#i have never seen the tube that quiet around marble arch...

[lonelyreputation]

C’est Toi (coffee shop au) • CHAPTER EIGHT, wc: 4.9k

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Tuesday - January 29, 2019 - 07:11

There’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away––it hasn’t gone away since I left my sketchbook at the coffee shop.  I have this feeling of anticipation looming about in my stomach.  But I don’t even know what I’m anticipating. Am I preparing myself for disappointment in case he doesn’t text me? Am I preparing myself for a text?

I hate waiting.  And I hate not knowing what’s to come.

___

I haven't been to Brightside in five days.  I kept to my promise that I would see Shawn later.  

After I rushed back to my flat after the disastrous end of our conversation, I hurriedly knocked on Ella’s door and didn’t stop until she let me in.  I told her I left my sketchbook, she hugged me tight, and told me that I couldn’t go back until he texted me. But then I told her that he called me a customer.

Her smile faltered, but she was back to her enthusiastic self and promised me that he would text.

But five days later, as I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, I had yet to receive any text.

I heard a knock on my door and yelled out a non-excited come in, and Ella’s head popped around the door with a sympathetic smile.

“Still nothing?”

With a sigh, I closed my eyes, feeling even more embarrassed than the day I asked for his name, “Nothing.”

I heard a small squeak of the door being opened, and then a soft click of the door when it was shut.  I didn’t need to have my eyes open to know that Ella walked further into my room.  I heard the wheels of my rolling chair slid across the floor and then felt Ella’s hand on my arm.

“Give it a little more time, I’m sure he’s just––”

I snapped my eyes open and turned my head to look at her, “It’s been five days.  If he hasn’t texted me now, he won’t ever text me.”

Ella offered me a sympathetic smile, “At least you can say you tried.”

But that’s the thing, I thought to myself, I didn’t try enough.  How was he even supposed to know that I left my sketchbook there for him to find so that he could text me? It was ludicrous for me to even think that this plan would be somewhat successful.  

“Maybe someone else picked it up?” Her voice was high as she offered a weak excuse for my silent phone.

I let out another deep sigh, “That would be even worse,” I sat up in bed and rubbed the heel of my palm over my right eye, “That would mean all of my drawings are lost and my brother gave me that sketchbook––”

“I’m sure it’s still at Brightside,” Ella tried to sound confident, but we both knew it was a lost cause, “Give it a few more days, if he doesn’t text you, then you can just live your life…You are in London after all.” She winked.

I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding like a whimper.

“Let’s get your mind off it,” She used her feet to push the chair away from the side of my bed and stood up, “A few of us are going to the park to play football.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “You play football?”

Ella nodded slowly, her face looked just as confused as mine, “When I was younger.  I’m not fantastic but I can still try and have fun.”

“I––I’ll come watch,” I swung my feet over the bed as I started walking toward my closet to change out of my jeans, “The rules have always confused me, but I’ve heard enough of my dad and brother yelling at the T.V. that I have some knowledge of it.”  I pulled out an old t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, “I didn’t think football was big here in England.”

Ella furrowed her eyebrows together, “Are you daft?  Football is life or death here and––Oh,” She let out a small laugh before smirking, “Excuse me let me translate for you,” she cleared her throat and spoke with an American accent, “A few of us are going to the park to play soccer.”

Oh.

My arms went limp at my sides as I felt my face heat up in embarrassment, “That’s––Of course, soccer––Football––Makes sense, I used to play a bit––”

“Mick,” Ella cut off my rambling with a laugh and a shake of her head, “I’m gonna get changed, knock on my door when you’re done.”

I nodded as I watched her leave my room with an amused smile on her face.  I smacked my hand on my forehead, still reeling in my embarrassment, because of course football is soccer.  I wasn’t home anymore.

Quickly, I swapped the sweater I wore to class earlier for a long sleeved red t-shirt and jumped around as I wiggled out of my skinny jeans.  Once my athletic shorts were up, and had my sneakers double knotted, I grabbed a little canvas bag to place my phone and keys in.  Once I locked my door, I turned left and knocked on the door to the left of my room.

“I’ll be out in just a minute!” Ella shouted from the other side.  True to her word, Ella walked out of the door in under a minute, dressed in a sweatshirt and leggings.  She looked at me up and down before laughing, “Sure you won’t freeze?”

I nodded as I flipped my head forward, gathering my hair up to wrap an elastic band around it, “If we’re running around, I’ll be fine. Plus, my legs get too hot if I’m running and I have leggings on.”

Ella rolled her eyes, “You’re weird.”  And then we were off to the elevator.

As we rode down, Ella informed me that football was being played at Hyde Park.  We made light chatter as we made our way to the tube station, and by we, I mean Ella did most of the talking.  I appreciated her effort in trying to get my mind off my lost sketchbook, but it was still the only thing I concentrated on as we went from Waterloo station, to Green Park, and then got off at our final destination of Hyde Park Corner.

Once we quickly made our way out of the tube station, we waited with a crowd of other people for the lights to change.  And when the walk sign flashed for us, everyone hurriedly made their way across the street, because once the lights changed…London drivers were not shy in accelerating on the gas pedal.

We entered by the Queen Mother’s Gate and started walking along the pathway.

“This park is too big,” Ella grumbled as she typed furiously away on her phone, “Jack said that they found an open space but the whole stupid park is an open space.”

I kept up with her fast pace and turned my head to look at her, “Jack’s here?”

Ella nodded her head, “Said a few friends from his law course wanted to unwind after an impossible paper they had to write,” She looked at me with a smirk, “He specifically asked me to make sure you came along.”

I brought the sleeves of my shirt to cover my hands as I crossed my arms over my chest, “They probably needed another player.”

“Sure,” she bumped her shoulder against mine, “How is it that you’ve been in London for a month and have two boys after you? Meanwhile, I’ve been here for three years and haven’t had any luck.”

“You had the TA.”

“Don’t push it, America,” Ela glared at me.

I let out a sigh, facing forward, as my voice softened in agony, “And I don’t have two boys after me,” I sniffled from the cold air, “Shawn only sees me as a customer.”

Ella’s glare softened as he weakly smiled, “You’re more to him than that.”

I shook my head, “If you were there––”

“I have been there,” Ella interrupted me, “I’ve seen how he sneaks glances at you, how he spends more time talking to you than anyone else…Mick, he likes you too.”

I brushed off her comment, the familiar feeling of disappointment seeping into my heart, “Where’d they say they were?”

Ella glared at me, knowing exactly that I was purposefully changing the topic as she held up a finger, signaling me to wait.  She unlocked her phone, gliding her finger on the screen a few times, before she brought the phone up to her ear, snapping at whoever was on the other end, “Where are you?”

She hummed a few times, before stopping in her tracks, “Well why didn’t you say you were closer to Marble Arch,” Ella huffed as she made a sharp right and started quickly walking across the grass, “We got off at Hyde Park Corner, you twat.” She sneered into her phone, “We’ll be there soon, start without us, it doesn’t matter.”

Not waiting to hear the other person on the end, Ella clicked her phone shut and let out an aggravated breath, “Jack is an idiot.”

“We’ll be there soon,” I tried to reassure her, but I was quieted from the glare she sent my way, “I’ll race you there.”

“We don’t even know where there is!” Ella yelled at me after I had already taken off in a sprint, “Mick!”

I held the canvas bag close to my side, while it was practically empty, I could still feel my keys and phone bounce against my hip.  I slowed down a bit and turned my head over my shoulder, “Think of it as a warm up!”

I was a bit further away from Ella, but I could practically see her rolling her eyes at me as she started to pick up her pace in a slow jog.  While she was right that we didn’t know exactly where they were, we would get there faster by running instead of briskly walking.

Ella caught up to me, and when we finally laid eyes upon a group of boys and girls kicking around a soccer ball, we both glanced at each other before taking off in a sprint.  I said that we ended in a tie, but Ella never liked to lose, so she declared herself the champion.

As if he knew we made it, Jack looked over at us with a wide smile, he excused himself from his friends and jogged over to us.

“Glad you two could make––Ow.” Jack narrowed his eyes at Ella as he rubbed the spot on his arm where she punched him, “I would like to go one day without you hitting or kicking me.”

Ella mirrored his glare, “Why didn’t you tell us to take the tube to Marble Arch!”

“Slipped my mind.”

“Idiot,” Ella mumbled under her breath as she walked past him and to the group of people kicking around the ball.  It looked like she recognized a few people as she struck up a conversation with them.

“Mick,” Jack’s smile faltered a little as he looked down at my legs, “Will you be cold?”

I shook my head and tightened my pony tail, “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced as we walked side-by-side back to the group, “I have sweatpants in my bag if you get cold.”

I smiled up at him, trying to ease the concern in his eyes, “Thanks.”

When we got to the circle, Jack introduced me and then we were split up into teams.  As one of the team captains, Jack picked me first to be on his team.  He subsequently left Ella off his team which caused her to sneer a ‘watch your back,’ at him as everyone got into their positions on the little makeshift field.

After an hour had passed of kicking the ball around, Ella trying to slide tackle Jack, and a few goals scored by each team, everyone decided to call it quits.  Everyone talked and laughed as we made our way back over to our bags and Jack, always being prepared, offered water to both Ella and I.

“Are you girls headed back to Stamford?” Jack said as he screwed the lid back on his water bottle.

Ella finished swallowing before nodding, “Yeah we’re–––”

“I think I’m going to call my brother,” I interrupted her.  They both looked at me with tilted heads. “It’s a nice day out,” I looked up at the sky, and while it was still overcast and cold out, the sun was trying to break through, “Figured I’d take a walk in the park and talk to him.”

“In shorts?” Jack asked.  I nodded my head and was about to respond with how I wasn’t feeling that cold from the soccer game, but before I could say anything, he zipped open his backpack and threw a sweatshirt at me, “You’ll freeze if you don’t have another layer on.”

I smiled in appreciation, looking at the well worn King’s College sweatshirt with the University seal on it, “I’ll wash it before giving it back to you.”  Jack waved me off as I slipped the oversized sweatshirt on my body, automatically feeling ten degrees warmer.

“Put the hood up to,” Jack laughed, “Your ears are looking red.”

Rolling my eyes, I pulled the hood up and overdramatically tightened the strings around my neck, which caused me to only see out of a teeny tiny hole, “Better?”

“See you later, Mick.” Both Jack and Ella laughed as they walked toward the exit of the park.

Once I was sure they were a good distance away, I pulled out my phone, opened WhatsApp and checked my messages.

Still no text.

With a sigh, I started walking back toward the Hyde Park Corner tube station, as I clicked my brother’s contact.  Because while I did plan on talking to my brother, I also planned on making a little stop at a coffee shop before I headed back to the residence hall.

“Pip pip cheerio,” I rolled my eyes at the greeting I always got from William.

“People don’t talk like that here.”

William let out a boisterous laugh, “Oh, I know.”  It was silent for a few minutes as I walked through the park, passing a few dogs who weren’t on leashes, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said with a flat tone, “Just wanted to call.”

“How’re things going with that barista?”

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, “Not great.”

“Golden girl having a bit of trouble?”

I glared at a tree in front of me, pretending that it was my brother, “What would you do if you liked a girl?”

William let out a sigh, and I heard him say distant hi on the other end of the phone, presumably walking past a few people he knew before continuing on, “Everything you’ve already told me pretty much points to him liking you.”

I was approaching the end of the park and walked out to stop right at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, as I switched my phone to the other hand, “So why hasn’t he done anything?”

“You could always ask him out,” William said as if it was the easiest thing, “I know you said things didn’t go over too smoothly when you asked for his name, but maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

The light changed as I walked with the crowd to cross the street, “Then he’ll be waiting for forever.”

“Mick,” he dragged out the lone vowel in my name, “You had a boyfriend last year, it’s not like you’re inept to talking to boys.”

I stopped at the entrance of the tube station and leaned against the railing, “I know but he’s––Everything is just––I don’t know how to act around him.”

William laughed loudly, “Oh, you got it bad.”

“Shut up,” I let out a single laugh as I scuffed my sneakers on the sidewalk, “I have to go, but I’ll call you soon.”

“I want more updates on this Canadian barista that just so happens to live in London!” William said in a singsong voice that made me laugh, “I still find that weird.”

“I love you, William,” I said with an eye roll.

“Love you too, Golden girl.”

And with that, I ended the call.  I quickly pulled up my tube map direction app and typed in Hyde Park Corner and Temple.  Twenty-one minutes, I sighed, better than nothing.  Making sure I knew what platform I needed to get on, I walked down the stairs, tapped my oyster card and started my journey to Brightside.

I’ve been on the tube for longer than twenty-one minutes, but the anxiety I felt about still not having my sketchbook, and not knowing who I was going to run into at the counter…It felt like the longest ride ever.

When the train car approached Temple, I almost considered staying on until the next stop and not getting off.  I almost didn’t want to go back to Brightside and face even more embarrassment.  I think I’ve had enough embarrassment there to last five lifetimes.

But I wanted my sketchbook back.

I cared about my sketchbook more than I cared about Shawn thinking of me as a customer.  

Walking down the sidewalk, I almost didn’t feel the cold air on my legs because I was too consumed with my anxiety as the familiar door came into view.  Breathe, I said to myself, in through your nose and out through your mouth…

I didn’t think twice before I curled my hand around the handle and yanked the door open.

Shawn was the only person behind the counter, and while I didn’t hear the chime of the bell, I knew he did because his head snapped up.  His eyebrows were furrowed together for a few minutes before a full blown smile took over his features.  I slipped the hood off my head and walked straight up to the counter.

“McLane!” Shawn said with just as much chipper in his voice as the last time I heard him call my name, “It’s been a while.  Was starting to think you found another coffee shop.” He laughed as his hand went to pull a yellow cup from the stack.

I let out a weak laugh, “I––No.  No other coffee shop,” Shawn smiled as I continued talking, “And actually…I’m not here for a coffee.”  

His eyebrows raised in interest as I started my rambling, “I––I think I lost my sketchbook? I take it with me everywhere and I’ve retraced my steps but I can’t seem to find it anywhere––And I––This is the only place I haven’t checked.  It’s black, on the small side, it has some drawings in it–––”

“Slow down,” Shawn laughed a little as he brought both hands in front of him, gesturing for me to slow my words, “What’d you say you lost?”

“My sketchbook,” I said matter of factly, “It’s small––pocket sized almost––and black. It has my name in it––”

I was too preoccupied with naming all the details of my sketchbook that I missed the shimmer of recollection in his eyes.  I also missed how his smile slowly grew wider with every word I rambled.  And even as I continued on rambling, he ducked below the counter, momentarily out of my sight, before he popped right back up with a black book.

My heart stopped.

“Is this it?”

He had my sketchbook.

“I––Yeah––Oh my god,” I released a breath of relief, “That’s it––I can’t––Oh my god.”

But he didn’t text me.

Shawn handed the sketchbook over to me and I snatched it from his hand, cradling it close to my chest, before I quickly opened it to make sure no damage was done to any of the sketches.  I let out another sigh of relief when I saw everything intact.

“The drawings in there are good,” Shawn’s eyes were wide in astonishment, “You have insane talent.”

I picked my head up and squeaked out a pathetic, “What?”

My heart stopped again because he looked through my sketches.  He opened up my sketchbook, and either he didn’t see the if lost note or he saw it and completely ignored it.  But that thought only crossed my mind for a few seconds because the only thought ringing in my head as that he looked at my drawings.  

If there’s one rule to live by, it’s to never look at someone’s sketchbook without their permission.

And sure, the whole point of Operation Sketchbook was for Shawn to look in my sketchbook, but he was only supposed to look at the if lost note.  He wasn’t supposed to actually look at the drawings.  Because––oh my god––I had a sketch of the bird tattoo on his hand in there.

“Niall and I got curious––It was around for a bit and so we just peeked in.  And when we saw how amazing they were…” Shawn’s voice grew distant before looking back at me with amazement in his eyes, “McLane, your drawings are so good.”

Oh my god…Niall saw my sketch of Shawn’s hand.

“I well––They’re nothing special––” lie, “––I just––It’s fun and it’s relaxing––”

As if Shawn sensed my nervousness, he smiled and politely cut off my rambling, “If I had half the talent as you,” he rested his elbows down on the counter, and looked up at me with a small smile, “I would not be working in a coffee shop.”

I looked down for a moment and blushed.  But when I looked back up into Shawn’s eyes, they were twinkling with pride as he was able to get a reaction out of me, “What would you do if you weren’t working here?”

Shawn let out a hum as he scrunched his eyebrows together, looking off into the distance, as he seriously considered his options.

“I think music production is cool,” he hesitantly answered, “I like all the audio engineering stuff, it’s probably what I would’ve studied in uni.”

I nodded my head, not having much of a clue about what he was talking about, but I noticed his eyes shined a little brighter when he brought up the topic.

“Have you thought about learning some stuff on the side?”

Shawn nodded his head, “I have some music software on my laptop and play around with it a bit, but it’s nothing serious,” Shawn shook his head and stood up tall, “I like working here anyway.”

I nodded my head and looked around the shop, it was a bit empty for it being a Tuesday.

“This might be the first time I’ve seen you without books,” Shawn’s voice brought me back to him after staring off into space.

I blinked a few times before tilting my head back slightly in laughter, “I just came from playing soccer with some friends.”

“Football,” Shawn corrected me just like Ella had, “And in shorts?”

His tone sounded just as concerned as Jack’s did when he first noticed my bare legs.  Although, Shawn’s eyes seemed to linger on my legs longer than Jack’s did, before he looked up at me and chuckled, “It’s like five degrees outside.”

“It’s cold out, but I wouldn’t say it’s that cold out,” I rested my elbows on the counter as I continued to talk, “It felt more like the low forty’s.”

“Celsius,” Shawn corrected me with a laugh, “Five degrees celsius.”

Oh.

Shawn laughed again as I leaned on the counter in silence, even more embarrassed than before.  He tried to act sly, but I noticed his hand reach out for a yellow cup.

“I don’t need a coffee,” I told him.

He shook his head, ignoring my words, “What tea do you like?”

“You really don’t––”

“You look like someone who likes English Breakfast,” Shawn ignored my words again as he walked down toward the espresso machine and opened up a box of tea.  He took out a bag, plopped it in the cup, and pressed a button on the espresso machine that let out hot water.

Shawn peaked over into the cup, and once he was satisfied with how much water was in there, he pressed the button again and the water stopped.  He set the cup down on the counter, as he shook his hand mumbling a hot hot, as he walked back over toward the register to grab another yellow cup, along with a coffee sleeve.

He placed the empty cup under the cup of boiling water, “It just needs to brew for five minutes,” I heard him say as I looked at the steam floating out from the cup, “And then you’ll have something to keep you warm.” He gave me a pointed look.

“Thank you,” I smiled in appreciation as I pulled out some money, “How much is the tea?”

Shawn let out a single laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest, “You’re not paying.”

I rolled my eyes and waved the money in front of his face, “Oh, come on––”

“It’s tea.” Shawn shook his head, “It barely cost anything.”

We stood in silence for a few seconds longer, neither of us wanting to back down.  But I knew that even if I put the money in the cash register myself, Shawn would take it out and slip it in my bag.  With a sigh, I stuffed the five note back in my wallet and dropped it in my bag.

“Thank you.”

Shawn nodded his head, “So…What kind of art do you like?”

My smile brightened at the mention of art and I saw Shawn’s eyes widen in admiration, “All of it.  It’s so fun and always so creative––But I do find myself leaning more toward post-impressionism.”

Shawn slowly nodded his head, he looked about just as lost as I probably looked when he was talking about audio engineering.

“Van Gogh,” I gave him one of the most famous artists to come out of that art movement, “That kind of stuff––Landscapes, lots of color, bold brush strokes.”

“Ah,” he said in understanding, “Starry Night? That’s one of his right?”

I chuckled, “That’s him.”

And then an idea struck my mind.  

I had seen advertisements in newspapers and down in the underground about a Van Gogh exhibit opening at the Tate Britain at the end of March.  It was a while away, but if I brought it up to him…Maybe he’d want to go.

I felt like Ella with the amount of scheming going on in my mind.

I coughed into the crook of my elbow, “Yeah––Starry Night is cool––The Tate Britain is actually having an exhibit with his art,” I let out a fake sigh, “I’ve been trying to find someone to go with me but I––No one seems interested.”

Shawn’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth straight away, only for it to shut tight, as his head snapped toward the chime of the bell on top of the door.  Three girls around our age walked forward, talking among themselves about what they were thinking about ordering.

I shouldn’t have found his facial expression funny, considering I really did think this time around he was going to ask to tag along, but the frustration on his face caused my chest to slightly shake with amusement.  He closed his eyes tight, jaw locked, as he rubbed his fingers around his temples.  

He let out the most aggravated sigh I’d ever heard, and I think he wanted me to hear how annoyed he was at the customers who just walked in through the door.

“I’ll be with you ladies in one second,” Shawn briefly turned his head to look at them, acknowledging their presence.

I offered him a close lipped smile, and he just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Before you go,” he quickly said, taking the tea bag out of the cup, disposing it in the bin, before he disappeared under the counter.  But he wasn’t gone for long. He popped right back up with oat milk, shaking the container, before opening it up to splash a little milk in it.

He securely placed a black lid on it and pushed it toward me, “I’m glad you didn’t find another coffee shop.”

His words were simple, and to any outsider, him being worried about me finding a different coffee shop to go to would sound pathetic.  But I knew what he meant.  I knew he wasn’t just referring to a coffee shop.

The tea was still very hot, even with two cups and a coffee sleeve, but I still picked it up and smiled at him, “See you tomorrow, Shawn?”

Shawn’s smile was wider than I’d ever seen it before and he nodded his head, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When I opened the door, I was met with a gust of cold air that had me ducking my head to shield myself from it stinging my cheeks.  But the tea in my hand from Shawn was doing a much better job at providing me warmth than Jack’s sweatshirt.

I walked quickly back toward the Temple Underground station because I was also just starting to realize that maybe my legs weren’t cold because I couldn’t really feel my legs.

I hopped on the tube, switched stations at Embankment, and braced the cold air again as I walked out of Waterloo Station. I was almost back to my flat.

As I waited at the stoplight for the colors to change, I felt my phone vibrate in my bag.  I switched the tea to my other hand so I could dig the hand closer to the bag around for it.  I pulled it out, and saw that it was a text on WhatsApp from an unrecognizable number.

I scrunched my eyebrows together, and unlocked my phone, curious as to who messaged me.

But when my thumb clicked on the app and I went into the message, I felt my heart skyrocket up to my throat as I let out an audible gasp.  Luckily, my grasp around the tea didn’t falter, but I still felt as if I could drop it at any moment.

Hi, McLane! It’s Shawn from Brightside ☕️ I got your number from your sketchbook…I hope that’s alright with you.

And then the light turned green.

A/N: So……How are we feeling about Jack? Operation sketchbook? It was ~semi-successful!! But successful, nonetheless! Things start to pick up from here soooo……Get ready for some fun! 

Thank you! Thank you for all of your kind words!! They mean the absolute WORLD to me!🥺 I love you all so very much! As always, sending good vibes 💥

See ya next week with Chapter NINE!!! We’re almost getting to my favorite chapter 🤩

C’est Toi Tag List: @mendesficsxbombay, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks, @musicalkeys, @madatmendes, @im-salt-but-not-salty, @shawnmendez, @crossedties @lenamds​

[velvetchen]

Bruise | pt. i

[back to masterlist]

Scenario: Boxer!AU Pairing: Baekhyun/Reader, Suho/Reader Word Count: 5.4k Warnings: language, (graphic) violence in later chapters

Summary: You have your life laid out in front of you, everything planned: from the clothes you wear to the man you have to marry. There’s no escape - or so you think. Until he turns your world upside down.

next part >>

You looked over yourself in the mirror, appraising your reflection. One of your approved evening dresses, the perfect mix of elegant with a hint of sexy. Just enough jewelry that it didn’t distract from your face. Every inch of you was as planned and polished as ever. Carefully curated to have the proper effect.

I hate this.

You tore your eyes away from the reflection, unable to look at yourself a moment longer. Instead, you leaned onto your desk, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself.

A knock on the door startled you from your thoughts. “Miss?” The voice was muffled through the heavy wood door.

“Yes?”

After a second’s hesitation, your maid spoke again. “Your father requests you to, um, hurry up.”

You cracked a smile at her informal tone. “I’m coming, Yunseo.” After taking one last moment to collect yourself, you opened the door and stepped out into the hall. “Ready.”

Your parents were already waiting in the lobby, your mother’s face impassive, your father’s with just a hint of impatience as he pretended to make a call, his foot tapping away on the marble floor. As always, they were dressed to perfection. You three were a matching set.

“Y/N,” he said as you entered. “We’re late. Let’s go.”

You bit your tongue. There’s no such thing as late when the dinner’s being hosted for you.

The drive was silent, with only road noise and your father’s low, professional voice as he made more calls. It wasn’t a long drive but it felt like one, every minute seeming to push you further and further into someone you didn’t want to be. When you reached, you’d have to be the person you hated. Y/N, daughter of the biggest CEO in the country. Y/N, heiress to a massive corporate empire. Y/N, the most eligible bachelorette of the year.

Sometimes, you just wanted a normal life. But more than anything else, that was too much to ask.

Your mother rummaged in her purse as you approached the venue, pulling out a tube of lipstick and reapplying it to her already perfectly-drawn lips. “Y/N, just a reminder,” she said. “Kim Junmyeon will be there.”

“Okay, mother,” you said quietly, but internally, you stifled a groan. As if the night couldn’t get worse - your parents would arrange for the both of you to meet, just to satisfy the gaping ears of the press. After all, what was a better story than the promise of a wedding to join the hands of the two most successful companies?

The cameras were upon you the minute your car pulled up to the front of the banquet hall. Immediately, you switched. A demure smile washed over your face as you stepped out, holding your skirts delicately. It was a role you were used to. You might have hated it, but it still came easier than you would have thought. Greeting each of the important guests by name was easy. Etiquette was easy. You’d been doing this your whole life, after all.

There was another three hours of this. Piece of cake.

But the inside of the room was stifling. The press of people today was more suffocating than before, and the minute you stepped into the room, you felt everyone’s eyes land on you. There they were, staring. Watching.

“Y/N!”

You whirled around to find Junmyeon waiting for you at the base of the stairs, a soft smile stretched across his face. At the sight of him, you relaxed. Junmyeon wasn’t bad, not at all. Of all the people your parents could have chosen for you to marry, you were happy it was him. But every time you saw him, the pressure that your relationship was born under stretched you thinner and thinner.

For now, though, he would be your savior.

“Junmyeon,” you grinned, taking his outstretched hand. “Mother said you’d be here.”

“I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.” He pressed his mouth to your cheek, imperceptibly. As if on cue, there was the flash of a camera in your peripheral vision.

“Steal me away,” you said, voice hushed.

He dipped his head once, and together you walked down a hallway to the garden. You’d been to dinners at this hall enough times to know that nobody ever visited the garden. All the people in your world cared about was politics. Money. Using politics to make money.

The garden was a breath of fresh air. Instantly, the cloying atmosphere from inside dissipated. You knew if enough reporters saw you leaving with Junmyeon, they’d get the idea that you were ‘together’ - and leave you alone. For a while, at least.

A minute passed with the both of you standing under the archway to the garden, not knowing what to say. “I’ll leave you, then,” Junmyeon finally said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You let out a breath of relief. “Thanks.”

He nodded once and headed down the path into the garden, vanishing into the darkness of the hedges. You hated using him like this. You knew it wasn’t fair, but you also knew he hated this life as much as you did - if not more. It was good for everyone. You got out of the event, the media got the right story, and everyone was happy.

Sighing, you sat down at one of the small tables set up on the patio. It was set and ready, but the dinner was being hosted indoors, so you didn’t worry.

Your phone buzzed inside your purse. Pulling it out, you glanced at the text message from your friend:

Hey, you coming tonight, or should I tell them you’re not?

You bit your lip. Seohyun had told you about her gig the last week, but you’d never confirmed. It was at a place you’d normally never go: the Underground.

If your parents knew you even entertained the idea of going, you’d be in big trouble. Still, the invitation was tempting. The Underground - or what you knew of it - was an electric place, but it had its side of shady dealings and evil, too. Drugs, betting, illegal money. Today, you’d been invited to watch a fight.

Should you go?

The dinner was still far from getting over. And if you were caught, you were done for.

No, sorry, you started to type. Then backspaced. I’m busy tonight. Backspaced again.

You squinted at your phone as you thought about it. The reasons not to go: you wouldn’t be allowed any more freedom. You’d be forced into more of these events, press talks, lessons on how to run the company. The exact things that you were trying to escape. But if you went?

A night of no boundaries. A night of something wild - the rebellion you craved. Something you wouldn’t experience in a lifetime. And if you were careful, you might even get away with it.

You couldn’t decide.

Gathering your skirts, you got up, hesitating at the entrance back to the building. If you went back in there, you knew you couldn’t come back out. You’d be stuck. Trapped, again.

A camera flashed, capturing your startled expression. Hurrying down the hall towards you was a reporter, cameraman in tow, waving to get your attention. “Miss Y/L/N! I have some questions for you, if you could just-”

Decision made, you picked up your skirts and ran. Back into the garden, down the path you’d seen Junmyeon disappear into, through a series of arches you knew lead to a side exit. You emerged onto the road, out of breath, dress probably ruined from your dash through the foliage - but free. Traffic swarmed ahead of you, nobody stopping to stare at you. None of the lights were flashing in your face. Instead of the murmur of a crowd, there was the impersonal hum of the busy street.

You grinned. You’d done it.

I’m on my way, you texted Seohyun. Then you called for a cab.

“Downtown,” you said hurriedly as it pulled up, shoving yourself unceremoniously into the back seat. All the driver gave you was an odd look at your dress. “I’ll give you the address on the way.”

You weren’t dressed for the Underground, that was for sure, but at the moment you didn’t really care. As the view around you morphed from the quiet background of midtown into the neon blur of the main city, you scanned the line of stores for the right spot. “Drop me off at that corner, please,” you said. The driver gave you another look, but complied.

“That’ll be-”

“Here,” you interrupted, shoving a wad of cash into his hand without looking. “Thanks!”

You gripped your skirts as you raced down the sidewalk, cutting around groups of people and the occasional car as you made your way towards your destination.

The Underground.

The entrance to the Underground was hidden in the alley between a sleepy restaurant and an empty strip mall. The only sign that there was anything amiss was the heavy black door in the wall that was too polished to be unused. Unsure, you knocked gingerly on the metal.

A second passed and a small slot slid open. Two eyes, half lost in shadow, stared out at you. “Password.”

Oh god, this is so cliche. You repeated what Seohyun had told you. “Um, fiddlehead.”

The eyes blinked at you for a second longer before the slot clicked shut and the door opened instead, revealing darkness and the faint sound of heavy, thumping bass. Far ahead was the glow of blue neon signs, and in the light you could make out a set of stairs leading into the darkness.

Before you could think better of it, you started down the stairs, entering a dank corridor that led only forward. The sound of the music got louder and louder as you approached - and with it, you heard the roar of a crowd as they chanted something in unison.

There was another door at the far end of the hall.

“...third match of the night, Red Hot and Mecha…”

You pushed the door open, and the sound hit you like a wave.

“Bets! Make your bets now.” The din was deafening as people surged over each other, some dancing, others clustering around the fighting ring in the center that was raised above the crowd, lit by blinding spotlights. The two figures silhouetted upon it were lean and tall, imposingly strong, both of them leaning over the ropes to the roll of the crowd.

“Are we ready!” You spotted the announcer balanced on a platform higher even than the ring. “In the white corner we have Mecha, fourth on the UnderBoards, with an impressive streak of six continuous wins!” Some cheered, some booed. The rest were still placing bets.

You gaped, unable to take your eyes off the ring. “And in the black corner we have Red Hot! A better’s favorite, an underdog, if I may call him, ranked thirty-sixth on the UnderBoards! Fighting his first match of the night!”

The music quieted down, and the fighters took position, facing each other. “Here we go!” The bell rung in sync with the announcer’s voice, and the crowd went crazy as one of the fighters dived for the other, aiming a swift kick to the knees, then a sharp jab to the solar plexus. “Aaaaand he’s down! Wasn’t that fast!”

It was a gritty fight. Down here you knew life was kind of ‘everything goes’, but you didn’t expect this - fighting completely below the belt. “He’s up, Mecha’s not one to accept defeat that easily. Ooh! Ooohh. That must have hurt.” Biting, kicks to the face. It was brutal, but somehow the crowd loved it.

At the far end you could see a huge screen with player stats:

MECHA #4 UNDERGROUND CAREER WINS: 12 LOSSES: 15

RED HOT #36 UNDERGROUND CAREER WINS: 3 LOSSES: 9

“Smashed! Mecha is down!” The crowd screamed in response. “ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX…He’s getting up! That was a nasty hit to the chest, I don’t know how he survived!” In the ring, Mecha spat out blood. He looked like vengeance personified, the strobe lights that flashed over the crowd turning his face into a cruel snarl. With a yell, he leaped forward - going straight for his opponent’s throat.

You watched on, transfixed, finding yourself yelling with the crowd as the fight went on - wincing collectively at each hit, screaming when it looked like one of them was going to win. They moved more viciously than anything you’d ever seen before. Like blurs, each hit barely registering in your vision before they moved on.

“Red’s got him pinned down again, will this be the end of Mecha’s stint in the UnderBoard top five? IS IT? Count with me: FIVE, SIX SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE, TEN! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!” On the ground, Mecha curled into a fetal position around his hand, likely broken by the last hit. Red Hot stood above him, fists raised in triumph, basking in the cheers and the announcement of his victory.

Around you, people pushed and shoved to get their bets. One of the bookers stood to your left, face smug as he collected the money from grumbling patrons. The music started up again, and everyone went back to dancing or drinking or both. You decided to find Seohyun, and, pushing through throngs of people, made your way to what you guessed was the DJ booth, on the other side of the ring.

Halfway there, you were interrupted when a loud fanfare burst over the speakers. The announcer’s voice boomed out again as the lights over the ring came back to life. “Match four of the night! A classic clash between two reigning champions. And the match we’ve all been waiting for.”

If you’d thought the cheering was loud before, it was nothing compared to now.

“May I introduce,” he enunciates each word, “in the white corner, number two on the UnderBoards! I love him, you love him, we all love him. Fighting for the top spot tonight is...Vortex!” The man who stepped up into the ring a moment later was tall like the last two, but bulkier, his hefty form silhouetted in the spotlights. He grinned, exposing his golden front teeth as he waved.

But then, everyone seemed to hush.

“Fighting Vortex, and hoping to keep his title of Underground Champion is number one on the Underboards, and no one is more worthy of the ranking than him. On an unbroken streak of twenty wins,” the announcer yelled, drawing out the tension, “give it up for...Bruiser!”

You were lost in the din as people pushed past you suddenly, splitting to leave an empty path that led up towards the ring. Confused, you glanced around. What was going on?

“Move,” came a voice from behind you, and you spun to see a large, hulking bodyguard in a suit glaring down at you. “Move,” he repeated, harsher. Then, without warning, he shoved you aside, and you went sprawling to the ground, gaping in indignation as you landed hard on your wrist.

Cradling it to your chest, you froze as you saw why the crowd had parted - he could only be Bruiser. His silhouette as he emerged into the light was short, lean, but you could see the muscles rippling on his bare chest. Bandages wrapped once, twice, over his hands and up his arm. His mouth was set in a lazy smirk, his eyes dancing with something like determination - but almost more wicked than that - as he walked down the path to the ring.

Right past you. Without even a single glance at you, fallen to the ground next to him. He was inches away. His guards - the man who’d pushed you included - followed right behind, neither of them sparing a second of their attention to you.

Your indignation turned to fury. What an asshole.

You watched as he climbed up onto the ring, shooting a cocky smile at the audience. He was popular - and knew it. He didn’t do anything to get their attention like the other fighters had, just stepped into position and started to wrap the bandages on his fists tighter. Still, they went crazy for him.

“Bruiser! Bruiser! Bruiser!” At the sound of them chanting his name, he finally looked up, a sly grin spreading onto his devastatingly handsome face. He shot a wink to a woman in the crowd and you swore you saw her faint.

BRUISER #1 UNDERGROUND CAREER WINS: 46 LOSSES: 19

VORTEX #2 UNDERGROUND CAREER WINS: 46 LOSSES: 38

You scowled. How arrogant could a person get? Just because he was number one, he thought he deserved everything he had? Your scowl deepened as you realized why your hate was so familiar: he reminded of you of the people your father met with. All of them rich bastards who thought they owned the world because they had money. Because they had influence.

It turned out the kind of people you hated were everywhere.

You stood, brushing off your dress. You’d show him. You’d teach him a lesson.

“Place your bets now!”

Vortex cracked his knuckles as he looked over his opponent. The responding smile on Bruiser’s face was unperturbed; serene.

You skimmed the crowd for the booker you’d seen earlier, finding him at the edge of the ring, surrounded by people putting in their last bets. Squeezing through them, you approached the booker. “I’d like to bet.”

He looked over you from head to toe, eyes lingering on the places where the dress clung to your body. Internally, you shivered, but kept your discomfort from showing. “What can I do for you, darling?” He whistled, rolling his cigarette between his teeth as he stared you down. Looking like he thought you had no idea what you were doing. “I’m Heechul. If you want a bet, I’m the best person in the Underground.”

You narrowed your eyes. You’d show him, too. “I’m betting on Vortex.” You paused for effect. “Ten grand.”

“Ten grand?” Heechul chuckled incredulously. “Lady, you’re playing me. C’mon, give me a real figure. What you got? Hundred? Hundred and fifty?”

“Ten grand,” you repeated, unwavering. You pulled out your purse without looking, shuffling through until you found what you were looking for. “Here’s half of it upfront. I’m betting against Bruiser.”

Heechul swallowed, looking at the cash in your hand. Was that greed you saw in his eyes? “Yes, ma’am. Just a warning, though - odds aren’t on your side.”

“All the better for me,” you said, and backed away as the bell dinged.

If the last fight had been violent, this was carnage. You could see why Bruiser was so good. He moved like a whirlwind. You could barely make out the movements of his arms, his legs as he drove forward, battering Vortex into a defensive position.

“It looks like this might be yet another easy clinch for Bruiser. Can he hold his title?”

You weren’t worried - yet. Ten grand wasn’t much money to you, but it was still too much to lose out of spite.

But Vortex looked like he was going to go down. His movements were slow, fatigued already. You grimaced as Bruiser threw a hard hook to his chin, sending his head snapping back painfully.

“Bruiser! Bruiser! Bruiser!”

“Excellent hit, he’s showing no signs of slowing down…”

You glanced at the stats, watching Vortex’s odds spiral down from 360 to half of that. If you lost the bet now, you’d have to cough up almost four times the amount you’d put in. But you didn’t care about the money as much as you did your pride. You had a point to prove - and you were going to prove it. Biting your lip, you focused on the fight again, willing fate and whatever gods were out there that you’d made the right choice.

“Time-out. Bruiser calls a time-out, the clock is stopped.” Bruiser bounced on his toes as he danced back to his corner and leaned on the rope, stretching. One of his assistants, a girl dressed in barely anything, leaned over to press a bottle of water to his lips. He drank, expression smug. Arrogant. He knew he was winning.

In the other corner, Vortex was collecting himself. You looked closer. That wasn’t fatigue. His eyes were bright, alert. As a whistle blew to signal the end of the timeout, you watched him. Everything read defeat, but you realized it wasn’t.

And you were right. Bruiser came in with the same ferocity as before, but Vortex bore the attack. Pushing forward, inch by inch, until he had the upper hand and Bruiser was losing his footing.

You swore you could see panic in his eyes. And it was satisfying.

“Yes!” you yelled as Vortex finally pinned him down, legs straddling and forearms pressing on Bruiser’s neck.

“...SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE…”

The bell dinged and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “And the winner, and our new number one is…”

You didn’t wait, just moved back the way you came. You came up behind Heechul, tapping on his shoulder. “I’m here to collect.”

He gaped at you. You held your palm out for the money. “Come on,” you said. “Heechul, was it? I want my winnings.”

The odds of Vortex winning had dropped to 1000 - you were going to be making ten times the amount of money you put in.

Heechul slapped your five grand back into your hand, not looking you in the eye. “Meet me at the end of the night.”

You hadn’t planned to stay this late, but you weren’t leaving without your money. By the time the crowd started to thin, it was well past one in the morning. When you went to find Heechul, it was nearly three. You’d shadowed him the entire night to make sure he didn’t run away with your money, and you couldn’t remember a time you’d been more exhausted.

Quietly, you approached him at the tables at the far end of the building, where he was hunched over the money in his hands.

“It’s the end of the night,” you announced.

Heechul spun around, eyes narrowing when he recognized you. “You stayed.”

“I want my winnings.”

He eyed you. “You made a mistake, betting against Bruiser,” he said. “He’s famous for holding grudges. When he catches wind of your winnings…” He made a slicing gesture against his throat.

You frown. You’re not sure how serious he is, but it doesn’t sound like anything good. “It’s not like I made him lose.”

Heechul’s lips split into a sinister grin. “Oh, you don’t know how the odds work. I’m serious. Take this money from me, and you’re dead.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m just telling the truth.”

“I want my winnings,” you repeated, crossing your arms.

He slowly picked up the money lying in fat bundles on the table, muttering under his breath. He didn’t meet your eyes as he set five in your outstretched hand. “Hundred grand. Count it if you don’t trust me.”

You thumbed through the stack, not even bothering to count - the number of bills was staggering. “How do I know it’s not fake?”

Heechul raised an eyebrow.“Darling, people don’t bet fake money. They regret it if they do.”

You swallowed as you saw the dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.” You shoved the money in your purse and turned away without another word. Something was making you uncomfortable: whether it was Heechul’s lingering gaze or the growing quiet of the Underground, you didn’t know.

You wanted to leave.

Pushing open the door you’d come through in the evening, you found the hallway empty and dark. Except for a few dim lights in the ceiling that illuminate the place in patches, everything was cast in shadow. Wary, you started down the hall, trying to look like you were walking with a purpose. Trying to look like you weren’t alone in a place as shady as the Underground. What were you thinking, staying so late? Even Seohyun was gone, packed up two hours earlier after making sure you’d be okay.

Stupid, you cursed yourself. This place wasn’t safe at this hour. Especially for a woman in an expensive dress and a hundred grand making a noticeable bulge in her purse. You quickened your pace. Was this worth it?

You didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until you were being shoved against the wall, an arm coming to press against your neck. Instinctively, you closed your eyes.

“Take the money,” you choked out. “Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t want your money, sweetheart.” His tone was low, silky, dark. But there was nothing lecherous about it. You opened one eye. His face leaned right up to yours, his eyes searching yours. His hand came to pin yours against the wall.

With a jolt, you recognized him. “Bruiser.” Oh, no.

“Who are you?” He snarled. “And why are you here?”

You struggled against his hold, gasping as he pressed you back. “I don’t - have to tell you-”

“Cut it out, sweetheart. Who are you, why did you bet against me, and…” He leaned even closer so that his hot breath huffed in your face. “How. Did. You. Win?”

You stared him back in the eye, his words reigniting your fury. “I won,” you muttered, “by luck.” Your retort was snarkier than you’d intended, but you didn’t regret it.

He snorted a laugh. “Your ‘luck’ just cost me half my assets. I want to know what you fucking did.”

“I don’t owe you anything!” With a sudden burst of strength, you shoved him away from you. He glowered, gaze turning dangerous. “I remember you.” Now he finally raked his eyes over your body, smirking, taking in the sight of you.  “Let me tell you something, sweetheart.”

He brought his lips to your ear, and a shiver ran through you. “I don’t stop for people who are in my way.” Pulling away, he raised an eyebrow. “Got it?”

You were incensed. “You want to know why I bet against you?” Your voice was low, angry but surprising you with its steadiness.

“Pray tell,” he growled, circling you like he was going to attack.

You spat out the words. “Because you’re an arrogant bastard, that’s why! Because people - people like you, I hate, and I wanted to teach you a lesson. You deserve a lesson. You treat people like trash.”

He jerked like he was about to strike, and you flinched against your will. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I know exactly who you are! You’re a - you’re a self-centered, egotistical dickhead that had the audacity, the - the absolute indecency, to corner a woman in a dark hall alone at three in the morning!” You stalked up to him so that you could jab a finger into his chest. “So yes, Bruiser, I know who you are. I know your kind of people. And I hate you.”

To your surprise, he wasn’t mad. He backed down, muscles no longer tense. “Okay,” he murmured.

“Okay?” you repeated, taken aback. “Just okay?”

“You’re right,” he said, his voice low. “I’m a self-centered, egotistical dickhead, it’s true. But you still don’t know me.”

“Oh, boo-hoo, you have a sad backstory? Newsflash, asshole: you’re no one special.”

His face went stormy. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” You kept your chin up.

“Look - Y/N. I know exactly who you are, too. Rich girl, spoiled by your parents, used to living like a princess. Hmm, what else? You’re so sick of your boring as fuck rich life that you decided to come here to feel like you’re doing something with yourself. You see me, decide you don’t like me stealing your throne of ‘most important person in the world’-”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarled, putting your hand flat on his chest, shoving him away. “You…you...”

He laughed humorlessly. “Don’t like assumptions so much now, do you?”

You wanted to shout the same thing right back - you don’t know me - but that would mean losing to him. Instead you backed off, stepping away. Lost for words.

Bruiser exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N. Why don’t we start again?” He held his hand out, for you to shake. “I’m Byun Baekhyun. Bruiser.”

You searched his eyes for any hint of danger, any sign that he was tricking you. The smirk on his face was deadly. What was he trying to do? You cautiously accepted. His hand was warm and firm in yours and you shook it quickly, pulling away before you could let your guard down. “Y/N Y/L/N,” you said quietly, unable to meet his eyes.

“Let’s put this behind us. Pretend this never happened.” He cocked his head towards the exit. “How are you getting home?”

Still stunned by his change in personality, you stutter out a reply. “Uh, cab. I took a cab.”

“No way,” he said, grabbing your hand, starting to pull you to the exit. “I’ll take you.”

“Wait, I-” Your protest was lost as he dragged you along to the stairwell and up to the alley, down the street, finally stopping in front of a sleek-looking black car.

Baekhyun finally let go of you, walking around to the driver’s side of the car and getting in. “Well?”

Before you could think better of it, you pulled the door open and slid in, settling your purse with the hundred grand in the middle of your lap. The minute the door latched shut, he was off.

“You didn’t even ask me where I need to go,” you said, wincing as he sped up. Unsurprisingly, his driving was the definition of rash. You bit your cheek as you watched the needle tick well past the speed limit and into dangerous territory.

He snorted a laugh. “Didn’t need to, sweetheart. You’re from the Groves, aren’t you?”

As annoyed as you were that he’d made another assumption, he was correct. The Groves - the rich side of town. Your house was smack in the most expensive part of it. Grumbling, you settled lower in your seat. Maybe you should have changed clothes before you went to the Underground.

He laughed, pushing the car even faster.

It wasn’t long before the skyscrapers and lurid lights of the downtown area melted into the mellower suburbs, and finally spread into the manicured landscaping and fenced houses of the Groves. You watched house after house - each one more lavish than the last - blurred by. Should you tell him where to stop? Was it a bad idea to lead him closer to where you lived?

“Turn here,” you said suddenly, pointing him down a right that led deliberately away from your house. “Another right. Uh, it’s that house with the turret.” You’d never seen that house before. All the better.

The car jolted to a stop right in front of the gate. “So, Y/N…”

“I’m going to go now.” You put your hand on the door handle.

“Wait.” Baekhyun’s hand landed on your arm, the shape of it burning through your skin. Without warning, his other arm reached around you, turning you towards him.

“Mmmf!” Your eyes flew open wide as he brought his lips to yours. It was a rough kiss, his mouth slanting across yours without any hesitation. You were thrown for a minute too long, your chest tightening in surprise as he tilted your head back into a new angle, his tongue flicking into your mouth.

Gathering your wits, you finally managed to push him away, seething. “What the fuck!”

“Wow, you’re kind of a bad kisser. I didn’t feel anything.” He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Damn, I really thought we had something going on there.”

You couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. “You absolute-”

“Arrogant dickhead, yeah, I know.” He looked completely unapologetic.

You stepped out onto the driveway of the unknown house, spluttering, trying to come up with an insult that was strong enough to articulate the anger you felt. How dare he just try that on someone he’d just met? “Fuck you,” you finally spat out. “Fuck you! I hope I never see you again!”

There was that smirk again. “We’ll see about that, won’t we, sweetheart.” With that, he leaned over and pulled the car door shut, and before you could process it, he was speeding off again. You watched his car turn away, letting out a long exhale as it disappeared.

It wasn’t until halfway back home that you realized your purse - hundred grand and all - was gone.

a/n: i just want to make one thing clear! that kiss - it is assault. if someone does something like that without your consent, it is assault. in this fic, it is a plot device and nothing more. just because baekhyun turns out to be a love interest doesn’t mean it’s ‘cute’. it’s still assault and it’s not excused, and i want to make sure it doesn’t seem romanticized.

otherwise, i hope you enjoy this fic, because it’s really turning out to be great!

[poohugh-blog]

The Best Building In London You Mightnt’ve Heard Of

The greatest house in London you mightnt’ve noticed before

If it’s not a bus rowt or next to a tube stop it doesn’t exist right? How many times do you hear people talking about this on pubic transport, everyday? Every other day?

Well, it’s not true. Both factually and emotionally, there is a London outside of megalithic, anonymous, science-fictionesque transport hubs like Warren Street. a place where hope never comes that comes to all. No one has brought this more boringly to life than Iain Sinclair.

The Regency Period is our focus. The Regency Period relates to the period when George III was going mad and his frilly-shirted lavish louche pin-wheeling (?) son was sort of in charge. George IV is responsible for making B’ham Palace the main place, and also creating Brighton Pavilion, a building that screams “we can’t say no to a prince”.

The Regency Period is what makes Brighton and Hove so famous, as well as the crime the awful one-way system, BrightonSEO Conference and its stoney beach and the ex-pier momento mori. But you don’t need to spend too long on an overcrowded train to smell the Regency air you can walk around Central London.

One walk I always assumed ended at Regents Park, if you go from Piccadilly Circus up Regents Street as it curls right, past the world famous All Bar One, towards the poorly proportioned All Saints Church “The Broadcasters Church” as it’s known as, then BBC HQ with its exterior murals designed by notorious pervert, dog-fucker and incestuous pederast Eric Gill, keep on going up past the RIBA one of the best buildings in London as the road gets wider, and then cross Euston Road next to the 2nd ever underground tube station at Gt. Portland St. to enter Regents Park.

But the walking party mustn’t stop there, as I realised this week. When I kept on walking.

If you go anti-clockwise up the Outer Circle, you will go past the world famous iPr0spect building on your right, and a modernist building which i assume other blogs are writing about right now, claiming how clever the concrete is because you can see the wood markings in it. How challenging. If you like brutalist architecture you are partaking in a parlour game, or you’re a troll on 4chan, or you’re part of the debating society at school. You’re a smart-arse who think it’s a thought experiment to deny your eyes.

The houses become more Regency, but same old same old nothing I am not fazed after such a walk past the Air St. arcade and the badly proportioned round church next to the BBC. Cambridge Gate? It’s fine, it’s very white and those arches have gone more decorative than actually arching anything.

The houses get more massive and more decorative, till we reach the end of history your new most favourite building in London:

Cumberland Terrace

A name that we all associate with the Prince Regents’ brother right? Rather than a poorly received day-time Coronation Street spin-off.

{Scene: Deidre and Stan are walking in the Dales, a moth flies into Deidre’s face causing her to drop her thermos flask on Stan’s foot; _Stan whinces_}

Ah Cumberland Terrace, the name is so pants it’s hard to separate the building from it. Maybe Cumberland then meant something more regal? Like the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge now, maybe no one would be sniggering if thery were the Cumberlands?

It would appear the Windsors also found the name risible as now you’ve got your Dukes and Duchess’es of Sussexes, your Camrbidges’s, your Cornwalls and your Kents but no longer ur Cumberlands’.

Nothing neo-classical about the name Cumberland Terrace. Even if it were Italianated The Cumberland Terraza it still not getting away with being grand.

But grand, reader, it is…..

Cumberland Terrace is the culmination of The Outer Circle of Regents Park, coming from the south. The houses get more white and marbled, including a very unusual Danish Church which looks like a miniature copy of a Cathedral in miniature. It’s neo-gothic in a swathe of neo-classicism, a Guylian in a box of Terry’s All Gold.

What a strange building Cumberland Terrace is! The outer circle also only has buildings on one side so adds to the discombobulationariness, and the vista isn’t that impressive. Not Palace worthy, it’s just a park at this end, functional. This bit of Regents Park is where dogs shit and people play softball, not tip-toeing through the rose bushes. This is fields.

The Outer Circle is a science-fiction name for a very old-money road. Unlike a Toroidal Colony, the Outer Circle is marble, and very wide unmarked roads. It’s got a very boring Mayfair vibe to it. Bits of Mayfair that are all fine but are very boring, it’s very quiet. No one goes from Gt. Portland St. to Camden.

Unless you’re an oligarch who yearns for the 90s.

In fact this whole stretch of North / South Central is quite quiet and boring. Walkng up Regent Street always feels like a slog, going furher up it past the BBC and crappy church so quiet nothing going on. And then further up past RIBA zzzz, then Gt. Portland Street tube surely the sleepiest and most under-used of all the Zone 1 tube stations.

Regents Park is more lively to the west, below the zoo, or actually getting into the park. The cafes and much more vigorous walking and running and playing.

On our bit that we’re talking about it’s quieter. Who gets to Regnets Park to just walk the Outer Circle? Maybe that’s why no one knows about Cumberland Terrace? The most anonymous central location. An outrageous architectural overreach of wealth and silliness.

People think Putney is posh, people are pricks. Outer Ring makes Putney look like Elephant & Castle in the pissing rain. Outer Circle is the poshest place you’ve ever seen.

The buildings go on and on, and can be glimpsed through the arches

Well they do and they don’t it’s impossible to say anything that is true about the whole terrace. It’s not even a terrace it’s got buidings behind it, the view above is that the most exquisite thing ever? In the fucking borough of Camden???? Wtf

Doric columns holding up a roof (from the Greek ROOFOS meaning “sky roof”) with figures, figures everywhere. Most of these pics not taken from 20 PLACES YOU NEED TO OGLE BEFORE YOU DYE or WORLDS MOST IMPORTANT BUILDINGS REDUX, but from Winkworth or Savills (sic). Why isn’t this M$ VISTA on the new 50p peace? Why am I the only one blogging about it?

On the estate agents site, the anonymity is expressed with the final two bullet-points:

• A neoclassical Grade I listed terrace house • Panoramic views over Regent's Park • High ceilings • Impressively refurbished to a high standard

I’m sure when Apollodorus of Damascus whipped out his .pptx to try selling the Pantheon to… Socrates or whoever he mentioned the High Ceilings and the fit-out. “I need a “so what?” on every slide, Apollodorus. Also can you embed the font? High Ceilings is on two lines. And no full-stops on bullet points, it’s stylistic I understand but it’s my final decision.

Best Regards,

Socrates.

Socrates Get Outlook for iOS.

The totally pointless arch on the right here (there’s one at the other end, 4 lightyears down the road) might be the best thing about it. Nothing says opulent like a pointless, non-deep arch. Can’t even go on the top like Wellington Arch, it’s just massive and so thin!

I recommend Cumberland Terrace to anyone here it is on a map

https://map.what3words.com/scout.expect.trucks

[thegnasticious]

Dwayne, The Pool Guy

I’m a man of stories. If you’ve got a story, I’m all ears all day.

My story is a simple one

I grew up in a small Southern town in a typical African American family.

We dealt with people throwing us bad glances when we grew up, all based on our color, our demeanor.

Some say racism died with Martin Luther King, but if you walk with someone of my color enough, you’ll notice it hasn’t. Imbalance is worse than it ever was, politics and technology work like gas to a fire.

I never thought this was a problem, not bad enough to ruin my life. I used to see the Neo Nazi’s rev’ing their trucks behind the high-school football games, waiting to infect the parties with their self-brewed drugs and rhetoric. You’d see them picking on people like me in the hallways, sometimes it escalated to physical harm but that was seldom documented, or witnessed. All of this was what it was, until a Brother of mine, Nadeus, didn’t show up to school one day.

We knew he had bad habits, and bad people following him. I always tried to see past it, because he was my best friend, all I knew from the ages 9-20 outside of my family. I remember the day I met him, we were skate boarding at the local park. It was a sunny day, the birds were out chirping and there was a cool breeze blowing about. I was skating down the entrance way when I almost ran into him. His skateboard shot out in to crowd of people watching aside.

“What the hell are you doing man?” he said to me.

“I didn’t see you, I’m sorry” 

He looked at me sternly for a few seconds and walked over to grab his skateboard.

He was tall for his age 

with a bald brown head gleaming in the sunlight.

Everybody cleared as he approached.

He returned with his skateboard and said,

“What’s your name?”

“Dwayne, what’s your’s?”

“Nadeus”, he responded.

“You know any tricks?” he asked.

“Yea, I just learned a pop shove-it” 

I dropped my board, 

sunk my feet into the movement and kicked the board up,

spinning it throughout the air.

I landed it, he then copied the same move to the point.

I followed up with another trick,

this time off the stair the set, landing it with ease.

He followed and did the same. 

This continued til’ the sun went down,

I walked with him back later.

It turned out he lived in the same neighborhood as me, so we exchanged numbers and said we’d try to meet again.

As school started that year, I recognized Nadeus in one of my classes,

he was seated right near me. 

Throughout the year I got to know Nadeus better. He was quiet for the most part, we were the only two African Americans in the class so we felt kind of odd. Southern schools are different, they are smaller, everyone knows each other and knows who they think of as an outsider. We unfortunately were the minority without a doubt. We would pass notes to each other making fun of the overtly racist classmates who came from what they saw as, confederate backgrounds. We’d draw pictures of their trucks crashing, their flags on fire, giant phallics attacking their BBQ’s from the sky.

All sorts of shit, it kept us entertained. 

It was all fun and games until one day after High school,

I was walking back with Nadeus, 

and some of the these classmates followed us slowly.

We walked the route we usually did, trying to add in little passages between houses to avoid them, but somehow their rusted Red truck kept coming from the corner of every street we approached. 

We were usually harassed by these guys, but something was different this time.

Finally Nadeus had it and Flipped them off as they drove by.

They quickly hit the breaks and hopped out the truck.

one of them I recognized as Billy, 

he grappled a two by four and look of bloodlust in his eyes. 

His pupils like black holes, approached the us at in in human rate.

A girl in the car quickly jumped out as well, running to the scene. 

The man began to draw the two by four back, walking right at me.

The girl jumped in front,

he swung but pulled as he realized she was there. 

It thudded against her chest, knocking the wind out.

She stood coughing and turned to me and Nadeus,

“Get the fuck out of here” she said.

Her Black Hair moved slowly in the afternoon wind.

She was my angel, both me and Nadeus turned and left.

I looked behind as we walked away and saw her knock the two by four from his hands ass if it weighed nothing. She slapped him so hard he nearly toppled over 

“Billy.......Get back HOME now!” she yelled at him.

She then grabbed him by the ear and led him back to the truck, his apeish demeanor breaking down to what looked like a little kid getting dragged by his mother.

The next day I woke up for school feeling better than ever to be alive. It was as if I woke up in a new house in a new body, a better life. But somehow it was my own, the same old thing I always knew. That was the day that Nadeus’s seat stayed empty. I remember wondering where he’d been, he wasn’t sick the day before, or acting weird. There was no announcement, no questions, no wondering. Nothing, it was as if the whole day was an eery silence that didn’t really happen. It was when I came home that I knew something was wrong. There was a police car sitting in my driveway. I came through my front door to find my Ma crying on the sofa. Two officers surrounded her, she looked at me and said, “Dwayne, these men need to talk with you”

The rest was a blur of questions and statements. They were ruling out an overdose, because of how it aesthetically appeared, I asked to see photos and they allowed me to. His corpse looked nothing like him; appearing gaunt and lifeless. His eyes like two black marbles, falling into the depths of a sullen face. His muscles had all but receded to little thimbles. I knew the guy didn’t do drugs, never. I  also could swear one of the officers was an older brother of one of the attackers as well. He kept quiet in the corner, shooting death glares at me from time to time. The whole situation seemed beyond hopeless. 

They played good-cop bad-cop with me for a while, seeing what they could get out of me, admissions of guilt, anything. I knew they were looking for somebody to frame so I kept my lips sealed.

After seeing the pictures, my mind drew a hard blank, the Red truck and the people’s faces blurred, the thought was replaced by a vast nothingness. The feeling that I’ve lost my only friend. I’m alone again. It wasn’t long before the officer’s realized there was nothing more they could get out of me, and they sent me on my way.

I walked back home from the station with the dark of the night just beginning to set in. I thought of Nadeus, and where he might be now; to me heaven and hell was no more than a mindset, a switch of coding by a conductor seldom seen, leading to anything the mind can perceive as real, besides the thing that got it there. Maybe in some ways this thing was the god element; the inherent force that sways through empty spaces at night, feeling every curve of the darkness until it’s all shrilled by piercing morning light. Nadeus was now somewhere in the darkness, in metaphor and presence. 

I could see the clouds ahead of me beginning to electrify with a storm. A full moon loomed ahead of the wall of thunderheads, lighting a little bit of my way. I hurried my pace to get back before the rain started, I could already hear thunder echoing in the distance. As I walked further down the street, I started hearing a whooshing noise from above. I couldn’t place it to be behind me or to the side of me, it just kept coming, almost like a gust of air. I upped my pace to an almost light jog, I could see the glimmer of the old town reservoir in the distance. Home luckily wasn’t too far. The trees were already starting to bend with ominous gusts, a little drizzle picked up. Ahead of me I could see a street light flickering, I could swear the pattern was “S.O.S.” (an old military based relative of mine used to show me the signal with a flashlight). It did it about 3 times and went dark. I was about to pass under it, when I felt something behind me. I turned fast, looked up, and saw the girl who helped me.  She was above the streetlight, floating at first, her body then swooped right through the metal arch of the streetlight. Her black hair growing like a lifeless shadow throughout the suspended motion.I felt the gust of air I had felt the whole past block and just like that, she was gone, somewhere far in the darkness above. But I knew, she was with me, and I think somehow she knew I hadn’t done wrong, her appearance was safe with me. The rain really began to pick up at that point, so I started running home. When I got home my Ma & Pa, were up watching Dracula. My younger brother, Darius, sat clutching his teddy bear in the light of the old tube t.v., I called them Ma and Pa but really they were my grandparents. I lost my actual parents not to long after I was born in a freak accident, and my Mom’s family has been taking care of my brother and I ever since.

I almost felt like staying outside, letting them enjoy themselves, just finding the nearest place or thing to disappear to. Lately I was a ghost to them; I could disappear and no one would have noticed. 

I decided to walk back to the old reservoir. The rain had died down, and the moon was glowing bright all around. Nadeus and I used to meet up at the reservoir late at night to smoke a joint out of sight, out of mind. Even though he wasn’t going to be here with me tonight, I rolled one up at a park bench nearby. I could see the reservoir from afar. A little light dotted the landing into the dark dot of water. You could see it’s glow echoing throughout the ripples in the lake. I decided to stay in place, I wasn’t fit to go swimming or hiking anyways. The joint I rolled was really nice, round and filled to the brim. The green of the tip had long burned to charred embers; it was about half-way done now. I could see something break in the water from afar. I took a deeper drag, and began to focus on the breaks in the water in the distance. That’s when I saw her again, she slowly surfaced from the water, her Black hair and naked curves glistening in the moonlight. She then sank below the water, seemingly unaware of me. I hadn’t seen that many White girls like this before. Boy was she pretty, like the girls I had seen in the magazines. I’m not sure how long she’s been following me or why, but I didn’t mind her for some reason. I could tell she wasn’t malicious to me. She felt familiar, like someone I had known, though I had never talked directly to her.

As soon as the roach started to burn the tips of my fingers, I left. I didn’t see her again, she seemed to disappear into the water without entrance or exit. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been there before, watching me and Nadeus in the dark of the night. We weren’t much to see, but it’s odd to think that someone was probably watching. I always felt like the old reservoir had an odd vibe. Maybe she was why... 

A tune of “Be My Baby”, echoes far in the distance. It’s frequencies leak about a sleepy nook like an infection, seeping in through any opening it can find. 

An old lady living in a victorian house readies her shotgun with bright red shells as she sits on a rocking chair. “Goddamn chilun, granchillun, little chillun, shit noise, shit rocker, I got my red gun a here knocker. You come knock once, knock twice, I’ll act nice. Then I’ll find you in the middle of the night. You won’t like the real me. I don’t care. I’m mean, I gotta shell for each of you when you try to take my rocker”, she said to herself, cocking the shot-gun with her last words. The music echoed through the old wood in the house. She had every window open wide. 

Next door was the source of the blaring Spector mix,

A run down house, hiding in the shadow of the monster next door.

A little glow of orange illuminates the front steps, showing the appearance of a smaller girl. She sits on the front stoop smoking a cigarette by herself. As the night grows darker, her shadow grows bigger, her curves more apparent. In the darkness it was seemingly unnoticeable, but under a light it would have looked similar to photosynthesis. Nobody at the parties ever asked her why or where she went when the sun first went down, that was her special place; a place no one else could ever get to. 

The Spector mixes evolved into a dark electronica over time, and the boom of the bass made her want to go back in even less.

She twisted her dark Black hair, and thought about the cute guy she rescued the other day, where he might be, what he might be doing.

That was when the front door slammed open. The full frequencies blaring and a bit of smoke billowing out as well. A man stood in the doorway, about the size of it. He had a darkening bruise on his face, and a beer held in his left hand. He wore a raggedy leather-man jacket, it looked about ten years too old at this point. Somehow every morning it seemed knitted new, this amongst many other things was something Billy had come to expect rather than understand. 

“Black cat, black cat, what you brought home for me tonight?” he said to her.

“Nothing Billy, leave me alone, you went too far last night. I ain’t got nothing for you” she said, grimacing.

A grin creeped up his face, and he stepped towards her.

“I know you got something, you’re thinking about something.... ripe and juicy, muscular, pure-bred. You thinkin’ about that Black boy aren’t you? How he’d treat you right, put you on pedestal, give you all those big things you’ve always wanted” he said.

She pushed him away and gave him a cold glare.

“Billy you’re drunk, I don’t like seeing you like this, you’d never talk like this otherwise” she said.

“I got three wet girls lined up inside. I don’t care what you want tonight or any night. I saw how that guy was hung the oth...”

Then she slapped him, real hard right in the spot of the bruise. Her face changed from a sense of a sympathy to shear rage in seconds

“Now you shut the fuck up and listen here. We ain’t talkin’ about none of that. You’re two steps from dead Billy, and I’m sick of being mother goose to this whole inbred flock. Half of you don’t even pull through. If it wasn’t for these bullshit accidents you guys cause, you couldn’t possibly get by. I suggest you make plans on getting the fuck out”

He stood there, dumbfounded. 

“What you just plannin’ on hitting the morgues ‘gain? Huh you really think something that dumb would work twice?” he said.

“I only need you as much as you make me need you Billy” she said looking off into the distance.

He threw his beer to the ground, shook his head, then dashed back inside, slamming the door.

The Orange glow grew again, then traveled to the garage. Cigarette in hand, she grabbed 2 cans of gasoline and walked to the houses main external gas line. She opened an old metal valve on the exchange. As she walked by the house she could see Billy with two girls. The blinds had slipped open. A bit of blood spattered on the wall, and the corpse of a young black man on the ground. An old brass Swastika topped a big mirror reflecting the whole bloody orgy. Animal like glares came from all corners. They grabbed at each other in an inhuman nature, moving at demonic like speeds with each thrust and grab, 

‘if they could only see themselves’ she thought. 

But even then it was too late for them, she knew it. 

“Fuckers killed my family, my cat, my friends.....” she muttered to herself flicking on the gas line. She dumbed a bit of gasoline trailing around the house to the front. A orange glow emitted again from the ramshackle setting, then went to the ground. A short ignition of fire trailed around the house to the valve of the main line. Within seconds a deep boom sounded, then an explosion traveled through the pipes and out every orifice of the house. Billy flew out the second story window, still erect, and completely on fire. his wails echoed the previous symphony now burning in the phonograph in his room. His old speakers popped their last sounds as the fire melted through the speaker cones.

In his last seconds of consciousness, he heard someone screaming. One of the girls he was with was outside, presumably thrown out as well, he could vaguely make out the image of an Old lady standing above her. 

The Old lady held a shotgun at her.

The girl started to cry,

“I didn’t do nothing, he was a nigger! He tried to rob our house. What do you want. He came in the middle of the night. Why are you trying to kills us!” she yelled

“I’m just trying to help you, little darling” the old lady said, not drawing the shotgun down.

“You better hope Billy don’t get back up” she said

The old lady then turned the shotgun to the dark bluish corpse, now steaming, and charred. She aimed the shotgun to his head and blew what was left of his brains onto the green grass around.

The girl then stood up, as if not burned or thrown out a second story window and lunged at the old lady. Another shotgun boom echoed.

“I was just trying to defend myself from all of ya’s”, 

she muttered to herself as sirens grew closer.

She gazed around, spat on the ground and awaited the coming police.

The next morning was cold and bitter. You could smell the tinge of smoke throughout the town. The local precinct was busier then ever, still trying to figure out what to do with this old Lady, a shotgun, a blown up house and at least 3-5 corpses.

I remember walking to and from that school that day. No Red truck, no ominous characters following me, almost a pleasant silence. The day had been odd, my first class was 4 seats shorter without Nadeus, Billy, and now two of the prettiest girls who were in class. They were every guy’s eye candy, top cheerleaders who supposedly had a bad habit with guys. Those types always thought they were too good for me and Nadeus(especially because they came from rich White families)but we never wished anything on them for it, they were good company when they wanted to be. The administration made an announcement to the student body about it, “4 students were found dead in complications of a house fire. Any information leading to the arrest of the assailants will be rewarded with care and compensation. 

A moment of silence please”

I went through the work as I usually did, trying not to think too much about the whole thing. I didn’t want to get involved in the investigation either, I didn’t need any more police attention in my life. The day moved in sort of a slow motion. Clocks seemed to roll back every time I looked away, people’s conversations and concerns grew less and less important to me. The whole world was beginning to seem loud. I felt trapped, confused, lost.

I found myself walking that same familiar route home, looking for her to come swooping under a streetlight, or appear from the shadows. But for some reason she wasn’t showing. I even found myself at the old reservoir late at night, puffing away by myself, hoping I’d finally get the chance to talk to her; to see who she really was. It wasn’t until late the next week that something finally came. Late at night I was awoken by something shaking me. I shot out of bed immediately, and looked at the clock, it read around 4:34 in the morning. I refocused ahead of me and saw a dark shadow at the foot of my bed. It seemed to focus in through a smoke-like haze. The girl appeared from the haze. She climbed over my bed’s footboard, and crawled up to me. Feeling like I was in a dream, I wasn’t avert to any of this, in all honesty I wasn’t sure if it was actually happening or not. I couldn’t seem to resist her pull. She slipped under the covers and started controlling me in ways I never knew I could be. I put myself into her, at that time a virgin, she seemed to be experienced, not like me. I could feel a warmth within her, a glow, something I had never really experienced before. It wasn’t quite like love and it wasn’t quite like a drug, it was something different. Something about her seemed like a gate way to another universe. Maybe she’s a dream, maybe she’s a ghost, all I know is I now wakeup within and without her. I’ve never really known her, the familiarity is what haunts me. She leaves little messages and slips on the nights she comes to remind she was really there, only things I’d notice. 

This went on for about a week. Until one day she came with a glum look in her face. She sat at the foot of my bed, not speaking much, that dark shadow growing around her. This particular morning she hardly woke me up, I just found her there as soon as my vision cleared from a dream-like haze. She waved at me, and oddly enough I could feel her controlling me, I couldn’t move a muscle. I tried to talk but the words wouldn’t come out, they seemed trapped under some sort of immense pressure. She leaned in toward me, completely paralyzed and told me, “good bye, I might never see you again”. She then gave me a kiss, and slipped out the window, when she disappeared completely, the pull broke and I could move again. As I wondered if she was ever actually there, I found myself also concerned about how she had that much power over me. Could she read my thoughts as well? I never had any bad thoughts about her, but the point intrigued me, just how she always showed when I thought she would without a word spoken. I felt like I had always known her, but I couldn’t tell how old she was, or who she was really. I remember going to the bathroom soon after she left, as I walked in I flipped the old brass switch and the lights illuminated a bit of red on my hands and lips, I wiped it off, figuring she must of been wearing red lip stick. When I returned to my room, I went to flick my nightlight off, that’s when I saw a parked car outside. The light was on and I could vaguely make out the face of the officer brother of Billy. Was he watching my house? As soon as I thought it, the light in his car went out and he pulled away in silence. It gave me the creeps. His family was full of the worst kind of racists you could ever meet. They probably have trophies of people in their house, freaks. After seeing him, my night was restless, I saw images of him coming the next morning, telling my parents he was going to take me out for a ride, soon enough these thoughts turned into dreams, and I was reliving the Emmet Till lesson my history teacher gave me that day. Dreams are funny like that, they are seemingly simple thoughts which envelope into a reality that is only as real you make it, kind of reminiscent of this funny thing we call life.

Soon enough, she stopped coming, just like she said. The nights went without a hiccup, my dreams soothing me through the slew of days. This all lasted until one night I was awakened by blaring music.I looked out my window to see Billy’s brother sitting there. All of a sudden, he got out of his car, and started walking toward the front yard to my window. I could see he was holding something. Within seconds, that something was lobbed from below It slammed through the window and nailed my skull. Bits of skull fragments flew about the glass flying through the air. Blood cascaded about. And for a second, I was dead; the red of brick touching my soft brain, falling back onto the wooden floor.

“You aren’t here Dwayne”, a booming voice said.

I awoke on my floor. Ma and Pa were were trying to knock my door open.

“Dwayne, honey are you alright, what was that?”

My mom yelled from outside my room. 

My focus faded in and I could see the ceiling fan spinning above. 

I went to touch my head, and as I pulled my hand away, no blood.

I stood up and looked in my desk mirror. I looked just fine.

The door cracked in and they came right in. 

“Your window..... Dwayne, what did those bullies do?”

she said.

“I don’t know, I woke up to the sound of crashing glass”

That of course being a lie, I could still feel an odd throbbing in my head, every so often I sifted back around for glass or bits of something showing what I had just felt. Nothing was to be found, but somehow I felt different, not like better but, dead, maybe. I’m not sure because as I’m aware I’ve only been alive.

“Paul this is going too far we need to do something about them before this gets any worse.”

my Grandma said, picking up a red brick from the ground. A note was rubber banded to it. it read “Leave our town NIGGERS!” 

my Grandma gasped and threw it to the ground.

“We are reporting this to the police in the morning” she said, shaking her head.

After some short conversation and check-up they shut of my lights and left my room. It was eerily silent after, you could only hear the crickets outside. I found myself checking the window to see if he had come back, after about 10 or so times checking, I saw her there perched outside on the window hang, not really minding the shards of glass around. She held out her hand to me and asked “Do you want me to take you away from here?”.

“Yes”,

I grabbed her, then everything turned black.

I awoke to a comfortably air conditioned room with a popcorn ceiling.

The room smelled of cigarettes subtly.

My mind felt hazy, like I had smoked some bad pot or, got hit really hard.

Slowly my perception faded from a jumble of colors.

“Where was I?”, I thought.

“You are staying in Elvis’s private motel room at Sandalwood in Florida. Well this was his before they found him clogged with shit. The man couldn’t afford laxatives but he could afford this. He made some great music with horrible habits, funny how that works right?”

I could make out an older man sitting at a formica table across from me. His hair was jet black, and done back in a pompadour type style.

I sat there in silence, still trying to fathom what the hell was happening.

“Listen up, I saved you. Being a brother in the time it is, I’m telling you it was only a short amount of time until that brick would be a molotov and you’d lose alot more than yourself. So case in point, I saved you, now you save me. I need you to be my pool boy, if you’ll permit. I’ll help you get by until you have enough to pick yourself up, at that point you check in officially and we were never here. Do you understand me, Dwayne?”

he asked

“Yes”,

I said

“One last thing, I own this fine establishment. You can call me Uncle Tom, and this is you cabin for as long as you need it”.

Days blurred into nights and soon enough I found myself combing the beaches for a nice girl to spend time with. The work was easy, it was just maintaining the pools chlorine levels and making sure all the guests were appeased. I was oddly comfortable with the change, it beats dealing with my grandparents and the nazi’s at school. All I had to do was wake up drift through the warmth til’ the cold of night, the waves crashing all throughout, some might of found it to be empty, but I found what loved doing. It was my bit of nothing that held my everything together. The women were beautiful, even the winters would attract some beautiful types in, the kind of girls that make your heart start all over again. None though compared to the girl who brought me here. I wondered about where she might be, if she was flying far above, or beneath the waves below. The answers seldom presented themselves, only in odd creatures I would see in the water and anomalies in the sky. She was the first real love I ever had, and I knew someday I would find her, when I was ready.

As I aged, Uncle Tom did too, and he started to lose interest in the hotel business. He put it up for sale, and I decided to pool together money I had saved over the years to buy the place. Even after I acquired the grounds, I still stayed in Elvis’s old room. It had a nice warmth and comfort to it. I could see why he spent so much time here. It was truly a fortress of solitude.

I still found myself tending to the pool late at night, even when I didn’t have to. Luckily it closed at sundown, so unless we had drunks I was usually alone.

It was mainly silent, I picked a hair from my head, I could see it was beginning to gray.

Time was not being kind to me, and I was beginning to grow worried of what might come besides the next morning.

The pool was oddly cool, but all the levels were alright. I was nearing the deep end when something pulled me at my left leg. I turned around and nothing was there. Within seconds I was in the water, full sprawl. still in my clothes. I opened my eyes to see her in front of me, 

“I need you” she said. 

She then pulled me under the water, and put her mouth to mine.

Gravity and oxygen seemed to cease existing momentarily as we twirled below the bottom of the pool. 

She ripped off my clothes, and made at me like she never did before.

The rest of the night was a slew of sex and debauchery, 

I awoke the next morning with a sharp pain in the left of my neck.

The sun dotted her like a jewel, bending over in the bathroom.

I walked over to her, and I could see a man in front of her lifeless. She prepared him on the toilet. As I got closer I could make him out as the guy who whipped the brick at me.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“This is the end of your deal. I’m not like you, but you are now like me. I could never be with you because of a disease. It was put on you as much as it was me. This disease kept me alive through druggings, should-be murders, you name it. I’ve been an actress for 100 years but I’ve always been the same age. From Black and White to Technicolor my face is there, but the name changes. You won’t understand now, but someday you might see the gold in your veins and you will thank me. Maybe you’ll give me a room. Elvis Did”

Dwayne then walked over to her, and gave her a hug.

He kissed her and said

“You’re always welcome at Sandalwood. I’ve missed you”