried to give up their room for her. Much like today, a nasty storm rolled in and in her panicked state she had accidentally ended up in his room instead of Vernon’s. The realization had been comical and she’d tried to leave to go to the right room, but a sudden clap of thunder that seemed to shake the whole building sent her diving into his arms where she stayed for the rest of the night. She slept through a thunderstorm for the first time in her life that night. A selfish part of him hopes that this storm brings him the same luck he had all those years ago.

Day 3

Heavy rain beats against the window like a prize fighter while thunder rattles Kamile’s brain until she feels like screaming. There aren’t many things that strike true fear in her heart, but thunderstorms are definitely somewhere in the top five things on that list. She’s got her headphones in and her music blasting, but it does very little to drown out the war going on outside. She rips the blankets from her body and makes for the bedroom door to go get in bed with Mingyu but like the fifty other times she’s attempted to do that she stops herself in the hallway. The door shuts with a soft click as she seals herself back in her own personal hell. 

Kamile jolts awake not even aware of when she had even managed to fall asleep. Sweat has glued her clothes to her skin and it’s making her skin crawl the longer she lays there. She groans aloud when she hears the rain still beating against the window pane. The alarm clock on the nightstand says that it’s just barely six in the morning which means it’s been exactly one hour since she apparently passed out from exhaustion. A rumble off in the distance lets her know that she probably won’t be getting more sleep any time soon so she drags herself to the bathroom for a shower. 

Freshly showered and in desperate need of caffeine, Kamile makes for the kitchen. Mingyu’s bare back comes into view for the second consecutive morning when she rounds the corner. His hair is sticking up in odd directions and he looks to be five seconds from falling asleep standing up as he stabs at the buttons on the coffee maker.

“Why are you up so early?”

“You need coffee.” He replies with a yawn.

“Yeah, but I can make it myself. You didn’t need to lose sleep to make me coffee.” She protests. Mingyu turns to glare at her until Kamile raises her hands in surrender.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” Kamile shakes her head at him as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. No sense in arguing with him when he’s clearly made up his mind about suffering.

The two of them sit in silence side by side, sipping their coffee, and staring out the window watching Mother Nature do her thing. Out of habit, Kamile leans over to rest her head on MIngyu’s shoulder. She stiffens when she realizes what she’s doing. Mingyu holds his breath. Scared that if he makes any sudden movements the bubble will burst and she’ll move away from him. She surprises the both of them when she lets the tension drain from her shoulders instead, relaxing into him.

“I’m sorry.” Kamile whispers into the void. If Mingyu wasn’t so acutely focused on her every move, he probably wouldn’t have even heard it over the wind. 

“Me too.” He turns his head to softly kiss the top of her head, taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent of her hair products. He never knew it was possible to miss a singular smell so much.

They’ve exchanged exactly four words since they sat down at the table, but they mean so much. There’s a near palpable shift in the air. Like a switch has flipped. An unspoken truce between them that they are in this together. Kamile lifts her head to finish her coffee and Mingyu immediately misses the weight of her head on his shoulder.

“Did you ever finish watching The Originals?” Kamile asks before downing the last of her coffee.

“No, it was kind of our thing so I haven’t watched it since we stopped watching it together.” She hums in response.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to be stuck in this house all day so we may as well pick up where we left off.” Mingyu nearly chokes on his coffee. He can’t even remember the last time Kamile willingly suggested that they spend time together. He pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming which she rolls her eyes at. 

“Come on. You’re in charge of snacks.”

For the next eight hours, their butts are glued to the couch. They only get up to use the bathroom and replenish their snack pile. They’ve spent so much of their time arguing that Kamile had forgotten how much she loved just being with Mingyu. Klaus is about to rain down hellfire on some of his enemies when Mingyu’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his sweatpants. Kamile can feel it against her own thigh and it’s only then that she realizes the way that they’ve gravitated towards each other over the course of the day. If she were to get any closer to him, she’d be sitting in his lap. Mingyu had intended to ignore the call, thinking it might be someone from the company despite his strict instructions not to contact him, but he answers it instead when he sees that it’s Yeojin. 

“Well don’t you two look cozy. I was planning to pick up where we left off yesterday, but I’d rather talk about this first.” Yeojin looks entirely too smug as she brings attention to the lack of space between the two of them. Mingyu half expects Kamile to scoot away from him now that it’s been pointed out just how close they are, but she stays put. 

“Can’t a girl just sit next to her husband without being questioned to death?” Kamile asks playfully. Yeojin chuckles and moves on with their daily check in. 

“Fine, fine I’ll leave it alone. Let’s get down to business. Mingyu we didn’t get to hear from you a lot yesterday so I’d like to get into how you felt when Kamile left. What was that like for you?” Yeojin rests her chin on her hand as she waits to see what’s going to come out of the box of emotions she just opened. 

Mingyu briefly realizes that this is the first time he’s talked about that day to anyone as he recounts that dark morning like the nightmare it was. Kamile listens in stunned silence while he tells his story. After seeing the bags under his eyes at Yeojin’s house, she’d figured that he’d suffered just like she had, but she’d never imagined that waking up to find her rings and the note she’d left had affected him to the extent that it did. The guilt that’s been festering in her gut increases tenfold at the thought of him heaving into the toilet.

“I knew things weren’t the greatest but I truly did believe that we were strong enough to get through whatever. Divorce never crossed my mind even once so it killed me to know that it had not only crossed her mind but became a viable option that she ran with. I get why she thought that was the best option now, but then it felt like I’d been blindsided.” Mingyu explains. His words are laced with the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. Kamile picks at the words screen printed down one of the legs of her sweatpants wishing that a hold would open beneath her and swallow her up. She’s never felt so low.

“Kamile, I see you’re getting emotional. What are you feeling right now?” Yeojin gently pries. Mingyu pulls Kamile into him as his own emotions start getting the better of him. Yeojin is pleased to note that, unlike yesterday, Kamile doesn’t snatch away from him. 

“I was so focused on how unhappy I was that I didn’t consider anything else. It was all about me, me, me.” Kamile stares off into space as she opens up. She’s never talked about this with anyone but her best friends. In hindsight, they might not be sitting where they are right if she’d just talked to Mingyu about it ages ago but then again hindsight is always 20/20. “I visited Korea plenty of times when we were dating, but living here as the black wife of an idol has been so hard. Being from America, I’m used to people treating me different because of my skin color but when people feel entitled to be so invasive about it because of who I’m married to…it’s different.”

Mingyu’s jaw is on the floor as he listens to the struggles that his wife was having right under his nose and he never knew. He noticed that she’d become more withdrawn and hostile but he could never figure out why and she wouldn’t tell him when he asked. It comes as no surprise to him now that she stopped going outside. He can’t exactly blame her. Seventeen is going on their eighth year so Mingyu is a seasoned veteran at ignoring the things people say on the internet. Unfortunately, Kamile didn’t have that luxury. His stomach turns at the tales of her being approached on the street by people who wrongly called themselves fans thinking they were protecting him. The racist comments made about her online. She was suffering and he just let it go on thinking that she was just being moody.

“Do you think that caused you to develop a little resentment for Mingyu and his idol status?” 

Kamile’s first instinct is to say no, but given that they are supposed to be as honest possible she tamps down the lie before it can slip out. She did resent that she’d fallen for someone with such great public notoriety sometimes. It was different when she was just one of Vernon’s childhood friends. The general public didn’t really care what she did from day to day, but now one wrong move turns her into a trending topic and she doesn’t know how to handle it. There are days that she wishes that Mingyu was just a normal person, but then they would have never met and that’s not a reality she truly wants to live in despite her feelings towards him when she walked out. 

“Maybe a little bit but I know we’d have never met if he wasn’t Mingyu from Seventeen so it’s pointless really.” 

They talk with Yeojin a little while longer before she has to go to her next appointment. The air between them is heavy with the weight of the secrets that have come to light. It’s a stifling atmosphere and it’s beginning to drive Kamile insane. She reaches for the remote to restart their show, but Mingyu takes it from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” His eyes are misty as he struggles to hold himself back from crying once more. He could kick himself for not doing his best to shield her from the people that had killed her spirit.

“You’re already so busy and the last thing I wanted to do was add to everything else on your plate.” Mingyu wants to scream. She means more to him than being an idol. She always has. He cups her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“Promise me that you won’t hold stuff inside like that anymore and I promise to be better at not letting you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kamile’s eyes flutter closed as Mingyu pulls away to press his lips to her forehead. 

He clears his throat before grabbing the remote to resume their show. For the next few hours, conversation is limited to the messy lives of the supernatural beings on the screen before them. The wind still howls. The rain is unceasing. Yet in the little bubble of Netflix and snacks that they’ve created, it may as well not even exist. 

Until bedtime that is.

“You know,” Mingyu says as they file up the stairs. The seemingly ever present bad weather still continues, “…you don’t have to sleep alone. I know you don’t like storms.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” It would be so easy to take him up on his offer. She could finally get some sleep, but for whatever reason she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind. Good night, Kamile.”

“Good night, Mingyu.”

Kamile stares at the ceiling in despair. She didn’t think it was possible for the storm to get worse but apparently Mother Nature took that as a challenge. She’s starting to genuinely concerned about whether or not the window by her bed can withstand the force of the weather it’s being forced to deal with. Kamile contemplates running to Mingyu’s room but shuts that idea down for the millionth time. Things feel...different between them after today’s call with Yeojin but she’s not sure if they’ve been different enough to justify hopping into bed with him quite yet. 

“This is fine. I don’t need to sleep.” She whispers into the void. 

She’s accepted her fate and made peace with it. Or at least that’s what she thought she’d done. A crack of lighting illuminates the room despite the blackout curtains over the window followed by a thunderous boom so loud it seems to vibrate her very being. Kamile is across the hall before she even has the time to process what she’s doing. Mingyu is out cold when she bursts into the room. Her brain chooses that moment to catch up to what she’s doing and flips on the switch of self-consciousness. Another loud boom has her throwing caution to the wind once more, sliding beneath the blanket to get as close to him as possible without waking him up. 

Kamile lays next to him a trembling anxious mess as the storm rages on. She’s so consumed by her own fear that she doesn’t even notice the man next to her has roused from sleep until he’s wrapped both of his arms around her to pull her into his warm chest. It’s as if the environmental warfare outside ceases to exist the second Kamile’s cheek makes contact with Mingyu’s skin. His presence drowns everything out just like it did all those years ago. The sleep that had been evading her comes quickly in his embrace. 

Day 4

A ray of sunlight shines perfectly through a crack in the curtain to hit Kamile square in the face. She squirms around trying to escape it and gets a frustrated groan in response. It’s then that she registers the weight of the arm that rests loosely across her midsection. The memory of running to Mingyu’s bed in the middle of the night comes rushing back to her. Her first instinct is to bolt, but she’s so touch starved that she finds herself turning in his hold in a bid to get closer. 

“Good morning.” Mingyu grunts something in response that she’s sure he thought sounded like good morning.

He slots one of his legs between hers and unintentionally allows her to feel the morning wood barely contained by his boxer briefs. Mingyu’s even breathing indicates that he’s fallen back asleep. Kamile would love to do the same but all of her attention is laser focused on the hardened appendage intimately pressed against her upper thigh. A damp spot has already started forming in her panties. She needs to get out of this bed now. Kamile squirms and wiggles around trying to get away, but it would seem that her efforts are having the opposite effect. A throaty groan slips from Mingyu’s lips.

“Stop moving.” He mumbles still half asleep. Kamile does her best to stop fidgeting and focus her attention elsewhere, but it’s not working. Her inner muscles clench around nothing as thoughts of what Mingyu could do to her dance dangerously through her mind. 

“I have to pee.” Mingyu cracks one eye open. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that he doesn’t believe her for a second but he releases her anyway. He sighs as he watches her run off to the en suite bathroom. 

Mingyu is noticeably absent when Kamile emerges from the bathroom fresh off a rushed orgasm though hardly sated. She follows the scent of coffee downstairs to find Mingyu bent over digging through one of the crisper drawers in the refrigerator. Back before everything went to shit she would’ve slapped his ass with glee and run away before he could exact his revenge. Good times.

“Did you hear what I said?” Kamile was so focused on his ass that she hadn’t even registered the fact that Mingyu had said anything.

“Huh?”

“I said do you want to get in the hot tub later since we can go outside now?” He repeats as he hands over a cup of coffee already milky and sweet the way she likes it.

“It’s almost 80 degrees outside and you want to get in a hot tub?” She questions slowly to which Mingyu responds with an emphatic yes. “Be honest. Are you just trying to see me in a bikini?”

“Absolutely.” He giggles when Kamile reaches out to smack him on the arm. “Why are you attacking me? Yeojin said we have to be honest at all times.” 

“I don’t think that included being a horny little shit.”

“I’m a man with eyes and a hot wife. I can’t help.” Despite the compliment, Kamile’s mood sours at his words. Mingyu’s freshly honed observation skills picks up on it immediately.

“Uh oh, did I say something wrong?”

“If I’m so hot, then why haven’t we had sex in four months? We used to go at it like rabbits and then one day you just stopped initiating things.” 

Mingyu is quick to point out that he did try to have sex with her plenty of times, but she pushed him away. Eventually, he gave up. It’s almost funny when the dots start connecting in her head. Her personal struggles had originally been why she denied him sex, but then he’d started coming home doused in perfume so she really didn’t want anything to do with him then. Mingyu has never been a very pushy person so he figured he’d just wait her out. He didn’t think that he’d end up in a four month dry spell (and counting), but he was also not about to look for satisfaction outside of his marriage either. 

“How about we save this sex talk until after I’m finished cooking? All of the blood in my body is rushing south and these rice cakes are starting to look like nipples.” Kamile nearly chokes on the water she’d just taken a sip of. Tears pour from her eyes as her body can’t decide if it wants to laugh or die of asphyxiation. 

“Woah, woah! When we said till death do us part I was hoping we’d be farting dust not barely 26.” Kamile is sure that he wants her dead now as her internal war between laughing and choking only gets worse. 

Despite her earlier protests, Kamile finds herself seated across from Mingyu in the hot tub later that evening as they watch the sun set. She fully expects him to try something from the way his eyes keep drifting south to stare at her chest, but he’s on his best behavior the entire time. 

Day 5

“Hello, love birds! I missed you two yesterday. What happened?” Yeojin looks hesitant almost as if she’s scared of their answer. She looks downright relieved to hear that they missed her call because they fell asleep cuddling on the couch. After getting a run down of everything that’s happened since they last spoke, she encourages them to continue sleeping in the same bed together. 

“Couples often downplay the amount of good that just being physically close to your partner can be. If you’re both comfortable sleeping next to each other without a thunderstorm being the driving force, please keep doing it.” Yeojin pleads before ending the call to go to her next appointment. 

Her words hang in the air even after she’s gone. Mingyu looks over at Kamile with a questioning look on his face. It’s clear that he’s after her opinion on this whole shared bed situation, but Kamile doesn’t have much to say on the matter. The two of them have been pretty much inseparable during the day now, but she’s still nervous about sleeping in the same bed together and she doesn’t know how to shake that feeling. She was too scared to think about it last night but without the weather to distract her she’s not so sure if sit’s a good idea.

“What’s going on in there?” Mingyu taps a finger against Kamile’s temple to get her attention. She shakes her head but he’s got a feeling it’s about what Yeojin’s bed sharing idea.

“If this is about sharing a bed, don’t worry about. You’ve got the rest of the day to decide.” She nods in acknowledgement of his point but Mingyu can tell that the gears in her head are turning even faster than before. Her overthinking is going to give her a headache.

Night time comes entirely too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu has kept her so busy that she hasn’t had the time to sit down to sort through her thoughts. Knowing him, he probably did that on purpose. He always hated her habit of overthinking everything, preferring to live in the moment and make decisions as they arose. Kamile has never had much success doing that which is why they work so well together. He balances her out and helps her weed out the important aspects of the topic at hand to make faster decisions. 

Her mind is racing as they climb the stairs on their way to bed. Mingyu stops at the door to his bedroom and looks at her with such hope on his face that she almost feels guilty for what she’s about to say. His face falls when Kamile tells him that she thinks it’s better for them to sleep in their own respective rooms tonight. Mingyu is a good sport about it, bidding her good night with a lingering kiss to her forehead. 

Falling asleep has never been a problem for Mingyu which is why he’s utterly confused when he’s still wide awake three hours after getting into bed. He’s in danger of pulling the sheets off of the mattress on one side from how much he’s been tossing and turning. 

This is bullshit. I’ve been sleeping fine every night. What’s the difference now?

Mingyu sits up to fluff his pillows. It doesn’t help. He kicks the ceiling fan up a notch. That doesn’t help either. He counts sheep, ducks, and even cows, but nothing is working. The longer he tries to avoid the obvious the more awake he seems to be. Sleeping in the guest room most nights to avoid arguing had taught him to sleep alone. Now that he knows what it’s like to hold her again, he’s ruined. He wonders briefly if Kamile is awake too. Is she just as restless too? 

He tosses and turns for the better part of another hour. The clock on his phone says that 3 a.m is quickly approaching and Mingyu caves. It takes less than ten seconds to cross the hall to her room, but practicing his explanation as to why he’s in her room at ass o’clock in the morning takes much longer. He knocks twice and pokes his head in.

“Kam?”

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” She asks without even turning to look at the man poking his head into her bedroom. 

Mingyu nearly collapses from sheer relief when Kamile simply reaches behind herself to lift the blankets after he confirms that he’s been unable to fall asleep just like her. He wastes no time sliding in behind her. Before he can even get it out of his mouth to ask, Kamile reaches back to find his arm, pulling it across her waist. 

“Good night, Gyu.” Kamile whispers. Her words are slurred as if she’s already half asleep. Mingyu kisses her shoulder, letting his lips linger against her skin.

“Good night, Kam.”

Day 6

A feather light touch to her lower lip is what prompts Kamile to open her eyes long before she’s ready. She pulls back slightly once her vision clears and she realizes just how close Mingyu’s face is to her own. He even has the audacity to laugh at her surprise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He’s not sure how long he’s been watching her sleep, but he’d do it for the rest of his days. The pesky organ in his chest skips a beat as he holds Kamile’s gaze like a lifeline. He mulls over his next words very carefully, preparing for a possible rejection just as he did when he came to her room in the middle of night. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” She whispers into the inch of space that separates them. 

Mingyu closed the gap slowly as if he’s giving her time to change her mind. Kamile sighs when his lips finally touch hers. One of his hands comes up to untie the silk scarf tied protectively around her head so that he can bury his hand in the curls he’s always been obsessed with. He uses his grip on her to guide her head as he deepens the kiss. 

She rolls onto her back and pulls him with her so that his much larger frame nearly covers hers entirely. Mingyu lets his primal instincts take over. Too lost in the way her lips are moving against his own. A groan rattles his chest when she squirms beneath him until his hips are situated between her thighs. The thin fabric of their respective underwear are the only barriers separating his aching erection from the place she needs him most. He can’t resist the urge to grind himself against her. If his brain wasn’t so clouded in lust, he’d probably have the mental capacity to feel a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’s risen to full mast. Kamile is floating somewhere beyond cloud nine when Mingyu’s hand that had been cradling her head moves to lightly grip her throat instead while the other rhythmically squeezes and pushes at her ass in time with his thrusts. Her head is tipped back in ecstasy as he kisses along her jaw.

It takes a herculean effort that he wasn’t totally sure he was even capable of, but Mingyu separates himself from the panting woman in his arms. He rocks back on his heels and Kamile’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tantalizing bulge at the apex of his shapely thighs. She reaches for him but Mingyu grabs her wrist before she can get her hands on him. He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing kisses to the back of it.

“Trust me when I say that I would love nothing more than to ravage you right now but if I’m going to be inside you again, I want you to have my ring on your finger.” Kamile starts to speak but stops when Mingyu presses his index finger to her lips. He traces the outline of her kiss swollen lips almost as if he’s in a trance. “I don’t want you to make a decision that you’re not totally comfortable with just because you’re horny. I want you to really want it. I want you to really want us. Now get up so I can feed you.”

A vulgar comment about what she really wants him to feed her crosses Kamile’s mind as Mingyu playfully swats at her thighs to get her moving. She respects his resolve and keeps it to herself but only barely. 

“It’s super nice outside. Wanna go for a walk?” Kamile would actually rather stay inside and enjoy the comforts of the air-conditioning, but Mingyu looks so excited that she finds herself giving in. She disappears upstairs to put on her sneakers mentally kicking herself for being so whipped for the man waiting for her by the patio door.

Mingyu laces his fingers between Kamile’s

They happen across a small stream during their casual stroll around the property. Kamile stops to look at Mingyu to see if he’s on the same wavelength as her. 

“Let’s do it.” 

Their shoes are abandoned under a tree near the creek before running full speed into the water.  The cooler temperature of the water feels like heaven. Kamile squeals when Mingyu splashes her with water. Mingyu suddenly lifts her over his shoulder, using the hand that’s not holding on to her to splash Kamile with more water. She’s out of breath from laughing when he finally lets her down only to steal the rest of her breath away when he surprises her with a kiss. 

“What was that for?” She’s slightly dazed both from the lack of oxygen and the searing kiss he’s just laid on her.

“Because.” He smirks at her before swooping in for yet another kiss.

“And that one?”

“Because part two.” Kamile giggles at his corniness even though she does her best not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it gets to her. Mingyu’s smile somehow gets even bigger at the sound of her laughter. He digs his fingers into his sides to prolong her laughter for his own enjoyment. 

They spend a little longer frolicking around before finally heading back to the house to shower and start on dinner. Kamile unsuccessfully lobbies to shower together but Mingyu is adamant in his refusal. He’s positive that the self-control he exhibited earlier that morning used up all the restraint he could’ve ever hoped to have for the next six months. There’s no way he’d be able to deny her. He kisses her quickly before running off to his own bathroom. 

Mingyu is totally and completely in love. He absentmindedly pushes his food around with his fork as he listens to Kamile rant about the mistreatment and near erasure of some X-Men character named Darwin. He’s got absolutely no idea what she’s talking about but she’s so passionate about it that he can’t help being fascinated. 

“Darwin’s whole entire superpower was that he could adapt to anything and you mean to tell me that robots designed to adapt to and counteract the powers of mutants were built off of Mystique’s DNA? Absolutely not. I might be a little-” Her rant is cut short by her phone ringing on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. She grumbles about being interrupted as she gets up to go get it. It’s Yeojin. 

Kamile returns to the table with her phone, choosing to sit in Mingyu’s lap for their daily check-in. The marriage counselor should get a kick out of that one. Sure enough, their seating arrangement is the first thing that Yeojin comments on. They take turns updating her on everything that’s occurred since they last spoke with her though they leave out some of the more sordid details. 

“This is what I like to hear!” She exclaims with an excited clap of her hands. “It seems that everything is going well right now. Is there anything we haven’t talked about this week that one of you wants to go over? If not, I’m comfortable ending the call here.” They say their goodbyes after confirming that they feel like they’re in a good place right now. Yeojin makes them swear to call her the moment they think they need her but she doubts that she’ll be hearing from them  until their follow-up appointment in a few days. 

Kamile makes to get up to return to her own chair but Mingyu stops her. She shrugs and reaches across the table to grab her own bowl. He smiles to himself as she resumes the rant that she’d been in the middle of before Yeojin’s call. He still has no idea what she’s going on about but he’s content to just listen to her vent. 

Day 7

Anxiety twisting her gut into knots is what eventually pulls Kamile from the bliss of sleep. Mingyu’s side of the bed is empty and she’s thankful for that to a certain extent. She heads for the shower, taking extra care with everything she does until she realizes how cowardly it is to stall like this. Deciding against putting on actual clothes, Kamile opts to just pull on one of oversized hoodies.

“Good morning!” Mingyu leans over to kiss her sweetly before turning back to the pan he’s tending to on the stove. He’s been doing that a lot since yesterday. Just randomly stealing kisses like he’s making up for lost time. 

“Just so you don’t get freaked out when they show up, I’ve got a private chef coming to cook us dinner tonight.” Mingyu mentions as they sit down to eat breakfast. She’s pleasantly surprised that he’s put in so much thought into their anniversary even though he’s yet to directly mention the fact that today is their anniversary. 

Today is their last day in their little safe haven away from the world and the status of their marriage is still technically up in the air. They both know that a decision needs to be made before they leave in the morning, but neither of them has brought it up. It’s like they’ve been tip toeing around the giant elephant in the room and expecting for it to just disappear on its own. 

Other than Mingyu making tteokbeokki, extra spicy and extra cheesy just the way Kamile likes it, they don’t really do much throughout the day. A majority of their time is spent tangled in each other on the couch just talking. They reminisce on the days when they’d first started dating. Kamile nearly falls off of the couch in a fit of laughter at Mingyu’s spot on impression of Vernon’s face when he’d caught them sneaking a few kisses in the dorm kitchen one day. Each memory is sweeter than the last and Kamile is overcome with the urge to make more of those memories. Now that she’s been able to let go of the anger and misplaced resentment that had made her bitter, she actually has hope in that possibility.

The heels of the platform pumps she’d decided on for the night click with every step as Kamile slowly descends the staircase. She’s determined not to let her natural clumsiness send her to the hospital on such an important day. Mingyu holds his hand out to her when she reaches the last few steps. He looks every bit the international superstar that he’s known to be.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Warmth spreads across her face at the whispered compliment. She barely manages to return the favor. Kamile’s nerves are starting to get the better of her and she hopes and prays that there’s wine on the table so that she can drink them away.

Thankfully, Kamile notices a bottle of white wine chilling in an ice bucket next to the table when Mingyu leads her into the dim dining room. The dinner prepared by the chef looks delicious and she’s can’t wait to taste it but wine is her first priority if she expects to make it through dinner without bolting. Her first glass is tipped down her throat in record time much to Mingyu’s amusement. He refills without hesitation though she chooses to actually sip that one as intended.

Conversation flows easily between them as they eat. However, the topic that deserves their attention the most continues to stew on the back burner as they talk about literally anything else. As nervous as Kamile was when she first came downstairs, Mingyu is doubly so. He’s done his almighty best to convince Kamile that their marriage is worth saving without outright begging her. Based on the past few days, he’s incredibly hopeful that she’ll come back home with him tomorrow and stay there but she’s always been a wildcard. You never truly knew what move she was going to make until she made it. The small velvet box in his pocket feels like a stone. During a lull in the conversation, Mingyu makes his move.

“Kamile,” He reaches across the table to grab both of her hands, “Four years ago you agreed to be my girlfriend and I thought that surely that was the happiest day of my life but then you said yes to being my wife and I knew then that I was wrong. You’re the most precious part of my life and I was a fool for not making sure that you knew that every day for the last year.”

Mingyu pauses to get down on one knee next to Kamile, pulling the ring box from his pocket. Her ring is nestled in the tiny velvet box. It sparkles brilliantly even in the dim lighting. “Kamile Kim, will you do me the honor of staying my wife?” 

Tears well up in Kamile’s eyes as she nods her head yes. She’d made countless lists and weighed her options, but in that moment she throws all of that logic to the wind. At the end of the day, Mingyu is the one. He always has been and he always will be. She can’t believe that she almost threw everything away over her own assumptions and insecurities. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to slide the piece of jewelry onto her trembling hand when she holds it out to him. He stands, pulling her with him so that he can kiss her senseless. 

“I’ve been waiting to say this until I knew where we stood but….happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary, Gyu.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him deeply once more. “Now take me upstairs.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” 

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Marley and Me || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Present

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: At therapy, Morgan and Deirdre uncover some secrets between them. So much for telling each other everything.

CONTAINS: references to past domestic (child) abuse, negative self-talk, trauma related panic.

Kelly hadn’t doubted that she would get Deirdre to open up and connect eventually. But given the breadth of the woman’s combative defenses, she hadn’t expected to get genuine admissions from her on a fifth session. Certainly not one that was secret to Morgan. Kelly had almost asked Deirdre to stop, to give herself more time to acclimate to the process and not feel so obliged, but the woman was determined. Kelly could only hope now that this determination would present itself now in their latest joint session.

As they settled in for the hour, Morgan had her notes ready, but her anxiousness to give an itemized progress report had ceced in favor of burgeoning confidence. Maybe it was partly a show, but some patients had to fake it til they made it. Kelly leveled her eyes at Deirdre, the only kind of warning she gave. She was curious to know where her bravery came from, and how far it would take her today. They’d had an understanding, but agreeing to a discussion on one day was different from facing it head on later. “Good to see you both today. Deirdre,” she said her name carefully. “Why don’t you start us off today? You had something you wanted to share with your partner from our last session together, didn’t you?”

Silence could be measured by the clock on the wall, ticking dutifully. It took five ticks for Deirdre to respond, having been focused on settling in beside Morgan, and trying not to look like she hated this room and what it asked of her. “Y-yes,” she snapped her attention up, swallowing thickly. When she’d mentioned it in their individual sessions, she was vulnerable from admitting to Kelly something she couldn’t even tell Morgan, and she hadn’t thought about what it meant. To her, therapy was just one more thing to conquer and get right, she might as well move it along. Yet, she didn’t realize ‘moving it along’ meant talking about it. To Morgan. Right now. “Yes, I did.” She reached for her girlfriend’s hand, taking it into her lap, shifting to face her. She was struck then about how silly this was; why did she think this was a good idea? Why did Kelly? “At night…” she began slowly, voice twisted into a trembling confession. She clamored for a tighter grip on Morgan’s hand. “You know….sometimes I have trouble sleeping….because of….nightmares...usually.” They weren’t even a common occurrence now! She was just a restless sleeper most days and she’d been like that ever since she was a child. Her grandmother told her she cried and wailed in the middle of the night like no other child she’d heard before. “A great set of lungs on you! Even before.” Her mother remained appalled by the sound for crying. Maybe this anecdote was more important to explain, maybe she should have told Kelly this instead, that session past. Deirdre frowned. It took three ticks for her to continue.

“And I don’t like to tell you what they’re about because…” Because one of two subjects that tormented her most was Morgan, her death being a common night terror. At first, she assumed the vision came to her because of her proximity to Morgan as she slept—she could, at the drop of a hat, summon that vision forth whenever she wanted (though she never wanted). But, as she confirmed months ago when a plate slipped from her fingers, just about anything could remind her of the moment. Just as she was sure it was worse for her love. But the other subject, the one the mentioned to Kelly, she dreaded to speak of. Lest she be summoned, perhaps. Or, more likely, Deirdre be embarrassed again by her vulnerability.

Marley Stryder was not a topic she brought up at home.

“Well, I don’t want to worry you and I...don’t want to admit that I...well I…” Deirdre swallowed. She glanced towards Kelly, whose face was patient; she should have just said she’d do this at home. Another tick. “You’ll remember, months ago, at that amusement park…” And another. And two more. “...that thing that happened.” Her eyes fell from their place looking into Morgan’s, focused her hands. She played with her fingers, intertwining them with hers, tugging on them and squeezing. “It haunts me sometimes. In dream, where I see red glow. I’ve had the microwave replaced that time because I couldn’t stand it--that red, cutting through the dark. I can’t--” She swallowed. “And I think about how it felt to be there, on the floor and no one’s ever made me feel so--” Exposed. Vulnerable. Weak. Pathetic. Like a woman that didn’t belong in her own body, like a woman that didn’t want to be. And all of her fears were right there, but the vision of them wasn’t so much what bothered it. It was the feeling, the dread. She couldn’t stop shaking. She was shaking. “Sometimes, the nightmares are that. They’re about her. And I didn’t want to--I thought you’d think it was silly, to feel this way about it. But what happened still bothers me, and I haven’t told you that before. I usually don’t like talking about it.” She looked up, at Morgan then at Kelly. “T-that’s it. That’s what I wanted to say. I wanted you to know, because we talk about everything, and I like that we do that. And I’ve felt so…” She gestured, “guilty that I couldn’t tell you this.”

Morgan sat alert while Deirdre tried to make her confession. She encouraged her eyes, with a gentle smile, with a squeeze of her fingers. It was okay. She could take her time. She had nothing to fear. And then Dierdre told what she had been keeping secret, and it took all of Morgan’s willpower not to pull away. She flinched, and her eyes widened in a very loud signal of no, oh no. Her gaze flitted to Kelly. She wanted to scream at her. What do you think you’re doing? What the fuck is this? What the hell made you put her up to this?

In their last one-on-one session, Morgan had enumerated some areas where her fear was overriding her values with their relationship. And if she were to put the knowledge that she wasn’t really afraid of Deirdre or what she would do into action, she could maybe start by cleaning up those messy areas in the next joint session. Like expressing her desire to make their home into more of a social space, even if Morgan didn’t think there was much they could fix about it. There was no telling for sure, and Deirdre deserved to know, and there was nothing wrong for being upfront about sacrifices being made. Or about how sorry Morgan really was for her days of rage after Deirdre’s return home. Or, yes, the fact that she occasionally spoke with Marley Stryder and even liked the woman sometimes. But none of the plans had been definite. At least, not specifically.

Morgan had imagined she would mull this over, prioritize, maybe drum up the courage to introduce an idea of her choosing. Not this. This awful, staged ‘opportunity’ for them to ‘grow together.’ How much were they going to grow if she had to look at Deirdre in all of her pain and be all, oh, that’s so funny, I’ve been telling the face you see in you nightmares that she’s great! Aren’t our differences so wonderful! She actually deserves to be happy, you know, like everyone else! That wouldn’t make you feel incredibly dismissed or anything, right?

Swiftly, she drew Deirdre into her arms and pressed her tight. She did not speak. She was too aware of Deirdre’s body trembling in her grasp, of the weight of what she had to say if she didn’t want to betray her love in even worse ways than she already had. And it was a betrayal, wasn’t it? She hadn’t known, she couldn’t have. All those times Deirdre woke up screaming, Morgan thought it was her mother or Regan or even Morgan herself that she was running from. Deirdre had said she didn’t like it anymore. One of her meals had come out cold still, so: new microwave. Deirdre had replaced things in the house for less. But none of that would matter, would it?

Morgan’s body clenched stiff, pressing Deirdre tighter still. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked at last. “I didn’t…you never brought it up after that…'' That long awful night in the hotel, when neither of them had slept until sunrise. Morgan had never seen Deirdre like that before. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen her like that since either. Low in other ways, yes. But not that deeply frightened, beyond speech, with boundaries no one was ever supposed to cross shattered inside her. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know at all. I had no idea this was still happening for you. I…” Thought it was over. She’d had her revenge outside the bowling alley, right? What else was there to do? “Fuck...” So long as Morgan kept holding her, she didn’t have to say it. If she could just say like this, comforting her…

“Is there something you’re trying to say in response, Morgan?” Kelly prompted.

Morgan fought the urge to growl. She was not ready for this. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “That you felt like you couldn’t say. I don’t want that for us. I truly...I had no idea…” She pulled back just enough to kiss her cheek (was that bad, with what she was holding onto?) “I do… I n-need you to…” Morgan sighed and kissed again. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe this was just that fear and this was the best way she had of conquering it. If they seriously made it through this moment intact, what else was there to be afraid of? What other proof could she possibly need that they were safe and strong and fine? And didn’t Deirdre know how she felt about giving people chances anyway? “I have something to tell you too,” she said quietly. “But I really, really, really need you to understand that I...it didn’t even occur to me that she could be the one in your night terrors.”

Kelly was right. Talons lifted their suffocating grip on Deirdre’s body, lifting up and flying away, freeing her from their invisible pressure. It didn’t take away her pain, or trauma, but it had given her a foothold, just like Kelly said it would. Little steps; sometimes those helped. Deirdre relaxed in Morgan’s arms, safe in them. There existed a person who would never hurt her as she had been, and she held on to her just as tightly as she held back. “It’s okay.” Her voice was clear now, confident. She could breathe. Everything was fine. It was okay. She’d said what she wanted to say, and Marley didn’t pop out of some shadow to taunt her, and that feeling of dread didn’t come back. She was safe. It was okay. “Don’t be sorry,” Deirdre was smiling, bright and free. She looked up and found that all she wanted was to smooth away whatever was troubling Morgan. Don’t worry, it’s okay. She lined her face with eager kisses. “It’s okay! It---I just thought if I said it, I’d feel that way again but---” But she had said it, and she didn’t. She felt good, even. Now she really had told Morgan everything, right? Would it all be better now? “Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She grinned, and pushed away the small, stubborn question that sprung to mind: why wouldn’t that occur to you? Morgan had seen her then, Morgan knew; Morgan probably meant that she didn’t think it was nightmare-worthy, but knew completely and totally that it bothered her so. Why wouldn’t she? She knew her so well, she loved her so kindly. And there were no secrets now, except the one Morgan was trying to tell her. “Sorry, go ahead, my love.”    

Morgan cringed at Deirdre’s assurances. She didn’t know when ‘the right time’ was or what the ideal format of this conversation could have been. If Kelly had led with her baggage and made her pick from the dropdown menu of fear, how much more or less afraid would she feel? There was no telling now, but at least she wouldn’t have this extra helping of guilt stuck in her throat.

She gripped Deirdre’s hands and squeezed them tight, as her love had done minutes before. “I didn’t realize,” she said again, and cringed again, hating how much easier it was to apologize and enjoy the comfort without paying for it first. She could do this, right? What was she if she didn’t? And what was their trust worth, their honesty, if she didn’t? She met Deirdre’s eyes once, pleading, and lowered them as she spoke at last. “S-sometimes...just, I don’t know, maybe five or six times, I...I don’t count, I didn’t think I was doing anything…”

Wrong? She knew it would be inappropriate to regale Deirdre with tales of how Marley was coming along with her own growth, but she didn’t alert Deirdre every time she had a conversation with someone who’d been hurtful in the past either. That would be absurd. She didn’t need a run down of her talks with Miriam in detail, but that didn’t make the vampire a secret. Deirdre knew Morgan was invested in her well being. Just as she knew Morgan was close with Kaden (another person she didn’t go into detail about, out of respect). Deirdre had been the one to encourage Morgan to see people as people in the first place, even those it was easier to hate. And with the trauma of that dark amusement park in the past tense, in Morgan’s mind, Marley wasn’t any different. Just a person, that deserved the chance to change.

“...as a last resort, or a friend emergency, because we’re not friends but we seem to have almost all the same ones, sometimes…” Morgan swallowed thickly. She wasn’t talking to her mother. Deirdre loved her well. Endlessly, unconditionally. She did. And they forgave each other everything, so maybe Morgan was the one prolonging her own pain for no reason. Right? “...sometimes we talk. Marley and I.” And she’s not that person anymore. She’s so much like you. “We’re not friends, so it didn’t even seem important, a-and it’s usually just because she’s worried about Erin or Anita, or there’s some other thing and there’s just no one else to ask! I thought it would be…” Hurtful to tell Deirdre. Cruel. Was that a paradox, or had she been deluding herself worse than she’d realized? “I wouldn’t have done it if I had known that this was so heavy that it would still be in your nightmares.” Not like that anyway. “I wouldn’t knowingly hurt you, Deirdre. I knew you wouldn’t like it no matter what, but this makes it different and I’m sorry, more than I ever thought I was going to be. I am sorry.”

It took Deirdre seven ticks to reply. As Morgan spoke, her face had gone from bright to eager to understanding to confused to impassive, until finally— “W-what?” Betrayed. Her mind, often an erratic creature, quieted; all she could hear was the thrum of her own heart, pushing blood to her face. This didn’t make sense. Morgan wasn’t making sense. Just moments ago, she was safe, and now she was… “What?” Deirdre pulled her hands from Morgan’s. She pushed herself away. “I don’t—I don’t understand.” She looked to Kelly, wondering if she was just as lost. Morgan isn’t making sense! She wanted to scream. Make Morgan make sense. She turned back, talons upon her shoulders again. The world was small. The world was quiet. “I don’t—how could you not know?” Because you didn’t tell her, something else argued, but by then, it didn’t matter. “Stop. Stop. Stop!” She shot up, hands curled to fists at her side. The room rattled with her voice, her body quivered. “Stop,” Deirdre was pleading to no one in particular. “Morgan, I don’t—that doesn’t make sense. It—“ She began to pace the length of the room, hand pinching the bridge of her nose. Her mind was quiet still, though she was forcing herself to think. “Why would you—how could you—I don’t understand.” Morgan was talking to Marley. Morgan was talking to Marley to help her. Morgan was talking to Marley to give her advice. Morgan was talking to Marley to soothe her concerns. Deirdre paused, she looked at Morgan. Her mind was no longer quiet.

Do you remember, she began asking herself, how you thought Morgan knew you? Deirdre’s nostrils flared, a deep breath filling her lungs. Yes, yes, she said, yes, I do. It was with that betrayal that her voice cut into the air, cracking certificates and diplomas, a framed family portrait on a desk, the vase Deirdre thought always looked a little like a gnome. “You knew!” She resumed her pacing, furious in her march. “You—you saw me! You saw me that day! You picked me up! And you’ve been—you knew what she did to me!” Deirdre’s nails made red marks in her palms, screaming for recognition. Think about me! Think about my pain! “You knew and you still—I tolerated it when you thought being Anita’s friend was—I tolerated it when you and Erin—I can’t believe—“ One of the frames shook off its nail, shattering against the ground. “You knew what she did to me and you’re helping her with her life!? Do you even care about—She hurt me!” Deirdre halted, having just enough sense to know she didn’t want to yell at Morgan, she turned her head up to the ceiling and yelled. “She hurt me! Why does it matter if it was in my nightmares or not? She hurt me! You were there! You knew! I told you! You know how I feel about her! She hurt me! She made me feel like—like—“ Deirdre dropped her head, trembling with rage, crying with the sting of betrayal. “—and I told you. You saw it. And you still—you still thought—of all the people...of all the people to be to be talking to about their life. To be soothing. To be helping. Fates, do you tell her that she’s not that bad? That it’s okay? That her life will be okay? You saw what she did to me and you tell her that? And I thought the last time you—I thought you would’ve stopped—I thought you cared!” Deirdre made it to the door, hand above the knob. She remembered where she was, and why she was here. She turned to Kelly, throwing her arms out. “Well?!” Another frame crashed to the floor.

As soon as Deirdre pulled her hands away, Morgan’s mind decided what was happening. The same thing that always happened. They were fine, and they weren’t. Whole, and then shattered. Just in a breath, in a single word. Because of her. How stupid she was, how hopeless. She had to spoil everything, didn’t she?

Between Deirdre’s half started phrases, she tried to protest. “I didn’t, I didn’t know, not like this, you didn’t tell me! You only just told me! And you said I shouldn’t look at people as monsters and I shouldn’t let it be that easy! You told me to see people! I was thinking about that! I didn’t understand! I don’t understand!”

But she never understood when she was hurting people, or screwing up. Not until it was too late. Her mother had said she was selfish and conniving, playing innocent when anyone else would have known better than to do whatever she’d done this time. Morgan thought she had disproved that theory enough times but maybe she was willfully stupid, maybe she didn’t want to know so she could get her way, maybe she couldn’t help but hurt people…

“Please, I’m sorry….” she whimpered.

Glass broke, stabbing the air as Deirdre screamed. Morgan cried out in a sob and cowered, covering her head. “Please!” More. Louder. Shards pattered the carpet and Morgan drew her legs up, making herself as small and tight as possible. If she cut herself, her mother would think she was looking for pity, or she would hate the extra work of taking care of her. To make her mother do the dressing and the cleaning of her body when she was already mad was so much worse and so unfair. (But this wasn’t like that, was it? Hadn’t Deirdre promised? Didn’t she love her?)

At the last piercing strike of the air, Morgan flinched, her body preparing for a hand to clamp on her shoulder, her hair, her neck, whatever was most convenient. She couldn’t remember if she’d been asked a direct question of if there was a rhetorical statement hanging in the air, if she was being stupid for wanting to answer, I love you, of course I care.  Please stop, I care. Please stop and love me again.

Kelly had known she was pulling a gambit by putting Morgan on the spot, but it wasn’t until her own voice was drowned out by shattering glass that she had to concede that this had been a bad bet. Time moved strangely slow, even if the scene wasn’t especially confusing. Morgan, cowering and probably crying, almost certainly having her trauma triggered. Deirdre, angry and lashing out to cover the extent of her own hurt. Retreating into herself behind whatever maximum security facility she’d started to creep out of, possibly re-living other times her needs had been dismissed under less sympathetic circumstances.

But until the handle rattled and Deirdre snapped her question, Kelly’s mind was flowing in the ocean tide of falling glass stirring in the wind in her fourth floor office. Then, she came back. She had no idea if she could help them repair this, but there was time left in the session, so she may as well give it her best.

“Well, what, Deirdre?” Kelly asked. “What do you need right now? Look at your partner—” Morgan gasped tearfully and shook her head as she tried to cower further into her corner of the couch. She didn’t want to be perceived, or hurt. “I don’t think this is a productive approach to getting your needs or your answers. Do you?” Did anyone? “I think taking a breath to collect yourselves and self soothe, however that looks, is the next logical step before you can try to set up a mutual dialogue. Do you agree?”

Morgan said nothing, but continued to tremble and whimper quietly, waiting for Deirdre’s cue. She would give her the car keys if that’s what she wanted. The credit cards. The clothes. Whatever she wanted back, however Morgan was supposed to pay, she would do it, she just wanted to know how.

“No, I don’t! Fuck you, Kelly.” Deirdre jabbed a finger in the air, finding it easier to shift her anger to Kelly than it was to admit she was right. Partially. Deirdre didn’t want to ‘self-soothe’, she was tired of self-soothing. She was tired of being the only person that ever cared about herself, even though she did such a poor job of it. But as Morgan’s whimpering found a voice under Deirdre’s anger, she couldn’t deny the rest of what Kelly had suggested. “Fine! Fuck.” Her hands shot up to her eyes, pressing them into her skull with her palm as she spun around and looked back at the door—she wouldn’t allow Kelly the satisfaction of knowing that she was following her advice. Deirdre had half a mind to stomp over there and hold Morgan close to her, but the stomping was just the issue. And so, she breathed. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. She spun back around, hands off her eyes and on her hips instead. In. Hold. Out. “For the record, I don’t fucking agree, by the way.” In. Hold. Out. Impatient, pained, she moved to the couch.

“Morgan…” She didn’t touch her, she wanted to ask before she tried, but before she tried she wanted Morgan to see she wasn’t so mad anymore. Not at her, at least. Self-soothing was a load of bullshit; weren’t they both tired of that? Didn’t they do it better together? Wasn’t everything better together? “I’m sorry about yelling, my love. I’m very sorry. I should have known better, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Will you look at me? Can you look at me?” Deirdre hovered away from putting her hands on her, asking with the twitch of her fingers, the furrow of her brow. Is this okay? She needed Morgan to tell her. A fearful, trembling Morgan wasn’t a sight she could be angry at; it wasn’t one she ever wanted to cause. “I love you. I love you even now, I promise. Is it okay if I hold you? We can hold each other and then we can breathe—“ Or one could while the other only pretended, though the act was sure to help anyway. “—just the way you taught me that night on Cece’s porch. Do you remember that? We can hold each other just like then, just like every other time after. Is that okay?”

Morgan flinched at the sound of her name and squeezed her muscles taut to prepare herself. She shook her head at the apologies, those were traps. When her mother apologized, it was still Morgan’s fault for causing the mess in the first place. She wouldn’t have needed to yell if Morgan had just been good, if she acted as smart as she pretended to be. But Morgan didn’t want to make it worse by being disobedient, so when she was asked to look, she shifted her arms just enough to peek out with one visible eye.

And there was Deirdre. Flushed, but soft again. Or maybe Morgan was just making her be that way and she didn’t really want to, she just wanted to get to the end of this. But her eyes were so gentle…

Morgan’s dry lips parted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t….understand. I swear, I promise I didn’t understand what it was still like f-for you.” Her voice croaked and rattled hoarse, deprived of too much air. “I was stupid. I’m always so stupid and I never mean to do anything bad…”

At the mention of love, the tears she had dutifully held back rose up to her lashes. She sobbed, grimacing as she tried and failed to swallow it back. “You don’t have to,” she whispered meekly. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” But she couldn’t swallow down the next sob breaking out of her shaking body. Or the next. Or the next. She sniffled and scraped her hands over her face, but there was no containing the mess in her—stars, it felt so much like grief. “I’m sorry. Will you—?” One of her trembling hands ventured out toward Deirdre’s fingers. But who was she to ask for things right now? Reluctantly, Morgan’s fingers faltered and she whispered, “Whatever you want, that’s okay.”

Deirdre’s lips parted. Her usual response, it’s okay, didn’t feel right. It wasn’t okay. She didn’t think it was okay. Yet, every other time those words tumbled from her mouth, she would have moved earth and Fate to make it true. She still would, but she was less keen on lying. “I know,” she said. “I know that. I do.” She pulled Morgan into her arms and held tight, steady. She made sure Morgan’s head was pressed to her chest, where her heart had calmed to something close to its usual slow rhythm.

“You weren’t stupid. I don’t think you’re stupid. I was hurt, but that doesn’t make you stupid. I’m sorry I yelled. Are you going to breathe with me?” Deirdre began: in, hold, out. If anyone was stupid, it was her. She knew what experiences of anger coloured Morgan’s life, but she’d been so pained by perceived betrayal that she didn’t want to stop to think. And wasn’t that ironic? She thought Morgan should have known better, but even she didn’t. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. She felt more confident now to tangle her fingers in Morgan’s hair; thumb her tears away. She looked up and scowled at Kelly, how could she look at Morgan and think time to soothe herself was what she needed? And how— Deirdre froze. She dropped her hand away. Morgan’s words rang in her ears, desperate, subservient and fearful. Oh, she thought, this must have been what Kelly meant. “My love,” Deirdre pressed a kiss to Morgan’s head. “My love, you’re afraid right now. What are you afraid of?”

Morgan did not relax. But she did let herself be held and then made herself breathe. In. Hold. Out. There were coughs and sobs that had to be expelled on the exhale, and Morgan shivered and shut her eyes, ashamed that she struggled with doing even this much with ease. But there were fewer in the next breath, enough for her to whisper, “I should’ve known better,” and none the breath after.

Soon the trembling eased, no longer coiling through her whole body, but just  in her fingers when she dared press them into Deirdre. At her love’s question, she looked sidelong at Kelly, who seemed to have a few leading questions of her own despite her interest in Morgan’s reply.

Morgan said nothing at first. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “I’m afraid…” Everything around her felt like a threat now, an accident waiting to happen, or worse. “...You’ll change your mind. You’ll take care of me because you love me but when I can act normal again, you’ll remember what I did and that’ll be the end of everything. Or I’ll mess up again, even worse. I don’t know how, but I’m always hurting you when I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong. And I hate it, because how can I say I won’t hurt you ever again if I don’t realize until it’s too late? And—” She gave a thin, humorless laugh. She may have questionable common sense, but she had enough to appreciate the associations leering out from the corners of her mind. Morgan let the sentence drop. Admitting her mother was in the room with them wasn't something she wanted to do just then.

“Morgan, can you speak to where your mind is taking you right now?” Kelly prompted.

“The place I grew up in. The first one,” she mumbled.

“But you’re not just in that place, are you? You’re in a therapist’s office in Maine. What is it about that place that has your attention? What do you see?”

Morgan shook her head. So much for keeping that to herself. “I keep thinking about my bedroom door. The cracks around the frame were the only light sometimes. And I’d press myself against it and ask my mother...what did I do? Or, if I did know, that...I would be better, if she’d let me out and show her. But she never let me out until after dinner. And she never held me after, even when I asked. Even when I fixed what I’d broken.” She turned her attention back to Deirdre, shy and penitent. “I don’t know how to fix this. Nothing feels like enough. Tell me—”

She had enough sense to stop herself there, but the ache in her remained. Slowly, Morgan forced herself to ease her grip on Deirdre. She could be okay on her own. She could pack her things and go somewhere or hunker in the studio until she could think straight. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to leave. But that was too much to consider. Morgan could only hang onto the few miserable and lonely hours ahead and remind herself that she would be able to get through them. Make herself dinner, shower, hold Moira, work. She summoned the mantra she had fashioned with Kelly’s input. I am here, I am complete; I am here, I am whole.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now. Or us.” She said. “That scares me too. Even if...that’s just how it is,” Is that bad? She wanted to ask.

“And I should’ve known better than to yell,” Deirdre reminded Morgan. She wondered what self-soothing Kelly had meant. If she wasn’t meant to hold Morgan now, chasing anxiety away with touch, then she’d like a new therapist. But Deirdre shook her head, she wasn’t going to be thinking about what Kelly’s intentions were, she didn’t care. She took Morgan’s trembling hands in hers, holding them steady. The exchange between Kelly and Morgan played out in a place she wouldn’t disturb. She listened and she waited and she was reminded of her own sessions with Kelly. The therapist thought she closed herself off too much, Deirdre thought she just wasn’t worth the opening up to. But Morgan was, Morgan would always be.

“Hey…” Deirdre reached down to brush Morgan’s hair into place, her voice so gentle that it startled even herself. There was glass on the floor, bits lodged into the rug. The windows sported a fine, thin crack and the vase was just a breeze away from falling apart. Around her was the evidence of her anguish, and yet, her voice held no memory of it. Deirdre wasn’t Ruth; she wished there was a way to let that truth sit without doubt. Morgan was thinking about a bedroom door, Deirdre was imagining the red lashes on the back of her hand. They were both asking the same questions of two different, yet unavoidably similar people.

“You don’t have anything to make better...you don’t have anything to fix…” Deirdre closed her eyes. She had been hurt, yes, but Morgan’s obligation was not to mend her—mend them. “I love you now. I’ll love you when we go home and this is over. I’ll love you tomorrow. You can ask me, and I’ll tell you.” Deirdre smiled, pressing a kiss to Morgan’s temple. “I thought you would know how much it hurt. You saw me after, and you know why I don’t even like the idea of you being friends with Anita, and I thought that all made sense to you, just like it did to me. But I never told you. And it is true, sometimes, my feelings are not the most obvious. And how could I ask you to know something that I had done my best to keep a secret anyway? My mother…she changed her mind often. Like she needed an excuse to be mad, just about anything there was. My hair could be fine one day and then terrible the next. And these moods she had, she always said I should have known. But how could I? How could you?”

Deirdre sighed, eyeing the clock. They still had time, but all she wanted now was for them to go to their home, where it was a little easier to imagine things would be okay. “I don’t know what the solution is, my love. But we can figure that out together, later. When you’re feeling less afraid, and more like yourself again, and we can talk about it more then. And whatever we come up with, it will be enough. And the next time something happens that makes me angry, I won’t love you any less—I don’t love you any less right now. And hurting each other….some of that is inevitable, isn’t it? But it’s okay. I think it’ll be okay.” She looked up at the clock again, then back at Morgan. “We have some time left, what do you want to do now?”

It was all Morgan wanted, to be loved when she had done wrong. Deirdre’s assurances fell like rain at the end of a draught and there was no question of whether or not to give in, but whether or not she would feel ashamed for it later. Her body released the last sobs it had been holding onto and she sagged against her girlfriend, all but collapsing in her lap. But will you stay with me? She wanted to ask. Loving and staying aren’t the same thing. Will you? But that was too far ahead for her to ask. She would deal with the answer either way, in its time.

Kelly eyed the clock with Deirdre. She had half a mind to refer Morgan elsewhere after this mess, but she didn’t want to waste an opportunity, or the rest of their time. “Morgan--?” She asked softly. “Are you okay to talk to us, Morgan?”

Morgan nodded. “Yes,” she croaked, lifting her head without leaving Deirdre’s arms.

“Good.” Kelly said it softly, a gentle affirmation. “I want to circle back to something you said. You’re ‘always stupid’ and you’re ‘always’ hurting Deirdre when you don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. I’m just curious--” Her gaze shifted to Deirdre again, looking to see if they could form an alliance. “Always is a pretty strong word. Do you feel like these statements describe your behavior all the time?”

Morgan shivered. She felt like she’d been caught in something, but she wasn’t sure what. “...Not always-always, but…” Morgan tried to measure out her screw-up to success ratio, but couldn’t decide how to factor in the scale of the screw-ups. The more badly it hurt someone or the worse the consequences, the more value it should hold, right? Or was that something else talking, and objectively, she should flatten it out and worry about the relational stuff separate? And wasn’t it worse if she hurt someone she loved? It felt worse. “No. I don’t know. It’s still…” She gestured vaguely, a lot. Sure, she had long stretches where she did things okay, but still...

“Deirdre, how would you characterize Morgan’s behavior? Would you agree with any of her statements?” Kelly asked.

Deirdre looked up, staring at Kelly with furrowed brow and tight frown. Shouldn’t they just leave now, wasn’t that the better thing to do? But she saw Kelly had another idea, and knowing most of the evidence of her qualifications was on the floor, Deirdre sighed and said nothing. Until she was asked. She looked up again, startled this time. The clock ticked, resilient in the wake of the crack in its face--steadfast in its count of ever marching time. Deirdre blinked. “No, of course I don’t agree but that--” She swallowed. She didn’t know how to go about explaining to Kelly that this was Morgan, and didn’t she understand Morgan by now? Her life had been tragedy, and fear was the festering wound it wrought. But Kelly wasn’t asking because she didn’t know, Deirdre figured. “No, I don’t agree. I don’t think Morgan is stupid; not always, not even some of the time, not ever. And I don’t--I don’t---” She sighed, sagging against Morgan. “I don’t blame her, and I understand why she thinks that way---even if it isn’t true. Morgan’s life has been...” Deirdre glanced down, feeling strange about talking about Morgan’s life as if she wasn’t right there to talk about it herself. She looked back at Kelly and offered a tentative smile. “It hasn’t been easy, and it hasn’t been kind, and it’s told her all sorts of things. I know that. I know that’s why I shouldn’t yell, and I don’t think it’s her fault for thinking how she does, and responding how she does, it’s not---”

Deirdre sighed and looked at Morgan, feeling tired of talking to Kelly, through Kelly. “Mo ghrá, you don’t make mistakes more than anyone else--statistically speaking. And even if you did, it um--” Deirdre shook her head, laughing softly. “No, I’m saying this all wrong. What I mean is...do you remember when the dishwasher foamed over? You put the wrong liquid in, because you were distracted, and it covered the kitchen in foam. And that was a mistake, you made a mistake--and if you wanted to be cruel to yourself, you could say it was stupid. But the bubbles were so pretty, weren’t they? All rainbows under the kitchen light. And you didn’t ruin anything, we just wiped the floor down and it was fine. And didn’t we have fun, throwing bubbles around? And it was a mistake, you didn’t mean to do it, you didn’t realise, but wasn’t it okay? Wasn’t everything okay? Didn’t we laugh about it; go back to the couch; go to bed without worry and wake up the next day to a kitchen that smelled like lemons? And then you made lemon meringue pie, because I said the kitchen smelled delicious. And that was it. You made a mistake, and you were so worried--and I understand why you worry, my love--but that was it. It was just bubbles; harmless, easy-to-clean bubbles.” Deirdre pressed her lips to Morgan’s cheek, holding her face tenderly in her hands. “It’s bubbles, Morgan. We can wipe them away. And I’m not interested in being angry at you, I promise. I was us to go home, and go to bed, and wake up the next day and remember that our house smells like lavender, and that it’s nice. And if it’s not okay then it will be. And I understand why you feel how you do right now, and I’m not interested in being mad at you for that either. I want to love you, better and more.”

Deirdre turned to Kelly and smiled; the only ‘thank you’ the therapist would get from her for some time. Her eyes raked over the glass and the disarray, and she shrugged. “Just--uh--invoice us for the damage.” With a cough, she turned to her girlfriend. “What are you thinking right now, Morgan?”  

Morgan stared at Deirdre with bewildered confusion. But I did it, she wanted to say. She even got as far as mouthing the words. How could she not be blamed? Shouldn’t she have known, isn’t that part of why Deirdre had been so angry with her? But, no, she hadn’t meant to, she’d missed the step where that knowledge had been, and somewhere in the minutes behind her that was supposed to mean something. And Deirdre was kissing her cheek, earnest and loving, and using the softest words, endearments that she normally saved for home, or her letters, places where she really, deeply, let herself love her. Morgan whimpered into her touch, desperate for comfort. She wanted everything to be okay. She wanted to jump right to the place where this had been fixed, and Deirdre didn’t have to push through her pain, and everything was wonderful.

She remembered that day with the dishwasher vividly. She’d almost tripped over her feet running to the kitchen to stop the machine in time. As soon as she saw the mess she’d started apologizing. I’m sorry, shit, I didn’t mean to, sorry, sorry, fuck, it’s off now, I can clean it real fast, I don’t think anything’s been damaged. She’d been so stuck on that anxious loop, Deirdre had to take her hand and pull her away to get her attention. And that moment, with Morgan babbling no, she really did need to clean up her mess right now, she was sorry she’d made such a stupid mistake but if she got to it right away, you wouldn’t be able to tell, Deirdre only smiled and hushed her and kissed her so tenderly. Could it really be that simple? Could she have this back without repenting on her knees or pleading for hours?

“I-I don’t--I don’t know,” she said quietly. She pressed Deirdre’s hands where they held her, trying to hold onto her good, her forgiveness, as much as possible. “I--” She struggled to find the words for what the problem was. Deirdre had been so hurt and angry, and Morgan hadn’t been able to do anything to comfort her yet; until now, she’d been nearly too scared to touch her without permission, just in case it was another mistake she couldn’t figure out in time. But Deirdre said she understood, and she wouldn’t lie about that. And if she tried the scenario in reverse, she’d do anything to make sure Deirdre felt loved, above all else. But Morgan hadn’t done anything this hurtful before, not to Deirdre. How could she take it so easily?

Morgan lifted her eyes to Deirdre’s, pleading silently. She wasn’t sure for what, but it was the clearest feeling inside her besides more apologies. Please still love me, please keep holding me, please forgive me, please be patient with me, please explain again, please kiss me, please… “I’m still...I want to make it better. I want you to know I…” She grimaced pitifully, knowing it was all probably so obvious. “I love you. I want us to be good. I haven’t even been able to comfort you, I haven’t done anything for you, I just hurt you. But I didn’t want to make things worse, and I’m still so sorry...” She deflated. “Even if you’re right about everything--” And with how her counterarguments fall apart in her head, she had a feeling that she was, and that the real trap was in her own thoughts. “--Okay, conceding that you’re…” Her voice caught in her throat and broke. “That you’re...probably right. I think…” She hesitated as her voice caught again. It was difficult to sift past all the mess and worry to get to something that was her own. “I really, really hurt you and I’m not going to feel right about it until I know how we’re going to make it right, but could you please...I want us to be home. I want you to love me like this, like everything’s okay. And...I want to love you too, I don’t want you to hurt by yourself anymore…”

Deirdre’s features softened. She breathed out gently, shaking her head. “You said we help each other, right? You first said it so long ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. I know I’m not always so good about...letting you help me, but I...want to be better with that too. So, yes, you can help me too; comfort me. We help each other.” Laughter bubbled free from her lips, and she leaned in to kiss Morgan firmly. “Well, thank you for agreeing that I’m right.” And in the interest of not offending Kelly’s sensibilities, Deirdre left the one kiss where it was, knowing she’d steal more later. “I was wrong to yell at you...and to get so mad like that...I’m sorry too. And I know, my love, which is why I promi—“ She tensed and swallowed, eyeing Morgan to see if she really needed to hear a promise now to soothe her worry or if trust could be okay. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Or sooner, and we’ll figure something out, but let’s get home first. And let me love you, and you can love me, and I...I don’t want to hurt by myself anymore.” Deirdre shook, sniffling. “I don’t want to either. And I know you love me, and I don’t want to hurt anymore, Morgan. I want to tell you everything and I…” Deirdre tried to blink back tears, parting her lips for a quivering breath. That had been the problem all along, wasn’t it? All the pain she held by herself—this torment of her humiliation, the sting of knowing she was the only one that cared about how badly she’d been hurt. The betrayal she thought Morgan committed, was committing. The disjointed loyalty. Deirdre sighed, “I just want you to love me. I don’t want to feel like you don’t—I don’t want to hurt on my own anymore. All I want is…” She shut her eyes to echoes of shouts and animal screams. Of a mother with a sharp voice, and a family with one that all sounded like one song; the same song, over and over again. Of her own voice, never able to hit the notes right. Of begging, of blood spurting. Of the silence and the clocks that broke it, one tick at a time. “...to be understood and loved, just as I am.” She opened her eyes to the woman that did just that, and smiled.

“You do know me, my love, better than anyone else. And you love me. And I think that means everything will be okay.” Deirdre pulled Morgan close, breathing her in. She pressed kisses to her temple, cheek, jaw, shoulder—sparing the lips for some imagined idea of Kelly’s prudishness. “My love,” she breathed, “my light, my Morgan—let’s go home.” She lifted her head up, turning to the clock. There was still some time left, and a therapist that might have a thing to say about it. Deirdre saved Kelly from another glare or frown, and greeted her with an earnest smile and pleading brown eyes. “Can we end the session early? Can we go?”

Intrigue settled into Kelly’s features. She turned and surveyed the damage again, then regarded the couple. “I...don’t think there’s a problem with ending the session early.” She set her pen down and rose, careful to avoid glass. “I’ll call in a couple of hours to check in, and if you two would like to be referred somewhere else for a follow up, I can…” Kelly trailed off, Deirdre had risen already, helping Morgan to her feet. As Deirdre smiled at her, nodding in appreciation, she turned and looked at the glass again for a moment before offering a smile of her own.

Deirdre nodded again, “we’ll see you at our next session, right? Do invoice us the damage for everything—It won’t happen again, I just uh...stomp very aggressively.” She laughed nervously and glanced at Morgan for some kind of confirmation before she pressed in with another kiss. “Let’s go home, my love. Let’s go.”

[nanamicide]

A life of her own - chapter 3

Read on AO3

Dear diary,

My name is Mukuro Ikusaba and I

How do I even start this? I guess it doesn’t matter who I am, or who I address when writing this. What matters is what comes out of this, how I feel once I’m done figuring things out through keeping this journal. I know I probably should have written as soon as I got out of my first therapy session, but I didn’t feel like it. There was so much going on in my head that I couldn’t look at the blank pages of the diary without a certain feeling of dread. I’m not sure how to explain it, but there was something frightening about the emptiness of the pages. I guess it reminded me of me, of how I felt.

It doesn’t mean that I’ve suddenly stopped feeling empty today, though. This hasn’t left at all – in fact, it may have gotten worse. I just felt the urge to write today, if only to try to ease my mind. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I have nothing to lose.

They’re going to kill her tomorrow. I’ve known she would be executed since they arrested her, and they told me about the date a few days after – I’m not sure how many. My days have all been looking the same, and everything I’ve been feeling since then made me lose sense of time. This should get better with my therapy sessions taking place every two days. I think it should help me keep track of days, at the very least.

Anyway, she will be gone for good tomorrow. Today, Sakakura-san came in my room and asked me if I wanted to see her again, telling me that Gekkogahara-san thought it would help me come to terms with what’s happening. I said no, though. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to talk to her again, even with someone else around us. I think it would hurt too much. I don’t know how she’s feeling, but I also don’t want to know about that.

Deep down, I know she’s happy about what’s happening. I know she’s getting a taste of despair through failing to achieve her goals. I guess I don’t want to have actual proof of it. It hurts to think that by dedicating my entire life to her and making her happy, I’ve prevented her from getting what she always deeply wanted. It’s ironic, isn’t it? And now I’m running away from it. It’s better to pretend that she’s rotting away wherever they’re keeping her, crying as much as I have – somehow, it’s less painful. At least I can keep telling myself I’ve done everything I could for her, and that I’ve only done right by her my entire life.

But who am I kidding? I don’t even really believe in that. Like I wrote above, I know she’s probably the happiest she’s ever been. I just don’t wanna see it. I don’t have the strength to face her – not when I am so miserable over losing her. I don’t want to have proof that she’s much happier without me. She’s all I ever had. I could have had a much different life if I hadn’t supported her in all her endeavors, and knowing that this doesn’t mean anything to her fills me with awe.

I’m not angry at anyone for what’s happening anymore. I’m only angry at myself that I didn’t give up on her as a child – I mean, I’m not, but at the same time I am. It’s complicated. I’m honestly quite confused as to how I exactly feel about her. If I’m honest with myself, I know that she would have eventually killed me the way she killed Matsuda-kun – except it wouldn’t have been to make herself feel despair, but to make me feel despair. What I’m trying to say is I know she didn’t care about me and I was just some sort of tool for her to get away with the things she was doing. In that sense, I feel stupid and wish I had realized this much sooner so I could have told her to fuck off. When I think  about this, I wish I had stayed in Fenrir and made friends there. But when I think about her as my sister, as the person I swore to protect after our parents died, I wish I could still protect her today. I wish I could do something to make Munakata-san reconsider. So, it’s just hard.

In any case, she’ll be dead tomorrow, and I’ll be left with myself. That’s also scary. Despite what Gekkogahara-san said about me having so many possibilities, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. And I feel like tomorrow, I’ll really be out of excuses to just be sitting here doing nothing. But still, there isn’t anything I really want to do. Well, I don’t know, really.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this too, to be honest. And this made me think about the academy as a whole. We’re scouted based on a talent, something we’re super good at. I was scouted as the Ultimate Soldier, but this doesn’t help me. I was always her soldier. And she’s gone, so I have no reason to focus on that anymore. Sure, I’m good at fighting, killing, deceiving. It was part of what I did with Fenrir. It was part of what I did for her. But I don’t think I want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be doing things for other people. I want to do things for myself.

That… That felt oddly good to write. I guess that even if I don’t know what I want to do, and even if I’m not sure who I really am and who’s going to be there for me, I still have myself.

Tomorrow, Junko will be dead, and I won’t be there to see it. Because I don’t want to see it. Because I need to protect myself. I need to save myself – I’m all I have.

-

“How do you feel now that she’s gone?”

The words kept playing in Mukuro’s head. She wasn’t sure how to answer the question. In a way, it was as though she’d run out of tears in the days after the arrestation – as though she didn’t need to be sad over what had happened to her sister anymore. She sighed, looking up to the ceiling. How was she supposed to explain what was going on in her head?

“I… I don’t know,” she said, her eyes following the fly that was circling around the chandelier. “I don’t feel sad, really. I mean, I do, but not more than I did when we first were separated, you know? Now there is just no way for us to be reunited again, so it feels pointless to cry. I had time to prepare for this. Munakata-san and Sakakura-san were honest enough about what they were going to do. Besides, it’s not the first time I lose a loved one, or that I have to face death. When I was in Fenrir, a lot of my brothers and sisters in arms died. I guess I’m used to it.”

She lowered her gaze to meet Gekkogahara-san’s, feeling slightly embarrassed with how much she’d just said. This was only their second session together, and she was having a hard time believing the Ultimate Therapist had gotten her to speak that much. Yet, she knew keeping that journal had something to do with it. Letting her thoughts out, whether orally or in writing, gave her some sort of relief that she couldn’t get from anything else.

“But isn’t it lonely?”

“Yeah, it is,” Mukuro sighed. “I wasn’t trying to imply that I don’t miss her. I really do, actually. I think I’ve just come to terms with the fact that I’m alone now.”

“It’s confusing, isn’t it?” Usami asked, tilting her head to the side the way she always did when she was asking a question that would be a tad bit more personal than the others.

“Yeah, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about any of this. Still, this helps, really. I’m grateful you’re giving me a bit of your time. I promise you aren’t wasting it at all.”

As she said this, Gekkogahara-san made Usami frown, and Mukuro couldn’t figure out why. It made her feel like she’d said something she shouldn’t have said, and this took away any sense of comfort she’d been feeling since the beginning of the session. She looked down at her lap, bouncing her leg and cursing herself for ruining things again. Everything was going so smoothly, why did she have to say the wrong thing?

“Ikusaba-chan,” the white rabbit called softly.

“Y-yes…?”

“You have to understand that this isn’t about me wasting my time or not. This is about you recovering from everything you’ve been through for the sake of your sister so you can live a normal life. It’s not healthy for you to be worried about how I feel about the progress you are or aren’t making. Everything about this is wholly about you.”

Mukuro looked up at her therapist, confused. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She was right, though. There was definitely a part of her that was worried Gekkogahara-san would consider this a waste of time and end up giving up on her – a part of her that wanted to please her so she would stick around. But she didn’t know that was a bad thing. She’d always thought that doing whatever made others happy with her was what she was supposed to do. She’d always assumed that this made her a good, kind-hearted person.

“What do you mean?” was all she managed to ask. She was terrified of what she would hear in response.

“You have to find yourself, Ikusaba-chan! You have to be true to who you are regardless of what you think others want from you. Only then will you really be able to be happy and stop feeling like an empty shell when you lose whoever gets close to you.” There was a pause, and Mukuro was ready to speak again when the Usami’s high-pitched voice interrupted her and continued. “This isn’t going to happen soon, though. You have years and years of conditioning and unhealthy dependency on your sister to unlearn. It isn’t going to be easy. It’s going to take time. But it’ll never feel like a waste of time to me. It is my job to guide you through the many changes you’ll be going through in the upcoming months and years.”

“I… Okay, yes, I understand,” the soldier said softly, even though she didn’t really understand what Gekkogahara-san meant. Sure, she wanted to please her to keep her around, but it wasn’t as bad as what she was saying, was it?

“Good,” Usami replied, smiling and clapping her tiny white paws. “This will be enough for today! Still, I have one piece of good news to share with you today.”

“What is it?”

“Since your sister is no longer a threat to the academy, and given that you have been extremely cooperative with me, you are now free to roam around the academy if you please! The only thing that is off-limits is talking to Mitarai-kun, Komaeada-kun, Tsumiki-chan and Kamukura-kun. I don’t think any of you would end up plotting against the academy, but Munakata-kun seems to think it’s safer if you don’t interact at all. I personally see no harm in this so I had no reason to disagree with the idea.”

Mukuro gave her a small smile. Being able to walk around might help her a little, after all. Staying isolated in her room all day couldn’t be good for her, especially when she used to have such an active lifestyle.

“Does that mean I can go back to class?”

“No, it is way too soon for that!” Usami was shaking her head energetically, keeping her arms crossed against her chest. “This will not be possible for months, but I’ll be sure to let you know when we make the decision to let you be a regular student again.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Now, now, it is no problem, Ikusaba-chan! I need you to remember that.”

Mukuro nodded and got up, heading towards the door as she said goodbye to Gekkogahara-san. This hadn’t been the easiest therapy session to go through, but knowing that she could go for a walk around campus had definitely lifted her spirits. She would figure out what had scared her so much when her therapist had seemed disappointed with her later, probably through writing in her journal. For now, she only wanted to go on a little stroll and get some fresh air.

-

Mukuro had stayed outside much longer than she’d expected. The sun had finished setting and the cold night breeze was hitting her, making her wish she’d brought a jacket. Still, this wasn’t so bad. Most students had retreated back to the dorms, which meant that even though she was out in the open, she was still alone. And she enjoyed that – she’d always had, as young as she had been.

There was something so liberating about walking around in the cold, the only source of light being the moon. In these moments, it didn’t matter to Mukuro what anyone thought of her. There was no one to see her, no one to judge her and tell her how much of a failure she was. She was hidden in the dark, alone, and she felt fine. Even when her sister was still around, she’d cherished these moments.

She eventually sat down on a small patch of grass, crossing her legs. She mentally replayed the therapy session that had taken place earlier and sighed. She still wasn’t able to understand why Gekkogahara-san had reacted the way she had. She should’ve been pleased and happy to hear that she thought therapy was useful, right? So why had she seemed so upset with her when she’d said this?

She closed her fist around the grass, pulling on it. No matter how she looked at it, her therapist’s reaction made little to no sense to her. The theory Mukuro could come up with was that Gekkogahara-san had said this because she didn’t want her to get better – because just like her, she didn’t believe that she deserved to live a good and happy life after everything she’d done. Yet, even though that thought kept popping up in her head, she couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t too good with people, but she could usually tell when they weren’t to be trusted. Gekkogahara-san looked genuine. She wouldn’t be going through all these things just to see her suffer. Mukuro knew it.

She lied down on the grass and closed her eyes, chuckling to herself. Everything she’d done with Junko-chan could have been labelled as crazy, but at least she’d been able to understand it. Now that she was doing things regular people were supposed to do, she couldn’t make any sense out of it.

“How ironic,” she whispered to herself. “Junko-chan may have raised a few fair points in her constant criticism of me. I really am worthless and unable to do things right, aren’t I?”

Despite the harshness of her words, Mukuro wasn’t sad. Instead, she felt… happy? She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling could be qualified as happiness, but she was definitely experiencing something positive, since she found her current situation quite funny, all things considered.

Deciding to not give it too much thought, the solider indulged in the feeling. And she laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until she was breathless, lying down alone underneath the moonlight. Maybe it was hard for her to figure out what was going on around her and what her new interactions meant, but it definitely wasn’t so bad. Yes, she thought. I may pathetically fail again, but I can finally have fun with things. Maybe seeing me live a normal life from wherever she is now will give Junko-chan even more despair.

[winteriron-trash]

Hold You While You Sleep (Or, 5 Times Tony Cuddled Up With Bucky & The 1 Time Bucky Cuddled Up With Tony)

So, I haven’t been active on this blog besides some vague reblogs in a hot minute. I have excuses, but I also have a fluffy 5+1 cuddling fic, so take that instead. Enjoy. 

Ao3 Link

-

Bucky didn’t like cuddling.

It wasn’t that he had anything against it, per se, but rather that he just didn’t like it. Getting used to positive human contact was already hard enough. Cuddling was on a whole different level of awkward and confusing and terrifying.

Too bad Tony didn’t seem to care.

Admittedly, it was partly Bucky’s fault. First, for ending up in bed with Tony, and second, for not leaving Tony’s bed. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d fucked, but it was the first time Bucky didn’t leave right after.

Bucky didn’t know what to call their relationship. They sat in awkward, forced silence whenever they had to be together. Bucky wasn’t even sure how they ended up fucking, but the sex was good enough for both of them, so they didn’t bother to stop. It at least made Bucky’s arm maintenance bearable, knowing he’d get sex afterwards.

So when Tony clung to him like an octopus when Bucky decided to stay the night, Bucky really didn’t know what to think. He figured it was too late to leave, and it’d be too awkward to push Tony off of him.

Bucky didn’t like cuddling, but he also didn’t like being rude. 

At least Tony was warm. 

-

The second time it happened, Bucky expected it. He wasn’t ready for it, but he expected it. 

As soon as he turned off the light and pulled the covers over himself, Tony took it as a cue to wrap himself around Bucky and faceplant into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Do you have to do that?” Bucky grumbled, despite the embarrassed flush of his cheeks. “It’s hot.”

Tony made a grunting noise. “My bed, my rules. You wanna stay the night after a quickie, you deal with me.”

Bucky couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “We went at it for an hour, and you call that a quickie?”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Tony grumbled against Bucky’s skin.

Bucky smiled, feeling himself relax a bit. Maybe cuddling wasn’t so bad, otherwise, he wouldn’t have still been there. Cuddling was just cuddling, no matter who it was with.

Right?

-

Bucky didn’t really know how or why, but he ended up sleeping in Tony’s bed even on nights they hadn’t had sex. If Tony wasn’t in bed or even close to going to bed, Bucky would just curl up by himself and sleep surrounded by Tony’s scent.

It was just… nicer. Tony’s room was cooler, his bed was bigger, his blankets were softer. And he had an ungodly amount of pillows.

“You know,” Tony mumbled one night as he climbed in next to Bucky, “I can put a bed just like this one in your room if you want.” He wiggled his way into Bucky’s arms. “So I don’t annoy you when you’re trying to sleep.”

“No.” Bucky was surprised by how quickly he responded. “It’s fine. I don’t… I don’t mind you.”

Tony’s little giggle at that was surprisingly cute. “Keep talking like that Buck, and I’ll think you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scowled. “I am not.” His tone was defensive.

Too defensive.

Tony just hummed. “Goodnight, James.”

Usually, Bucky hated being called that. It was too formal, too pretentious, too foreign. 

But god, it sounded nice on Tony’s tongue.

Bucky waited until he was sure Tony was fast asleep. Then he tightened his grip on Tony and pulled him just a bit closer. 

-

Bucky, as it turned out, was not immune to Tony’s cuddles if he wasn’t in Tony’s bed. As he found out the hard way, sprawled out on a couch in the communal living room, reading Good Omens.

The sight of Tony stumbling in with bleary eyes, messy hair, and an oil-stained shirt was… nicer than Bucky imagined it would’ve been. Calling Tony cute was something Bucky definitely wasn’t used to, but it was the first word that came to mind at the sight of it.

Tony took one look at Bucky, mumbled something unintelligible that might’ve been in a different language, and flopped down right onto Bucky’s stomach.

Bucky didn’t even have the chance to protest before Tony was out like a freaking light.

So instead he stared down blankly at Tony’s sleeping form. Tony fell asleep so fast he was in an awkward position, arm hanging off the couch and face smashed down into Bucky’s abs.

Bucky sighed.

He grabbed the throw over the back of the couch. With some awkward readjusting and finagling, Bucky managed to get Tony in a more comfortable position that wouldn’t leave him waking up with killer cramps. He topped it off with the throw blanket over Tony’s bottom half, and the content little sigh that Tony let out in his sleep made Bucky’s heart flutter.

Tony looked downright angelic, curled up against Bucky’s chest. It made Bucky’s heart twist and flutter in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Bucky didn’t understand much about feelings. But staring down at Tony’s sleeping form made him maybe consider Tony’s concept about catching them. 

Maybe.

-

Bucky didn’t look forward to much in life. He was still working on his recovery, and there were good days and bad days.

Today was a bad day.

It was the kind of day where Bucky knew his name, but it felt so distant and wrong, that it might as well have been gibberish in a different language. Nothing about his body or his head felt right, and he’d snapped one too many times at anyone who even looked at him.

So he ended up in Tony’s room. Arms folded, glaring at the wall. It took every ounce of strength to not grab the lamp sitting right next to him and hurl it at the wall.

“Well, you look like shit,” Tony said it as a bland fact as soon as he walked into the room. He slid out of his suit jacket and started to undo his tie. “Wanna fuck?”

Bucky looked at him with a harsh glower. “No.”

Despite the snap in his tone, Bucky wasn’t just saying no because he was angry.

He was saying no because he was afraid. Afraid of hurting Tony if he lost control, afraid of letting Tony see the monster that he laid in bed with. 

As much as the anger boiled beneath the surface, it was only a cover for how scared Bucky was of himself.

“Okay,” Tony said. He didn’t sound scared or turned away by Bucky’s anger which was… new. He finished stripping down to an undershirt and boxers. “I’m going to sleep. Is it okay if I touch you, or should we draw a line down the middle of the bed?”

Bucky blinked and turned to face Tony. 

Tony had never asked before. Which to be fair, Bucky had never been this close to murdering everyone before, so it was fair.

Still. Having someone ask before touching, ask about boundaries, just ask.

It was different. Even Steve didn’t do that. As hard as Steve tried, he was awful with boundaries. Bucky didn’t blame him, and he’d accepted the behaviour as normal. Understandable.

But Tony was different. Tony asked.

Everything about Tony was different, wasn’t it?

Bucky felt the anger melt away a bit. “It’s okay. We-you can cuddle… if you want.” Heat licked against Bucky’s cheeks, and he ducked his chin.

Tony smiled and shook his head. “You’re so emotionally stunted, it’s kind of cute.” He climbed into bed next to Bucky and yanked him down into the bed to cuddle. 

“What does that mean?” Bucky mumbled, turning off the lamp.

“It means you’re a hot mess, but I don’t mind,” Tony yawned and faceplanted into Bucky’s chest. “Now goodnight, James.”

Bucky blinked. “Goodnight, Tony.” He tried to ignore his voice breaking. Tony made a happy noise.

Long after Tony had fallen asleep, Bucky was still staring down at Tony’s sleeping figure, trying to understand what he meant.

He hadn’t gotten anywhere.

Bucky sighed and decided to relent and just go to sleep. Just before he closed his eyes though, he brushed his hand through Tony’s hair and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

Feelings were confusing. But at least they felt nice.

-

Bucky came back from a sparring session with Natasha so late, Tony was already asleep. Late-night sparring with Natasha was probably one of the most therapeutic things Bucky did, outside of actual therapy.

They never expected anything from each other except to put up a good fight. It was freeing. 

Bucky wasn’t surprised to find Tony asleep when he crept into Tony’s room. Even insomniac geniuses seemed to have bedtimes.

He was surprised to find himself a bit pouty that Tony had gone to sleep without him, though.

It meant that Tony wouldn’t cuddle into Bucky’s chest and that Bucky couldn’t fall asleep to his gentle breathing against Bucky’s skin. 

Sleeping in Tony’s bed was pointless if Bucky couldn’t sleep with Tony in it.

So when Bucky climbed into bed on the other side of where Tony was all curled up, he found himself staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep. It was harder than it should’ve been. He tossed and turned so much, it was a wonder he hadn’t woken Tony up. 

The realisation that Bucky could just be the one to cuddle Tony first took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out. 

Bucky looked at Tony’s sleeping form. Tony was so gentle, so breakable, it scared Bucky some days. Tony was beautiful, and Bucky was a hot mess.

Well, Tony would probably make some comment about being a hot mess too and how Bucky shouldn’t be so hard on himself with moping. Just the thought made Bucky smile. 

With some awkward scooting, Bucky wiggled over to Tony’s side of the bed.

He tried so, so very hard not to wake Tony as he pulled him into Bucky’s arm. He went slow and carefully as if he was working with a bomb. 

He failed.

“What the..” Tony groaned away, rubbing his eyes. “James?”

“Go back to sleep, Tony,” Bucky said, pulling him against his chest.

Tony made a noise. “I thought you didn’t like cuddling.”

“I said go to sleep.”

“Sure thing,” Tony hummed. “We should talk about this in the morning.”

Bucky kissed him on the forehead. “We will. But for now, let me hold you while you sleep.”

Tony’s smile was pressed against Bucky’s collarbone. “Gladly.”

[essieeeeeeeee]

FUCK IT, i’m posting part 1. no title yet, so it’s just “bad touch villain fic” for now until I can get my act together enough to come up with one.

may I just start by saying that I love how we all as a fandom have collectively taken one look at our guy Shaw and thought: this boy needs to get fucked.

on a separate but equally important note, Transporter 2 may have been an absolute train wreck of a movie, but it gave me the gift of some quarter-dressed villain chick licking up the side of Jason Statham's face while he exudes such gay "I'd rather be literally anywhere else than here in this moment" energy, so there's that.

i’m fucking wheezing, man. his face.

anyways, in case it’s not obvious, I’ve stolen the T2 villain couple and threw them into here instead, so if you’re curious about what they look like, feel free to look them up (Gianni Chellini and Lola). this isn’t a crossover, it’s just me being lazy and stealing characters from other movies and playing with them.

a’ight, here we go with part 1. will get part 2 out relatively soon, I think. hopefully. god, I’m so slow at writing, guys.

----------

The bell above the door chimes merrily as Shaw pushes it open and steps into the diner, breathing in the homey scent of grease and caffeine that wafts out at him the moment he crosses the threshold. He lingers in the entryway - tucking his sunglasses carefully into his front left suit pocket, and letting his eyes drag over the establishment in a quick, practiced once-over.

American, is the first thought that comes to mind. Tacky, the second, though he supposes that’s a given, considering the first.

To be fair, it isn’t the worst diner he’s ever stepped foot in - that dubious honor went to a crusty hole in the wall in New Jersey, the name of which he couldn’t and didn’t really care to recall - but even so, the place isn’t exactly what he’d expected from a meet and greet with the CIA.

It's… lively, for starters. 

Shaw skims his gaze over the laminate red and white booths, the worn looking tabletops sticky from dots of leftover syrup. Bright sunlight peeks through the big windows, now that the storm clouds are dissipating in the frankly oven-like California weather.  Patrons chat loudly from each corner of the room. It's open and cheery and packed with parents and their tiny screaming sprogs, and all of it's already giving him a very sleep-deprived headache.

Shaw can pinpoint every word of the conversation that’s happening six booths to his left, too, which means privacy won't be much of a concept here either.

Strange choice in location, he thinks, for a debrief with top secret government information regarding a world-ending cyber death cult.

Deckard shrugs off the discomfort of it all, though. Partly because he honestly can't muster up enough of a fuck to give, and partly due to the fact that the smell of freshly brewed coffee has been relentlessly beckoning him forward since the initial whiff of it hit him from the doorway. He takes a quick moment to map out the visible exits, more habit than anything - front door, side door, likely a back one through the kitchen if needs must - and, once satisfied with his perusal, makes his way towards the bulky figure in the back right corner that’s stuck out like a mountain among mole hills since Shaw first walked into the place.

“Hobbs,” he mutters wearily, and spares a grimace at the grungy empty seat across the table. He resignedly lowers himself into it anyways.

The lawman’s eyes flick up from the plate in front of him, and he doesn’t look all that surprised; but Shaw knows it’s because he caught Hobbs’ gaze since the moment he stepped out of the rental car in the lot outside.

They’re both just a couple of paranoid bastards like that, he supposes.

And Hobbs looks - good. Better than the last time Deckard's seen him, awkwardly parting ways at a terminal in LAX, the both of them littered with bruises and scrapes that were only a small testament to the absolute shitshow they'd somehow just survived. Now it seems the bigger man's nicks are less than scabs, and the large bruise Hobbs had been sporting across his left temple at the time is nearly gone.

Shaw grudgingly notes that he's also been nursing his own wounds, and steadily healing, if slowly. His right shoulder still twinges when he moves it the wrong way, paracetamol continues to be a three times a day affair, and the spastic tick in his left hand hasn't quite let up since Brixton's electroshock therapy session, but overall - things are better.

His ribs still ache something fierce, though. Fractured, likely. Not that he's about to whine about it.

“Tinkerbell,” Hobbs greets, and then blithely stuffs another bite of the fried monstrosity that sits on his plate into his mouth. Shaw’s grimace deepens. “You’re late.”

“Blame your shitty weather. Flight delay.” Deckard ignores the insult; he's too fucking tired to pick up Hobbs' volley today. Instead, he leans forward, careful to avoid the greasy stain at the edge of the table, and gets straight to the point. “Where’s your contact?”

Because that was the obvious missing piece here, wasn’t it? Shaw didn’t come traipsing all the way to Los Angeles just to witness the Hulk stuff his oversized mug with substandard diner fare.

Two weeks out from Samoa - two weeks of very different, yet equally consequential family reunions, of settling affairs that only a forty-eight hour hotseat on every major news channel in the world can cause - and now it was time to get down to business. Hobbs’ CIA friend had promised intel. Shaw may be reluctant to forego his solo status for another team-up with Ms. America here, but he wasn’t an idiot. Information on Eteon didn’t exactly just rain from the sky.

Nine years of hunting the bastards down on his lonesome taught him that much.

Besides: the fact that Hattie’s life wasn’t on the line with this one left Deckard feeling a mite less prickly. Hobbs may be an annoyance, but he's at least a tolerable one.

“Also late,” Hobbs says, glancing down at his watch. Then the man sighs, and rubs at his temples in a way that makes Shaw wonder exactly what he’s getting into, here. “But he’ll probably show up -”

“- fashionably late and with Starbucks? You bet your perky muscled ass I will, Rebecca.”

Deckard startles a little in his seat, because where the fuck did this arsehole just come from, and his hand reflexively slides over the utensils on the table in front of him, but he smothers the instinctive urge to lodge one into the meat of the thigh that's suddenly appeared at his side. The scruffy, grinning man it's attached to seems to catch the movement, from the way his eyes dart down to the table. He shifts, just slightly, away from Shaw.

Smart fucker.

And no sensible shoes, either. That was interesting.

"Locke," Hobbs says, resigned, scooting in to make a little room as Scruffy slides himself into the seat left behind.

"Aw, don't be like that, Becky," the man whines, and Shaw can't help but mouth a bewildered 'Becky?' at Hobbs with raised brows. Hobbs only drops his head and rubs at his temples a little harder. "You know my delicate emotions can't handle the strain."

"You brought Starbucks. Into a diner."

"Never judge a man for his grande quad nonfat one-pump no-whip mocha habit, Lukas. Gosh, have I taught you nothing?"

"I can sincerely say," Hobbs grinds out, and Shaw is somewhat delighted by the disgruntled twist in the other man's features, "that the only thing you've ever taught me is the true meaning of patience."

"Don't you sass your father like this in front of company, young man. Already in the rebellious teenage phase, Christ, they grow up so fast, don't they?"

"Like mold," Deckard drawls. The disgruntlement on Hobbs' face grows deeper.

"Ha," he says, flatly. "What'aya got for us, Locke?"

"Don't rush me, sweetums, I'm famished," CIA titters, enthusiastically waving down one of the bustling waitresses. Deckard's somewhat grateful for it; he'd murder for a coffee, and that wasn't a metaphor. "And, what, no introduction? The manners on you today."

Hobbs sighs. Shaw honestly can't help but be somewhat amused by the balls this bloke must have, riling up the lawman like this. He's not sure quite yet what to think about Chatterbox - intriguing or just downright irritating - but he can at the very least admit that anyone who can put that level of utter frustration into Hobbs' eyes was worth looking into.

"Shaw, meet Locke," Hobbs says, waving impatiently at the agent beside him, who wriggles his fingers at Shaw in greeting while slurping loudly around his straw. "Locke, meet Harry Potter's uglier cousin."

Deckard scowls.

"Well fuck me sideways, but Dudley sure grew up nice, didn't he?" Locke says, and - Shaw’s actually a bit flattered to see the agent’s eyes flick over him lasciviously.

But before he can quite unravel that one, a server appears at the table edge, shooting a wide, familiar smile in Hobbs' general direction. "Can I get you boys anything?"

Locke straightens in his seat. "I'll take one of everything."

"No he won't," Hobbs snaps, smacking the idiot’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

"You're so right, snookums, gotta watch that girlish figure." Locke rubs his arm with a wince, beaming at the woman, who's started to look a bit flustered at this point, poor dove. "I'll take a number two, extra syrup, extra mayo."

She nods slowly, and turns to Deckard, as though hoping to re-establish some sort of normality.

He takes pity on her. "Coffee, thank you. Black.”

"To match his soul," Hobbs mutters around a sip from his own cup.

"To match my shoe," Shaw corrects with a tight smile. "Going up your arse."

Hobbs snorts. "Think you got that one twisted, son."

"Think you might want to start ponderin' the merits of a wing-tipped enema. Son."

"Jesus, you two are adorable," Locke interjects, resting his chin in his hands as the waitress pours out the coffee and shuffles nervously away. "Like some sort of walking, talking, opposites-attract, enemies-to-lovers, sixty-nine kay slow-burn. Is there a kudos button hiding around here somewhere?"

Shaw can't interpret even half of that. He has a strong inkling that he should probably just shoot the man for it anyway.

"You wanna get to the point, chuckles, before I put your head through this table?" Deckard says. He drums his fingers casually against said tabletop, just to make his own point that much clearer.

Entertaining as Hobbs’ little motormouth of a friend has been, Shaw has just spent the better of his last twenty-four hours on a transatlantic red eye: he's exhausted. Even a verbal spar with Hobbs isn't quite giving him the usual spike of adrenaline it deserves. The only thing he wants more right now than the coffee in his hand is his head on the pillow of a hotel room bed, and CIA here was the last obstacle standing in the way of that particular goal.

Not a safe place to be, generally speaking.

"And oddly in sync with your threats, too," Locke muses. He shifts back in his seat, though, and quickly raises his hands in surrender when Shaw leans forward menacingly. "Right, yes, ok, the point! I, ah. I definitely have one of those."

Finally, he digs into the bag at his side, hastily pulling out a few manila files. He slides them across the table towards the two of them. Shaw lets the murder in his eyes simmer down a bit as he snatches up his own.

“So, the Snowflake,” Locke starts. “Turns out the late professor wasn’t the only one with his hands in that diabolical cookie jar - ”

Scruffy keeps talking, but Shaw stops listening the moment he opens up the folder and skims his eyes down the first page.

Oh, shit, he thinks.

His stomach makes a very abrupt descent to his knees.

Because there, tucked under a paperclip in the top right corner, is a set of photographs. Generic, really. Black and whites, likely mugshots from the look of them. A man and a woman - staring straight towards the camera, little smirks nestled in the corners of their mouths like poorly hidden secrets. Shaw’s gaze traces over the sharp curve of a cheekbone, an aristocratic nose.

The faces staring up at him are jarringly familiar, in the worst possible ways.

The kinds of ways, in fact, that suddenly makes it very tempting to get up from the table and walk away, as quickly as possible.

“-ellini and Lilian Nuata,” Locke says, pointedly tapping the photos in his own file, and it’s as though the world’s volume has abruptly turned back up again. Shaw blinks, then snaps his eyes back up to the two men across the table from him. He blanks his face to cool disinterest when he finds Hobbs staring back at him.

Deckard’s not sure what kind of expression worked its way across his face while he took in the literal goddamn nightmare in his hands, but the perplexed look Hobbs shoots him makes Shaw think it wasn’t as subtle as he would have hoped.

"You know 'em?" Hobbs asks.

And fuck, but that's a loaded question. Shaw can feel his face twist like he’s sucked a lemon. It's completely involuntary, and he hates himself for the tell.

“We’ve… met,” he answers, somewhat honestly.

As if 'met' could ever sum up the amount of sheer overwhelming fuckery their run-ins entailed. Shaw covers his discomfort with a fortifying sip of his coffee.

It curdles in his stomach.

"Oh, good," Locke says, almost obliviously cheerful. "Then you probably know just how pants shittingly insane our Harley Quinn and Joker duo here are."

Bit more than you'd think, Shaw muses with faint dread. 

"Nuata's the big brain behind our little Snowflake," Locke continues. "Andreiko may have invented the capsules that carried it, but the whole organ-melting, blood-spitting, eugenics genocidal virus shebang? That's her bouncing bundle of joy." The man takes another flippant slurp of his latte. The sound grates on Deckard's nerves, but he's feeling a bit too numb to give much of a shit about it.

"And Chellini?" Hobbs asks. The lawman's still shooting curious glances Deckard's way, and Shaw figures that's his cue to stop acting the part of nervous wallflower.

"Muscle," he finally speaks up. The word somehow comes out normally, despite the fact that Shaw's throat is feeling drier than the Sahara. "But also happens to have a brain, unlike someone else I know."

Hobbs' semi-concerned expression falls back into an irritated scowl. That’s good. Deckard doesn't need the man's cautious hovering. 

They may have a somewhat decent, if not entirely amicable working relationship now, but Shaw wasn't about to dump his sordid histories into Hobbs' lap. They weren't friends. 

Deckard didn't really know what they were at this point, actually, but it certainly wasn't that. 

"Nuata can take care of herself, but they're… formidable, together," Deckard continues, before Hobbs can open his mouth. "They're sadists. Like to play with their food before eating it."

"And you've… met, huh?"

Something about Shaw's voice must have been slightly off, because the concern is creeping its way back into Hobbs' eyes. It makes Shaw's skin itch in irritation; he's not some child to be coddled and fretted over. Best to cut that nonsense off right here and now.

"Worked with 'em on a job once." Deckard shrugs, nonchalant, and leans back in his seat. "Briefly. Didn't quite appreciate their methods, so we parted ways."

It's the truth, if a heavily edited one. Either way, the mission is accomplished: the concern vanishes immediately.

"Of course you worked with them," Hobbs snorts bitterly. "Looney tunes here sound just your speed. What kind of job they end up luring you in with, anyway? Selling poison to toddlers? Murdering puppies in Tokyo?"

Ah. Well - ouch.

That one hit somewhat closer to home than likely intended, going by the expression of mild regret on Hobbs' face moments after the words leave his mouth. The sting of it is sudden, surprisingly unexpected, and altogether earned, really. It’s an abrupt reminder that even in the wake of Samoa, there’s still a decent amount of unpacked baggage between the two of them. The kind of baggage that comes with literal skeletons in closets 

Or in fiery, crumpled sports cars, smoldering vengefully on a busy street in Tokyo.

Shaw considers himself a reasonably self-aware person; he already knows he's a piece of shit. Doesn't mean he'll tolerate Hobbs shoving his nose into the fact like some misbehaving dog.

"Fucking hilarious," he snaps, narrowing his eyes. "Don't think that's any of your business, is it?" 

He leans forward, and suddenly Deckard finds that he's angry. The irrational kind: no specific target, no specific cause. Angry at Hobbs - angry at Locke - angry at every little shout and laugh in the air of the diner around him. Absolutely, completely, furiously angry that this file, with those pictures, has been dropped into his lap like a fucking grenade when he least expected it.

"You sure seem real interested though, Tiny. Maybe you get off on that kind of thing, huh? Puppy murder? Kiddy killing?" Hobbs' mouth twists, as though he knows he deserves the retort, but that it's pissing him off nonetheless. Shaw smiles grimly. Good. "'Cause I know a few people who could give you some details -"

“Yeah, I’m sure you know plenty of people -”

"Maybe we could table that steaming pile of inhumanity for another day," Locke interrupts suddenly. "Fascinating as getting in touch with our inner Cruella de Vils sounds, we're on a bit of a time crunch, darlings. Your flight to Spain to bag us Bellatrix Lestrang and her boytoy is in five hours, and we’ve still got some ground to cover here."

Shaw cuts himself off, and reigns in the bright spark of rage still flickering in his head. Closes his eyes for a moment.

What is he even doing?

He opens his eyes again, lets them flick back down to the photographs in front of him with the morbid helplessness of watching an imminent disaster just waiting to occur. Knows, with swift clarity, exactly where the anger is coming from.

Tired or not, Shaw’s aware that the abrupt flare of resentment is an unreasonable reaction to what was meant to be an innocuous comment. He attempts to tamp it back down a bit; difficult, with Hobbs’ narrowed-eyed gaze staring at him from across the table, but do-able.

Professional, he thinks. You’re a fucking professional.

"Spain, huh? Always liked Spain. Good memories," Hobbs says suddenly, voice far too innocent to be anything but deadly. Shaw watches with sharp eyes as Hobbs takes a very pointed sip of his coffee, staring Deckard down. The bigger man places the cup back on the table with a quiet thud, and smiles. "Like when we blew up your brother’s plane, for instance."

On second thought, fuck professional.

"Whoa now,” Locke says, hastily grabbing at Shaw’s wrist with a nervous laugh as the Brit's fingers spasm hard around the cutlery on the table in front of him. Lucky timing - Deckard had half a mind to jab the butterknife in his grip straight into Hobbs' hand, crowded diner be damned. “Let’s just take it easy there, Scarier Spice. We’re all friends here.”

Shaw very deliberately glances down at the hand on his arm, before letting his eyes drag back up to the agent’s.

“You’re gonna want to let go of me,” he says, slowly. “Friend.”

The hand is instantly snatched away, with frankly satisfying speed.

“So aggressive,” Locke says with another nervous little chuckle, fanning himself. “I gotta say, the fearboner I’m getting right now? I’m kinda into it.”

The ache in Shaw's temples gives another sudden, violent throb, and - yeah, no.

He wasn’t throwing himself back into the wreckage that was Chellini and Nuata for the sake of the two men in front of him.

Deckard rises from his seat. "Have fun with your little mission, Hobbs. You go enjoy knocking a couple of pissant nobodies' heads together in Spain like a good dog, while I go find some useful intel to work with."

"Yup," Locke mutters quietly. "Definitely aroused in this moment."

"Locke, shut your goddamn mouth," Hobbs snaps. "Shaw, just - sit down."

And oh, but that's rich. "In case you haven't noticed, steroids," Shaw sneers, leaning forward on the table, "you ain't the boss of me."

Hobbs just rolls his eyes. "Don't be stupid, jackass. This is our best shot at getting these bastards, and you damn well know it."

The DSS agent leans forward himself, hardly backing down from the challenge in Shaw's eyes. And usually, that would get Deckard going - really throw some fuel on the fire - but now it just makes him hesitate.

"Besides," Hobbs adds, and his mouth quirks up into the beginnings of a wry grin. "Can't knock some pissant nobodies' heads together without my sidekick tagging along."

… goddamnit.

Shaw didn’t feel guilt very often, but Hobbs’ playful, friendly little smile was causing an avalanche of it. He falters; stands at the edge of the booth, half-turned towards the doorway, towards freedom, towards his ticket out and away from not-so-old wounds he’d rather take a bullet to the head for than let Hobbs be an audience to.

But. But.

He also wasn’t quite monster enough to allow Hobbs to wander into that horror show on his lonesome.

Slowly, grudgingly, Shaw sits back down.

He does not flush when Hobbs beams at him like the giant fucking golden retriever he is.

“Wonderful!” Locke says, clapping his hands together cheerfully. “Gosh, isn’t this exciting? It’s like we’re a team. Like the X-men or something. Ooooh, I call Wolverine.”

“Locke,” Hobbs says forlornly.

“Yeah, no, you’re right, Shaw definitely pulls off the brooding loner better. I think I’m more of a Jean Grey myself, too.”

“What’s the plan?” Shaw asks brusquely, flipping open the file again. He slides his gaze past the photos this time, and further on to the information on the page beneath.

The pictures still manage to haunt him out of the corner of his eye.

“They’re holed up in Chellini’s private chalet in Almeria. Real fancy stuff,” Locke says. “These two may be balls to the fucking walls bonkers, but they're not stupid. Guards and security out the ass, I’m tellin’ ya. We’ll need you two to go in, extract them, and maybe not destroy half the city in the process, because Big Daddy Government isn’t thrilled at the thought of covering your usual laundry bill.”

“Get in, get the marks, get out. Simple,” Hobbs says, leaning back in his seat.

“You’re simple. This is not,” Shaw snaps, tapping at the folder. “We need an actual plan, not your usual smash-and-grab theatrics.”

“Pretty sure my ‘theatrics’ are what threw your ass in jail.”

“Pretty sure your incompetence is what got me out of it -”

Somehow, an hour later, the smallest semblance of a strategy comes together. The stability of it helps soothe the tension buzzing at the edges of Shaw’s mind, but even so, it lingers, like a bad taste on the back of his tongue. He traces his fingers along the black and white images in front of him for a brief moment as CIA pays the food bill, before forcefully flipping the folder shut.

"Still one thing I need to get straight,” Deckard says, gaze suddenly pinning Locke to his seat. “You had me fly to Los Angeles, from London - just to fly back to Spain?"

The murder must be back in his eyes, Shaw thinks, because there's certainly a new hint of fear in Locke's.

"Ok, to be fair," Locke starts, edging back in his seat slightly, "one: I didn't actually know you were in London, because two: you're a very naughty, sneaky boy who happens to be incredibly difficult to track down, and did I mention I have a very delicate bone structure?"

Locke's voice climbs increasingly higher as he presses further back into the booth - likely because Shaw was leaning across the table with the intent of strangling him.

“Shaw, stop scaring the rabbit,” Hobbs says, shoving at Locke’s shoulder as the man pushes himself into Hobbs’ space. “Locke, let me the hell out of this booth.”

Shaw slips out of the booth himself, but not without a withering glare in Scruffy’s direction.

They make their way out of the diner, Locke scurrying off with rambling goodbyes that Shaw doesn’t bother listening to, and the sudden wave of heat as he steps out of the doors with another chime of bells above them is almost nauseating. Deckard grimaces at the bright blue sky as Hobbs siddles up next to him.

"You good?" Hobbs says, and bumps his shoulder awkwardly against Shaw's own.

And the move is just - so fucking Hobbs, so endearing (though Shaw would commit a fantastic amount of homicide before admitting that fact), that Deckard slowly, reluctantly deflates. The still-smoldering anger finally winks quietly out of existence, and just leaves him feeling exhausted in its stead. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine," Deckard mutters, glancing away with an irritated little sniff. "Just -"

He looks down at the file in his hand. Thinks of the photographs.

Trepidation hits him like a roundhouse kick to the gut. 

"- tired," he finishes dully.

Hobbs pats him on the shoulder with a big hand, and then just. Leaves it there. Like they're pals, or something. Shaw hesitates, but decides not to shrug it off.

It's ridiculous that it helps his nerves somewhat.

"Yeah, well. I've got a guest room, if you need to crash for a couple hours before the flight."

The offer is unexpected - possibly for both of them, going by the slight discomfort Shaw can pick out of Hobbs' posture, and the way he won't quite meet Shaw's eyes after - but Deckard honestly considers it for a moment. 

Only a moment, though. "Already booked a place," he lies through his teeth.

Fat fucking chance he'd be able to get any sembleance of sleep, with images of mugshots seared into his mind. Shaw knows himself; in all likelihood he'll find a place to kip out, with enough caffeine to hotwire an elephant, and drown himself in research for the next three hours.

Preparation never really helped when it came to Chellini and Nuata, but it sure as hell would make him feel less like he was throwing himself into the lion's den. Again.

"Right," Hobbs says. He gives a little squeeze to the shoulder under his hand, before letting it fall back to his side. Shaw refuses to let himself acknowledge that the sudden lack of pressure there is a disappointment, because he's not a fucking child. "I should head out. Gotta find someone to watch Sam while I'm gone."

Ah. The daughter. Strange, to suddenly remember that Hobbs was a man in charge of nurturing something. "Wheels up in four, then," Shaw says, slipping his sunglasses back onto his face in the California sunshine. "Just don't bitch to me about your leg room this time, Gigantor."

"Not all of us suffer from being vertically challenged, short stop."

"Just mentally, in your case," Shaw says, and can't help the corner of his mouth from ticking up slightly at Hobbs' snort of laughter.

“Sure,” the big man says with a huff. “Guess I’ll see you in España, tonto.”

And with that Hobbs walks off with cheery little wave, Shaw following him with his eyes as the lawman hefts himself onto the motorbike and departs with a roar of the engine. Shaw just shakes his head, and sighs.

Chellini and Nuata. Jesus fucking Christ, he thinks.

Well.

If nothing else, at least he'll have back-up this time.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

one expensive can of easy cheese

crack head hours my kids

also inspired by a hot guy i saw at walgreens today

the walgreens chaos returns

______

ship: ralbert

genre: crackhead angst

words: who knows, not super long

warnings: mentions of a twine kink, easy cheese, concussions, walgreens, race thinks another guy is hot, uhhh, hot men in scrubs, minor bits of violence, new yorkers been new yorkers, albert is a dumbass, race is more of a dumbass

editing: nah

_____

Race was sat on top of the counter in his and Albert’s apartment, a piece of duct tape over his mouth and his hands tied together with kitchen twine. He sighed against his restraints, resigned to watch his boyfriend make their contribution to this year’s Thanksgiving gathering: mac and cheese.

Now, of course everyone and their mother knew that mac and cheese was not a Traditional Thanksgiving Food. But, Albert had won (best out of three) mario kart yesterday so he had gotten to decide what they would bring to Jack’s house. Had Race known that he had been planning to make mac and fucking cheese, maybe he would have tried a little harder.

Apparently, Albert was not pleased with Race’s reaction to his decision to make mac and cheese, and thought that Race might try to get in the way somehow (which he may or may not have fully intended to do). So he did what any loving boyfriend would: sat him on the counter, put duct tape over his mouth and tied his hands together so he wouldn’t interfere.

Race was beginning to wonder why he had agreed to move in with Albert in the first place.

With a violent shake of his head and one final spat, he was able to dislodge the duct tape.

“Albieeeeee,” he whined, laying down on the counter. “Can you pleaaaaaaaseee let me helllllllllp?”

Albert barely glanced up as he pulled the big wooden spoon out of the pot and gave it a thoughtful lick. “Hmmmmmmm. No.”

“But-!” He wriggled around to give Albert his best puppy dog eyes. “Can I make something else then? Ple-OW!” He glared at the spatula that had been hurled at his arm. “You apologize for that!”

“Nah.” He smirked and went back to stirring his wretched pasta. Well, actually Albert’s mac and cheese was quite good. Race was just salty that he was making it for Thanksgiving when it was very well known that he was the chef of the two and Jack was expecting something good not the mac and cheese Albert famously made at 2am in college when they were all high as hell.

“Can you at least untie me then?”

“No.” Albert even bother considering this time.

“Well.” If logic wasn't going to work on Albert he would have to try another method. “I know you know how to make a guy feel good Albie, but I never expected ropes to be a part of it. What’s next? Handcuffs? Whips? Chains?”

In two seconds flat Race was out of his kitchen twine bonds and flexing his sore wrists.

“Man Albie, who knew you had a twine kink.”

“You know,” Albert began loudly, as if thinking that his loudness would cover up his totally obvious twine kink, “if you want to do something that's actually useful, you could go to Walgreens and buy me another can of Easy Cheese.”

“Is that what you put in your fuckin mac and cheese?” Race swore he actually felt bile rise in the back of his throat when Albert nodded. “That’s it. I’m never eating your mac and cheese again.”

“But-!”

“I’ll eat you though,” Race winked, taking a moment to enjoy the startled, yet somehow pleased look on his boyfriend’s face.

“Not until after we’re done at Jack’s.” Albert said only half jokingly as he dug around in his pocket for a second before throwing a crumpled five at Race. “In the meantime though, be gone thot!”

Race barely managed to catch the bill without falling on the floor, but still blew a kiss to Albert before walking out of the apartment.

Who the fuck puts easy cheese in mac and cheese? He wondered for the millionth time as he stomped the three blocks to Walgreens. Albert claimed that he had chosen his apartment for its proximity to the store, but up until today Race had always assumed that he had been joking. The man did make a lot of mac and cheese and if Easy Cheese was an ingredient well….maybe there was some truth to that story after all.

Race pulled open the door to the Walgreens, pausing briefly to wonder why the absolute fuck it was open on literal Thanksgiving before remembering that it was a fucking Walgreens and why wouldn’t it be open to sell his dumbass boyfriend a can of fucking Easy Cheese.

In order to get to the Easy Cheese, or at least he assumed so because he had never bought a can of Easy Cheese in his whole glorious 25 years of life, Race had to walk past the Pharmacy section of the store. And, it just so happened that there was a guy sitting behind the counter at the Pharmacy. A very attractive guy. With a beard. In scrubs.

Now, of course Race loved Albert and nothing would ever change that, but he could appreciate an attractive man when he saw one. He thanked whatever deity was out there for the bit of man candy that he had been granted and went in search of his Easy Cheese.

“Mac and cheese, velveta cheese, microwaveable mac and cheese, where the fuck is the- oh thank fuck there we go.” He pulled a can of Easy Cheese off of the shelf, tossing it once and catching it before turning to go pay for the horrendous product, happy to finally be done with the whole ordeal when-

“Easy cheese? Really?”

Race whirled around to see Mr. Man Candy himself leaning against the opposite shelf. “Wh- who?”

“Oh,” he dusted his hand off on his scrubbs, “allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brett O’Hare. And you, sir, are a disgrace to society. The very reason why so many Americans are in poor health in this day and age.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The Easy Cheese!” Brett gestured wildly toward the can in Race’s hand. “Gosh do you even know how many preservatives are in that stuff? And all the cancers that it can cause? It’s terrible. We wouldn’t need free healthcare if people just stopped eating Easy Cheese!”

Race had lived in New York City his whole life, and he had seen some pretty strange things, but never had he seen a pharmacist in a Walgreens lecture anyone about the health benefits of Easy Cheese.

“So let me get this straight,” Race rubbed his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “You go around yelling at people about the ingredients in the things that they are purchasing?”

“Yeah.”

“You do realize that this is a Walgreens, right? Everything in here probably contains some kind of chemical.” New Yorkers never ceased to amaze him.

“All the more reason for me to inform them of their poor eating habits!” Brett pointed a finger at him. “And stop distracting me! You’re the one buying the freaking easy cheese here!”

“It’s not even for me!” Race shouted back. “It’s for my boyfriend’s fucking mac and cheese that he insisted on making for Thanksgiving even though everyone knows that mac and cheese is not a fucking Thanksgiving food and he’s only making it cause he knocked me off the goddamn rainbow road right before the fucking finish line!” Race was fuming but the time that he was done.

“Oh, man I’m so sorry, that's lousy.”

Race looked surprised. Of all the things that he thought he would get out of this Walgreens experience, a therapy session was indeed not on the list. But neither had been hearing a lecture about the preservatives in Easy Cheese from a pharmacist.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still buying Easy Cheese!” Between one second and the next, Brett had grabbed the can of Easy Cheese out of Race’s hand, wielding it like a brick. “Buy some fucking vegetables!”

And with that, he struck Race over the head with the can of Easy Cheese.

Now, Race had definitely done some questionable things during his life. Once he had slept on the roof of his dorm building in January for a week because he lost his dorm key, and another time he had been tricked into making an entire wedding cake using salt. However, being smacked over the head with a can of Easy Cheese by a health nut in scrubs on Thanksgiving put any and all other situations he had been in to shame.  

He opened his eyes, suddenly blinded by the lights, and reached for his phone, muttering curses about man candy and vegetables. Squinting so he didn’t have to look at the screen, he somehow managed to dial Albert.

“Racetrack Higgins, where is my Easy Cheese?”

Race pulled the phone away from his ear and winced at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. “Um, it may have been used to give me a concussion by a health nut in scrubs?”

Albert let out a loud sigh. “Ah man, did you run into Brett? That guy’s the worst.”

“Wait, you know him?”

“Race, I know every Walgreens employee in Manhattan, of course I know Brett.” There was the jangling of keys in the background. “I thought I told you to go to the one on 4th for this reason, ah, well. I’m on my way. I’ll take you to urgent care. Hang tight.”

Race’s head hurt too much to process what Albert had said except for the words ‘I’m on my way.’ “Okay,” he sighed.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Race’s eyes focused on the dented can of Easy Cheese rolling on the floor. “And Al?”

“Yeah?”

“This is going to be one expensive can of Easy Cheese.”

______

that was a ride

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[spacegaywritings]

Communication of Silence - Chapter 12 “Spi(c)es 2″

Summary: Virgil runs into Patton at therapy. Turns out Patton, Virgil and Picani all know one another.

Tags: therapy, panic, anxiety, grounding techniques, a lot of stress for Virgil, miscommunication, apologies, soft logan, supportive patton, coffee mention, skin picking, fidgeting

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 12,5 / 13 / 14 + Tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 12,5 / 13 / 14 +

  My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

 Story under the cut (Word count ~6k):

Virgil carefully stepped out of the room, legs a bit shaky and heart light.

Their mind was still trying to wrap around the that leaving this room was akin the world of hope and falling back into the pits of darkness. Knowledge a dagger in their hand to cut through every tendril of doubt and mishap that attempted to pull them into the abyss of despair once more. 

 Sometimes, talking was harder than they liked it to be but at least it was over. It equipped them with the right tools to figure themself out, to make life in the darkness better. At some point, they would find their light and banish every and all lingering piece of threatening shadows. 

Admittedly, they did feel better. Their body was just shook from all the feelings and shit. Battling your demons was a chore but winning them over was a privilege of knowing how to. Sometimes trial and error was enough.

Sometimes, people needed to dip into the confidentiality of a professional to master the art of negotiating peace with oneself. 

 Stupid feelings.

 Life was already hard enough. 

Living with toxic thinking was unnecessarily exhaustive. It felt like an extra punishment after every hardship people went through. 

 From all they knew, it was worth it. 

Going out, hands free and heart open was a blessing. Exploring the outside with an objective vision instead of spiking darkness at any corner of their mind.. it was.. it was a relief. 

Work came with it, sure, but what in life didn't come without a price? Virgil had already decided that therapy was annoying. But it was annoying and absolutely worth it. 

Ever time they stepped out of the care of their therapist, they knew their world was painted in new colours. Every time they opened their eyes to see new kindness and be surprised by a sudden brightness around them, they felt affirmed in their decision to stick with it and fight the battle of his own absurd thinking. 

The student ran their hands through purple hair and sighed once more.

It was over.

It was helpful.

They had done all that had been asked from them.

 Their shoulders were lighter and, as usual, life seemed a bit kinder than before. 

On top of that... 

A realisation nudged them and a smile appeared on their face.

Dee!

Within a split second, they already took their phone out and unlocked the screen with swift movements. Their eyes barely looked at the password as their fingers confirmed it and immediately clicked the messenger icon to contact Dee.

 By now, she should be done with work. Or at least soon. They shot a quick message to her. Just to make sure she was informed.

   *Conversation between Dee♥ and you.*

 Today.

 You, 3.51pm: Did your stupid therapy. Happy?

(sent)

  “Oh, Virgil. What on earth are you doing here?”

 A voice of genuine surprise banged against heir head and ripped them out of his comfortable thought bubble of being together with Dee by the next day. 

For now, the dream was squished back onto the bench. With drops of disappointment souring their mind for the moment. 

Instead, they were met with the rather neutral and beige office in which people were received for therapy.

 Reality.

 Before them, the familiar sigh of a certain walking hug made their spiking heartbeat calm down and refrain from thumping up their throat.

 “P-patton?”, they asked in a small voice, their question coming out as a startled squeaking more than anything at this point.

They sounded unusually quiet and insecure compared to how Patton perceived them during the last days. It reminded him an odd amount of when they had met for the first time and Virgil had resembled a scared, abandoned kitten in the streets that was met with a stranger’s warm hands for the first time.

 Virgil swallowed their dumb question away and shrugged the obvious answer into their conversation.

 “I, u.. I could ask you the same. You came for an appointment?”

 Patton chuckled and shook his head, his ginger candy strands of hair flying wildly and eventually nestling against his pale skin once more.

He looked like a little pastel prince of the kindness and forgiveness kingdom. 

 “Aw, no kiddo. I do not go to therapy, I am learning how to provide for other people. I am working with Dr. Picani for my master’s thesis. I only came by to drop something for him at the reception.”

 As if on cue, the leading therapist in question stormed out of his office and waved at Patton. If Emile had been a life guard this would have meant the worst of all cases. But what did frantic waving stand for at the therapist's? 

 “Patton, wait a min-”

 His outcry was interrupted as he finally made his way over to the two talking students. Apparently, his mind took a while to comprehend the view before him as well as the fact that he was still in the middle of a sentence.

 “Oh Virgil, how come you are here today?”

 The emphasis on the last word was the core of his question. 

There was no wonder about them being there at all. 

Virgil shuffled their shoes and looked down to be met with the sight of one green and one purple shoe. The green one had leaves and bamboo sticks drawn all over it in a darker shade of green - much like the forest's rich leaves during midsummer. The purple one had a little galaxy-like image on the inside of where their ankle should be. Rain showers of white suns and blue glimmers adorned the little piece of space. 

They had drawn it on their own after dyeing their godforsaken, old-as-balls shoes. Kyle had inspired them to fix them up with some nifty drawings. Now they looked admirably special and were worth being desired greatly. 

 “Emergency session”, they said, shrugging, “I am all good, now. Promise, Em.”

 They did not realise the slight frown weighing Patton’s candybrows down just the slightest bit. Within just a moment, the shadow of doubt was gone and he decided to take the lead of the conversation.

 The confusion still left an imprint on the back of his mind. He had never heard anyone talk so intimately to Emile. It was not his business but a part of him wondered, how Virgil and Picani knew each other. 

Curiosity was indeed a human vice. 

But.. pet names like this were usually not exactly a therapy-client relationship.

Not his business, he reminded himself with waning patience. 

 “Anyway, what did you want from me? I can be right on my way and let you two catch up after you told me.”

 Emile’s face lightened up in realisation and he revealed a rather familiar sports bag Virgil had seen on him before. It was Patton’s and he had seen him return from his night shifts with this. 

Did he have another shift right now? All the more reason to consider Ri's offer. 

 “You forgot your bag when you dropped your scripts over here. Thank you for not being cranky about me being so busy - I was just on a call right now and couldn't delay it. ”

 It was Virgil’s turn to move their face, one single eyebrow arching up for just a moment.

Emile evidently avoided looking at them as he spoke these words. That bastard totally hid something. 

 A call.. hmm. 

 Patton noticed the change with a little pat to his heart but he took a deep breath to shift his attention back to the topic at hand.

It wasn't his business, no matter how tempting and curious it seemed to be. If any of them wanted to talk, they would decide that. Not he. 

 “Ah, yes. Thank you so much. I was on the way home now. Virgil, do you want me to wait for you and take you with me?”

 Oh holy fucking shit.

Virgil bit their lip and looked at the tallest of the three, an undefinable tension in their eyes. Not once before had Patton seen a look of trouble like that before. Not from the usually either shy and cautious kitten or the straight up fierce tiger that was the smaller punk. 

 “I-...”

 Their mouth simply stood open and they blinked at Patton as if he had just asked them to choose between two of his dearest friends - one would be lost forever and never to be met or befriended again, while the other one was ensured to stay around by force of magic and the supernatural law of weird situations and horrible choices forced onto people.

 No one would take a decision as that lightly. 

The small student just shrugged but before they could even open their mouth to speak up again, Emile was audibly gasping.

 “No way, you two are living together! This is amazing! I never knew! Look at you two making a great duo! I bet you are getting along so well!”

 At once, a warmth settled on Patton’s face and his head moved to a nod while Virgil shrugged and stole a single glance at the giant.

Their cheeks grew warm and redder.

 “Guess‘s not so bad”

 Virgil grimaced but the soft laugh from Patton and affirming “you are lovely to cook with”, let their lips move from awkward grin to a genuine, lop-sided smile.

 The doctor in pastel pink and beige brown was producing an air of warmth.

 “I am sure you are a team, better than Jessie and James!"

  Patton gave the comment a little chuckle and Virgil shook their head yet a smile was still visible on their face.

They would never be able to deny just how much they relished in the simplicity of these jokes making any situation less awkward. If it was not for any other person, Virgil knew that the ginger giant from candyland was definitely the person at fault for them enjoying stupid puns so much.

 He just strategically used them so well in any situation. It was like the right tool to disarm any bomb about to explode and he did it without breaking a sweat.

Emile was just silly - a little less cunning and definitely more upfront about negative vibes.

 Maybe it was because he was older and knew to address certain issues. Perhaps Patton just wanted to keep peace?

 They were overthinking.

They had to stop.

Now.

 Before Virgil could go on a mental rant to yell at themself for still ruminating over it and possibly kicking themself into disliking Patton, an all-too familiar sound came up. The sound that appeared whenever “Law and Order” switched between scenes or skipped time or anything.

 Virgil jolted a bit but reacted fast.

 “Holy snowflake, this was sudden”, Patton exclaimed with little breath left in his lungs and an assuring hand over his heart to calm his nerves.

The sound had been quite loud and he felt like he had heart it before.

 All the while, a grin was spread all over Virgil’s face and the awkward student forgot about their thoughts and worries for a bit. Even the current situation and conundrum seemed to have disappeared.

They typed away fast, a little mumble escaping their curved lips without them noticing.

  *Conversation between Dee♥ and you.*

 Today.

 You, 3.51pm: Did your stupid therapy. Happy?

(sent)

 Dee♥, 4.00 pm: I am killing it and I sincerely hope you did too. *snake emoji* *smirk emoji*

 Dee♥, 4.00 pm: Anyway, how are you holding up darling? Did the cartoon enthusiast catch you in time?

 You, 4.00 pm: Next to him.

You, 4.01 pm: Patton is here. Fucking kill me.

You, 4.01 pm: He asked to bring me home but I thought about going to Ri. Em could easily take me.

(sent)

  The response was a quick “yikes” but his attention was drawn back into the conversation before they got to message back.

The phone was rattling with another sudden sound but Virgil took the second flinch from Patton and turned off the sound.

 “Sorry”

 Emile shook his head quickly, a little smile painting his patient features and Virgil felt already hugged and pleasantly scolded like from a caring parent.

It was an odd feeling.

 “Remember to not apologise for yourself. You had your reasons to reply. I hope she is doing well - I assume it is the loyal Sapphire to your own Ruby self.”

 Patton’s spirits returned. His freckled face was beaming and he quickly hugged his bag against himself.

 “Aw, how adorable! I never thought of you in this way! Emile, how dare you give me this gem of feelings”

 He winked and Emile winked back.

 OOF.

 Virgil’s groan could be heard in the far distance of edgy teenager land while the adults were giggling at one another like little schoolgirls. It was oddly adorable.

Seeing Patton laughing was another level of comforting.

 “Uh, yeah.. talking about gem and shit”

 Wow, what a horrible start Virgil - wait. No. It was an okay start. Just a start. They would not mind and if they did, who cared. It was just a st- just a sentence.

Yeah.

 “I might get my gem ass over to Ri and sleepover because, uh, yeah. I think he would be happy to have me around tonight.”

 Virgil looked down at their shoes and shrugged. A part of their mind was still wildly roaring and telling them that this was a horrible sentence and how Patton would hate them now and despise them for everything.

And Emile? Maybe he would be jealous or get upset at them upsetting Patt-

 No. No

Stupid thoughts.

Bullshit thoughts.

They went to therapy to not have any of these thoughts anymore.

It was bullshit, anxiety was just being some overdramatic shit and it was a help to nobody so it was time to fucking stop the fuck now.

 They shrugged again and looked to the side before back at Patton.

 “Sor- I mean.. thank, uh.. thanks for offering a ride but I think I will go to my family and make sure they know I am okay and shit. I uh... they worry, you know.”

 Virgil offered a little smile. The pang of guilt jotted into their mouth and made it harder to smile but the lips stayed into position despite their little trembles and struggles to stay still.

 With a the eyes of a man who mirrored Virgil, Patton nodded at the remark.

 “I am glad to hear they care about you and.. and that you care about them, kiddo. I am sure they will be happy to have you around”, he started and stopped for a moment, his lips rolling together and his tongue parting them as if to spread the taste of his upcoming words on them.

He was contemplating about whether or not he should let them go beyond his tongue.

 After a small pause, the decision was made.

 “You don’t have to be scared of being with us. I am happy to see you and I honestly think Logan couldn’t be happier but to have found a friend like you.”

 Virgil looked at him, wide-eyed.

Shock short-circuited their brain and ruled over their reason for long enough to override the anxious filter that would usually prevent words like that to pass his lips.

 “You- you mean you are notmadwearefriends?”

 The emo stepped closer to Emile and reached out for him, only to be gladly received by his welcoming chest and arms.

 Patton blinked back, pressing his tongue against his gums to swallow his amusement at how absurd the other sounded. It was much better than to succumb to the bitter after-taste of an idea about why the other was so concerned. Instead, he helped himself and his smaller friend to the truce of another peaceful smile.

A smile so outwardly kind and warming, it could only come from a giant that served unexpected kindness instead of crushing dreams and bones.

 “Virgil, kiddo, we are friends too. I would never get upset at you over something so silly. I want my friends to be happy and you and Logan are happy together, even if you don’t always fully agree with one another.”

 The last part smelled like Logan talking about last night but Virgil stopped themself from boarding the panic train.

Patton wanted them to know it was okay. He was not mad.

 They were friends.

  Virgil carefully squeezed their arms around Emile for a bit longer. It was almost as if they tried reassuring someone else in order to make convince themself.

Projection, as Emile would call it.

 ...Actually, Patton would say the same.

Psychology nerds everywhere.

 There were also feelings everywhere. They were like bubbles filled with different-coloured things that were fizzy or sizzling or gas-like and so on. Somehow, all these bubbles around Virgil did not feel pressing anymore. They squeezed them in a bit but it was cozy, in a weird way. Warmth and pink was around them.

It was innocent and .. trustworthy.

 For once, there were no red flags. Wind glided over the pastel coloured banners of a relationship so novel and refreshing to Virgil.

It was still difficult to see and process.

Maybe one day, they would see these banners and identify them as a welcoming sign of hospitality and open arms. New ones but still arms stretched out to happily receive them.

 “thanks...”

 They slowly blinked at Patton who returned the little gesture with another soft rise of his lips’ corners.

Emile gently shielded the smaller person and mumbled something to which Virgil nodded again.

 Patton accepted being the outside with silent patience like a good professional.

 The punk softly rubbed their eyes. Only now, the ginger giant noticed how swollen and reddish they seemed again.

It reminded him of just they day before when they ate together.

He squinted ever so slightly, his eyes focusing on the little detail and eating it up with the information-hungry mind.

 His thoughts wanted answers and every bit of piety seemed to feel heavy on Patton’s large form when.

These large bags of darkness under their eyes seemed to hide more than several hours of missing sleep a night. It was nothing new to Patton to consider but it was then, that he realised how tangible the issue was yet how far away at the same time.

 “Uh-ehem”

 Virgil cleared heir throat and straightened their posture.

 “We are pretty much just barricading my therapist, you know”, they remarked with a slightest hint of a backbone in their words once more..

The silver tongue was back and it was sharp and sturdy as always. The sound immediately prompted Emile to react and lead them over to a corner. A heavy weapon in any battle of wits was back in place and ready to strike. Slowly, it sneaked back into the conversation and even the little smirk was blowing itself onto Virgil’s lips.

Lopsided, subtle and feisty.

 It really was inappropriate to just stand in the middle of the way. What were the three thinking?

 “Uhh.. Anyway, I think I will.. uh.. hitch a hike with you, Em - if that is okay”, they started and shrugged the slight slouch off their shoulders with a deep breath.

At once, the hesitation and doubt seemed banished from the conversation. Virgil looked tall and proud as never before.

 Honestly, the ginger student felt surprised by the sudden change.

He would never cease to be surprised by them.

 “Aw, sure thing, Virgil! You know, you always have a place by my side if you let me drive...”

 Virgil’s eyes widened and Patton felt something tickle him like when your nose tickled before a sneeze. He sensed something.. something good being about to happen.

 “..my van into your heart”, Emile finished.

 The emo groaned loudly, immediately followed by a loud chuckle from them. Their shoulders slouched a bit and they curled into themself a bit.

 “How about you drive yourself back into your work and I am gonna go and get some coffee for bribe”, they offered, “Patton, you coming?”

 The two got together and walked to the closest café in comfortable silence. Every now and then Virgil glanced at their phone, fidgeting around and looking more and more before putting it away for a while to repeat the cycle.

 Cars rolled down the cold streets and every breath evaporated into small clouds of fog. A few stray pigeons flew away when the dyad closed in on them in their curious search for anything edible.

The sun was already setting and bathing the city in a few rays of warm light. Orange and pink painted the scene but only in the rare areas the bigger buildings could not reach to block the light from.

 Virgil’s heavy boots hit the ground with every step while Patton’s own mode of walking mimicked graceful dancing. He was nearly hopping and floating over the dark concrete in the light of dawn. It was a show of beauty to see him.

 The two got a cup holder equipped with several cups of coffees and other hot drinks. They walked back but this time, the silence was swallowed by Virgil’s itching concerns. Their fidgeting got more intense and their fingers started picking at one another so much, the punk felt the plead to ask Patton for assistance on their tongue.

It was difficult, near impossible to erratically scratch and pick at something occupied by the deed to hold the cup holder with multiple scalding drinks.

They gave up on the nervous endeavour of deliberate self-harm when they realised the urge to just do it so intensely they would require support of some sort, they became aware of what exactly they were doing.

 This had to end.

 Despite their fingers tingling to scrape and pick and rip more, they refused to give in. They stopped before the building they had just come out of, Virgil cutting before their friend.

A jumbled bunch of letters flew from their lips in an oddly shushed mumble.

 “P-Patt’n?”

 They shuffled their feet a bit, looking down at them. If Patton had to draw Virgil, he would draw them in this position: shoulders slouching, gaze averted and skin vibrating in some vigilance of a distance threat.

It justified the name and behaviour Virgil usually displayed.

As they stood there, shifted from one leg to the other, boots squeaking as they were moved and squished together every now and then, Patton got the familiar urge to hug them while Virgil felt the intense wanton to throw themself into his arms. After all, the ginger giant was still a walking “hug me” sign, a fluffy one on top of that.

 “Yes, Virgil?”

 Patton’s voice was as light as a snowflake as he spoke with the world’s depot of patience in his little response.

It was a verbal touch to Virgil’s curiously fingers. They had taken to tightly grip onto the grey cup holder with one hand on left and right each. Busy thumbs brushed over the rough material and rubbed against it as if to dig for a treasure that did not exist.

 “I.. d-do.. do you think, um..”, they started but broke off, lost eyes roaming over the dark concrete. The darkness started creeping into the day and establish the night’s dominance for a few more hours than usual.

“Do you think.. L-Logan is.. is mad at me?”

 Glass green eyes grew wide as a pool of darkness shrunk in horror.

 “Oh, honey - Virgil! Logan would never!”

 He kept himself from saying more, swallowed the indignation. It was time to be composed and be a good friend and not get upset over something irrational. This was Virgil’s anxiety speaking, not their trust or rational mind, it was pure hurt and bad past experience poisoning a good relationship.

 “Listen, Logan and I are best friends and he has not once in his life complained about you, not to me, and he tells me everything. He trusts you and you are good for him. He is changing for the better and becoming more open and warm with you around, Virgil, I am not just saying this to make you happy. It really is happening. If he was upset, I am sure he would have asked me for advice or told me something and he did none of that. He asked me how to help you become more comfortable with us without pushing you - really.”

 Patton shifted and started to dig into his pocket to pull out a phone and present the referred to chat logs.

Warm brown eyes tentatively glanced over the messages for signal words, for red flags or similar things to warrant as an evidence for their anxiety to prove its point but there was none.

Black on weird whatever colour they were too blown-away to name at this moment showed how wrong their thinking had been once again. Just a stupid anxiety thing again, not even remotely warranted at all.

 “Th...thanks”

 They pursed their lips up as if to continue but hesitated enough to just go with the flow of not speaking any further, leaving the word awkwardly hang between Patton and him. Bottle green eyes blinked at them, smiling like an encouraging elementary teacher trying to cheer up a child whose drawing had been referred to as “dumb” by some uncultured swines - uh... other children with a bit more hostility.

 “I, um..”, they picked up again, eyes casting downwards bnefore blinking and glancing up at him again, “I needed that. Thanks. It is just, um.. stupid anxiety brain and all.. it just makes me dumb again, or like.. I mean, I uh.. I am not dumb or anything but I just believe the dumb anxiety and that sucks but, like, whatever, right? Can’t deny he is, um, like.. I don’t know, .. not hating me or whatever.”

They clawed at the cup holder.

“Patton, j-”

 A sudden g-note hit the air, punching a conditioned smile of fight and solidarity into Virgil’s face.

 “PA-PattoN, it is-is him! Ah - um”

 Confused jumbles of words pushed through their lips.

No sense was made in the process of this reaction.

The ginger did not understand but he readily perked up in interested, nodding.

 “It is okay, it is okay. You are safe and he is probably just curious whether you are okay. Breathe in, take a really deep breath - “

 Virgil nodded obediently. Their fingers clung to the rough cup holder. The emo’s chest rose a substantial amount before standing still while Patton counted and nodded with nice smiles. They slowly exhaled after a “seven!” and clear nod.

 “Give me the cups and take the call, kiddo. I will go and tell Emile you will be ready after the phone call.”

Hasty eyes met him which he returned with a patient nod not even the ideal monk could have provided. Virgil slowly let go of the rough texture, Patton’s gentle tugs reminding them of letting go. Fingers gradually untangled from the cloud-grey piece of recycled trash and forced a tentative nodding movement onto their head.

 They could do that. They could do that.

“Welcome to the Black Parade” was still playing and the song was nearly over. They had to take it!

This novel thought struck his mind like actual thunder. At once, fingers dug into their pockets and picked up even before their ear was close enough.

 Virgil did not know how Patton knew the song was the personalised ringtone for Logan but they appreciated how exceptionally witty the harmless pastel hulk was. A flick of their wrist goodbye’d Patton while their other hand reached their thirsty ear.

 “Hh-heyh!”

 Awfuckfuck, no he fucked up - no, they did! Now they fucked up hard enough to even fuck up their own pronouns. What a trash-

 “Greetings, Virgil. I hope you are well.”

 Ah. Smooth. Calm.

Logan was the epitome of steadiness.

The composed expression and usual greeting gave Virgil a sense of control. They knew what was about to come: small-talk because Logan thought it helped in social relationships, then some talk about work to elaborate on the things they had in common and eventually a random fact he learned that day or something equally surprising and possibly useless. At least it was something that least them unknown as to what to do with the information but it was not bad at all.

To be honest, they looked forward to it. So much even, their anxiety could not influence the smile of relief taking over their rosy lips.

 “Totally. What about you? Work sucked ass today?”

 “Virgil, work cannot actively do anything, especially not engage in any deed as interactive as acts of adult intimacy -”

 “Wow there, pocket protector. Too early a day to give me so many fancy things to listen to. Anyway, how are you doing?”

 Their lips were curled up completely by now. It was a full smile, if not already a grin preparing for the obligatory hilarious thing about to happen. Like it was some kind of scripted exchange between them.

With Logan being included, maybe it was.

 “I am doing just fine, only wondering about your well-being. Did you get a sufficient quantity and quality of sleep last night?”

 Oh. Right to the point. But speaking of it...

 “I, uh.. I am sorry. I - I was being a butt, um..”

 Virgil touched their clothed elbow of the arm holding the phone. Their fingers scraped and tugged at the fabric. Brushing, pulling, picking. The soothing feeling of a warm jacket covering them and protecting him was barely enough.

 4 - 7 - 8, they reminded themself.

A nod.

Yes, do the breathing thing and focus on Logan.

 “I am surprised to hear you apologise, Virgil. To be frank, I neither expected nor wanted an apology for overstepping any boundaries. If you are uncomfortable with me asking too many questions, you are more than welcome to “tell me off”.”

 A short break.

Insecure breaths in.

Four seconds.

 “Is this the right use of this term? I suppose, so. You are also welcome to correct me, if need be. You should know this but I am willing to remind you of my consistency. However, back to the topic.”

 Shaky holding back of nervous oxygen. Seven seconds.

 “I am not upset with you at all. Rather, I would say I am... concerned. When I started talking about this subject, my primary objective was to work out your issues in order to help you feel more comfortable. I got the .. the feeling you might need more, um, emotional support, if I may say so.”

 Painfully slow release of revolting oxygen for eight seconds.

 The voice on the other side became more uncoordinated, shooting past any aim. Logan cleared his throat to fill the silence as Virgil silently breathed themself into a greater sense of stability and safety.

 “Apologies. I started rambling again and even brought up these uncomfortable topics. All I wanted to convey is that I have a, so to speak, liiiht proposal to make to you. That being said, I might add this proposal does not include any rings or marriage-related preparation rituals. I am just saying this for clarification, not because I suspect you might assume this. I - ... Virgil, are you still there? Am I “talking your ears off”, as Roman says?”

 The small punk heard an odd sound from Logan’s side of the line. They blinked at it, a few wrinkles falling into his skin as he frowned in confusion.

 “Uh, hey, chill, dude”, their dark voice replied, “I, er, I am fine and all and you don’t have to do anything for me, anyway. It is cool, cool. Really cool. I, um, told you I won’t be home tonight? I have this thing going on, was planned before and all.”

 Virgil shrugged into the air for nobody else but uninvolved strangers to see.

 “But, um, don’t worry. I am, like, not mad or anything. I am.. glad? Like, I know I was being a bitch but that does not matter. I.. we are both sorry and that is really cool and.. just, ..just re-really thanks for being so nice about that and respect me and this. I just don’t wanna fuck up things and I know I am being sensitive and all. Uh, yeah..”

 They scratched the back of their head.

 “Any-”

Virgil started at the same time as Logan’s voice pronouncing “So, -” was transmitted to his side of the call.

The punk chuckled silently. A mere moment later, a sigh of relief could be heard. Virgil could have sworn even his hear was sighing with Logan.

 “You go first, Log.”

 If anyone had been around to see Logan at the bus stop, they would have witnessed a certain sparkling sensation behind his serious glasses as he made out the nickname Virgil added.

 “Thank you, Virgil, I appreciate that - appreciate you.”

 The words felt so much heavier than they should have been. They were voluminous gem stones on their chest. Prominent and eye-catching whilst sparkling and somewhat enticing with richness and depth of colour.

On the inside, Virgil knew they would wear Logan’s feelings on their chest, face or simply in their heart if the other would just ask them to.

 “Do you want to watch the stars with me? Tonight, I mean - say two hours, perhaps. It would just be you and me. I will take the car and get you if need be. Our university’s Astrology Club has a big telescope and great WiFi. I thought you might be interested but if you are pre-occupied, I understand.”

 Virgil absorbed the information, inhaling the connection and heartfelt consideration Logan has put into the consideration.

 “I-.. Logan, do- do you mean this as, uh.. as a date? Cuz, like, I don’t know if you do but it is cool if you do and I am not pissed or something, just want to know.”

 Another odd sound could be heard from the other side but Virgil was too caught up in anticipation to question the nature of the sound or the vibration in Logan’s breath suddenly hitting the microphone.

 “If this does not disrupt whatever your nature of relationship you enjoy with Declyn, then I would love to call it a date. With your consent only, of course.”

 Virgil’s heart did a leap. They drew in a hasty potion of oxygen as if to drink it up like the tasty juice of love.

 “I would love to. Text me the details, I will see about the car thing.”

 They hung up and ran up to Emile, taking two steps at a time. Now they had a certain skip to their steps but they also had a certain beat in their heart when they hitched a hike to their sibling in enthusiastic anticipation.

 Maybe this day could be great after all.

[yhs-silly]

Hang on there buddy #4

Trigger warnings: suicide mentions, self harm, ghost, character death, murder mention

As soon as Taurtis woke up, he had a bad feeling about the day, he grabbed some soda and sat with his tauritos, waiting for Sam to wake up. Once he woke up and they got dressed, they went over to the train station- meeting up with Yuki. The half-demon noticed how quiet Taurtis was being and put a hand on his shoulder. "Taurtis? Are you alright there?"

"Yeah, I've just got a really bad feeling about today- do you guys feel it?" He asked, frowning as Sam and Yuki shared a worried glance and shook their heads. They assured him he was just being paranoid and to ignore it, Sam joking and laughing as always. Taurtis couldn't help but forget his worries and laugh along, enjoying himself on the way to school.

He was reminded of that bad feeling when Grian didn't show up to school, a cold chill running up his spine. He couldn't quite ignore it this time as he found himself standing and raising his arm. "Yes Taurtis?" Okami asked, politely smiling at the boy. "Do you need anything?"

"Okami-sensei? Can me and Sam go look for him? See if he got held up or something?" He smiled, grabbing Sam's hand and bolting out as soon as Okami nodded. He sighed and put his hands on both of Sam's shoulders. "There's something wrong, I swear there is. I've had a bad feeling all day and then Grian doesn't show? There's something wrong here, I know it."

"Maybe he just decided to skip?"

"After what he's been like lately? Unlikely." He sighed. "Just help me look for him ok?" He let go of Sam, closing his eyes when Sam asks where they should start. "First, we search the school."

They looked everywhere, Sam decided to check upstairs while Taurtis covered the lower floor. Grian didn't seem to be anywhere, Taurtis was very worried. He stepped into the bathroom, even if Grian wasn't in there he might as well wash the tauritos dust from his fingers. But what he came face to face with in that room shook him to his very core.

Hanging- no, swinging there was one of Taurtis's best friends in the world. Taurtis felt bile rising in his throat, he knew Grian had been going through something lately but this? Taurtis had no idea how bad it really was for Grian, he screamed for the others before rushing over to get his friend down. He could instantly tell that the rope was too long to break Grian's neck but the blonde was so short it might have still killed him, Taurtis was so glad to feel a pulse.

Sam ran down the stairs, he heard the scream and tracked the sound to the bathroom- having checked the roof- his arms were full of Grian's belonging. "Hey Taurtis! I found his shit!" He raced around the corner, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Grian. "...and I see you've found him..." He felt sick to his stomach, that was his Grian- one of his best friends in the whole universe. Just swinging in the dull light of the bathroom, having tried to off himself. Sam couldn't help but think it ironic, Grian wasn't good at much- but to fail at death? Sam would've laughed if he wasn't so shell shocked.

The other came down running, Okami first- she cut the rope and brought Grian to a bench, laying him down and removing the rope from around his neck. Silly called the hospital and brought a blanket, the first aid kit and some babywipes. Sam arrived last, racing down the stairs to meet the rest of the class. "What's going on?!" Yuki yells in a panicked flurry, Chan repeating her fret in a quieter tone.

Taurtis nodded, he had tears welling up in his eyes. He hugged Chan and sniffled into her shoulder, Yuki wrapped her hand around the boys and looked over at Okami. "What happened? Is he ok?"

"He tried to kill himself..." The words rang through the school, everyone going silent for a moment- the feeling of dread sinking over them. Okami looked over Grian's scars in worry and cleaned the newer ones. "He didn't succeed though and he's still getting his breath back, the ambulance is on it's way to pick him up."

Silly nodded. "We think his throat might have given in or something like that...I'm not sure."

Sam nodded, rubbing Taurtis's back gently. He felt awful, this was the worst kind of change. He didn't want Grian to die, sure he hadn't hung out with Grian for ages and sure he'd been without Grian for a few years but he was still there- they spoke online when Grian was in england and there was still just the feeling of Grian being there. If Grian died he wouldn't be there, he'd been friends with Sam since he was little. Sam couldn't even imagine life without Grian- he didn't want to.

The ambulance arrived to collect him, Okami didn't let either of the boys go with him to the hospital- instead insisting that they were to all return to class. So they sat in class, gossiping amongst themselves while Okami tried to teach them something.

Taurtis hated all that gossiping and Chan saw how uncomfortable he was with their talking and choice of topic- so she stood up. "Shut the hell up! Can't you see how insensitive you're being? Grian is currently in hospital, DYING and you lot have the audacity to gossip about him! You sicken me! Show some damn respect and shut the fuck up!" She sat down, appreciating the silence that followed, she saw Grian as a friend. Everyone remembered what he was like when they were little, everyone here had reason to care about him. She smiled when Okami thanked her and continued with the lesson, pleased to have the class listen.

After school, most of the class rushed to the hospital to see Grian. The nurses stopped them and only let Okami, Sam and Taurtis through. Grian was asleep, laying in the hospital bed with a peacefully smile on his face, Taurtis couldn't help but imagine the bed as a coffin and tears weld up in his eyes again. Sam was just so glad Grian was ok, now things could go back to normal.

Okami felt like a bit of a failure, Grian was her student, she should have been able to see how upset he was- or at least notice that Grian had been living on the school roof. She should have helped him, she felt the bitter irony of the fact that she hadn't been able to help Grian's uncle either, the method they both chose was the same as well. She couldn't stop herself from sighing aloud. "I guess hanging runs in their family..." The duo looked at her in utter confusion and slight worry and she was forced to explain how Gareth and Grian were related. She felt herself shiver as Sam laughed and made a joke about it, Sam had always been a violent kid but laughing at his friends attempted suicide was a step too far- Okami was glad the trio would be getting therapy.

After around an hour and a half, Grian began to wake. He was the white walls and his heart skipped a beat, then he realised that he could feel his heart and he could hear Sam's voice, so he was still in hell.

Taurtis noticed that he was awake first and reached over to hug him tightly. "Grian! I'm so glad you're ok!" Grian squeaked at the contact, still processing what was happening as Sam started bombarding him with questions and Taurtis rambled on about how worried he was about Grian.

Okami watched in dismay as Grian shut down at all the chaos and just sit there with his hands over his ears. She sighed. "Boys? Boys. Listen, you need to calm down a little, you're stressing Grian out."

Taurtis nodded and let go of him, smiling brightly at him. "I'm so glad you're alive Grian!"

Grian slowly let go of his ears and sighed, staring down at the hospital bedsheets. "I wish I wasn't..."

Sam chuckled and beamed at his buddy. "What? You'd rather hang with the school ghosts?" He laughed at his own joked and watched Grian's expressions carefully, hoping to make him smile.

Grian felt a pang of guilt as he realised how much he'd really scared his friend, Sam's desperate eyes told a thousand words. But he was glad Sam was joking, he decided to play along and pretend it wasn't such a big deal. He chuckled softly and shook his head. "Oh I wouldn't, Salex is a bitch."

Taurtis frowned, why would his best friend call his late girlfriend a bitch? He knew he'd lived on the roof but had Salex been mean to Grian? He wondered if that was the case as he sat and watched Sam and Grian trade banter, seemingly happy as all hell. Taurtis knew that this was far from the truth and from the look on Okami's face, she didn't either. He gently stroked his thumb over Grian's hand, having been holding it the whole time- he just didn't want to let go of his best friend after coming so close to losing him.

Sam liked how Grian was back to being all jokey and happy again, but he wasn't stupid enough to believe that his laughing was genuine. He knew Grian was faking it and he felt awful for encouraging this but if they kept joking and laughing it would be like this never happened at all.

As a part of suicide watch, Grian and both of the boys that found him were to receive therapy. Taurtis was glad about it and wanted to get the image of Grian swinging there out of his mind, Sam didn't want it as it would mean admitting that things weren't going on as usual. Grian knew he did need it but he didn't think he deserved it- he didn't deserve to feel better. He was sure of that.

But the hospital staff forced him to attend the therapy sessions, but they couldn't force him to talk, he vowed to stay silent. The therapist didn't need to hear his pain, it was just easy money for them if they didn't need to work. The therapist tried to get him to talk, bribes, empty promises and even threats. "Please talk to me Grian, I'm trying to help you. If you get any worse they can and will section you, I know you just want to leave and maybe move in with your friends? If you don't talk to me then that will never happen, do you understand me Grian?"