#i feel like news articles are gonna tiptoe with whatever happens from now on it sucks

[sterekruinedme]

It's been a long time (without you)

on AO3

"You trust him. No, it's more than that. It is worse than that! You believe in him."

Barry was still staring at the door where Snart had just left when Iris' voice cut through him. "Iris-", he tried to placate her, but she cut him off. "He kidnapped Caitlin. And Cisco. And he hurts people! And yet you still believe in him!"

Barry sighed. He was suddenly very exhausted. "It is not like that, okay? We have a deal. He even saved my life!" Barry wasn't sure why they were even fighting about this. It's not like he was teaming up with Captain Cold again. Cold had just been there to warn him of Madon and the Trickster.

"Oh yes, he saved your life! And then he betrayed you!"

Barry sighed again. "Why are we fighting about this?", he asked. Iris's shoulders slumped and she finally uncrossed her arms. The fire in her eyes was still burning, but she seemed calmer now. "I just don't trust him."

Barry could feel his lips twitching. "I appreciate the concern. But Cold put himself at quite a risk to break into the house of a metahuman and a cop, so I'm just gonna trust him on this. Plus, he owed me one, and despite everything Cold has a codex. And he hates being in someone's depth. This is probably just his messed up way of saying thank you for saving his sister's life."

Iris huffed but relented. "He was right about the hot chocolate, you know? It's not the same without marshmallows."

.

Barry couldn't help but feel slightly smug. Leonard Snart had joined the Legends. Barry knew there was good in him. He knew it! The news made something warm expand in his chest. He inhaled sharply when he realized it was pride. He was proud of Snart for doing the right thing.

"What are you so happy about?", Iris asked from where she was sitting on the couch. For one ridiculous second Barry wanted to hide the postcard he had found in the post from her eyes. But then he reminded himself that it was just a postcard. And this was Iris he was talking to.

"Oh, uhm, it's a postcard. From Snart." He couldn't help but fidget as he watched Iris's eyebrows shoot upwards. "Captain Cold sent you a postcard?!", her voice went high with disbelief, and Barry winced.

"Yes?", he didn't mean for it to sound like a question. "He joined the Legends. The postcard is from 1989, I guess he thought it would be funny." Barry looked down at the postcard again, warmth flooding his chest at the caption: I guess you were right. Don't let it get to your head, kid. Cold.

When he looked up from the postcard again Iris was studying him silently. He knew that look on her face and he really did not like it. "He wrote you a postcard. And it is from the year you were born?" Barry could feel his cheeks flame. "Uhm yeah?" The hand that wasn't holding the postcard was now awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. It was a nervous habit he had wanted to get rid of, but apparently he couldn't. It took all of his willpower not to start fidgeting under Iris's scrutinizing gaze anyway.

"Look, I know you don't like him, but it is just a postcard, okay?" He tugged the offending piece of mail into his pocket and crossed the room to sit down on the couch as well. Iris was still looking at him like that. Like he was a mystery she wanted to solve, a particularly interesting piece of information she had not considered before. She looked at him like she sometimes looked at a piece of evidence for one of her articles.

"Of course, sorry. Let's just watch the game, okay?", she asked but her voice was still off. She let Barry pull her close, but he could tell that her thoughts were miles away.

"Barry?"

He had not noticed that Iris had entered the room. If she was back from work already then he really must have been sitting here for a while now.

"Barry? Are you okay?" He hummed and turned to look at her. Something about his appearance must have thrown her off because suddenly Iris hesitated to come closer to him

Maybe he should get up from the floor. His knees were starting to hurt from kneeling for so long.

"What happened?", Iris asked and Barry knew that fear in her voice all too well. She was expecting bad news, the kind of news that would leave him powerless on the floor of their bedroom.

"It's just-", his voice sounded raw even to his own eyes and he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. It wasn't "just" Snart's death. He swallowed and forced himself off the floor. "Snart's dead."

Barry saw the moment the words registered with Iris, saw how surprised she was to see him in this state over his dead enemy. But he wasn't just an enemy, was he? Cold had become an ally.

"Oh." Iris was staring at him with that look again and then her eyes flickered to his hands. He was still holding the postcard Snart had written him. "Oh", Iris repeated again and something shifted in her eyes. "He meant something to you, didn't he?" Her voice was careful now like he was a spooked animal that needed to be soothed.

"I-", Barry's first instinct was to deny that, but that would be ridiculous. "He was an ally, of course I care if he is dead. Especially if it is because I pushed him to become a hero." He said, his shoulders sagging under the realization that if maybe he hadn't pushed Snart to become a hero, he might still be alive.

"Barry, whatever happened to Cold is not your fault. He made his own choices, you know that better than anyone."

"I know", Barry mumbled and refused to look Iris into the eyes.

.

"Why HIM?", Iris had asked and Barry was asking himself the same thing now. He tried to justify his actions with the fact that Snart was the best thief he knew and that time was running out, but he had also missed the older man. He had missed their banter and the slow drawl of his voice and-

And he knew that he could trust him.

Snart proved him right when he refused to let Barry murder King Shark and he knew that he would be grateful for that when the dust had finally settled. The fact that Snart could read him so well, actually knew him well enough to know what he was planning and to come up with a different plan made something warm settle in his stomach.

Barry couldn't leave him in there with ARGUS agents sure to arrive any second and King Shark still on the other side of the door. No matter how much Snart taunted him, he could hear how scared he was in his voice, in the way it shook when he said his name. It felt an awful lot like he had to choose between Snart and Iris, but he just could not bring himself to leave him there. He had promised Iris he would do anything to save her, but he could not do this.

And Lyla just had to call him out on it, didn't she? She might be fooled into thinking that Barry was just a good person, a hero, too good to sacrifice somebody for his own gain. But Barry was not so sure about that. If it had been somebody else behind that door, somebody he cared about less, he might have left them there. He felt sick just thinking about it, but he couldn't stop. He didn't recognize who he was becoming.

Snart hit too close to home when he called Barry on it as well. He had not been sure if Barry would save him and that cut deeper than it should have. "I see the bad in you", he said but it almost sounded admiring. Almost. But then Snart put his hand on his shoulder and looked at him with that intense gaze. "Call me sentimental, but I think the Flash should always be a hero." Barry swallowed and had to avert his eyes, a private smile playing around his lips.

He suddenly wished he could just tell him. Tell Snart how he would die, save him somehow but he knew that that was impossible. "Be careful, Snart."

"There are no strings on me", Snart drawled and Barry smiled sadly at him. He knew how untrue that was, how attached to his team Snart would become. Attached enough to sacrifice himself for them.

He heaved a sigh and turned away from him, suddenly aching to get back to his own time, to get away from Snart's piercing gaze.

.

After everything was over and the dust had finally settled, after almost losing Iris, after having thought her lost, Barry felt completely drained. He dreaded the conversation he would have to have with Iris. About who he had almost become. He dragged himself out of bed with a sigh.

Iris was sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop, but she looked up when Barry entered. They had been tiptoeing around each other for a few days now, the air between them always charged with too much tension.

"Hey", Barry mumbled, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

"Hi", Iris closed her laptop and took a deep breath. "I think we need to talk." Barry huffed and sat down across from her. "I think you are right." "Look, there is something I didn't tell you. When Snart and I broke into ARGUS, things went really wrong for a second and I had to make a choice. I had to choose between leaving him there to fend for himself and getting back to you." Barry trailed of and hesitated, flicking his eyes to Iris and back down.

"Barry, I am not mad that you didn't sacrifice Captain Cold for me, if that is what you are worried about. Everything worked out and I am fine", her voice was soft and reassuring, but Barry swallowed hard and forced himself to look at her. "It's not that. I-, if it was anybody else, I-" He took a shaky breath. "I considered it. I considered leaving him there but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it. But if it had been somebody else in there with me, I think I would have. I would have sacrificed them. And that scares me."

"Do you have feelings for him, Barry?", Iris asked after a beat. "Is that what you are trying to tell me?"

Barry shook his head so fast, he was sure Iris only saw a blur. "No, my feelings for Snart don't matter." And shit, that-

That was not what he had meant to say at all. "I mean I don't have any! And that's why they don't matter." Didn't he though? A small nagging voice whispered in his mind, sounding annoying familiar but no-

He would deal with that question later. Not that it really mattered, because Snart was gone and he wasn't coming back and Barry should have warned him, he-

He put his head in his hands and just focused on breathing for a moment before he looked at Iris again. "What scares me is what I would do for you. Savitar only existed because I turned to darkness after you died. I would have killed somebody to save you. Since I was a little kid, I always thought that you would be the answer to all of my problems, that if we would be together everything would be alright."

He smiled sadly at Iris, who was staring at him with sad eyes. "I love you, I do! I just think I was so blinded by the fantasy, so in love with the perfect future I imagined for us that I became obsessed with it and that made me dangerous."

"You love me. You just aren't in love with me." Iris concluded with a bitter twist to her mouth. She had always known him too well. There were tears in her eyes and Barry could feel his own emotions welling up as well.

"Not anymore. I don't know what happened. But I do know that I love you."

"Just not like that", Iris finished for him and Barry nodded.

Iris slid the ring of her finger, the tears were running down her cheeks now. "I am so sorry", Barry whispered, but Iris shook her head. "It's not your fault. You can't help how you feel."

.

The weeks after the break-up were a blur. Joe didn't understand and his team treated him like he was fragile or perhaps going insane, so he mostly spent his time alone to avoid the pity and confusion and awkwardness.

The postcard had somehow found his way onto his nightstand when he had unpacked after moving out. He had used it as a bookmark at first, but now it was permanently residing there with the text facing upwards.

Admitting to himself that Iris had been right had been uncomfortable at best. Somewhere along the line, Barry had developed feelings for Snart. Sometimes he stared at the postcard and mourned what could have been. But he always shook himself out of it, because no matter what he might have felt, he was still an enemy to the older man. So instead, he focused on figuring out his sexuality.

He googled a lot and found some ridiculous buzzfeed quizzes before he found a forum for the lgbt community. The members were welcoming and open to answering his questions and he soon found a label that fit; bisexual.

Coming out was surprisingly easy. Joe simply hugged him tight and promised that this didn't change anything. Cisco simply said "cool" and high-fived him. Iris smiled sadly at him but gave him a hug nevertheless.

.

Months later Barry found himself at Saints and Sinners of all places. His feet had somehow carried him to the bar. The same bartender who had been here all those months ago was still behind the bar and Barry sat down with a heavy sigh. The bartender eyed him for a second before her face dawned with recognition. "Oh hey kid, Cold isn't here today."

Barry swallowed and tried his best to smile. No, of course he wasn't. He wouldn't ever be here again. "No, yeah, I know." This was probably a stupid idea. What had he been thinking? He could get into seriously trouble with his boss for just being in this bar. Barry shook his head. "I don't know why I'm here, I should probably go." He hadn't even ordered a drink yet, not that it would make a difference, but he left a tip anyway and turned to leave.

On his way out he bumbed into somebody and looked up to apologize only to freeze. Standing before him was Lisa Snart. She was eyeing him suspiciously and fuck- Barry really hoped that Len had kept his word and also that Lisa hadn't figured it out yet. "Oh, you're Cisco's friend", she said after a moment. Then her smile turned sharper and she cocked her hip. "How is Cisco?"

"Fine, he's fine. Excuse me", Barry mumbled and stumbled out of the bar.

.

Shyla was just bringing him his drink into the backroom when Lisa sauntered in with unmasked glee on her face. "Cisco's cute friend was just here. You know, the one that looks like bambi? Do you think he might bring Cisco with him sometime? Or maybe I should ask him for Cisco's number if he comes back?"

"Bambi? Oh yeah Len, the kid that bothered you a few times last year, do you remember him? He left when I told him you weren't here", Shyla cut in and Len saw the gears turning in Lisa's head. Oh no.

"Wait. Those bambi eyes. THAT kid is the Flash?!", Lisa exclaimed as soon as Shyla was gone. Len rubbed his temple. He could feel a headache coming on. "Yes."

Lisa had crossed her arms, but she was smirking now. "I can see why you were so obsessed with him. He is exactly your type, isn't he?" Len only glared at her. "Does he know that you are", she trailed off and vaguely waved her hands in his direction.

"Back from the dead?", he finished her question. "No."

Lisa frowned. "Why not?"

Len sighed heavily. He swore he could feel the headache intensifying. "Let him enjoy his wedded bliss before the announcement of his nemesis returning ruins his fun", he drawled but he knew that Lisa had always been able to look straight through him.

"He looked really sad, you know?", she said carefully. "There must be a reason why he came to Saints and Sinners. He could have gone anywhere."

Len knew what Lisa was implying but the thought of the Flash missing him was simply absurd. He remembered the last time he had seen the man vividly after all, remembered the fear and betrayal he had felt when the hero had nearly left him in the cell with that horrifying shark creature, remembered the resignation that of course the Flash would sacrifice him for his precious fiance, hell he had taunted him with his ruthlessness just moments before.

He also remembered the bone-deep relief when Scarlett had turned back for him.

Len snorted. "He is probably glad I am gone." He tried to sound cold and aloof, but his voice betrayed him halfway through. Lisa only raised her eyebrows at him.

.

"He is not married. He is actually very very single", Lisa announced when she strolled into his safe-house days later.

Len had been on the verge of taking a very much deserved nap, but now he groaned and sat up on the couch. "What?"

Lisa smirked. "He is single."

Len sighed. "Ramon? Congrats. Now, if you would be so kind", he made a shooing motion with his hand.

Lisa's smirk only widened. "No, your little Bambi. He isn't married." Lisa sat down on the couch next to him. "He is very single."

Len only gaped at her for a moment, before he exploded: "I'm sorry WHAT?" For a moment he was afraid that something had gone wrong, that Iris had died. It certainly would explain why Barry had been so sad.

"They called the engagement off a while ago", Lisa continued. "So Iris-?"; Len asked with bated breath.

"She is fine", Lisa confirmed and then just looked at him.

Len couldn't help but feel irritated. So he had risked his life to save Barry's precious fiance and then they hadn't even tied the knot?

"Are you okay?", Lisa asked tentatively. Len looked at her flatly and forced himself to smirk. "Peachy."

Maybe he would feel better if he checked on Barry, saw the situation for himself. It's not like he was worried for the speedster, he just wanted to know what had happened. One little visit to Starlabs surely couldn't hurt-

No. He had promised himself he would stay away from metahumans and heroes. He had no desire to get himself killed again.

.

"Bambi is here again", Shyla announced as she entered the back room where Len was going over some plans.

"I told you to stop calling him that", Len grit out but the bartender only looked amused. She had known him for way too long to feel threatened by him and they were both keenly aware of it.

"I think he is looking for something." Shyla's tone was poignant. "He isn't going to find it here", he grumbled.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Something keeps him coming back. Or someone." Len ignored her raised eyebrow and glared at her. Shyla glared right back. "He doesn't know I'm-", he gestured vaguely, "back."

"Back from the dead, you mean? Oh, that's right, because you had a second chance at life and you spent it hiding away and planning small robberies you never actually go through with. What are you so afraid of?"

Len gritted his teeth. "Thank you Shyla, that will be all."

.

In the end, Len couldn't stay away. He had never been good at denying himself the things he wanted and he wanted Ba-

He wanted to see what was up with the speedster.

Looking back he really should have known that following a metahuman -and it wasn't stalking, shut UP Lisa- would be a bad idea. Barry had him pressed against the alley wall before Len could even register what was happening.

"Who the fuck are you? Why are you following me?", the speedster hissed, making Len raise both eyebrows.

"Now, now Scarlett. What a very rude way to greet an old friend." Len smirked as he lowered his hood, but he was wholly unprepared for the sound Barry made, a choked gasp followed by an angry, feral growl. "Do you think this is fucking funny? What the fuck are you, huh? A shapeshifter of some kind?", he sounded breathless.

"Hey, Barry, it really is me." Len made sure to keep his voice gentle. This certainly was not how he had imagined their reunion. Not that he had imagined it.

"No, you died. They told me, you-" Barry sounded as breathless as Len felt.

"Surprise?"

Barry narrowed his eyes at him. "Prove it. Prove that you are him."

"I wrote you a postcard. Sent it to you from the year you were born", Len said quickly, still pinned to the wall by Barry, but the other man only scoffed.

"You could have just broken into my apartment and seen it there."

For a moment Len was speechless. "You-" He swallowed. "You kept it?"

Barry's grip on him loosened some, but he was still eyeing Len suspiciously.

Len sighed. "Fine. The last time I saw you, I told you the Flash should always be a hero."

Barry's arms fell lifelessly to his side and he stumbled a step back. "You're alive", Barry whispered and Len laughed because duh-

"And you're not married. What happened there, huh? After I risked my life for your precious fiance...", Len trailed off. He had not been able to keep the venom out of his voice.

Barry flushed and ducked his head. Len observed with great interest as his blush spread down his neck. "Yeah, Iris and I didn't work out."

Len tilted his head to the side. "Mmh, it's a shame really. The least she could have done after you saved her life, was not break your heart."

"She, uh, she didn't." If anything Barry flushed an even deeper shade of red and Len needed a second to catch up with what the speedster had implied.

"YOU broke HER heart?", he all but yelled. Then, forcing himself to calm down and not get his hopes up,"Oh my, it seems like we have a lot of catching up to do, Scarlett."

.

Barry couldn't believe it. Leonard Snart was alive. They were sitting at a table at Saints and Sinners of all places. Snart had ordered them both a beer, although he knew that would not do anything for Barry, and there was a plate of fries on the table. It almost felt like a date. That thought made Barry want to laugh just a little hysterically. After all, they had been in this exact position before, and that had definitely not been a date.

Snart had suggested this bar to "catch up" and Barry hadn't even thought about saying no. But now the older man was just looking at him, studying him, while Barry felt like vibrating out of his skin. "How did you-, When-, I mean how long have you been-"

Snart smirked at him. "Breathe Barry."

If he heard the way Barry's breath caught at the use of his name, Snart ignored it. "I've been back for a while now", Snart said, but didn't offer any other information. "And you never thought to mention that you were alive? We all thought you were dead!"

Snart levelled him with a cool look. “Why? So I could let myself be dragged into the superhero life and die again?” His voice was controlled, but there was an emotion in his eyes that Barry could not decipher.

Barry shook his head. “No. Just so that I could know you were alive. I was sorry to hear that you had died.” He hesitated. “I missed you, Snart.”

Snart snorted and shook his head. “I know you are a hero kid, but even your heart cannot be so pure that you missed your archnemesis.” There was a playful lilt in his voice, but the same indecipherable emotion was still in his eyes.

Barry swallowed. “You know you were never my archnemesis. That was Thawne”, he said, aiming for playful but missing. “I’d like to think that we weren’t even enemies, at the end.” Barry stared at the table, fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat. Maybe that was all that Snart ever thought of him; that he was his enemy, the annoying metahuman that always thwarted his plans.

“What would you call us then, Barry? Friends?” Barry didn’t have to lift his eyes to know that Snart was smirking unkindly. His voice had hardened. Barry didn’t know what he had done, but he was certain that he had pissed the older man off somehow.

Still, he swallowed nervously and said softly:” I’d like to think we could have been.”

Snart scoffed. “Wake up, Barry.”

“Don’t treat me like some dumb little kid”, Barry growled and finally looked into Snart’s eyes again. He had enough of the older man acting like he didn’t care. “You’ve been calling me Barry all night. What’s up with that?”

For a second Snart’s carefully crafted façade broke, before he was back to smirking at Barry.

“That is your name, isn’t it?”, Snart asked innocently.

Barry huffed. “Yes. My first name. No ‘Scarlett’ or ‘kid’ or even ‘Allen’. You’ve been calling me Barry since we sat down.”

Snart glared at him and shifted in his seat. His gaze flickered across the room, before landing on his beer. He shrugged and drained what was left of his drink in one go, before turning back to Barry. “You really want to go there today, huh? Alright, fine, let’s go there. Tell me, Barry. Why aren’t you married?”

That wasn’t a conversation Barry was ready to have, not with Snart, and definitely not sober. He sighed and looked sadly at his beer, wishing desperately that he could get drunk.

.

Len didn’t know what he had expected when he had suggested that Barry and he should catch up, but it certainly wasn’t this. Barry looked like he wanted to drown himself in alcohol or run away. Or both. If Len hadn’t been feeling like things were about to spiral out of control, he might have enjoyed this. Still, he couldn’t help but fluster the speedster just a tiny bit more. “Oh, and call me Len”, he said and winked at Barry.

For a moment Barry just stared at him, opening and closing his mouth as if unsure how to even begin answering Len. Then, he dropped his gaze back to the table and shrugged. “Iris and I just didn’t work out.”

Len snorted unattractively. “The love of your life? And it just didn’t work out? Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

Barry blushed and mumbled something that Len didn’t catch. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He could see the speedster’s jaw clench in frustration, but then Barry finally raised his gaze again and stared straight at Len. Oh, how he had missed the fire in Barry’s eyes. “I said she is not the love of my life.” He shrugged, but levelled Len with a smirk. “I figured out that I wasn’t in love with her. I was in love with this perfect idea of her, but she deserves better than somebody who is obsessed with this perfect marriage because he saw it in a stupid time machine.” At Len’s confused frown, Barry shrugged. “Long story. Anyway, you actually helped me figure that out.”

Now it was Len’s turn to be speechless. He stared at Barry, waiting for the younger man to explain what he had meant.

“You know when the door closed and you were locked in with King Shark, I really scared myself. For a moment I hesitated. If it had been anybody else I might have left them there and-“ Barry sighed, a frustrated and helpless little sound, and raked his hand through his hair, before catching Len’s eyes again. “That is just not somebody I ever wanted to be. It put a lot of things into perspective. Made me re-evaluate a lot of things.”

Len had barely heard the last part of what Barry had said, his mind going in circles. “If it had been anybody else?”, he blurted out, hating how breathless he sounded, but unable to stop it.

Barry smirked humourlessly. “Told you we could have been friends.”

Friends? Maybe in a different lifetime. But Len knew that there was something else between them, something else hiding at the edges of their complicated relationship. He leaned forward, suddenly driven by impulse and desire. “Is that what you want Barry? Do you want us to be friends?” Without his permission, one of Len’s hands reached across the table. Barry gasped softly at his touch, but he didn’t pull away. “Is that really what you want?”

Barry shook his head and pulled his hands out of Len’s reach. In a blur, he was standing beside Len. “I don’t want us to be friends”, he panted and the next moment Len had a wide-eyed speedster in his lap.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but I don’t think that is what you want either.”

Len gripped Barry’s hips tightly, keeping him steady and secure in his lap. “You’re not wrong.”

Kissing Barry was nothing like Len had expected. Not that he had thought about it often. But the meta-human kissed gently but deeply, hungrily but never demanding, claiming him but also making him feel cherished.

Len knew that he could easily get lost in Barry Allen. After all, he had done it before, had gotten lost in his obsession with The Flash. But now things were different. Maybe it would not be such a bad thing to get lost in this Barry, in the Barry that climbed into his lap and kissed him until they were panting for breath, the Barry that had followed him into Saints and Sinners without a single complaint, the Barry that had missed him, that was happy to see him alive and well.

Yes, it would not be a bad thing to get lost in Barry Allen.

[oscar-piastri]

improvised nurse [peter parker x reader]

title: improvised nurse

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: you find a wounded spiderman in your bedroom

words: +3.6k

taglist: @borhapparker (i figured you’d want to be tagged in my marvel ones as well c:)

notes: i’m really proud of this! feel free to tell me what you think!

Spider-Man remains one of the biggest mystery of the moment. Everyone is dying to know who that masked superhero is, his name is all over the news to relate his latest exploits. Tonight wasn’t any different, Spider-Man was on TV to show his last arrest, but this time, something changed: it was the first time he was shown hurt. You were eating with your family when the footage of Spider-Man being stabbed was shown, it was so unexpected that you dropped your cutlery when you saw the scene. There was no way of knowing what happened next, because the video cut, to slide back to the news’ presenter. The rest of the dinner was in a big silence, you could only hear you brother’s sobs because he saw his new hero being hurt.

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your brother to bed, seeing his puffy eyes made you think about what happened and even thought you did your best to tell him that Spider-Man was fine, you knew he wasn’t truly believing you.

You went back to your room, you shivered when the cold air hit you as soon as you opened the door. You often forget to close your window, you never really cared because you knew Spider-Man was always around to watch over the neighbourhood, but after tonight’s incident, you knew nobody was looking after criminals. Switching on the light, you made your way to your window to close it. But you couldn’t help but scream when you turned around and noticed an unknown figure on your bed.

“Honey what’s wrong?” You father asked loudly from downstairs. 

You looked at the red and blue masked superhero, lying like dead on your bed. “N-nothing, I just… Saw a spider on my bed” You replied, bringing your hands on your heart to make sure he was still beating after you almost died of scare.

You ran to your bedroom, carefully closing the door to prevent your parents from seeing what was happening in your bedroom. You slowly walked back to your bed, not being able to look away from the masked superhero but you clearly had no idea of what to do. The only thing you knew was that he was stabbed and probably bleeding to death on your bed, or even worse, he was probably already dead.

His chest was lifting up and you took that as a sign that he was still breathing, but it wasn’t erasing the part that he was still hurt and that he could soon stop breathing if you stay still. You walked closer to your bed, before kneeling in front of it, so your face was on the same level on his. You slowly brought a hand to his neck, to the separation of his face mask and bodysuit, to lift up the mask in order to find out if he was wounded on his face. Yes, just like everyone you wanted to know what was Spider-Man, but you also wanted to make sure he was fine.

Your fingers finally touched the soft red fabric and as you were going to take his mask off, you felt a strong grip around your wrist, making you lose your balance and falling back on your butt.

“Don’t” He grunted in pain, placing his hands on his wounds as he felt a terrible pain rushing through his body.

“I-I’m sorry” you blurred out, blinking your eyes to make sure that everything was real.

“Sorry for barging in like that” He apologized as well, but you could tell that speaking was hurting him. “Saw your open window and I was too tired to-” He tried to explain but you didn’t let him finish.

“It’s okay. Don’t speak” You ordonned as you gave him an old piece of fabric that was laying around. “Apply pressure on your wound” You said as you took your phone out of your pocket. “Now you’re here and I’ll try my best to keep you… alive” you told him, hoping you’d reassure him a little. But in all honesty, he didn’t seemed worried at all, not like you who were shaking because let’s face it, you didn’t know what to do at all, hence the fact that you were using your phone to make some research. You’ve watched some tv shows were they would deal with this kind of plot; someone helping another person wounded, but reality could be quite different.

“What are you doing?” He asked in a low voice.

“Googling ‘how to treat a stab wound’, because as you can see, I’m a student, not a doctor” You snap at him “Sorry, I can come off as mean when I’m stressed” You apologized in a more calming voice. 

You quickly read some articles trying to memorize the most important gesture. You needed to be quick if you didn’t want him to bleed to death, and what was worrying you was that you had no idea if any organs have been touched. “Take off your suit or whatever that is” You asked him and he executed right away.

“Ouch” He grunted every time he was moving an arm.

“Let me help you” You proposed, helping him get off from his suit. “Oh, I’m sorry” you apologized when you had to pull harder because the fabric of his suit was sticking with the blood. You stopped pulling away his suit right under his waist, the wound was visible and you didn’t want to find out what was under his waist. Just thinking about this made your cheeks turn into a slight shade of red. Your eyes wandered over his abdomen, you could only feel his pain when you saw many bruises next to the fresh cut wound. According to his abdomen and some fresh research, no organs have been touched, and you simply need to clean the wound and stitch it.

“Focus. It’s a life or death situation” you mentally said, trying to find the boost of confidence you needed to help him. “Okay, don’t move” You told him before realising what you just said “Yeah, sorry, I know you can’t go very far” You apologized as you got up, you asked him to be quiet as you left your room, closing the door behind you. You tiptoed to the upstairs bathroom, trying to make no noise to avoid many questions from your parents. Taking back your phone, you looked at the listed items you needed to treat Spider-Man’s wound: you luckily found a saline solution, after searching in many drawers, you found a small stitching kit and you mentally thanked your father for being a fan of camping, because he had a kit for any situation. You grabbed some bandage before going back to your bedroom.

“Still alive?” You asked, closing the door with your legs because you hands were full. You carefully dropped the items on your nightstand when you saw the superhero lifting his thumb to tell you that he was still with you.

You gave him one of your stuffed animals, in the movies that’s what they do, they give something they can hold and squeeze if they’re in pain while they’re being stitched up. “You might want to hold on to that” You advised him, and he grabbed it right away, already holding it with a strong grip.

“Thanks”

You sat on the edge of the bed, trying to find the best position so you could treat his wound. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, which was a big relief to you “You know, taking off your mask would be useful, like knowing if you’re turning white because you’re dying” You said as you carefully poured some saline solution on the superhero’s wound. You saw him quiver in pain, making you apologized as you kept cleaning the wound.

“I will never take it off” He let out, once you had finished cleaning the wound, feeling less pain. Of course he couldn’t take off his mask, especially with you around. He wasn’t ready for you to discover his true identity; Peter Parker, also known as your best friend. If Peter could tell you the truth, he’d say that he ended up at your house because he knew you’d be the best person he could trust with that, perfectly knowing you’d help him without asking questions.

“I’m Y/N, by the way” You introduced yourself, you had just read that talking with the injured person was a way to keep him conscious. You were ready to talk about anything as long as it will keep him alive.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Spider-Man” he replied and you chuckled at his words, and you could tell by the sound of his voice that he was proud of himself for joking around like that.

You were about to start the worst part, stitching him up, when you heard a loud knock on your door. “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s with the noise?” You recognized your mother’s voice and you started to freak out. There was no time or place for you to hide Spider-Man, so you knew you had to come up with some lies so your mother wouldn’t come inside. You ran to your door, and opened it slightly, stucking your head in the small opening. “Y/N, it’s late! What are you doing?” She asked, trying to open the door so she could enter.

“I’m… uh…” You hesitated, not finding any believable lie. “I’m watching… porn?” you blurred out, crossing your fingers she’ll believe you. Her eyes were wide open, blinking more than she should, her mouth in a “o” shape.

“Oh my dear… Okay, that is totally normal, if you-” 

“It’s okay. I’ve got it. Good night mom” you told her before closing the door. You were quite surprised with your own lie, and even more surprised that she believed it.

“Nice one” He slowly laughed

“Yeah well laugh while you can, the next step is gonna hurt like hell” You warned him, sitting back to your previous spot. You looked at your phone once again but just reading the many articles made your vision blurry, and you felt like you could throw up at any moment.

“Hey, you can do that” The superhero tried to reassure you. You nodded your head, and started preparing for the following steps. You sterilized the tools you were gonna use, you put on some gloves your mother used when she was cleaning the bathroom. But even the words of encouragement from the masked hero wasn’t enough, you hands were shaking like crazy and you struggled to put the suture material to the needle. But you had to hurry, and when you looked at his wound once again, you felt the boost you needed and you eventually succeeded.

“Don’t hesitate to destroy my stuffed animals and I’m sorry for what’s gonna happen” You warned him, and he nodded, giving you the signal to start. You took a deep breath and started working. The superhero flinched in pain as soon as you pushed the needle in his skin and you bite your lips as you saw him in deep pain. The you twisted your hand clockwise so the needle was coming up on the other side of the wound. You tried your best to have the needle coming out straight across from the first needle hole, as you had read on an article. 

You weren’t even thinking anymore, you just tried to reproduce whatever was on the pictures to your best, and you managed to suture a few inches, hearing the muffled groans of the mask hero. You were completely proud of yourself, but you didn’t had time to congratulate yourself, because you hadn’t stitched the whole wound, so after taking a big breath, you repeated the same steps, still talking to the superhero, mostly to calm yourself and distract you from the butchery that was happening on your bed.

To finish, you used the bandages to wrap and protect the wound. “Promise me you’ll see a doctor soon, I’m not sure how it’ll look in a few hours” you said, as you packed everything back in the suture kit. You quickly realised that you heard no answer and his body hasn’t moved either. “No! No wake up!” you half yelled, shaking him a little to wake him up. You knew he wasn’t supposed to sleep, well you didn’t know but you assumed, because he was just weak and if he was sleeping, his state could get worse, and you frankly didn’t want to have a dead man on your bed.

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was just thinking” he answered, trying to lean against your bed frames and pillows.

“Oh”

“Give me your phone” he asked and you executed right away. He thanked you and typed something before handing your phone back.

“What’s that? A superhero’s number?” You jokingly asked as you looked at the written digits.

“Someone that works with me, tell him to pick me up and he’ll take care of me” He explained in a low voice.

“Why didn’t you give me that sooner?” You asked raising your voice.

“Because I was gonna bleed to death on your bed? And I was too weak to move. At least now I can use my web to get out of your room.” He retorted and you had to agree.

You called the number and talked to a certain Happy Hogan, he seemed pretty worried about the superhero’s safety, but you heard a big sigh of relief when you told him he was fine. And just like you’ve been told to do, you asked Happy if he could come as soon as possible at your address, to pick up the masked vigilante and drop him off to a proper doctor.

“He’ll be there soon” You said as you hung up. You carefully moved your desk chair to bring it closer to your bed so you could keep an eye on your patient. Your alarm clock was showing that it was close to midnight and you could sense that the two of you were totally exhausted.

To keep yourself awake, you grabbed a book from your nightstand and dived in reading. From your position you could still clearly look at the printed letters and survey his breathing. 

You eventually found yourself distracted from your reading, when your eyes were glued to his body. You didn’t had the occasion to take a closer look earlier because of the rushed attempt at saving his life, but you had all the time until Happy shows up.

His chest and abdomen were covered in bruises, some were fresh, others were a few days older and it pained you to see his bruised body, you couldn’t imagine the pain he must be in. Your eyes stopped at his abs and your cheeks went red again, then your eyes went all the way up again to look at his arms. Strong arms, with nicely shaped biceps, you couldn’t lie, it was a really nice view. You stopped at his mask, you let your imagination to find out what person was underneath the mask. 

“Don’t stare” You heard someone chuckle and you felt your face going all red.

“I wasn’t” You mumbled, hiding your face in the book. You couldn’t say if he was mad or happy about it, because the mask was blocking every movement from his face. “Your voice” you blurred out, trying to create a new subject so you could move on from that awkward staring moment.

“What’s wrong with my voice?”

“It’s a weird voice” You replied.

“I know, it’s not my real voice” He explained, he was indeed using a technology that was changing his voice’s sound, to avoid being recognized by his voice, especially with you around, who clearly could recognize your best friend, if he was using his normal voice.

Your phone vibrated and you saw a text from signed from Happy, saying that he was outside. You got up from your seat to take a look at the window, where you a saw a parked car in front of your house. “Looks like your ride is here” you said, turning around to find a already up Spider-Man, he was walking funny due to his injuries but he looked in a better shape than when he came here earlier that night.

“Thank you, for everything” He said, walking to join you next to the window.

“Just did my best” you shrugged “And be careful, okay?” You asked, now that you’ve seen how wounded he was, you couldn’t help but worry about his next fight.

He nodded and threw his web on the other side of the street. “See ya!” He said before jumping out of your window, he landed next to the car, it wasn’t a perfect land but he didn’t tripped and fell, and you were glad to know him safe, in good hands.

You closed your window and changed into your pajamas. As you were about to climb into your bed, you noticed big blood stains on your bed, you let out a long sigh before taking away the bed sheets, tossing them at the other side of your room. You were too tired to change the sheets, and you decided to sleep without sheets and covers for this one night.

You woke up a few hours later when your alarm went on, surprisingly, you weren’t too tired even though you slept less than usual. You hurried to get ready to school, dropped the stained sheets in the laundry machine, and went straight to school. You were dying to find your friend Peter, to tell you all about your crazy night, but at your biggest surprise, he was nowhere to be found. You assumed that he was either late or already in his class, and decided to look for him again during the lunch break.

“Peter, you will never know what happened last night” You exclaimed, a giant smile on your face as you were running to the table he was sitting at, in the refectory “Hey, what’s wrong? You look unwell…”

“Oh don’t worry.. I wasn’t looking and tripped in the stairs back in my apartment building” he lied

“You should call May, she needs to pick you up!” You suggested, worried about your best friend’s health.

“I’m fine as long as I don’t move too much.” He assured you, hoping you wouldn’t add two and two and find out about his secret identity. “Anyway, what did you wanted to tell me?” He asked, changing the subject to avoid any questions.

“Spider-Man was at my house yesterday!” you whispered, bringing your face closer to his, so only him could hear that.

“No way!” Peter faked a surprised face. Of course he knew what happened last night, because he was here! But he really wanted to hear what you were about to say.

“It happened after he got hurt! I helped treating his wound and he stayed a few hours before one of his friends went to pick him up” You explained, you didn’t go through all the details because it was lunch hour and you knew you weren’t ready to have some flashbacks from what you did last night.

“It’s like you saved his life” Peter pointed out, bringing a new smile on your face

“Yeah, I guess you could say that” you said, sensing a feeling of pride rushing through your mind. Before attending you next class, you asked Peter to call his aunt because he needed to rest at least this day, after his fall in the stairs. 

On your way back home, you stopped by at a kiosque to take a look at today’s press articles. There was no update on Spider-Man’s situation in the local news, and most of the newspapers were worried, already planning an hommage, thinking he died somewhere in the street. You knew that he was safe and he was probably resting somewhere, to be at the top of his form to starting catching criminals again.

A few days had passed since you played an improvised nurse for the masked superhero, and he still hadn’t made his comeback, but you were probably the only person not worried about that. You decided to left your window open every night for a few hours, hoping he’ll swing by some night, to tell you that he was back.

He eventually came one night, as you were working on some homework by your desk. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, which made you jump out of scare. But when you turned around towards the noise, you were relieved to find him crouching on your window ledges, holding a stuffed animal in his hands. 

You walked up to him and he handed you the animal “It’s because I almost destroyed one of yours” he babbled. Peter was mentally thanking himself for wearing a mask, so you couldn’t see him blushing.

“You didn’t have to!” You thanked him, holding the stuffed animal closed to your chest and closed to your heart. “I love it” you continued, slightly blushing. “By the way, how do you feel?” You asked for an update on his wound. He managed to come back here so you figured he was feeling better, but you’d rather have his confirmation than making your own assumptions.

“I’m doing awesome, thanks to you!” He began, watching your face going from worried to happy. “Don’t worry,I’m being careful. And if I end up hurt again, I know where to go” He continued “You’re a really good nurse” He said, using his webs to get out before you could say something.

You watched him swinging in the air, holding the stuffed animal pretty tightly, hoping he’d come back soon.

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Color Me Moonlight. IV

☾ • I • II • III • IV • V • VI • VII ☽

› Summary: Some flowers are not to be plucked, for their thorns are far too sharp for any hand to graze, yet, she was touched. She was soft, delicate, she didn’t know it, but something so beautiful could never be bad. She grew up in a garden of loneliness, does she have a place to bloom? He gave her a place, and they bloomed together.

› pairing: Taehyung x reader/OC › genre: angst | m | fluff | sci-fi au | supernatural!au | mutant!au | hybrid!au |

“Let me get this straight...” The chief pressed his temples, “you lost her at a red light!?”

Jeon cringed at the embarrassing circumstance for an agent of his caliber. “Chief, I don’t know what to tell you. She was in the car and when I got on the phone, she just ran.” He rustled his hair, a deep sigh leaving his mouth.

“What do you want me to tell senator Greene? He is expecting to hear that we’ve cleared all regions. That girl shouldn’t have been able to outsmart you, Jeon.”

He was silent. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do sir-”

The Chief's phone rang. Senator Greene.

Sweat built at his brow before he hesitantly picked up the phone.

“Hello, Senator,” Greene spoke, it sounded like faint whispers to the agent. “To be honest with you sir, no, not yet.” He narrowed his brows. “Just one. A female, sir.” He nods in an acquiescent manner. “We will sir, definitely. Goodbye.”

Jungkook swallowed. “What did he say?”

“That girl is our first priority, and it’s up to you to find her and get her to the SRMA. Immediately. They think she might be the one they’re looking for.”

“Yes, sir.”

He woke up first, eyes fluttering open slowly at the feeling of warmth under his arm. He sat up, trying to recall the events leading up to this situation. His first thought was, why am I here? And more importantly, how did I get here? He looked down at you, there was tranquility about you that he has yet to witness until now. There is something about your presence that just draws him in, like a light in the dark. In efforts not to wake you, he slowly gets out of the bed, feet touching the cool floor before tiptoeing to close the door and let you sleep.

It was oddly comfortable, and smelled like a loving home – this couldn’t be your room.

You yawned, stretching your arms and legs as you took in your surroundings. The things that happened last night unveiled in your mind like preserved memories embedded in your consciousness. You revealed your secret to and was convinced that the two of you are birds of a feather, creatures of the same creator. Yet, you’re still wary of him. Trust isn’t something you’re entirely used to – it’s just difficult for you.

The control you once had over yourself is slowly faltering. The energy once tightly concealed inside of you is threatening even the smallest of things. You literally had to consciously steady your breathing, force your hands to stay still, and keep your thoughts from flying all over the place.

You could hear a whisk bumping up against a plastic bowl, you smelled vanilla waffles baking, his low humming to the jazz playing from a Bluetooth speaker.

Barefooted, you shuffled to the door and peaked out—nope, you weren’t alone. Taehyung stood at the refrigerator and it looked like he was cooking. For some reason, that sight made you smile, even a fancy CEO can appear wholesome with his heart slippers. You walked out of the bedroom, shyly making your presence known. He glanced back at, a grin coming to his lips at the sight of his baggy clothing hanging on you. You noticed his eyes were back to that artificial brown again.

“Good morning.” He smiled.

“Morning...”

“I made eggs, bacon, and waffles. If you don’t eat that, I have yogurt and fruit, also coffee and tea...” His hair was messy looking, it was endearing to see him in clothing other than a suit his hair looking far from tidy. 

“Do you want me to make you a plate?” You inhaled deeply and a pleased expression came to your face—he took that as a yes and he started to make it.

“Thank you, everything smells great... You watched as he sat the plate at a seat right next to his own. You can’t even remember the last time you’ve awoken to a home-cooked breakfast, let alone meal in general.

He sat down right after you, a cup of juice in hand, “Do you have any plans for today?”

“No...” You cut a piece of waffle, rubbed it in a puddle of syrup, and ate it. “I would’ve gone to work but the word probably already got out about me.” You swallowed. 

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay here for a day or so- Just until I can find somewhere to go, then I promise I’ll be out of your hair.” You pressed your lips tight, your hands retreating to rest snug in your lap, purposely avoiding eye contact. You thought about it, you felt burdensome for staying here. “Or I can run to my place and-”

“No, I’d feel better if you stayed here. It’s not exactly safe for you out there, have you seen the news?” You shake your head no.

He slid his phone over to you. “I think you should expect to stay here for a little while.” He put a forkful of food into his mouth.

You picked it up and the first headline said—Suspected Sato Experiment On The Run. The article vaguely described your appearance and your heart began to throb and goosebumps erupted on your skin. You sat his phone down and let out an exasperated sigh, your face was burning at the thought of being wanted. He could practically feel your blood pressure rising, your chest straining in anxiety.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe here.” He placed his hand on top of yours, a startled flinch from you made him recoil a bit. “If they try to take you, which I won’t let happen, they’ll have to take me too, yeah?”

“I guess so...” You slid your hand away so you could finish eating, and that’s when you realized you were sitting next to someone just like you. You two were sewn from the same thread, you were the same kind. There was no need to be fearful around him, you could trust him, right? You revealed your most cherished secret to him—that had to mean something.

“If you're done, pass me your plate, I’ll put it in the dishwasher.” You hurriedly grabbed your plate so he could set it in the dishwasher. Even from only staying here for a number of hours, you admired how well he functioned in a domestic and organized environment. It seemed like he had a place for everything and everything had a place. As he tended to the dishes, you eased up next to him at the sink—helping him with this seemed like the least you could do.

You grabbed the empty pan that he used to make eggs and looked for the dishcloth. “Can I use that?” You pointed to the cloth on the counter to his right. He looked down to see your hands in the bubbly dishwater.

He smiled at your efforts. “You don’t have to do that, I can get it-”

“No, I want to.” You were not about to be waited on hand and foot, especially considering he was doing you such a huge favor.

“The rag, please?” He nods, pursing his lips at your insistence. He handed you the dishcloth and you continued to clean the pan. He took the clean pan from you, and to your dismay, he started to dry it for you. Just as you were about to clean off the dining table, Taehyung gently grabbed your arm.

You paused, staring up at him. “Yes?...”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sort of.” You paused. “When you came into the room last night you didn’t try to do anything so I don’t see why I shouldn’t trust you...” You muttered quietly, tearing your gaze away from him in remembrance.

He couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks at the reminder of what he did in the absence of his mind. “I’m sorry about that, I honestly don’t know how I got there.” Scratching the back of his neck, he pressed his lips in a straight line. “I assume our connection has something to do with it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to help it going forward, I’m just drawn to you,” He smirked, brushing his fingers over the shell of your ear. “even in my sleep. Just lock your door and I’m sure that’ll solve the problem.” You both laughed, bridging that awkward gap of silence.

You weakly smiled, drying your hands off with a paper towel. “Why do you wear your contacts inside? No one can see you here.”

“It’s a habit,” He never thought about it until now, “and anyone could knock on the door and I’d have to rush to put them on, it’s just easier to put them on as soon as I wake up.” That made sense. You both eyed each other, a mutual comfort being the reason you hadn’t walked away. He was all smiles when he looked down at his phone, but his eyes widened and the smile vanished.

Had the time flown by so fast?

“Sorry to run but I gotta get ready or I’m gonna be late.” He ran off to his bedroom and you went to the opposite side of the house, where your room is.

For the first time in a few hours, you checked your phone. You had a few missed texts from Hoseok.

[10:14PM]: Hey, can I still drop your book up off in the morning?

[8:20AM] I have your book, I gotta head to my 9 o’clock meeting in a little bit

[8:31AM] Y/n, you normally check your texts pretty fast so I’m getting kind of worried tbh

[12:43PM] I’m on my lunch break, can you text me to let me know you’re okay?

Your thumbs went at your keypad immediately, attempting to type something to let him know that you’re alive.

You: I’m so sorry I missed your text and I’m sorry not showing up this morning, I’ve kind of been caught up with some personal stuff. Please don’t be worried, I’m okay, I'm just spending time with a friend for a little bit :) Thank u for checking on me Hobi, it means a lot. P.S u can keep the book for a little longer

You set your phone on the nightstand. Never having crashed at someone's place before, it was natural for you to feel like a bit of a burden. Do you just stay here while he’s gone? What if you get hungry and eat something that you weren’t supposed to and he gets mad? What if someone with a key to his place comes to pick up something?—It was all too much to think about.

“If you need anything, just let me know,” Taehyung spoke loud enough for you to hear.

It’s not long before you hear the front door shut and lock, he’s gone and you’re here alone. Might as well see what the world is up to, you flopped on the couch and turned on the TV. As soon as it turns on, the news pops up.

“Good afternoon and thank you for joining us for the 12 o’clock news. I’m Priscilla Moore, and today we are joined by a very special guest, Senator Nelson Greene. Welcome, Mr. Greene and thank you for being here.”

“Happy to be here Priscilla.”

That voice.

That’s the voice you heard on the agent's phone, the person who wanted to check you personally. It’s sickening, utterly appalling to know that you are in this situation and you don’t have many options. For one, you don’t know why he wants you specifically. Maybe he doesn’t trust the examination process and does it himself from time to time. You found this whole ordeal unsettling.

November 14th, 1995.

“She’s due in 4 months,” Jane sat in her office, doing some things on the computer, “do you have a name picked out?”

Mai, Jane’s close friend and colleague sat across from her, filling out files and forms for her.

“You’ve been calling her Yves ever since you found out about her, I’m kind of used to it now.” She smiled. “It’s quite fitting.”

“I’m honored.” Jane grinned. “I’m not gonna lie, she is one of my favorites.”

“You haven’t even met her yet!” Winnie laughed. “How could you know if she’s your favorite?”

“I just know. Thanks to you Winnie, she has the most potential to excel. She is the purest form...” Jane had explained to them countless times that Winnie is one in a million case. As soon as Winne found out she was pregnant, she and her husband made the decision to give their child life like no other. “The most prominent supernatural gene is flowing through your blood and with the proper procedures, it can be awakened.”

“You know that one of the mothers is due into two months and her baby has attributes like Yves, he has similar gifting of life and energy, I’m not sure in what way yet though. But his mother has had symptoms like you; feeling extreme highs and lows in energy, the heightening of the senses, things like that.”

“When will we know what she can do?”

“I’m not sure. The process has thousands of layers, we could think she’s gonna come out one way but she’s something completely different. What I do know is that a large-scale mutation, we’re modifying everything. A nucleotide is added and taken, her genus is like a puzzle.”

“Are you forgetting something, my love?” Winnie’s husband walked into the room.

“We agreed that our first child if it was a boy, he’d be named after my father, and if it was a girl, she’d be named after your mother.” He shook his head, Winnie had a habit of going with the flow of things like this but that’s because she wasn’t a huge tradition person.

“Oh yeah.” She pouts. “Sorry, Jane, she’ll still be Yves in our hearts but her birth certificate will be my mother's name,”

She placed a hand on her stomach gently, “Y/n.”

“Good morning Mr. Kim, you’re coming in later than usual.” 

Margaret couldn’t help but notice the change in her bosses tendencies, rarely did he ever come in late early in the week.

“Yeah, I slept a little late today. What’s on my schedule?”

“The Venet group emailed their presentation draft to you this morning, they’re waiting on your critiques. Oh, and you have a message from the SRMA, I left it on your desk.”

“Alright, thank you.” He made his way into the office, eager to get some coffee in his system. He pressed a button on a remote to open up his automated blinds to get some light in the room. The view was also somewhat of a stress reliever for him, it had a calming effect.

Even being away from you for a little over an hour, his thoughts are starting to drift to you, which unfortunately prohibits his ability to work efficiently. As difficult as it might be, he had to single his thoughts on work, then you. He grabbed the mysterious envelope from the SRMA and opened it up.

His eyes skin over the letter, his brows furrowing. The letter is informing him that all of his employees have been cleared, which is odd because that’s not true. You were the reason why he was receiving reminders 24/7, but now all of a sudden the messages stop?—This is suspicious. He knew for a fact you hadn’t gone to the SRMA for anything and weren’t planning on it either. Thinking it was just an error, he stuffed the letter in the drawer and chose to further investigate it later.

He clicked on a file that said ‘Personal’ and when it opened up, he smiled. The final photos that he took a few weeks ago got framed and the company sent photos of the finished product. His love for art and photography makes up for the stress that comes with this job.

An hour or two had gone by and he was completely immersed in his calls, tasks, reviewing schedules – he almost didn’t notice the knock on his door. He glared at the door, Margaret didn’t say he had an appointment or that anyone had walked in.

“Come in.” He spoke with a slight hesitance but when the door opened, he realized it was just his dad. “Dad, I didn’t know you were dropping by.” He looked back down at what he was doing.

He took a seat in the chair in front of his desk. “I thought I’d stop by for my lunch break, see what you were having.” He smiled, happy to see Taehyung was working so hard.

“Margaret ordered something, it should be here shortly. Let me wrap this up and I’ll be all yours.” He quickly finished typing up the month's marketing schedule sheet and pressed save. Finally, he sighed, leaning back to stretch his neck and arms. Taehyung gazed out of the window with half-lidded eyes, judging by the look on his face, his dad knows when something is different.

“Is there something on your mind Taehyung, you look like you’re in deep thought.”

“I might as well tell you.” He inhaled, exhaling before looking at his dad. “It’s about the girl I told you about.”

His father had a tinge of joy in his eyes, assuming his son had made this girl a girlfriend of some sort. “Oh?” The thought alone made him smile. “Have you decided to introduce me to her finally?”

“Well, she’s special...” He spoke softly, eyes looking down at his fingers. “She’s like me.”

“Like you n what way?”

“In a biological way...”

“Biological? You mean- You’re saying she may have been a part of the 1989 project...” Tae nodded. The man's eyes widened, his thoughts singled in on what Taehyung meant by that. If he was speaking in terms of biological similarities, given Taehyung is the only child from his biological parents, that would only leave one option – she must be a product of Jane Sato. 

“How do you know this?”

“I had met with her a few times and I could feel that there was something about her. There’s this connection we share, it’s hard to explain but when I’m around her I feel this energy emitting from her, but she acts unaware of it. I can feel her emotions stronger than I have with anyone. And dad, when I look at her, she doesn’t always have an aura of color around her...” He stressed that unusual fact, “and when she does, there’re shades I’ve never seen on anyone before...”

“It took a while to get her to admit it because she’s been hiding it all her life. She was kicked out at 18 for what she is and she’s been alone ever since.” Taehyung mentally recalled the story you had struggled to tell him last night. “She said she’s never told anyone before, just me.”

“So she knows about your eyes?”

His fingers lightly touched the skin under his eye. “Yeah, I showed her...”

“Does she have that same trait?”

“No- Well, when we were-...” He hid the blush on his face, trying to figure out how to word this correctly. “–Talking,  her eyes changed for maybe 5 seconds, then they went back to normal, that was the first time that had ever happened to her.” His father nodded, what Taehyung was telling him only confirmed the suspicions of who you really were.

“How old is she?”

“She’s around my age,” He didn’t see the significance of your age but he answered nonetheless, “maybe a few months younger.”

“Oh,” He sighed, “I see. Then she must be the girl they’re looking for.”

Taehyung swallowed. “Yeah, I’m letting her stay with me. She avoided checkups until they made it mandatory. When she didn’t go, an FBI came to her house and tried to take her to the SRMA. She said the man on the phone with the agent said he wanted to ‘check her’ himself. That’s when she made a run for it and ended up at my place.”

“Has she gotten checkups or tests done before? When you were growing up I always made sure to examine you and make sure your gifting wasn’t interfering with your everyday life.” He was more concerned about your health and well-being more than anything now. “She may need supplements to fill in what her abilities might be taking for energy.”

“She avoids any type of medical treatment altogether, she’s afraid that they’ll find out what she is. I don’t blame her.”

There was a knock on your door. “That’s probably the food.”

He got up and sure enough, that was the food from his favorite sushi restaurant. He grabbed the bag and took it to his lounge area near the coffee machine. “Let’s eat.”

Taehyung took out the chopsticks as his dad walked over to sit across from him. “You know, I think you should meet her. It’d be good if she could get medical attention or just get to know someone who cares about her well-being/”

“I can come over tonight. I’ll bring some of the supplements that you used to take just in case she needs it. I have a million to ask her.”

“I don’t know if she’ll be okay with a lot of questions, she doesn’t care for people prying into her personal life.”

He’s learned that the hard way.

September 12th, 1997:

A massive fire broke out.

High pitched speakers blare from every corner of the facility, people were fleeing from the raging flames and deadly black clouds seeking to devour them. Bone-chilling shrieks from stranded patients could be heard as people were fending for themselves. The fire broke out in the volunteer experimentation residence.

“Get out of there!” Dr. Fai yelled as he ran down the halls towards her, his coat over his nose and mouth, black soot dirtied his hands and glasses. He grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the hallway leading to an even larger fire – why was she trying to run down there?

“No, I have to get them out. They’re gonna die-” She yanked her arm away but the smoke was getting to her, she could barely stand straight.

“The volunteers and 4% are fine! There’s is no one else! Let’s go before we both get killed!”

He didn’t know about the babies.

**

Two other people from the facility, including Dr. Kim, were in the midst of crying toddlers and infants, trying to calm their state distress. A majority of the mothers were gone aside from maybe one or two.

“Everyone listen.” A lady he had never seen before held a child in her arms and spoke to the few adults in the room. “Grab them and follow me, we need to take them to the pediatric hospital.”

Dr. Kim didn’t question it, he grabbed two children, he held a little boys hand and held a quiet 1-year-old girl in his arms. Oddly, the child holding his hand was one he often helped test with Jane—he had the most stunning eyes.

When they transported the children, the woman leading this escape escorted them all to the private emergency floor. The little girl in his arms was now with a nurse, being fed a warm bottle and the little boy was in the playroom along with some of the other children

“Dr. Kim.” The nurse practitioner, Millie, walked over to him. “Can I have a quick word with you?”

“Of course.”

She sighed. “So, I’d thought I’d give you some background on who I am and how I knew about The Flower Garden. I work with mothers and children in this sector of the hospital, I was alerted by Kelly that no one was coming to help with these kids, presumably because they didn’t know about them. I knew about the project, I helped for a while, especially with childbirth.”

She wrote something down as she continued. “Anyways, these children will all have to be examined and if all goes well, they’ll be put in the foster system. But as you know, these children are not normal by any means,” The stood in front of the playroom window, watching the kids play with multicolored toys. “I don’t know what they can do. For the safety of society and themselves, I've arranged to have them transported to families all over the world who are willing to raise them as their own.”

His eyes widened a bit, he was taken aback. “Why all over the world?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but a select few of them have the M2-gene, they are the purest form of molecular, biological, and cellular mutation. They’re not regular human beings. As they get older, we can’t risk having them in one place for the government to poke and prod at, it’s just not safe. And God forbid they grow up and procreate, that’s what Jane wants eventually. But her plan isn’t full proof, she created a breed of something that we have no idea of their capabilities, anything could happen to them. This is the best option for them in the long run.”

These children are Jane Sato’s life project, all she’s ever wanted to achieve but it’s all over now. He processed the fate of those poor children, wondering how long she had been planning this. “All of them will go?”

“Well, there are a few being handed over to family members, maybe two. But other than that, yeah.”

“What about him?” He pointed to the sweet little boy with gorgeous eyes.

She looked to where he was pointing. “Oh, little Yuuma. his mother resigned from the program when he was 2 months, he’ll probably stay here due to his more noticeable traits, he’s a sweet child but I don’t think he’ll blend in very well with society...”

“I want to adopt him.” He spoke with not a hint of hesitance in his voice.

She recoiled, surprised that he’d consider such a kind and difficult thing. “Are you sure Dr. Kim? That’s quite the responsibility, and you’re at the height of the practice-”

“Absolutely, I have an older daughter. And besides, I know the child, I helped care for him from time to time.” He took quite a liking to the child, he felt as if he could raise him as his own. Especially with the knowledge he has of the system Jane had in place, he could do this. “I’ve taken quite the liking to him, he’s like my own.”

“Alright then, I’ll get those adoption papers for you and you can take him home first thing tomorrow morning.”

She went on her way, leaving Dr. Kim to monitor the child from the window. The most striking feature of little Yuma had him wondering what his gifts were, why he had physical manifestations of what he was capable of. Then again, it could just be a birth defect due to the cellular treatments. He walked into the little room, and just as he expected, Yuman ran right up to him – well, more like stumbled.

“Well, hello again.” Dr. Kim smiled, finding that the child seemed to be made for him. “I’m happy to see you too.”

“Look!” The child grabs him by the hand to show him what he had drawn with the crayons that were no bigger hand than his tiny hands.

“Here you are,” She came back, handing him the papers, “his official birth certificate says Yuma, with no last name. You’re welcome to change that.”

“Well, I’ve always loved the name Taehyung.” He looked at the kid, seeing that he was focused on his second drawing, “I think it fits.” He gazed loving at little Taehyung. “When I look at him, he’s proof that all honest wishes come true and everything will be alright even when facing difficult times.” He grabbed the paper and pen. “Kim Taehyung...”

You rummaged through the closet, finding a few things you could slip on as a disguise. “This should work...” You put the baseball cap and face mask on so all that can be seen is your eyes. It doesn’t seem like the best decision the leave his place but if you want to stay here for another day, you need your own stuff. His lotions and soaps are very nice but you prefer yours.

You put on a t-shirt and what you were wearing yesterday, and you were ready to go.

For some reason, your hands felt icy cold—nothing too new. But as you clenched your fists, hoping to get some good circulation, they warmed up a little. Due to your unconscious suppression of what you assumed to be your energy, you always felt a drastic change in temperature.

“Go and come back.” You exhaled, that’s all you had to do – not so hard. You went to the front door and walked out, on a mission.

You made the decision to call a cab to get to your place because if you were to walk it’d be midnight before you got there. You got into the cab that you had flagged down and gave him an address near to your home.

On the way there, as you tried not to appear anxious or suspicious, you got a text from Tae. ‘I’ll be heading home soon, do you need anything?’ You exhaled in relief, you thought he found out that you left for a second there. ‘I’m ok, thank u tho’

With that quick response, you tucked your phone into your pocket.

“We’re here miss.”

You looked up to see you were at your intended destination—finally. You thanked and tipped the guy before going on your way, the cafe not far from your home. You walked the distance, feeling your nerves tense at the realization that you’re walking around as a wanted civilian. All you could think was, this is so stupid, but also, I need clothes.

You tiptoed into the elevator, thankful you hadn’t run into anyone as you shoved the door closing button. Get your stuff and go without interruption, that means avoid Jan. She’s probably already gathered that you weren’t home last night, if she catches you, the questions will never cease.

Luckily, you made it to your apartment and quickly went inside, locking the door behind you. You went to your room, grabbed one of your weekenders, a backpack and started stuffing them with as much stuff as you could. Toiletries, clothes, your computer, and a few personal necessities. You only hoped Taehyung wasn’t coming home early if you could remember your office hours correctly, he shouldn’t be headed home for another 20 minutes.

“You’re getting off rather early for a Monday sir.” Margaret peeked up from her typing on the computer, seeing Taehyung exiting his office.

“Yeah, I’m going to get some rest. I might be traveling to Saipan or Milan tomorrow, not sure yet.”

“Oh, for the sales pitch at the luxury resort.”

“Yeah,” He waved, “I’ll see you tomorrow, goodnight.”

He made his way to the elevator, sighing deeply. His father had left not too long ago so he could meet Taehyung at his home with medicine and some things that he thought might help you. It was comforting to know that despite him not knowing you, he trusted Taehyung enough to trust you. Heck, even if you said you trusted him, he knew you were still wary about him. But when you had shared that kiss last night, he knew at that moment that you had never let your guard down before. He couldn't stop thinking about it, how could he? He’s lived his entire life assuming he was the only person like him. To know that you exist gives him a sense of hope.

He pulled into the garage and in a moment's time, he was walking to his front door but he stopped in his tracks—something wasn’t right. The fervor, sweet energy wafting off of you and into him as he approached you, it wasn’t there. He couldn’t feel it and his heart sank.

She’s not here. He didn’t have to unlock the door since it was already unlocked, stepping inside and just as he expected, you were nowhere to be seen.

He took out his phone and called you, it went to voicemail almost immediately. His initial response was to panic, you could be anywhere, you could’ve been taken, anything. He quickly removed his suit jacket and pushed his hair back, he wasn’t sure if he needed to go look for you, call you or-

The door began to creek and you peeked from behind it, a good bit of luggage in your hands and a condemned expression on your face.

You struggled to pull your bags over the lip of the door, but when you did, you staggered.

“Hi...”

“Where have you been?”

Pulling off the mask, you walk your luggage to your room as he follows. “I needed some of my things.” You lifted your luggage to lay flat on the bed so you could take some of your things out. “I didn’t think you’d be back for a while so I went to my apartment.”

He stares in disbelief. “There are people probably willing to hurt you if it means taking you to the SRMA, and you thought it was a good idea to just go out?” He was pacing—his agitation permeating the room like a heavy humidity that you didn’t want to be around.

“Nothing happened, I was careful not to come into contact with too many people. You shouldn’t be upset with me, I just needed some clothes...” You pulled out your pajamas, setting them on the nightstand with your toothbrush and toiletry bag. Honestly, he didn’t know if it was worth arguing about since you clearly saw no problem with it. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t fearing that something bad had happened to you.

“I understand.” He wrapped his arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting against your head gently. “I’m just glad you're okay.” He inhaled your scent, exhaling near your ear soothingly—his breathing made your legs tremble. He nuzzled his head against yours. “You’re worried...Why?”

You turned to him. “You’re worried that I’m worried,” You grab his hand from their comfortable place on your back to go back unpacking your things, “I don’t need a supernatural connection to know that.”

He leaned against your bed. “So, what’s wrong?”

“I’m technically unemployed now...” You confessed. The realization that you hadn’t been to work or contacted your manager, you felt you surely weren’t still on the payroll anymore. 

“I haven’t contacted my manager or anything, and I haven’t checked my emails.” You shake your head. “If I’m not doing any work, I don’t have a job. That’s just basic logic.”

“You’re forgetting I’m the CEO.” That was true. “I’m moving you up. I’ll contact your location and let them know what I decided. You’ll be an assistant consultant for camera testing at HQ, it’s a pretty lonely  job but it’s not bad, I’ll pay you well.” You were a bit stunned, he’s offering you a job at his office, he’s giving you the opportunity to be at the top of the company, with him.

“Really?” You were surprised. 

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you, Taehyung-” You pause at the sound of footsteps, jingling keys, your brows furrowing in concern.

“Are you expecting someone? Someones coming to the door...” You shy away.

“Um,” Fearing your reaction, he pauses, unsure of how to tell you, “I invited someone over.”

“Who?” You backed away subconsciously, and Taehyung could feel you bracing yourself—the air around you dropping to a startling temperature. You scrunched your nose, “They have a bag of bottles-...Pill bottles or something.” Your suspicion grew as he walked out of your room, you followed him.

“It’s my dad, I asked him to come over and meet you. Are you okay with that?”

Is he serious?

“Why would I be okay with that Taehyung?“ He cringes at your tone. There was a knock on the door, two the be exact. 

“I don’t know your father, and I don’t appreciate you not asking me if I was okay with this beforehand. Why does he need to meet me?”

Instead of answering your question, he went to open the door and you quickly retreat to your bedroom, furious. You push the door closed and lock it—how dare he. You couldn’t believe it. What made him even consider that’d be okay with this? His father is a doctor for goodness sake. And you do not like doctors. You trust Taehyung, you feel the connection and everything, you know he’s one of you but

He sighs, letting his father in with a frustrated roll of his eyes when he got a sense of your aura turning foul, brisk – unpleasant entirely. And he knows you’re doing it on purpose, your trying to have an attitude about this to show how upset you are about him not asking beforehand. Like he would tell his father not to come over.

“So, where is she?” His father looks around, confused as to why this mystery girl wasn’t there to greet him.

“She’s afraid to talk to you.” Admittedly, he had foreseen this happening but he was hoping for it to be wrong.

“Did you tell her I was coming?” He could understand your reaction if you were unaware of the arrangement.

“Well,” He tilts his head, “no, I didn’t think she’d have a problem since she knows you’re my father and all, maybe I should’ve said something beforehand...I’ll go talk to her and see if she’ll come out.” His father nodded as he walked to the guest bedroom that you spitefully locked.

He knocked.

“Hey, he just wants to talk to you. He’s not here to hurt you, ok? Just come out, please.” There was a long pause of silence, then he heard low footsteps approach the door and the jiggle of the doorknob. Slowly, you opened the door and looked up at him.

“I don’t know him...” You frown, arms crossed in defense.

“He just wants to help, and he came all this way for you, just give him a chance.” Taehyung flaunts his big ole’ puppy eyes, practically giving you no other option than to sigh and comply. 

You didn’t know if you’d regret this later but it’s not like you had much to lose. Groaning in defeat, you start walking. “Fine.”

You walk past Tae and when you enter the living room, his father instantly stands, eyes landing on you. He stares curiously at the sight of you, just as he anticipated, he can feel a change in the air and it has to be because of you.

“I’m Y/n,” You awkwardly extend a hand, clearing your throat, “it’s nice to meet you...”

“I’m Taehyung’s father, Kim Taewoo.” You two shake hands’ briefly, and you’re eagerly taking a seat far from him. Taehyung opted to bridge the gap by sitting by you and by his father who was in the armchair.

“So,” Your tone is unsure but to the point, “what do you want to know about me?”

“Well, firstly, how is your health? I was a bit worried, Taehyung told me a bit about your story and he says you haven’t received medical treatment for your condition.” He spoke like a true doctor, it made you regret agreeing to this.

“I don’t have a condition, I’m not sick and there’s no cure for what I am. I’ve been called a monster...and if I go to the doctors, they’ll treat me like one...” You rubbed your hands together, antsy under the man's scrutiny.

“You’re not a monster dear, just like I’ve told Taehyung his entire life, you’re not a mistake or an accident...You’re a gift. ” You blinked at his odd father like words, those were words you weren’t used to hearing from anyone. He pressed his lips in a straight line before speaking again. “So, you found out when you were around 10?”

You nod.

“What did you notice first?”

“My hearing, one day I realized I was really sensitive to sound, it caused some problems in school...” Your eyes followed his hands as they reached for a notepad and pen, you gnawed on your bottom lip in curiosity.

“Oh, sorry,” He noticed your sudden confusion, “I’m just writing down what you’re saying dear, is that okay?”

You nod. “That’s fine...”

Taehyung glanced at you, taking a moment to slide his hand into your own, catching your lowered gaze. It was as if he was absorbing you and giving you bits of him to soothe your mind.

“Do you know what your powers are?” You had never had anyone call what you have powers—you never thought of what you have as a power, it’s just a part of you that you try to suppress.

“No, I just know my senses are heightened and I have an attachment to energy, I don’t know how to explain it...” You were starting to get uncomfortable given you had never talked so openly about this. “I guess I conduct it or something, when I touch things or if I’m upset.”

He looked at you, his eyes sweeping over your familiar facial features. There was something about your eyes that bewildered him, there was a softness—a gentleness in the air around you. 

“Y/n, does the name Yves sound familiar to you?”

Your ears perked at the name, so did Taehyung’s.

“Well, Taehyung had...” You leaned in to speak to Taehyung. “I thought it was maybe a mistake or he was just sleep talking but-...” A heat came to your cheeks at realizing what you were about to say to his father, “Taehyung called me that in his sleep.”

Taehyung recoiled, a blush on his cheeks—why didn’t you tell him sooner and what was the cause of him saying that name?

“I did?” He scratches the back of his neck. ”That’s funny, that name isn’t familiar to me at all.”

“Well, that’s what you said.” You look up and realize Mr. Kim is in deep thought. 

“Mr. Kim? Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost...” Uneasiness began to buzz in your stomach, you weren’t sure what he was thinking.

His mind was racing. For years he believed Jane would never be able to get two of the M2-gene carriers in one place—he hoped it would never happen for the carrier's sake. Never had he even dreamed of meeting another child like Taehyung. Jane Sato would kill to have the two of you, she’d do anything to get you two. Her two favorite creations, pretty little Yves and sweet little Yuma.

“Taehyung,” He looked to his son lovingly, solace in his eyes, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner...”

“Told me what?”

“Where you came from...” His aura seeped with affliction, so much so that Taehyung felt physically affected by it.

“You told me, an experiment by Jane Sato...So is Y/n, right?”

That’s what he’s been told all his life, was it not the truth?

“Yes, but you’re not like Zoe Akasma Hawn or the mutants you see on TV, you’re very different –” He thought about the most fitting term to use, “special. You didn’t undergo mutation as an infant, you were mutated on in the womb not long after conception, both of you.” You were both silent, your ears fixated on his words, and eyes furrowed in shock.

“Jane was a very close friend of mine. She had a classified project called the Flower Garden. I was one of the only few people who knew about it...”

- Flashback -

“This is the Flower Garden, that’s what I call this place. In each of these rooms, there’s an expectant mother. They have willingly given up their unborn child to be a part of something bigger, something that will change the course of genetic evolution and human mutation as we know it. Each and every patient allowed me to experiment on their children 3 weeks to 2 months after conception. These children, my children, will be the most beautiful creatures to grace the planet. I was able to reverse any type of genetic imperfection that the baby may have and bend it to my will, replace bad genes with perfect ones.”

“You look shocked, say something.” She sighed, already seeing the disdain on his face.

“Jane, you-” He lightly grabbed her arm, taking her to a secluded corner.

“You’ve been genetically altering unborn babies? Are you serious? Doesn’t it harm the mother?”

“I have a Ph.D. in any science and medicine you can think of, I know what I’m doing. The baby’s state is not dependent on the mother, these are the purest form of my project, they’re perfect. And Dr. Kim, some of these babies would be parentless if it weren’t for my program.” She was starting to get upset now. “I have a woman here, she wasn’t prepared for a child, at all, she didn’t know what to do and I gave her a second option. Her child, he’s showing the most signs mutation. When he’s born, he’s going to be stunning, I can already tell.”

“How were you able to get this past the medical board or the government? These are fetuses your playing with Jane.”

“First of all, I’m not playing with them. They’re like my own flesh and blood, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. And second of all, a government official signed off on the program, he’s helping fund it.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I just- I don’t understand it.”

“Come with me, I want you to meet one of the mothers, she comes every other week.” She grabbed his hand and took him to one of the rooms. With a light knock, they entered the room.

“Hello, Dr. Sato.” The woman smiled, she looked about 4 months along.

“Hi, this is Dr. Kim, I wanted him to meet you.” She smiled, Dr. Kim greeted her politely. “I thought you’d be the best person to explain why you’re doing this, he doesn’t quite understand it.”

“Well, it’s simple really. I’m young, I didn’t expect to have to deal with a baby at 21, I didn’t want to get rid of him, that’s just not who I am…So, I went to an adoption clinic, that’s when I met Jane.” She paused. “She told me that he could live a life unlike any other. I didn’t understand then, but in my third trimester, I met a two-year-old who could calm anyone, with just a touch. It was unexplainable, and I thought, I could give my child a gift that some would change the course of humanity. That’s all it took for me to believe.” She smiled in content, a glimmer of joy in her eyes. “Jane’s doing something that nobody else has dared to do, and I trust her, all of us do.” Jane beamed with pride, she had built a connection with all of the parents.

“Little Yuuma is due in December, we’re thinking he’ll be a new years baby, but December 30th is the plan.”

- Flashback end -

Taehyung wore no expression, not a hint of emotion on his face and it made you feel awkward. He knew his birth mother was young and gave him up for adoption but he never knew the details. You were taken aback by his fathers words as well, the whole idea of a program based around experimenting on babies turns your stomach. You could see his confusion, it was hard to process all of this, you understood that more than anyone.

“So,” You interjected, “d- Did you know my parents? Their names were Winnie and Jun...”

Mr. Kim smiled. “Oh yes, they were good friends of Jane from college, they were two of the few the doctors and scientists willing to help with her research. They believed in her belief that through technological advancements, the idea of physical imperfections, chronic illness, genetic disorder or even the common cold can be made history through rigorous genetic and biological alterations. Mutating ill patients was phase one, phase two was taking hundreds of volunteers and testing on them until she gathered enough participants with the M2-gene.” He glanced at his son, then back at you.

“What’s an M2-gene?”

“It’s a genetic trait passed down to a handful of humans, it’s a sign of supernatural gifting if you will. Jane devoted the final project for her doctorate to prove it’s existence. All of the children in the Flower Garden had at least one parent who possessed the gene, and if not, if she caught it early enough she could create a synthetic replica of the gene and attach it to the fetus’s DNA strand.” He looked at you. “And Yves, that’s what your mother and Jane called you even when you hadn’t been born yet. But both names should be on your birth certificate. And Taehyung,” He looked at Tae who was off in his own world but looked up at his father,

“Jane had named you Yuma, a name I actually grew fond of when I’d come help take care of you on my off days.” He beamed at the lovely memory of Taehyung as a toddler. “But when I adopted you, in order to shield your identity, I had to change your name. She named all of the children actually, most names corresponding with the power they possessed.”

“All of them?” You furrow your brows. “How many of us are there?”

“Maybe 10, I never got the exact number. But the rest of them were sent all around the world with parents assigned to hide their identity, your the only known two in this country right now, at least that I know of.”

“Do you know what we’re capable of? Or why we’re connected? Because the more we’re around each other, the more I feel like our meeting isn’t a coincidence.” Taehyung was adamant about you and him having a connection, he could feel your energy, it gave him a slightly euphoric sensation—a sense of tranquility.

He made a thoughtful expression. “I don’t know, Jane said you two shared similar powers, your mothers had the same symptoms during their pregnancies. When you were born though, I used to hold you Taehyung, and I’d feel a calmness, Jane said it was one of your gifts, to emotionally influence. And Y/n,” He looked at you, “Jane kept you very hidden, so I’m not completely sure what you can do, I don’t even think she was that sure...” He spares Taehyung and you a sympathetic glance.

“I’m sorry you had to live so long without knowing son. I thought maybe keeping you from it would help him mold into society better, I wanted you to live a normal life.” Taehyung looked at his father, his aura was dim, his heart was heavy with remnants of guilt from keeping this from him. “I love you Taehyung, I just wanted to keep you safe.”

Taehyung was understanding, he was grasping this in the best way possible but you were a different story. He could read your emotions, it was like you didn’t know how to process it – you were in shock. He considered holding your hand to comfort you, but there was so much tense energy around you that he was afraid of what might happen if he touched you.  

“I’m sorry Taehyung-”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You adopted me and gave me a life that I’m lucky to have, I’m thankful for you.” He touched his father's shoulder. “I wouldn’t have known what to do if I were in your position but I do know I wouldn’t be here without you.” He wore a kind, understanding smile that skillfully masked his current concern for your well-being.

It’s all sinking in.

Your parents, the two people in this world that were supposed to protect you and love you, gave you up for the love of their careers. How could anyone give up their unborn child to a project full of outlandish ideology and uncertain experimentation? You had always thought about your parents, in your mind, no matter what your uncle said, they had to have loved you. Every fiber of your being wanted to believe that they wanted the best—but how could you believe that now? You clenched your fists, were struck frozen with thoughts of your future, your past, even at this very second.

“Y/n,” Dr. Kim cleared his throat, relief in his calm expression. At the short bit of silence, glancing down at the of bag medicine he realized one of the reasons he came here. “I brought a few things for you.”

You’re eyes trail down to his bag. “I made these for Taehyung when he was young, they’re supplements. When he was a child, he would get overwhelmed and unable to control his abilities. Sometimes he’d get deficient in vitamins and other times his power would keep him up for no reason, he’d say he could see lights, even in the dark, he couldn’t control his ability then. I thought you might have a similar issue so I brought medicine that helps steady the heart rate.” He extends the bottle to you.

“Um,” You reach out your hand but hesitate, biting your lip, “I don’t see auras or anything like that, I think I’m okay.” That was a half-truth that Taehyung could easily see-through. “Thank you though.”

“I think you should try it, at least once.” Taehyung grabbed the bottle and sat it on the coffee table in front of you.

“But I’m not a child, it might not even work for me and I don’t have any trouble controlling my abilities.” Now that was a lie. Concealing your powers are not controlling them, the two are very different.

“Double the dosage.” He suggested. Your eyes cut to Taehyung, secretly despising his excessive attention to you and persistence.

“Alright then,” Dr. Kim stood up.

Yes, he’s leaving, you thought.

“I’m here if either of you needs anything, alright?”

“Alright, thank you.” You bid him farewell and Taehyung walked him out.

“Thank you for coming over,” Taehyung stood outside of the door to talk to his father in private, even though you could probably hear him, “and telling us all of that.”

“It was long overdue. After everything she’s gone through, I’m just glad she’s not alone. She seems like she’s had it pretty rough in life because of what she is.”

*

*

You walked into your bedroom, and you could still hear them talking but turned a deaf ear to it out of courtesy, it’s the polite thing to do. Today was quite an adventure. You went out into a city where the  FBI is looking for you, just to get some clothes. You come back to Taehyung’s place to be met with his father who thought it was a grand idea to bring you some drugs. You rarely take medication, if ever. The occasional ibuprofen for a headache or tea and vitamins for a cold is fine, but drugs with words you can’t even pronounce? Not your forte.

There was so much going through your head right now. This is the first time you’ve ever heard the truth. The real truth. The truth about Jane Sato, your parents, and about how you came to be. You didn’t know if you were angry, sad, or just plain confused, it was a lot to take in.

Taehyung was still outside so you decided to go wash the day off of you and jump into your cozy blue PJs. You walked into the bathroom, cracked the door, and discarded your clothing. You threw your clothes into a small pile and hopped in the shower, letting the warm water run down your body.

Your eyes squeezed shut, you tried to push back your angry thoughts. You were feeling hurt, confused, flat out abandoned. The parents you had idolized, wished you had the chance to spend time with were the ones responsible for what you are. How could this be a gift? All it’s ever done is to bring you pain and suffering. It’s gotten you kicked out of your own home, fired, almost assaulted—and they thought making you this way was a gift? You couldn’t understand it. You’re not all human and the older you get, the more obvious that is.

When the front door closed, you heard Taehyung walk to his room and close the door. Not long after, you heard the water running in his shower. It was then that you realized you had been standing in this shower for quite a while, it’s about time you get out.

You reached for the shower nozzle to turn the water off, but your hand rested there for a few seconds before turning.

“Ah!” You jerked back and at the same time, you heard a shriek coming from the far end of the house and you cringed at the sound. The water went scalding hot all of a sudden. Dumbfounded, you quickly wrapped a towel around you and eyed the shower.

“What the heck was that...” You mumbled, going over to the counter to get your pajamas on. First the light bulb, the subway car, then this? Maybe I do need to take something... If you keep having incidents like this, there’s no way you can go out into the city and not get found out.

You walked out of your bedroom and walked up to his room door and knocked. “T- Taehyung?” Again, you knocked and the door opened.

You looked to see him in a dove white robe and he was patting his hair dry, his contacts were out too. He grinned. “Come in.”

For a moment, you just stared at him and it took a few seconds for you to hear him tell you to come in. When your feet started moving, that’s when you finally got a good look at his room—and you thought your room big. His room made your room look like a coat closet.

“About the water,” You stood awkwardly, trying not to look as he was slipping some clothes on with the bathroom door slightly open, “I heard you shout when the water got really hot,” You nibble your bottom lip, “I didn’t do it on purpose, I’m sorry.”

“That was you?” You nod. “I figured as much.”

He idly buttoned up his pajamas. “That’s not your fault, I’m sure it burned you too.” You went to the cozy love seat near the window where he had a brewed cup of herbal tea on a little table beside it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I didn’t want to tell your father but ever since we met, I haven’t been able to control myself like I used to.” He reached over to the coffee table to get his tea and you suddenly stood up, standing in front of him. 

Your brows knitted tightly. “Is the same thing happening to you? Because you don’t seem to have any visible problems.” 

He took a seat on the edge of his bed. “I get an occasional migraine here and there, but other than that, I feel like having you around has actually been beneficial for me. I wish it was the same for you...” He took your hand, bringing it up to his lips.

“I’m feeding off of your energy and your powers are reacting.” He gazed into your eyes, drawing you into the abyss of his captivating orbs. 

You scorn at the term, ‘powers.’ 

“Taehyung,” You frown, “you’re so content with all of this. I just found out my parents gave me to some sick doctor who made me- Made us into- I don’t even know...” You step away from him to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“I don’t know how I feel about myself, I want to be okay with it but I’m not,” He turned to join you, laying across his bed, supporting his head with his hand. 

“Out of all of your time knowing you had these abilities, did you ever once love something about it?” He grinned when you dropped on your back, laying a shy distance away from him. 

“Love? It comes in handy sometimes but it used to get me in a lot of trouble. Movie theaters are a pain, I haven’t gone to one in years because all of the sounds hurt...Bright lights, smells, touches, it’s all amplified for me. I’m just lucky I can control that most of the time now. If I’m not careful I can burst light bulbs, mess with temperatures like I did to the water here, it’s kind of scary to live with because it’s so unpredictable, so I suppress it.”

He studied you with half-lidded pearly eyes. “You’re hypersensitive...I am too but it’s mainly just my sight.” For a split second, his eyes glimmer, almost intensifying the already luminous tones in it. 

“Do you want to know what color you’re emitting right now?... You’re purple,”

He tight-lip grinned, eyes squishing from his happy cheeks, “I’ve noticed that whenever you’re relaxed, happy, or if you have one focused emotion, you’re this purplish hue. I’ve never seen it on anyone else before but I’m really drawn to it.” He rolled on to his stomach and crawled over to you slowly, not getting too close, he kept your personal space in mind. 

“I have to be honest with you, I want to feel your energy in every way possible...” His wording was so very honest, it made you flush a little. “And it's amplified at night.”

You gulp. “I- I don’t think it’s smart to be near each other than,” You sheepishly confess, “we don’t know what could happen, y’ know? Like, um, because of our energies and everything... ”

“On the contrary, I think it would help us.”

Of course, he thinks it would help us.

“Of course you do.”

“No, I’m serious,” He whines, “when you’re asleep, your presence is blissful, it calms me.”

“You’re over-exaggerating.” You got up and stretched your arms. “I’ll see you in the morning, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Yves.” He purrs, a smirk ever so present on his lips. You abruptly exited the room, and to your distaste, he followed. Heat began to rise up to your cheeks and to the tips of your ears. You weren’t sure if it was from the annoyance of the name or the fact that your body’s out of whack—either way, you didn’t want to hear the name again.

You pause in your tracks, glaring back at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“That’s technically your name.” You didn’t even respond, what were you supposed to say? Legally, you aren’t even supposed to be in this country, so why go by technicalities? 

You stand there, not breaking eye contact—for his eyes could possess you if you weren’t careful. You’d never admit it, but when you look at him, you can hear a little voice telling you to let go and let him in. You hate it and force yourself to ignore it.

“Y/n, I’ve been thinking and I want you to know that-”

Before he could finish that sentence, you were in your room with the door shut. All he could do was sigh, and stand in his living room. He was determined to be with you, to feel your energy even if you didn’t think you wanted it—he knew you were hiding it.

You sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed and lazily slipping your bunny bedroom shoes off. “Hugh...” Finally, some peace and-

Taehyung suddenly barged into the bedroom and you jumped back in surprise.

“You’re being rude.”

“What?- Rude?” You rise to your feet.  

“Yeah, I was talking to you and you just walked away.” He up walked to stand right in front of you. “What is the matter with you?” For a moment he just stares at you as if to pry into your soul and uncover your secrets, he’s planning something, you can sense it. 

During that stare off, you can practically see a light bulb come to his mind and you brace yourself. Thinking this night could hide no more surprises, you see him fiddling with the buttons on his pajamas. You panic of course – nononono, what is this — what is he doing? Your eyes widen to the size of saucers when he walks to turn the light off.

“Um, hey, Taehyung – what’re you doing? Tae,” You try to shield your eyes but your curiosity brings you back to his perplexing actions, “Oh my g-” His chest is now exposed and your cheeks go spread with red like a cherry bomb, “keep your shirt on, we’re not-” You stutter as he comes closer, “I-I’m not-”

“Shh, it’s not like that,” His tone is calm as he gets to the third or fourth button and stops, “you need to see this.” You’re still sitting on the edge of the bed as he towers above you, his gaze making you shake anxiously.

“W-what-...” He takes your hand and places on his warm, bare chest. And just to make sure you don’t move it, he kept his hand on yours. “I- I don’t understand.”

“Shh...” He shushes you for the second time and you finally get the memo to save your questions for later. His eyes fall shut with a breathy sigh, and when you finally take a peek your hands on his chest, you nearly leap out of your skin.

“Oh my god!” You squeal, “Oh my god, oh my gosh-” Luminescent veins began to brighten up from your fingers up to your wrist and so on, “What's happening?” You try to yank your hand away and that’s when his eyes opened, burning more vibrant than ever. Rather than telling you what was going on or releasing your hand, he uses his free arm to pull you against him.

“C- calm down and don’t move, please...” His voice trembled as if your movement pained him.

Your eyelids flutter shut and you fall limp in his embrace, you lost a fight to deep sleep. Not long after that Taehyung falls to sudden fatigue and drops back on the bed with a low thump to the mattress. Your still, unconscious form lying quietly on his chest.

Darkness.

Your eyes shoot open at a pang in your chest, you’re flat on your back and all there is to be seen is obscure nothingness. 

You slowly look around as you carefully stand to your feet. Where am I. Physically, you felt no notable change but your mind felt as though you had transcended to another plane?

“H- Hello?” You flinch at the booming echo of your voice. You peered down to see you were still in your pajamas and barefooted.

“Where am I...” 

With a bit of hesitation, you begin to walk around, still grasping on the sleeves of your top for dear life—that’s when you heard a voice that was definitely not your own. Hello?

You freeze dead in your tracks at the sound of a familiar resonating voice. His voice sounds as if it were a part of your consciousness. Where are you? His voice draws nearer and you start walking to where it might be coming from.

“Stay where you are,” You’re running now, eyes darting everywhere but the path in front of you. “I’ll come to you!-“

A force slammed into you at the same speed and you Taehyung. This is his fault. is suddenly in your line of sight and you quickly get up.

“What did you do?!”

“Why are you blaming me? I didn’t do this.” This felt weird, it was like he was floating but grounded on to something solid and it was holding him down. He frowned, he was just as surprised as you—he had intentions but this wasn’t one of them.

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his profession. “Then why were you holding my freakin’ hand and body on your chest against my will? Huh? Explain.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.” He looked around, just as confused as you. He breathes, tilting his head at what he sees. “I just wanted to tap into your emotional psyche. You’re so tense sometimes and since I can feel it, and it’s uncomfortable, my intention was to level with you, relax you a little bit...” His words trail off. “Not do this, whatever this is...”

“I don’t like this...” You mumble arms wrapped firmly around yourself. At the shift in the air, you realize that he’s not as calm anymore.  

“I think we’re in an alternative consciousness, a dream or something...” He walks past you, eyes focused on something behind you.

But there’s nothing behind me-

You gasp at the drastic switch in the once bleak scenery. 

It’s an eerie room, dull green lights, bushels of flowers lining the newspaper-covered walls. Ivy hung loosely on the two windows with views you had never seen before. A little old television was mounted to the corner of the room and it glitched, nothing but a continuous replay of a distorted picture.

Cold. It’s ice-cold—freezing. 

You’re standing in a shallow little body of water in the center of the room, it seemed bottomless, dark. Taehyung knelt in front of the small pool, dipping his hand in the water as if it were familiar. It’s coming to him now, the melancholic flowers, the oddly placed body of water—he’s seen this in a dream before.

“I’ve seen this before,” He stands to his feet, “in my dreams...I’ve been in this room.” You swallow, heart rate suddenly at the will of his words—his voice.

“Your dreams...” You repeat his words as you cautiously stepped out of the water, shivering at the cold surface you’re now standing on. “T-Taehyung, h- how do we get out of here? It’s freezing...” 

“You’re cold? I feel fine.” He sounds surprised, but you were more shocked that his teeth weren’t chattering like yours. He walks to you to investigate, touching your goosebumps-covered arms. Concern etched into his expression. “You’re like ice...you’re trembling.” He wraps his arms around you, hoping to supply some type of heat for you. “Is that better?”

“Why aren’t you cold?-“ 

You let out a high pitched shriek of sheer agony and fall out of his embrace. The sound of glass shattering erupted in your ears like a bomb and you collapsed to your knees.

“I-it hurts!” Tears begin to well up in your eyes, “it hurts, it hurts!” You cover your ears with both hands, trying to shield out the sound, but it did little to nothing. You just cried and cried, begging for deliverance from the pain, “Make it stop!”

“I know it hurts,” He tries to remain cool and collected, “but we need to emulate what we did to get here in order to get out.” He tried to keep you still but you steadily rocked in a panic.

“Do you hear me?” You nod weakly before giving him your hand. Just as he did before, he placed your hand on his chest and pulled your bodies together in an embrace. He sensed your inner turmoil, your confusion for life, and the constant suppression—it’s trying to eat you alive. 

“You need to breathe and relax, stop bracing yourself.” At this rate, it was about time to switch into a different gear and bring the pressure. “Calm down-”

You cry out. “I’m trying!-“

“No, you’re not!” His tone gives you unwanted chills. “I don’t want to force you to let your walls down, I’m trying to give you the freedom to do it yourself but you won’t do it. Do you want me to force you? Is that it? Because I swear I will if I have to, Y/n.”

Your blood is boiling at this point. It’s not easy to control yourself and he knows that.  

“I am trying! It’s just not working!” You shoved him away and got out of his hold. 

“This is unfair! How can you expect me to get out of here? I can’t control it! I don’t even know what it is!”

That'll do it. 

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes speckled with fiery saffron and amber, a color change he had never even seen on himself. Warm energy began to course through his veins and engulf his senses, you’re close. 

“That's good,” He praises you, “take that feeling and use it to focus on waking yourself up.” Despite your unstable state, he wrapped his arms around your waist. “We’ll do it together.” He swipes a finger across your jaw and you lean into him, eyes fluttering as you breathe in.

Heeding his instructions, you shut your eyes, concentrating all of your energy on breaking out of this.

Light.

You feel the warmth of soft light and you reach out to it—your eyes shot open and you're laying on Taehyung, who is still holding onto your hand for dear life. You breathe in relief, pressing your head against him in search of physical proof of your arrival back to the real world. Sure enough, Taehyung's heart is beating and he exhales lowly under you. If you're honest, you're very thankful for him right now. If he wouldn't have pushed your buttons the way he did, who knows how long you could've been trapped in there.

"Taehyung." You pulled your hand out of his grasp and shake him lightly. "Wake up, I'm back, it worked." His eyes remain shut, you start to panic a little.

"Hey, wake up! I didn't come back here to be by myself. Come back, can you hear me!?" You pat his cheek lightly.

"Ah, don't do this to me. Are you seriously still in there? How? Wake up! I can't go back in there so I need you to wake up so I don't want to do something stupid to get you up. Please." 

Nothing. He's as still as a log and you're faced with two choices; try to go back in there with him, or do something to him to wake him up.

"I'll splash you with water," That might work, "yeah, that might wake you up-" Just as you try to leave the bed you're pulled back and met with his goofy smile.

"You were trying to wake me up so you don't have to be alone,” He coos, “you do have a heart."

"I can’t believe you- Taehyung, we're not doing that again." You’re half relieved and half disappointed that he’s back.

"Are you kidding? We have to understand what it is. It must be unique to our bond so eventually, we should go back." He speaks so casually about it.

"Well, not any time soon." You shake your head. "Go back to your room Taehyung," You dismiss his teasing and crawl up to get under your covers.

"No," He gets up close to you, "you know if I leave, I might eventually come back. To avoid the trip, I'll just stay, if that’s okay..." Disregarding your wishes to sleep alone, he crawls in bed beside you.

"You don't have to pretend like you hate it, I can feel your feelings, you’re relaxing because I’m close to you." He pulls you to your side to face him. He can feel your feelings. That should have crossed your mind given how many times he's said it but it hasn't. It made you wonder, how do you make him feel? Though you hide it, you do care for Taehyung and you have feelings for him, but they're feelings that connect you to him against your will, that's why you fight it.

"Is this okay?" He had to ask, "I do want you to be comfortable with this..." Your heart lurches at the thought that he wanted you to consent to this above all.

"Y- Yeah, it's fine..." He soothes a hand on your head, "This is something-" You pause, scratching that sentence. "Nevermind..." You trail off.

"No, don't do that, talk to me," His eyes soften, "I like when you talk to me about how you feel, it makes me feel closer to you..." He bats his lashes sleepily, "You were saying?..."

"This is something I've never experienced before, being emotionally and physically close to someone...You seem to be adjusting fine but I'm a mess. And even though I try not to show it, I want to connect with you. I try so hard to ignore it but I feel like I shouldn't anymore, after what just happened..." His lips parted, eyes not leaving you for a second. "I've been unfair to you, and I'm sorry. This is new for you too and you're just doing what's instinctive in your DNA." You shy away from his intense eye contact, it made you nervous.

"I- I've always been lonely,” You stutter, “my whole life, and no ones ever showed me this much attention before.” The more it comes to the light, the more you realize how misshapen you are the aspects of human relationships. “You’re the closest thing I've ever felt to love..." 

“Then I want you to always remember this...” He firmly presses his lips to yours, he moves to cup your jaw and you twitch. He’s warm, intoxicating, everything he longed for you to feel—you were feeling it right now.

The proximity alone was enough to have you melting into his touch. He slides his lips against yours with an audible sound and cocks his head to the side. The mutual feelings in the air added to the intimacy, the tight coil building up in your chest as you smile into the kiss. He's leaning into you, tasting and cherishing the shy nibbles you take on his bottom lip. A thumb swipes a stray tear from your cheek and you gently pull away, eyes finding his with a timid glance. He presses soft kisses under your ear, hands snaking around your waist as he erupts in a sweet fit of giggles. Abashed, you clear your throat and divert your eyes.

"Look at me,” He sees the weary look in your eyes and quickening of your breath. “I'm just happy we're together, I feel like I'm complete with you. You’re the part of me that I've been missing my whole life, and that's not just my genus talking, we're meant to have each other and there's no doubt in my mind that I'm really starting to love you..."

His words were entirely sincere. Even for the considerably short time, he’s known you, he knew he never wanted to go another day without you. The burning desire he had for you would not allow him to go on without you. He wanted you to know, that even after the arguments, tension, painful sentiments, he could say those three words—I love you. 

To say it so loosely might ward you away so he held back, but it came out, not caring about your reaction. You can't lie, you tend to doubt a majority of things that seem too good to be true. But this is different, he has proven himself trustworthy and that soothes your worries more so than anything else. Taking was a nice change, you had never done that so much before getting involved with Taehyung. But it makes you feel lighter. Like the weight of your troubles weren't pounding on your back, it's freeing. Being with him is freeing, it feels natural to have him near you. You're meant to be together and your body's responses prove that.

The electricity coursing through your body only amplifies when you're with Taehyung. Even though you don't know much about your powers, it becomes painful the more you try to suppress it, especially around him. Since he said he basically feeds off of you like a source of energy, that might be why it's getting harder to suppress it, he's drawing it out.

The heart monitor beeped, the constant sound becoming a part of the white noise. The patient laid peacefully, lashes fluttering at the cool air coming from the air vents. She turned off the light, leaving the room with a quiet shut of the door.

She went back to the office, dreading a load of files to sort through. When she walked in, it was clear by the stack towering as high as a foot that she'd hand this off to an intern or something. She has better 'things to worry about than dosage instructions. Like she's done many times before, she begins to sort through the patients and put them on the hand-off table in the corner.

Knock knock. There's a knock at the door, "Who is it?" Before she can grant entrance, he casually walks in, that gray suit being as recognizable as wine on white.

"Jane." He smiles.

"Nelson," She relaxed at his arrival, "I thought you were gonna drop by in the morning, this is a surprise."

"I was in the area so I thought I'd pay you a visit." He slid a hand into his pocket as she walked over to take a seat on the little couch by the window. "How are you?"

"Fine." She replied simply, not looking t elaborate any further— the small talk was never a favorite of hers.

"Did you see the news from this morning?" He went to sit across from her. "I had an interview."

"I did, but I only caught a few minutes of it, your interview was good."

"Yes, it came out well. Have you read any articles or tabloids about the project?"

"I try not to read about it too much anymore, it just disgusts me how they distort my work the way they do, I can’t bear to read it anymore."

"That's understandable." He nods, eyes trailing from his hands to her gaze that's on the window. "But, there's something I know you’ll be happy to hear. We found one, a child of the Flower Garden."

She freezes, eyes glued to the image of the skyline through the window. He's said this before she got her hopes up, and they were wrong. She saw it foolish to take his word for it this time.

"You've said that before Nelson, I'm not getting my hopes for nothing-"

"We have proof, Jane. She works for one of the fortune 500's, and since those big companies have a list of policies regarding SRMA clearings, we were able to weed out suspicious people. She has never gotten cleared, in fact, she ignored all of the cities warnings to get cleared. As a result, I sent a federal agent out there to make sure she got cleared but she ran from him."

"That still doesn't prove anything, if they scare anyone I'm sure that person might run..." She wasn’t buying it.

He feels through his pockets for a moment, then shows her a photo. “This is her.” There you stand, smiling for an ID badge and she nearly loses all ability to comprehend. She inspects the photo with a hand on her chest to keep from tearing up, it can't be.

Yves, her life's work lives.

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/supernatural-fandom-cyberbullying-microcosm-aka-donald-trump-effect/

'Supernatural' fandom cyberbullying microcosm aka Donald Trump effect

Since Donald Trump walked through the White House door to become America's 'bully in chief,' we've noticed that there seems to be a seething anger and frustration among people who have begun to follow his lead online. Presidents set the tone of the country, and we all know that the tones he is setting off are very unsettling, and in the past year cyberbullying has stepped up. It's always been there, but when our leader is using Twitter as a weapon against voices he doesn't like (or who disagree with him), it gives permission for others to follow suit. To me, using the "Supernatural" fandom was shining a light on a microcosm which reflects how Trump is infecting our country with his hatred, racism, and bullying. While we were considering how to tackle this subject objectively, one of our writers mentioned a piece on Tumblr which really stood out to me for just saying it like it was. Rather than tiptoe around and try to appeal to everyone, this writer put it out there and held the mirror up for everyone to look at themselves. I personally liked the idea of having a real diehard "Supernatural" fan be the voice of the piece. It came as no surprise that while many felt a sense of relief that 'someone had finally said it,' a small minority tried spreading their vitriol to disavow it. Even going so far as slandering us, and I would like to personally thank Entertainment Weekly for being so supportive with one person's false claims. The wonderful thing about holding a mirror up is that the real bullies wound up showing everyone exactly who they were on social media. They are using the exact same tactics that Donald Trump uses on Twitter by attacking, and when hit with a rational answer, they throw out a shiny object to distract from the fact that logic and rational thought is something they don't deal with very well. This was exactly why this piece was so important to me as we are allowing Trump to infect aspects of our lives that should be reserved in the form of entertainment. A show like "Supernatural" is a great way of escaping the fact that 26 people were shot to death in church this past Sunday, 30 people die every day in this country from guns but the Republicans and NRA tell us that by talking about it we're politicizing a tragedy, the people in Washington that should be working for us are screwing over the middle class and lower income people by trying to take away their health care while raising their taxes. With the way things are in America right now, we need a form of escapism so when this small minority needing attention tried to spoil a show like "Supernatural" for everyone; the time seemed right to discuss this. It wasn't to dredge up old news as this group never seems to stop and every day they choose a new person or actor to go after. Can you imagine: if the person on Twitter who literally spent over nine hours yesterday trying to round up people to force us to take the cyberbullying article down from our site used that time to call their local elected officials or volunteered for a cause they believe in, they could bring so much positive change into the world. That was another big reason for covering this topic. When Trump was elected one year ago, I went through the same anger, frustration, and depression, but rather than lash out wildly; I realized that by showing our readers what Trump and the government were doing it would be more proactive and way more fulfilling. We can all make a positive change and realize that all the pent-up anger can be released this way rather than clubbing each other over the heads continuously. Having lost a close friend of MTTG to suicide after being cyberbullied, here is a link to help that from happening to others. So in response to questions asked about the previous article, we felt it only right to allow Surflove808 to answer the critics. We know that you can never satisfy everyone, this fills in those gaps that this small minority has tried to fill with hatred, lies, and innuendo. So again, we thank Surflove808 for allowing us to reprint her piece of mind. This is the author's opinion, and we respect it as we do all opinions. (this has not been edited and is in its original form) [caption id="attachment_50856" align="aligncenter" width="696"] Source: YouTube[/caption] Regarding my blog post re:  The Joke Debacle, most everyone has been so thoughtful, mature, kind and open-minded about the discussion matter, even if they didn’t necessarily agree with me.  So that right there, shows me that it’s possible for all of us to be more understanding with each other regardless of our ships or faves or whatever.  And I’m an open-minded, open book, so even if you don’t agree with me, this is a safe place to vent concerns or frustrations with what I say.  We can all respectfully disagree, meet in the middle or go just back to our own corners.  Whatever. I’d like to encourage those of you who are taking your frustrations out on anyone who agrees with points made in my article (on Twitter or wherever) to come speak directly to me if you have an issue. I wrote it, after all.  My blog is helpfully linked right there in the article.  I don’t bite. And for those of you who aren’t overly familiar with what’s going on, please check out the many, many comments attached to my actual blog post, and you will be able to see that there are far more people that are fed up with these bad apples, than there are bad apples.  I hope.  And if there are apples that don’t feel like they’re being given a fair shake, I’d like to hear from those apples too. When I posted my angry rant last week, I didn’t expect it to gain so much traction.  But it did…and it showed me I wasn’t alone, and that there are a lot of fed up fans out there, and justifiably so, who are looking for an end to this ridiculous inner-fandom civil war.  I’m relatively new to Tumblr. I wasn’t expecting to become the unofficial mouthpiece for this issue. I was approached by movietvtechgeeks.com asking if they could use my blog post in an article about the cyberbullying that’s happening in this fandom, so I said “Sure!”  I’m honored that someone would want to print my rambling.  But of course, it’s also opened up the floor on Twitter, yet again, for certain people to deliberately misconstrue the content and twist it to suit their own agenda in the comment sections.  What they fail to realize is…they’re only proving why we needed this article in the first place.  So, joke’s on them!!  However…. now I feel obligated to come on here and clarify my intent and that’s friggin irritating. Here is the article if you want to take a look see: https://twitter.com/movietvtechgeek/status/927578926397952000 I NEED TO MAKE A FEW THINGS CRYSTAL CLEAR (apparently):

 I don’t have a ship.  I don’t dislike shippers.  (Ship away!  I just dislike pushy people with no sense of boundaries)  So please do not misconstrue anything I say as promoting or denigrating *a* ship. You do you.  Let me do me.  Well, that sounded vaguely dirty… you know what I mean.  I’m just gonna ship me with myself now.  Nobody can love me quite like me.

 I don’t stanan actor, and I don’t think that because someone likes “another” actor (whomever that might be) more, that it’s a direct affront to me or them.  I tag all these “relevant to the post” actors because I think they’re all relevant to the success of this show, and sadly….also to this juvenile ridiculousness that seems to be brewing between fan factions.

But, if I’m being honest?  Full disclosure:  I do have a favorite!  Jensen. Heyyyoooo!  I think he’s an incredibly talented actor IN MY OPINION, and I like his extraordinarily expressive face. See?  Simple as that.  Is that a problem?  And do you feel better now that it’s out in the open? We can all have opinions, and favorites without “throwing feces like howler monkeys” to quote a certain dickhead angel.  And as far as personalities and talent go?  They’re all amazing, and they all belong, IN MY OPINION.  The main cast, the supporting cast, new castmates, former castmates…. they all just…gel.  You know?  It’s some kind of voodoo magic.  And they’re by all accounts, really decent people doing good things out there in the world.  Without any one of them, it wouldn’t be the show we all know and love.  And if you don’t love the SHOW, well….I guess fucking go watch something else?  Right?? Listen….Unless you’re tied to a chair Clockwork Orange-style, and being force fed this show by some evil, covert government agency… you DO have other choices.

I sucked it up and joined Twitter because there seems to be an attack dog, hive-mind situation happening that seems hell bent on cowing people into submission.  That shit doesn’t fly with me.  And if I’m on there and see bullying, damaging misinformation or harassment… I’m going to get in the fray.  But I’m going to TRY to do it with honesty, integrity and a sense of humor.  I want to sit at the adults table on Turkey Day.  Not at the kids table with Weird Uncle Augustus.  Know what I mean?  Don’t be that guy.

AND ONCE MORE FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK:   To be clear - I’m not speaking to ONE specific group of people.  However, if you look into the mirror I’m holding up and see your own reflection?  I’m probably talking to you.

I’m not going to choose a “side.”  I choose the show, it’s actors, crew, writers, etc, collectively.  Because they all work their asses off, both on and off the set to give us fans so much more than just entertainment.

 If someone wanted to hold a mirror up to this fandom right now, via a juicy documentary on the ship wars, fighting factions, undermining, conspiracy theories, revenge tactics, harassment campaigns, etc…. I think its safe to say, we’re all gonna be pretty fucking embarrassed.  Let’s hope that never happens.  I’m cringing just thinking about it.  But we deserve it, if we keep on with this petty bullshit, ya know? 6.  My blog post was not about for J2 "stans” or aboutMisha “stans,”for gods sake people. This post was about how splinter groups (for lack of a better term) were being damaging and disruptive (As they do.) and how it’s bad for EVERYONE when we let warring factions steamroll over everyone else, AND each other. This post was a direct response to the organized and brutally efficient Twitter campaign that somehow found its way into the laps of a handful of online news sites in an effort to publicize an off-color joke in order to take advantage of the current climate in the entertainment industry and start a viral witch hunt.  *I just ran out of breath.  Time for a James Brown pause*

 My post was also aimed at the Twitter spamming campaigns that Shatner and Pellegrino, as well as J2 had to put up with in the past few weeks.  And don’t feed us that horsehit about them bullying the poor fans that spoke their minds. NO.Youcollectively went on, and started shit, kept coming at them, and they defended themselves.  And rather maturely, considering.  It’s about groups of people that have gotten so wrapped up and out of control, that they’re poisoning this fan family.  I genuinely feel concerned that some folks are confusing reality with fiction, here.

 If you look back farther on my Tumblr page (?) to the good ol days of last Thursday (?) - particularly the Silent Majoritypost - that post is not in reference to anyfan or any actor, specifically.  It’s in reference to the majority of fans who want to do the right thing, WANT to help out, WANT to just enjoy the damn show without all this drama and hate.  But because they’re quiet, and they’re not able to speak their minds without fear of retribution…. they’re vastly under-represented.  And so, the assholes of the fandom run amok unchallenged. THAT’S the majority I’m speaking of. 9.  I abhor anyone that lurks around on social media looking for people to mess with. So, imagine my surprise and disappointment that now I’M that person, because of this fucking shit!!  I’m only getting after people who are picking on others, but still… lurking, arguing.  Utter waste of valuable time.  Yours and mine.

Saturday night I apparently pissed off the leader of one of the SPN gangs (what do you call them??)  when I called her out on her behavior and was ominously told:  “Wanna see what happens when I tell my followers what to think and do.”  To which I responded “I already have.  And it’s deplorable”  And then offered to provide her with my name, # and home address.  She didn’t want it.  I don’t know why.  I thought it was funny!  I NEVER get hate mail… and I was looking forward to some postcards.  I’m old school that way.  Don’t hate tweet me.  Send me a hate postcard featuring something cool from your state. Jokes aside….that’s the kind of crap that mobilized me in the first place.  I tried to have a reasonable conversation with this individual and even asked if she wanted to take it offline and talk.  I followed her lead, conversationally, did snark back when required…but just when I thought we were going to have a reasonable discussion, she pulled the rug out.  I tried.  If you’re reading this and you feel misrepresented, or misunderstood, or you’re trying to misrepresent our conversation - the door is still open if you want to talk.  But I’m not going to tolerate your bullshit, and neither should anyone else. Who ARE these people?  And why is this happening?  That’s my question.

I’m not here to listen to arguments that a 6-year old might find compelling in a court of law, such as:  Well, Jensen told that joke a year ago, or Misha said thisthatandtheotherthing back in the day…so why are you only talking about Jared's joke?

Well…because this is not a tit-for-tat thing.  I’m talking about the issue that is relevant RIGHT NOW.  And this is far from a "blame it on Jared” thing.  I feel awful for the guy.  For both of them for even being looped into this insanity.  The intent of my blog post was to address very current events that have been demonstrative of the current, toxic climate brewing in the SPN fandom.  I’m NOT here to write the Unabridged History of SPN Actors and Their Fondness for Off-Color Jokes.  

 If you’re all wound up and offended by what I wrote?  It’s probably because I wrote this blog post not foryou, but aboutyou.  OR, you’ve not been provided with context, content or clarity, and you got swept up in this manufactured hysteria and reacted.  OR, you think I’m a total asshole, and that’s ok.  I get it!  And I understand how my post could make some of you defensive and prickly.  But hey, as the saying goes… don’t start none, won’t BE none.  On the flip side, as someone eloquently stated (ahem, Carol Hansson) “It’s ok to be offended….it’s also ok to not be offended.”

 I am not a rape apologist.  And neither are the actors. And to even insinuate that any of us, by extension of supporting Jared or Jensen in this situation, are pro “rape culture,” is appropriating a term and using it so irresponsibly that you’re negating the real suffering of sexual abuse survivors.  The more you trivialize it, the more you take away its power. Stop using manufactured concern for survivors as your jumping-off point for harassment, and START asking yourself what’s really motivating you to use that argument as an excuse for your behavior. BTW,  #Metoo, and you sure as hell don’t represent ME.

If you want to see a record of this casts achievements for mental health awareness, LGBTQ rights, anti-bullying and women's issues, to name a few - it’s a simple Google search away.  That’s on your time.  Not mine.  Again….not here to write their autobiography.  This piece is an opinion piece.  I try to be balanced, but that’s as far as it goes.  I’m not CNN.

 MISHA:  Misha was not mentioned in my post because Misha was not under fire last week or the week before over this stupid bullshit.  If I SEE that happening, I’ll write about THAT.  But HE was not the focus of this mess.  So I left HIM out of it.  Does that make sense?  And also?  I’m not here to equally represent all actors at all times.  That’s not how this works in the context of the subject matter at hand.  If you want to see more adequate representation for your favorite actor  - write your own op-ed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

And Misha as well as J2, are probably more than a little appalled that some of their biggest fans (?) are committing to some shady behavior in their honor and in their names.  Just a guess.  They’re good guys, and this is probably not sanctioned behavior.  If you think it is?  Show me the receipts.  Let’s do this honestly, using facts.  Not conjecture.

 No, I do not excuse anyone’s behavior because of their physical attractiveness.  Neither do most people.  I am not a child (Thank you, Uma Thurman), and I don’t rationalize like a child.

No, I am not doing this to seek approval from the actors, and neither is anyone else with the #istandwithJ2 hashtag.  As previously stated, this is an equal and opposite reaction to the bullshit that brought us all here today.  You’re grasping at straws at this point, if that’s the argument you’re going with.  Speaking on my own behalf, I have nothing to gain here, except some new Tumblr friends with a side of troll.

To reiterate on previous posts - I’m hoping that all of us will collectively start sticking up for each other when we see someone harassing a fellow fan online. Even if you don’t want to comment….maybe give the person being flamed those little heart thingys (likes?). Direct message them if liking their post doesn’t feel safe.  Show them your support in some way, so that they don’t feel alone and so that they don’t feel quite so vulnerable to attacks from online bullies.   We Have Got To Start Backing Up People who are just trying to express their opinions respectfully and are being slammed with responses that are belligerent, demeaning, threatening, obnoxious, etc.  Otherwise - these jerks will just keep steamrolling right over the more gentle viewers out there.  And a lot of them, are just kids.  And this goes both ways.  It has to, in order to be effective.

If you see something - say something.  That’s my 2 cents anyway. The world’s going to Hell in a handbasket, 26 innocent people were gunned down yesterday in a place they held sacred and felt safe in, and it just keeps happening. Mother Nature has decided she’s sick of our shit and has been upending thousands of lives.  There are actual sexual predators in some of our pasts and sadly, in some of our futures.  And this “joke” has no relevancy or bearing on that sad fact. Women, people of color, LGBTQ people, economically fragile people, physically fragile people, etc…are seeing their protections, rights and livelihoods eroded away in an alarmingly short period of time, and the list goes on and on… and THIS is what we’re dedicating our mental and emotional resources to? This show is supposed to be an escape from reality, guys.  Not actual reality. Why are we harassing the actors and fellow fans of a television show that brought us all together in the first place?  This is entertainment, people.  I know how important this show is to all of us.  And I know how impactful the message of this show has been.  And I know that without this show, some of us might not be here today.  We are some passionate sumbitches.  I GET THAT. The question still remains…. what in the actual fuck are we really fighting for and about, here?  If someone can quantify and explain that to me in a way that makes sense, I’m all ears. Has it really come to:  “Maybe we need to devise a more sophisticated tagging situation so that people don’t keep dipping their chocolate in other peoples peanut butter.”  I don’t know.  But this is Nth level ridiculousness, and we need to figure it out before it gets even worse. For now, I’m going to get back to enjoying this show for what it is, and putting my beautiful brain back to work on more important matters.  I’ve spent a week in this muck, and it’s been… enlightening.  I’ll say that. And even though I don’t agree with some of you - I can see by the CSI-level attention to detail that a lot of us have applied to all things SPN… that we could actually be mobilized into an almost unstoppable force for real good and real change.  If we wanted that.   We could probably figure out who ordered JFK’s assassination.  Figure out where Jimmy Hoffa’s buried.  Solve the mysteries of the pyramids…. help reunite missing kids with their families…Get Trump impeached… ahem.  You get it. Or we could just keep wasting our pent-up aggression on other fans, and the actors of our favorite show.  Because that’s easy.  Choices.   There, now I can drop the mic.

Movie TV Tech Geeks News

[geeeooorrrge]

And Everything In Between - a Paulo Dybala/Alvaro Morata fanfic

Title is from Us Against The World by Coldplay.

Chapter list and summary | Read on AO3

CHAPTER 39 – THROUGH CHAOS AS IT SWIRLS, IT’S US AGAINST THE WORLD

Once news of the scheduled press conference trickled out, the tabloids all got to work. Articles were spilled out by the dozen, speculating what it could be about. And almost all of them got it correct, once it was clear that Paulo and Alvaro were the ones holding it. Besides, even though neither of them had read any of the earlier speculation, they knew that photo of them holding hands was floating around somewhere.

Paulo had always been better with words, but Alvaro was better at navigating difficult situations. So Paulo made Alvaro tell him what they should say, and Paulo wrote it out nicely in a script, and they sent it to their agents and Allegri for approval. They sent it right back a couple of hours later with variations of ‘go ahead and use this.’

Alvaro’s dad didn’t reply even by Tuesday morning.

There was no word from Marta or Alvaro’s mom whether they were flying over. Paulo and Alvaro understood, really, because it was difficult for them, being in the middle. It didn’t stop Alvaro from constantly checking his phone, though.

They’d met Paulo’s mom and brothers in a private room with a TV right after lunch on Tuesday. Paulo’s mom had this worried yet proud look on her face. She wrapped Paulo in a big warm hug, and she asked, “You’re completely sure about this?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “And…and you’re okay with it?”

“Of course. As long as it’s what you want.”

“You know we’ll always be here,” Mariano ruffled Paulo’s hair with a smile. And it was true. Mariano had been there, physically, even when Alvaro couldn’t be, since day one.

Paulo moved to wrap his entire family in a big hug. He saw Alvaro just stand awkwardly in the doorway, not completely sure what he was supposed to do. He couldn’t leave Paulo alone. He wouldn’t. And Paulo wouldn’t let him. But Paulo knew he thought that he wasn’t exactly supposed to go and join in their little family time, either.

But that was only until Paulo’s mom waved at him to go over, and. And Alvaro practically ran over and burrowed his way into the hug. He needed to know that he still belonged somewhere. He needed to know that even though he didn’t have his dad right then, even though he only had fifty percent of Marta and his mom – he had another family who would make him feel equally warm, another mom and two elder brothers. And he had Paulo. He would always have Paulo.

Allegri gathered everyone in the main TV room before they were due to go out for the press conference. Isco and Franco hovered by the door, unsure if they were actually invited inside. But Allegri didn’t chase them away, so.

“Okay, everyone,” Allegri addressed the noisy room. “I’m sure you know how big this is for all of us. This is something new, not only to our club but also to football. But it’s a good thing. It’s progress. And I’d like to thank all of you, on behalf of Paulo and Alvaro too, for all your gracious support and for being here today. It means a lot to me and to them.

“There’s a small group of journalists waiting for us to start. I’m sure they’ll have a lot of questions. I trust Paulo and Alvaro will address most of them. But they may like to ask some of you questions, too, as well as to Franco and Isco – whom I believe attracted many suspicious glances when they entered this building today. I hope and trust that you’ll represent us well. If any of you don’t feel comfortable, you should leave right now.”

No one got up to leave, much to Paulo and Alvaro’s relief. Isco made a little running gesture like he was about to bolt, but then burst into a huge grin that said he was kidding. Franco was just. He was just staring at Isco like Isco was crazy.

Allegri dismissed everyone after some brief instructions – no homophobia, represent the club well, say ‘no comment’ if you don’t feel like answering any question, please leave if you’re uncomfortable, the likes – and came over to Paulo and Alvaro.

“You ready?” he smiled encouragingly.

Paulo nodded. Alvaro said, “Yeah.”

“It’s not too late to back out, if you want.”

Paulo turned to Alvaro. Alvaro turned to him, too. They shared a brief please just let the hiding be over, I’ll do whatever it takes look. And Paulo knew.

“We’re not going to back out,” Paulo said.

“Good,” Allegri said. “Good luck. Ten minutes.”

And then he left, and everyone settled down in their seats and Paulo and Alvaro went to the door to see Franco and Isco.

“Hey, you two,” Isco greeted them cheerfully. It was nice having him there. He sort of made everything less gloomy with all his weird antics. Though Franco seemed to think otherwise. “You’re gonna ace this.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “Thanks.”

“So glad you’re here, this guy’s been glaring at me since we arrived,” Isco pretended to whisper, pointing at Franco, who narrowed his eyes further.

“I’m not glaring at you,” Franco retorted.

Alvaro burst into soft laughter. The kind of soft laughter that made Paulo feel like he was floating. “Don’t worry, Franco doesn’t bite,” he said. Then he turned to Paulo, a cheeky smirk on his face. “Does he?”

“Alvaro!” Paulo exclaimed. He felt a blush creep up his neck. He realised that, well. This was a weird group of people to be hanging out in. Although everyone communicated in Spanish and made him feel right at home. “Fuck! What the fuck! That’s totally inappropriate.”

But Isco was laughing, and even Franco was laughing, so Paulo couldn’t help but forgive Alvaro. He was only trying to lighten the mood. He was trying to make Paulo feel better. Sure, Alvaro was awkward as fuck but his straightforwardness meant he never once failed to mitigate weird situations like these and Paulo was just so fucking fond.

“I don’t think I want to hear the answer to that,” Isco said when he caught his breath.

“I don’t bite,” Franco announced. “In whatever way.”

“Sure, sure,” Isco said. He pinched some of the fabric of Franco’s sleeve in his hand and started pulling him towards two empty seats. “Come on. Let’s watch these two kick ass.”

“They’re gonna hit it off, aren’t they?” Paulo remarked as he stood at the door with Alvaro to take one last look at the room. At their raving supporters. Isco was talking animatedly to Franco, his body turned towards Franco, arm draped over the back of his own chair, leaning slightly towards Franco. Franco was facing the front and leaning back on his chair, hands clasped on his lap, head turned towards Isco, trying to field his eager questions. The classic extrovert and introvert conversation. Isco and Franco were the two extremes.

“Totally,” Alvaro beamed. It wasn’t the first time Franco and Isco had met – they’d met that time at Paulo’s twentieth birthday party – but it was the first time they’d spoken. And the first time they were going to have to hang out together, just the both of them. But they seemed to be getting along, so. “Hey. We’re gonna kick ass.”

“We are,” Paulo tiptoed to kiss Alvaro. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. No matter what happens.”

Paulo took his phone out from his pocket to turn it off. He knew tweets and messages were going to flood right in once the press conference started.

He saw the screen displaying one single notification.

A text from Alvaro’s dad, sent two hours ago.

Dear Paulo. If Alvaro chooses to be with you for the rest of his life, I would be very happy. Love, dad.

“Oh, my God,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro turned from the room to him. “What?” he asked worriedly.

“It’s your dad,” Paulo said. He held his phone out to Alvaro with a shaking hand. “He texted me.”

“What?” Alvaro said again, practically snatching the phone from Paulo. He read the message, like, three times, then, “No. No. Yes.”

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered. His heart was beating out of his fucking chest but in a way so different from how it had been the past week. It sort of felt like. Like his heart was free instead of trapped.

Alvaro whipped out his own phone from his pocket. “I have one, too,” he said in disbelief.

“Open it. Alvi. Open it.”

Alvaro opened it and stared at it for like, thirty seconds, even though it was evident from where Paulo was standing that it was only two lines. And then he said, still disbelievingly, “Yes. No. Yes.”

“What does it say?”

Alvaro passed Paulo the phone.

My dearest Alvaro. You will always be my son. Love, dad.

“Oh, my God,” Paulo mouthed, closing his eyes as tears started to fall out of them, literally three minutes before he and Alvaro were due to face a room of reporters. “Oh, my God.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro breathed, wrapping his arms tightly around Paulo and pushing Paulo’s head into his chest. “It’s all okay now. We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah?” Paulo sobbed softly. “Yeah?”

“We’re going to be okay,” Alvaro repeated, and. And he sounded like he was crying, too, and fuck. They were totally going to go inside all teary-eyed and fuck up the entire thing.

“I love you so much,” Paulo whispered.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro squeezed Paulo so tight Paulo wasn’t sure if his lungs knew how to expand. “So, so, so fucking much.”

“Should we, um. Like, go?”

The room had quietened because the TV had been turned on. The camera was panning across the room of reporters – it was quite a small number of them, probably less than fifteen. It calmed Paulo a little. But only a little.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Alvaro said.

They threw a glance at Franco and Isco before leaving. They were both now engaged in a hushed conversation that looked like it could be about Paulo and Alvaro. They both caught on that the subjects of their conversation were staring at them at the same time, so they gave a coordinated ‘good luck out there’ wave.

Paulo and Alvaro walked hand in hand down the corridor to the journalists’ room. Allegri was waiting at the entrance. Paulo didn’t want to let go of Alvaro’s hand. It was warm and sticky and sweaty from nervousness but Paulo never ever wanted to let go of it.

“Ready, boys?” Allegri asked with a smile.

“Yes boss,” Alvaro said with a charming smile. His usual charming smile which charmed the fucking socks off Paulo and which Paulo knew was going to charm the socks off everybody in the room.

Alvaro pried his hand out of Paulo’s and gave Paulo a kiss on the head and a gentle smile. He could probably tell Paulo was scared. Not only because he always could tell if Paulo was scared, but. But because literally everybody who saw Paulo could tell Paulo was scared.

“We’ll ace this, baby,” Alvaro whispered as they both sat down.

Allegri started off with courteous words, thanking the journalists for taking the time for a special event. He then proceeded to hint at what this whole thing was about.

“As we are all so familiar with, Alvaro arrived here in Turin almost two years ago. Paulo arrived last year. But the friendship between these two has stretched way longer than just this past ten or eleven months – the friendship between these two has lasted years and years. I’m very glad to have these two in my team. Their spirit, their determination, their ability to work so flawlessly together – these are qualities that every manager looks for. But today isn’t a work issue. It isn’t about them on the pitch. We would like to address things that have been floating around off the pitch. Usually, our players’ private lives don’t warrant this kind of press conference. But Paulo and Alvaro have requested it, and I support them, because this is an issue that has been a taboo for a long, long time, and I’m glad that our club has established a supportive enough environment that Paulo and Alvaro feel comfortable sharing this with us. That being said, I hope that what they say today will not be misreported nor twisted, and I hope that we will all take this with a level of respect that reciprocates what Paulo and Alvaro have been so kind to give us. And lastly, they will choose what they wish to keep private, and what they want to let us know. At the end of this session, there will be a Q&A first with myself, Paulo, and Alvaro, and then with the rest of the team as well as a couple of their friends from other clubs. However, any one of them may choose not to answer any question if they do not feel comfortable. So, with all these being said, let’s start.”

And then he turned to Alvaro sitting next to him, and Paulo sitting at the very end next to Alvaro. They both had copies of their ‘script’ placed in front of them. Alvaro cleared his throat.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he said in his kind, gentle voice, and Paulo just. Paulo decided to shift his attention to Alvaro instead of staring at the front row of journalists because it’d make him calm. “We’ve heard from various sources, of varying degrees of closeness to us, about rumours that have been circulating about the both of us. About the relationship between the both of us.”

He paused to clutch at the sheet of paper on the table in front of him, dog-earing the edges. His eyes scanned the words, and then stopped to blink nervously. And Paulo wanted to hold his hand, or nudge his thigh under the table, or whisper to him that it was okay, but. But he couldn’t, and Paulo felt so fucking trapped.

And then Alvaro continued, “We have read the articles you guys have published about us regarding what this press conference is about. We have heard about some of the articles that you have published before that, regarding the both of us, too – but we haven’t read those. Nevertheless, we know what you – and people in general – are thinking about the both of us. And we are here today…we are here today not to refute those rumours.”

The room exploded into soft murmurs. Paulo caught only tiny snippets of them. So it’s true? They’re a couple? How long? What does this mean for the team? What does this mean for football?

“We are here today,” Alvaro continued above all the noise, which quickly declined to silence again. “To tell all of you that – yes, Paulo and I are in a relationship. A romantic relationship. It hasn’t been a long time since we started going out, but it has been a long time since we realised we would both like to. Due to circumstances, it hasn’t been possible until recently. But that’s not the main issue we wish to address today. We would like to be ourselves, Paulo and I, and we believe that this will not affect our performance on the pitch, which is what we’re sure you are most concerned about regarding our relationship. We do not want to go around hiding and keeping things from all of you and lie to or mislead you, especially since this appears to be very deeply intertwined with football.”

And then he turned to Paulo with this tiny relieved smile, which, well. Was because he’s finished his part and it was now Paulo’s turn.

Paulo cleared his throat. “We believe that our consistency in the games since the beginning of the year is adequate proof that this will have minimal, if any, effect on our performance. Football has always come first for the both of us. Football is how we met. And football will always take top priority as long as we are able to play. Juventus has been very gracious and understanding regarding our relationship and for that we are extremely grateful. We hope to receive the same kind of support from you. Of course, we know that this isn’t 100% achievable. But as Alvaro said, we don’t want to hide or lie. We want to be truthful and put a stop to all the speculation, and so here it is. This is the truth. Alvaro and I are a couple.”

The murmurs started again before Allegri took over. “This all is largely a part of Paulo and Alvaro’s private lives, but as long as they are players of Juventus Football Club, this is also partially our responsibility. I think it is a good idea that we hold this press conference today so that you all understand. As they have mentioned, football remains top priority. This also means that nothing will change regarding the way I choose my teams for every game. Nothing will change regarding the roster and regarding Paulo and Alvaro’s positions in the team. Everything remains as it was, except now the truth is out.”

“We hope that the step we are taking today will encourage others to do the same,” Paulo continued. “We feel that the LGBT+ voice is lacking in professional football, and we, like all the other male footballers who have come out before us – Thomas Hitzlsperger, Robbie Rogers, Anton Hysén, David Testo, Olivier Rouyer, all the way back to Justin Fashanu – hope to erase the stigma towards homosexuality in football. We are aware that this is a first, two teammates in a romantic relationship, and we hope that this will pave the way for more LGBT+ advocacy, more encouragement for young people to be less fearful of discovering themselves. We do not, intentionally or not, want to hurt anybody involved. But we hope, too, that you will respect our privacy at this time and understand that there may be some questions that we will not feel comfortable answering.”

“And with that, we are opening the floor to questions,” Allegri said with a smile.

And like, literally all of the reporters’ paddles came up at once. Allegri took his time to call out their names.

“Question for Morata. We know your father has been an avid supporter of your football career since you were a child. How does your family react to this?”

Alvaro cleared his throat. It was just his luck to get this as a first question, Paulo thought.

“They are all supportive. Paulo’s family, too.”

“Question for Allegri. How do you think this will affect the cohesion of your team?”

“All the boys are very close. They remain very close and are incredibly supportive of Paulo and Alvaro. I’m very glad to have such a cooperative group of players and I believe they all have played, and will continue to play, a big role in supporting Paulo and Alvaro. It doesn’t affect the cohesion of my team.”

“Question for Dybala. How long have you known Morata, and how did you meet? Did this relationship start when you arrived in Turin in June last year?”

“I’ve known him for almost seven years. We met in 2009 when some Argentine players went to Madrid for a training camp. I was hosted by Alvaro’s family. Our relationship started at the end of last year.”

“Question for Dybala. What stopped you from starting this relationship earlier?”

“We knew that it would be difficult given the careers we have both chosen. Playing for the same team counterintuitively made it more difficult. We were also separated for the first six years of our friendship; Alvaro was in Madrid and then Turin, and I was in Córdoba and Palermo. It took us some time to iron things out once we were both in Turin.”

“Question for Dybala. What made you realise that this relationship was the right step for the both of you?”

Paulo paused. He didn’t like to think about the circumstances of the end of their friendship, and then after a painful week, the start of their relationship. He didn’t like to think of all the pain they had to go through to make this happen. He didn’t want to remember all those words he’d said to Alvaro, although Alvaro had admitted eventually that they were the truth. He didn’t want to think that he had hurt Alvaro. He didn’t want to think that he had forced Alvaro into this relationship.

“No comment,” Paulo said, his voice wobbly. The room became silent not only because of his answer but also because Alvaro reached across the table and wrapped his hand around Paulo’s.

But just as quickly as the silence had fallen, it was lifted again.

“Question for Morata and Dybala. Have either of you been in a prior homosexual romantic relationship?”

“No. Paulo and I are each other’s first.”

“Question for Morata. We know there is a buy-back clause for Real Madrid in your contract. If you leave Juventus, what happens to this relationship?”

Paulo saw Alvaro freeze. He looked petrified. Paulo knew he’d been anticipating a question like this, but they’d never talked about it because it was something they didn’t want to see happening. And maybe if they talked about it, it would become real. Besides, Alvaro couldn’t really say anything without his agent.

“No comment,” Alvaro finally said.

The room went silent for a quick second before proceedings continued.

“Question for Allegri. Will Dybala and Morata get to play together more?”

“My team sheet choices follow the same criteria as before: the team we are playing against, and performance in training.”

“Question for Allegri. With complete honesty, how does this affect the dynamics of your team?”

“As mentioned before, it doesn’t change anything. Paulo and Alvaro have shown me that they can handle being in a relationship together with producing stellar performances week after week, no matter how many minutes they play. There has been no considerable dip in standard since their relationship started. This is evident in every match. They continue being hardworking team players, which works very well for me.”

“Question for Allegri. How do you plan to keep them in check?”

“I don’t need to keep them in check, per se, because they’re adults and they can be responsible for their own decisions. But they know what they can and cannot do. They know what crosses the line.”

“Question for Morata and Dybala. How will this relationship affect your football?”

“It will hopefully not affect our football at all. We have tried our very best to keep it separate.”

“Question for Morata and Dybala. How do you anticipate the fans to react to this?”

“We don’t expect 100% support from everybody,” Alvaro started slowly. “We understand that there are different mindsets and different ways of looking at this. But we will work hard to prove to you that we are still the same Morata and Dybala that you know on the pitch, and that being in a relationship like this does not change the Morata and Dybala that you know. Not at all. But we hope that at this time, you could take this with some understanding and graciousness, and respect that this is our life and we have chosen to take this path.”

“Question for Morata and Dybala. Do you have any special words of encouragement for your fans of all ages who look up to you?”

Paulo smiled. Alvaro said, “We want to say, don’t be afraid of being yourself. Hiding it in, bottling it up, has done nothing for us. We are so glad that we found each other, and we are so glad that we were brave enough to get into this relationship. We hope that you will be brave enough to discover yourselves, too.”

“We’ve been through that stage of life before, and we know that sometimes, it can be confusing,” Paulo chimed in. “But we hope you give yourself a chance to figure out what you like and what you want. And I hope that one day, you’ll find someone you love just as much as I love Alvaro; you’ll find someone who makes you as happy as Alvaro makes me, and you won’t regret giving yourself a chance.”

There was silence again except for the clicking of the cameras.

“If there are no more questions, we’ll end this press conference here. The other Juve players will be brought into the room, along with Paulo and Alvaro’s old friends, Franco Vazquez from Palermo and Isco Alarcon from Real Madrid.”

“One more question,” someone yelled. “Will you two kiss for the cameras?”

Paulo and Alvaro turned to each other. Alvaro had this tiny cheeky smile on his face. They both turned to Allegri, seemingly to ask for permission.

Allegri narrowed his eyes at them, confused. He turned to the crowd, and then back to Paulo and Alvaro, and then back to the crowd again, this time with an incredulous, ‘can you believe these two are asking me for permission?’ look on his face. The crowd burst into delighted laughter when Allegri nodded at Paulo and Alvaro.

And Alvaro just. He leaned over the small space in between him and Paulo and grabbed Paulo by the sides of his head. He gave Paulo only just enough time to react by grabbing Alvaro’s biceps before he closed the gap fully and kissed Paulo on the lips.

Paulo was immediately filled with this rush of relief, this tidal wave of joy and peace and freedom, like his heart suddenly knew how to pump blood at a normal rhythm again. He shifted his hands to the sides of Alvaro’s neck. He didn’t want to stop kissing Alvaro. The sound of all the cameras clicking endlessly was drowned out by the mere fact that Alvaro made Paulo’s blood rush so quickly and violently through his veins that Paulo felt like he could explode.

It was all blurry when Alvaro finally pulled away and Paulo wasn’t sure if it was because Alvaro made him dizzy as fuck or just because he was sitting so close to Alvaro, heads pressed together.

“I love you,” Alvaro mouthed.

“I love you, too,” Paulo whispered. “Till the end of time.”

And then Allegri clapped loudly so they pulled apart, and then suddenly the rest of their team flooded into the room and took their places in the perimeter, followed by Franco and Isco who came in last and stood next to the table where Paulo and Alvaro were seated.

The room slowly filled with lots of chatter, but Paulo and Alvaro had already gotten their fair share of questions, so they were able to sit there quietly and observe.

“Good job, boys,” Allegri said proudly. He gave both their shoulders a squeeze before leaving the room.

Paulo and Alvaro just did nothing for a few moments. They just sat there and breathed for the first time in days and tried to hear little snippets of conversations. They heard Mario going “No comment. No comment. No comment,” sarcastically to every question, to piss the reporters off; before eventually caving and answering them properly. They saw Paul gesturing animatedly towards the both of them. They saw Simone nodding and smiling shyly at a reporter, saying yeah, Alvaro and Paulo were his close friends and that wasn’t going to change just because they were in a relationship. They saw Gigi with this proud look on his face, saying that getting together and coming out to the team had made Paulo and Alvaro so much happier.

They heard Isco, right beside them, claiming, “I’ve known Alvaro since he was in diapers,” and when Alvaro yelled at him, changed it to, “Fine, I’ve known him since we were in the youth team. But I’ve gotten the honour to watch Paulo and Alvaro grow together, and let me tell you, these two are the very definition of modern love.”

And then he proceeded to explain how, over all these years, Alvaro and Paulo had so meticulously managed to balance football and feelings despite the fact that the latter was affecting their entire lives in a huge way. And Alvaro seemed to forgive him immediately, so. Paulo was fine with it.

Paulo heard Franco answering the questions as professionally and calmly as he had always been able to. He told the reporters, without revealing too much, that he had known Paulo since Paulo had started to discover himself. He told them that Paulo had always been strong, it had been difficult but Paulo had always stuck with what he’d wanted ever since he’d realised he wanted it. He told them that Paulo and Alvaro had loved each other for a long, long time, but had never chosen this path because they wanted each other to be safe and they never thought they would have as much support that they did. And that them getting together was the best thing that had happened to either of them in their entire lives.

“You hear that?” Paulo whispered to Alvaro, whose ears were practically about to detach from his head from how hard he was trying to listen to everything at once.

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled.

“Franco doesn’t hate you,” Paulo said softly. Even though they were okay, it was just. Paulo never got rid of the feeling that Alvaro thought Franco disliked him in some way.

“I know,” Alvaro reached over and slipped his fingers in between Paulo’s. “It’s just. Weird. And I don’t know when it’ll stop being weird.”

“Yeah,” Paulo gave his hand a squeeze. “Alvaro. We’re going to be okay.”

“We are,” Alvaro said in awe. “We are.”

They stopped listening after that, finally at peace with the fact that their teammates and friends were going to handle it flawlessly. After all, from Paulo and Alvaro’s answers during the press conference, they already knew what they were and weren’t supposed to say. So Paulo and Alvaro just sat there, hand in hand, smiling goofily at each other for no fucking reason, occasionally pecking each other softly on the lips, aware that some cameras were still clicking in the background but so blissfully unbothered by it because now it didn’t matter.

After a half-hour the journalists’ time was up, so they were all called out of the room. All their teammates started crowding around the table and behind it, smothering Paulo and Alvaro, ruffling their hair and pulling their ears and telling them how they’d aced the press conference.

And then everyone gathered for a group photo, including Franco and Isco, who looked completely out of place in their own clothes while everyone else was in their Juve t-shirts. And Paulo and Alvaro were dragged around for individual photos with each of their teammates, all of them wanting to show some sort of support on social media, needless to say, but. But Paulo and Alvaro felt like they were some sort of superstars.

“I’m fucking tired,” Paulo eventually whined, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Fucking baby,” Franco remarked, making everybody laugh again.

“Only I can call my boyfriend ‘baby,’” Alvaro said matter-of-factly.

“Fucking hell,” Franco rolled his eyes.

And then the room was going to be shut so after a photo of just the four of them – Paulo, Alvaro, Franco, and Isco – they all flooded back out and everyone dispersed to grab their belongings or return home. Paulo and Alvaro lingered for a while helping Franco and Isco figure out what to do.

“Don’t worry about us, we’ll go hang out somewhere,” Isco said. “We had a nice talk.”

“Yeah, we’ll have fun,” Franco said with a small smile.

“You sure?” Alvaro asked. “You wanna be seen hanging out together?”

“What, you worried we’ll do something gay?” Isco said with a smirk which quickly morphed into a horrified expression once he realised what he’d said. “I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, just, we’re not, God, shit, don’t hate me, fuck.”

Paulo burst into laughter. He couldn’t help it. He was practically hysterical. “No, yeah, it’s just. Rumours.”

“Whatever,” Franco said. “Once today’s over they’ll all know why we were here.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said. “We’ll call later if we can hang out.”

“So you’re letting us go out and be gay?” Isco asked.

“Sure, whatever,” Alvaro smiled. “Hey. Thanks for coming all the way over here. Really, we really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Isco and Franco said in unison. “You two need people like us to stop you from being stupid,” Isco continued.

“Fuck off,” Alvaro said.

So Isco hooked his arm in Franco’s and started dragging him away, leaving Franco only to glance over his shoulder at Paulo and Alvaro with this really amusing ‘please help me’ look. But they knew he was only joking, because he suddenly burst into laughter at something Isco said.

“Do you think they’ll hook up?” Paulo asked, staring after them.

“A hundred percent,” Alvaro said.

“That’ll be cute,” Paulo said as they started walking again hand in hand towards the private room to meet Paulo’s family.

“Not as cute as us,” Alvaro replied as they rounded the corner and the doorway.

And saw Alvaro’s family standing in the middle of the room with Paulo’s family.

Marta was the first to see them standing frozen in the doorway. She bounded over excitedly to them and wrapped them in a big hug. “Sorry, our flight got delayed, but,” she said. “Look who’s here!”

Alvaro’s dad. Alvaro’s dad was there, standing in the middle of everyone, gazing towards the door with this expression on his face, this mixture of pride and regret and nostalgia and just this intense happiness to see Paulo and Alvaro again, together, in front of his very eyes.

He opened his arms wide and he said, “Come here, both of you.”

And Paulo and Alvaro just. Just bolted, sprinted right into his arms and almost knocked him over. He wrapped them up tightly and chuckled into their shoulders. “Hey, boys,” he said softly.

“Hey, dad,” they said in unison.

Everyone burst into adoring laughter, including Alvaro’s dad. He softly rubbed Alvaro and Paulo’s backs, gentle strokes up and down. “I’m sorry I got so upset. I just didn’t really understand. I still don’t really understand. But I’m trying my best, and I hope you give me a chance to watch you two do this. To watch you two do this right. I know you two really love each other and if this is really what you want, then I’ll try my best to learn, to support you. Because I know how it feels, to really love a person. And you two, you’re in love with your best friend, and that’s. That’s something really lucky. I’m sorry I doubted that. I just, I hope you’ll give me some time, some time to get used to this, but. But I want you to know that I love you, both of you, and I’m so, so proud of you today.”

And Paulo had to bite hard on his lip to fight back his tears because he was just. He was just so fucking happy and he wanted to pinch himself to see if this was real or the entire day had just been a dream. He shifted his head on Alvaro’s dad’s shoulder so he could see Alvaro, only to find Alvaro already gazing over at him.

“You’re not dreaming,” Alvaro mouthed.

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you,” he whispered, both to Alvaro and Alvaro’s dad.

“I’m very happy that it’s you, Paulo,” Alvaro’s dad continued softly. “You are an amazing young man and you make Alvaro so happy.”

He turned to Alvaro next, and said, “And you. You’ll always be my son. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m sorry for doubting you when you said that this would be okay. After today, after seeing all the support you’ve got – I know it’s going to be okay. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance. But I will now, and I’ll be here if you need me, for whatever reason, okay? I just, sometimes, I may not understand. But I’m trying. I hope you’ll understand that.”

“Of course, dad,” Alvaro whispered. “I didn’t understand it, either, in the beginning.”

Alvaro’s dad smiled. He gave their backs a final pat before letting go of the hug. “How about we all go out for a celebratory meal?” he asked.

And everybody agreed, so they all started flooding out of the room and outside to the parking lot. Alvaro tugged at Paulo’s arm so they lagged behind, staying in the room alone.

They stood there, hand in hand, just doing nothing for a while. They listened to the voices of their families echoing off the walls, getting softer as they neared the exit. Eventually it all faded to silence.

Paulo shifted his gaze to Alvaro’s face, running it over every inch, taking in every single inch of Alvaro’s pure, unrivalled beauty. He had never gotten, and would never get, tired of Alvaro’s face. He could spend the rest of his life doing nothing but looking at Alvaro, and it would still make him happy.

But Paulo was just. Just suddenly really tired. Suddenly, the happenings of the entire day crashed down on him at once, like a flood breaking a dam. They were finally alone, Paulo finally had Alvaro all to himself, and he fucking loved Alvaro more than he had ever loved Alvaro and it was beginning to eat him alive. He was relieved, Paulo was so fucking relieved that everything was okay but a part of him was thinking that this was all too good to be true, a part of him knew that this was just the beginning, it was day zero, and hell was yet to be unleashed but who knew if they would survive it? Paulo found himself so overwhelmed he burst into sudden tears which he wasn’t even sure himself were happy or sad.

“Hey,” Alvaro whispered, wrapping Paulo up in a warm hug. A warm hug flavoured of Paulo’s favourite scent. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo whispered back. “This is just the beginning, isn’t it? Things are going to get worse. They’re giving us this good day to make up for all the bad things that are coming.”

“You don’t know that,” Alvaro said, but even he sounded doubtful. “Don’t think about it like that. It’s too late to turn back.”

“I don’t want to turn back. It’s just. Just that I’m scared of what’s in front.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro whispered. “Paulo. No matter what happens, even if the rest of my life falls apart – you and me, we’ll always be okay. Yeah? I promise, Pau. I promise.”

Paulo pressed his face into the middle of Alvaro’s chest, right where his heart was. “Alvi, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro mumbled, his lips buried in Paulo’s hair. “We’ll always be okay. Paulo and Alvaro. Always.”

“How are you so sure of this?”

“I…I’ve always been, Paulo,” Alvaro said softly. “I just refused to act on it. I refused to accept it. I refused to accept that…that I like a boy so much that I’m willing to give up everything for him. But this is me. I’m not the coward that I used to be or the shithead who tried to act all badass. I’m a fucking softie and I’m not afraid to be that. I realised that. That maybe, being a man isn’t all about trying to put on a strong front all the time. It’s tiring. Maybe being a man is about accepting that we’re weak for some things. And I’m fucking weak for you, Paulo Bruno Dybala.”

Paulo smiled. “That’s what you’ve figured out about yourself so far?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Paulo whispered, digging his head into the curve of Alvaro’s neck. “That’s good. I’ll be here for the rest.”

“You will?” Alvaro asked, and he sounded delighted.

“Of course,” Paulo said. “You were here for me when I figured it out. Even though it was messy and ugly.”

Alvaro was smiling as he kissed Paulo on his temple. “Are you proud of me?”

“For being brave?” Paulo laughed. After all, as Alvaro had said himself, his life had always been handed to him on a plate. This was the first real decision regarding the path of his life that he’d made on his own. And Paulo was so immensely proud that Alvaro dared to do it, that Alvaro wasn’t afraid to face it head-on. “I am. I’m very, very, very proud, Alvaro.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro said, laughing softly as Paulo nudged him. “C’mon. Let’s go have dinner.”

“I have a dad again,” Paulo said, his voice wobbling.

“We both do,” Alvaro whispered. He let go of Paulo and took Paulo’s hand. “Paulo. We are always going to be okay and I will never stop reminding you of that.”

“You never have,” Paulo said softly, with a smile.

Alvaro leaned over and placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on Paulo’s lips, sending electricity rippling through every single one of Paulo’s veins. He grabbed the back of Alvaro’s neck, holding it in place, letting his tongue work its way into Alvaro’s open mouth. Alvaro tasted like sweet liberation, like solace after a difficult day.

“Let’s try not to go for dinner with huge boners, yeah?” Alvaro murmured into Paulo’s mouth.

And Paulo thought, maybe they had time for a quick hand job; but they were in Vinovo and that would be breaking Allegri’s guidelines on the very first day of their relationship going public, so he said, “My boner is huge, yours isn’t.”

“You’re fucking rude,” Alvaro shoved Paulo aside with a loud laugh. “Fuck. Why do I love you?”

“Because you wouldn’t know how to function without me.”

“I don’t know how to function around you, either.”

Paulo smiled. Alvaro was a fucking smooth-talker when it mattered the most.

He slid his hand in Alvaro’s again as they headed out to the parking lot. They could hold hands now. Outside. In public. For everyone to see. And the feeling was incredible. It was literally a dream come true for the both of them.

------

Dinner went by really smoothly. Just like the previous time both their families had met up six years ago, Alvaro and Paulo sat in their little corner watching everybody exchange animated conversations. Alvaro’s dad seemed to be taking it all really easy. Alvaro caught Paulo watching him occasionally – actually, more than occasionally, because Paulo’s eyes were practically glued on Alvaro’s dad for the entire time.

“Never thought I’d get jealous of my dad,” Alvaro mumbled.

“What?” was Paulo’s reply.

“Why are you so obsessed with my dad?”

“I’m not, I just,” Paulo said. And then shrugged. “Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop searching for someone to be my dad.”

“I know,” Alvaro gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m trying.”

“I know,” Alvaro said again. “Paulo, there are so many people who care for you the same way your dad did. So many people. Your dad has made sure you’re well taken care of.”

Paulo smiled and dipped his head in a shy nod. He stopped watching Alvaro’s dad and instead shifted his full attention to Alvaro.

Neither of them were sure if the news of their relationship had been reported yet, but they received a mixture of approving and disapproving glances on the way to their families’ hotel even though they weren’t holding hands, so they could say they were pretty sure everyone already knew. No one tried to mob them or anything, so they were at least left in peace.

When their families were safely at the hotel, Paulo and Alvaro headed home silently. Alvaro thought, maybe now that they were alone, their chances of getting mobbed were higher. He sighed and kept his head low, entertaining himself by timing his footsteps to match Paulo’s.

And then Paulo – and then Paulo started walking more closely to Alvaro, his hand brushing a few times against Alvaro’s before he hesitantly took it in his. When Alvaro turned, he saw that Paulo had this tiny little embarrassed smile on his face, like they were out on their first date or whatever and Paulo was trying to make a move. Actually, when Alvaro thought about it, despite the seven years they’d known each other and the four months they’d been together, they hadn’t even gone for their first date. That time in the Madrid diner didn’t count.

Anyway, Paulo’s little smile grew into a grin when Alvaro grasped his hand tightly. Alvaro had just. He’d just run out of fucks to give. When he told Paulo that, Paulo burst into gentle, soothing laughter that floated so effortlessly with the night wind. It sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes.

They got home safely (and unmobbed), taking the back alleys out of habit. Alvaro only realised how thoroughly exhausted he was when they collapsed on the couch.

“Should we call Franco and Isco?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, but neither of them moved to get their phones, which were just lying on the coffee table, turned off since the afternoon. There was just this unspoken fear of turning them back on. “Use the landline,” Alvaro suggested.

“If you think I memorised Franco’s number, you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“What happened when you needed an urgent late night booty call?”

“I used my speed dial, duh.”

“Fuck off,” Alvaro shoved Paulo in the shoulder. He knew, for a matter of fact, that, “I’m the only one on your speed dial.”

Paulo burst into laughter again. “Yeah, that’s why I said I used my speed dial.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro said, but fondly. He leaned over and gently kissed Paulo on the lips. “Smooth talker.”

“Learnt from the best,” Paulo whispered.

Like typical Alvaro and Paulo, they wrestled it out and eventually Alvaro lost so he had to turn on his phone to call Franco. Or Isco. Alvaro wanted to say they were still together. In a hotel bed. Or any surface where they could, you know. Bang.

He set his phone on the table as the notifications flooded in, trying not to read any of them. Most of them were messages. Some of them were Instagram tags from his teammates. A majority of them were tweets.

Alvaro swiped to ignore all of the notifications. He went straight to his contact list and tapped on Isco to call him.

There was no answer.

Wanna hang? Alvaro texted instead.

Isco’s reply only came ten minutes later. Busy.

“Holy shit, I think they really hooked up,” Alvaro said, leading Paulo to lunge over and nearly knock the phone out of Alvaro’s hands in his excitement.

“Ask him,” he suggested.

With Franco?

Yeah.

Where?

No reply.

You two fucking? Alvaro sent. Straightforward, just like Isco.

Another ten minutes later: Grass is green, Morata.

“Holy fuck!” Paulo yelled.

“Shit,” Alvaro burst into laughter. Just. Just the thought of Franco and Isco together. It was fucking amusing. “Paulo, we fucking set them up and we didn’t even mean to!”

“Fuck, they’re like international fuck buddies,” Paulo managed to choke in between all his loud giggles. He was slumped over backwards on the couch clutching his stomach for dear life. “Fuck!”

And right then another text from Isco came in.

Franco doesn’t bite, was all it said.

“Oh, God,” Alvaro groaned. It just hit him how weird this was. It was scarring. “I’m never going to look at either of them the same way ever again.”

Paulo burst into more laughter when he saw Isco’s latest text. He was saying something, too, but Alvaro couldn’t make out what it was because Paulo was so fucking hysterical. He literally had tears falling out his eyes. And as much as Alvaro was still trying to deal with this entire ridiculous situation, it made him so fucking happy to see Paulo this way. To see Paulo finally get some release, some relief from the constant stress he’d been putting himself under. It’d always made Alvaro happy to see Paulo happy. There had never been any occasion otherwise.

“Pau, I can’t hear what you’re saying,” Alvaro said. He felt this weird mixture of feelings. Like awe and surprise and confusion and like, disgust, for some reason. Maybe because this was actually the first time he’d pictured two of his friends actually. Actually having sex. “Paulo!”

Paulo just buried his face into the front of Alvaro’s shirt and laughed – or cried – into it. Alvaro rolled his eyes, but. But he let Paulo laugh it all out. Paulo was probably still reeling from all the released stress. Alvaro took his phone and opened Instagram.

Almost every single one of his teammates had posted photos with him and Paulo, along with heartfelt captions saying how proud and honoured they were to be their teammates. Isco and Franco, even, had taken time out of their ‘grass is green, Morata’ bonding session to post the same photo of the four of them standing together. And each of these photos had at least thirty thousand likes. The one the Juventus Instagram had posted already had almost a hundred thousand likes. Alvaro couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t looking so bad. He started to like each photo on the list, reading the captions that came with them.

He moved on to his text conversations next – his friends wishing him all the best and telling him how brave he was. Some of them said that they hadn’t expected this from him, which, well. Alvaro hadn’t expected this from himself, either. The past few months had been a blur of self-discovery and it hadn’t yet trickled to everybody he knew. He took the time to reply all their messages.

It took Alvaro about a half-hour to realise that Paulo had turned on his phone, too, and was scrolling down whatever was on the screen with this really painful look on his face.

“Hey,” Alvaro said softly. Paulo didn’t respond, so Alvaro leaned over to peek at what he was reading.

Paulo was reading the comments on Juventus’ Instagram photo.

“Hey,” Alvaro said again. He tried to take the phone from Paulo, but Paulo pulled it away, his eyes glued to the screen. Alvaro used his palm to cover it. “Paulo. Hey.”

“It’s horrible,” Paulo whispered. The happy tears from earlier had transformed into heartbroken ones. “Alvi.”

“Stop reading them,” Alvaro said, his heart beginning to pound harder. It was tempting to join Paulo, but. But there had to be someone in this relationship holding their shit together, and it couldn’t be Paulo because he had always been more down-to-earth, he had always been the realist, which meant he was always the one who needlessly got hurt. “Paulo. Please.”

Paulo wrapped his fingers around Alvaro’s hand and pushed it away. But he held on to it and Alvaro let him. All the hurt Paulo had had to endure in his life was what had always made Paulo feel so alive. The hurt was what pushed Paulo forward. It guided Paulo in the right direction. Alvaro slid his fingers between Paulo’s as he opened the comments, too; because if Paulo was in this, Alvaro wanted to be in it with him.

Fucking faggots. I’m ashamed to be a fan of this team.

Football is a game for men, so fuck off to somewhere else.

Shame how Juventus has let these two drag their image down the drain.

Thought I could never trust the tabloids but they turned out to be right, how disappointing.

So do you spend time fucking in the locker room instead of training? That’s why you’re so shit.

Is this some dumb publicity stunt?

See a doctor, you two.

The world is already horrible enough without two gays playing football.

Sure, there were some really nice comments nestled among them, but. But it was like a train wreck, the entire post was like a train wreck, it was horrible but Alvaro couldn’t stop reading.

He turned to Paulo. Paulo had already scrolled back to the photo and was gazing at it sadly, tears still streaming steadily down his cheeks. He hesitated a moment before double-tapping it. And staring at it some more. It was a photo of the both of them kissing at the end of the press conference, after they were asked to. We are proud to have you represent us, boys, was the simple yet very meaningful caption.

“We look happy,” Paulo said softly.

“You make me very happy, Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered back, turning to Alvaro and letting Alvaro wipe his tears. “I do?”

“You do.”

“You make me very happy, too.”

Alvaro leaned over and planted his lips gently on Paulo’s, feeling a rush of relief when Paulo responded eagerly. “I love you so much, Pau.”

“I love you, too.”

“No matter what happens. I swear.”

“You don’t have to swear.”

“I’ll always be here. Like we always have been for each other.”

“I love you so much,” Paulo sobbed. “You’re my favourite person in this entire universe.”

Alvaro smiled. “And you are mine.”

He took the phone out of Paulo’s hand as he moved in for another kiss, thankful that he was finally able to distract Paulo. He placed both their phones on the table without tearing his lips away from Paulo’s. “What do you want to do tonight?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo sighed against Alvaro’s lips before pressing his head against Alvaro’s. “Take a nice long shower.”

So they did. They spent half the time just canoodling under the hot shower stream and the other half trading hand jobs – not the usual kind, gentle encounter but more of a raw, unfiltered desire both for each other and for the feeling of another kind of physicality that did not come in the form of a throbbing pain in their chests.

Paulo still seemed wide awake when they both climbed into bed smelling fresh. He grabbed his phone again and, before Alvaro could stop him, googled his own name.

Alvaro was hit by this bittersweet nostalgia when all the results that popped up had both ‘Paulo Dybala’ and ‘Alvaro Morata’ side by side in their headlines. It’d been ages since Alvaro had tried to google himself. Or tried to google Paulo. In fact, the last time was in 2009.

“Remember the last time we googled ourselves?” Alvaro asked softly.

He was glad to see a smile light up Paulo’s face. “Alvaro, we’ve really come so far.”

Alvaro reached over and closed the browser app on Paulo’s phone, making him open Instagram instead and check out all their teammates’ nice posts and captions. He made sure Paulo didn’t open the comment threads. And at the same time, he googled his and Paulo’s names and quickly browsed through each article, after twenty minutes coming up with a list of articles that didn’t say anything bad about them and texting it to Paulo. And the others with rude or sarcastic insinuations about their relationship – Alvaro pretended they didn’t exist. He was good at that. Had always been.

Paulo burst into soft laughter when he received the text, sliding his way deep under the sheets until only his head and hands were out of it. “What, you’re my filter now? I’m not a child.”

And fuck, Alvaro would gladly be Paulo’s filter for the rest of his fucking life. He could spend every day filtering the negative things from Paulo’s life. Shielding Paulo. Protecting Paulo. Just like he had always wanted to do.

He watched as Paulo started to read each article, the melancholy on his face gradually being replaced by this hopeful smile. Like this was it, this was all that mattered, despite everything that had happened; reading a summary of their day on the internet was proof that they had survived and that they were going to survive. It was the symbol of a new beginning, both for them and for the footballing world. It meant so much that the journalists were able to report their relationship in all its truth, that they could see Paulo and Alvaro as just another normal couple, yet respect their roles as representatives of both LGBT+ and the sport.

Alvaro felt pretty proud of himself. He felt proud of Paulo, watching Paulo read every single article on the list. Because after all, after everything – from the very start, all Paulo had ever wanted, all he had ever worked for, was acceptance. He was getting it; slowly but surely, Paulo was gaining all the acceptance he deserved.

Alvaro smiled when Paulo smiled, laughed when Paulo laughed, and cooed when Paulo cooed. Alvaro couldn’t tear his eyes off Paulo no matter how hard he tried.

Alvaro realised he never wanted to.

------

Paulo’s phone lit up with a notification right as he placed it on the bedside table and prepared to go to sleep.

Instagram: alvaromorata tagged you in a photo.

Paulo turned around. Alvaro was lying in bed with the most innocent puppy-eyed look he could muster. His phone was in his hands, but he reached behind him to place it on the bedside table. He used his eager eyes to urge Paulo to open the notification.

It was a photograph of the two of them from earlier that day at the press conference – but not that one all the articles had of them kissing. This was right after the kiss, when Alvaro and Paulo had their foreheads pressed together, telling each other ‘I love you.’ They both had this dreamy, dizzy look in their eyes that nearly made Paulo cringe at how cheesy it made them look. Alvaro’s hands were on the sides of Paulo’s head. Paulo’s hands were at the base of Alvaro’s neck. They both had equally big smiles on their faces.

When I first met you on the 21st of June 2009, I didn’t think that you would be the one to change my entire world. I wonder every day what I did to deserve you. Everyone dreams of meeting their soulmate one day. I was lucky enough to have mine delivered to my doorstep seven years ago. Everyone needs a best friend who sticks by them through all the tough times. I’m lucky enough to be in love with mine. I’m looking forward to this new beginning with you, the beginning of the rest of our lives. I love you.

Paulo struggled to fight back his tears, but to no avail. With shaking fingers, he double-tapped the photo, and then typed, I love you, Alvaro, through all the good days and the bad.

He tilted his chin towards Alvaro’s phone. Alvaro picked it up and read his comment, a big bright smile lighting up his face. Lighting up the room. Lighting up Paulo’s universe.

They put their phones aside and burrowed into each other’s warmth, legs and arms tangled in one big comfortable mess. They just fit together. Just like they always had. Paulo never failed to, without any difficulty, find the nook in Alvaro’s body that fit him just right.

“G’night, love,” Alvaro whispered, thumbs blindly finding Paulo’s cheeks to wipe them dry.

“Love you,” Paulo managed to murmur before Alvaro’s strong, comfortable embrace sent him into a blissful sleep.