#i have no idea what happens if you scan those barcodes

[tragedyinblue]

BBU Community Days, #8

@bbu-on-the-side

{Day 8} Barcode

It’s 4am and I couldn’t sleep until I got this done, lol.

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Untouched

CW: ‘It’ pronoun, mention of needle-related fears, dehumanization, institutionalized slavery

“Stay close to me, dear. I don’t want to lose you in the aisles,” Miss Abbie said over her shoulder as the grocery store’s automatic doors parted for them.

Chase could have pointed out that they’d be less likely to be separated if she would hold its leash, but the pet wouldn’t dare to be so bold… not after the scathing look on her face after explaining that the leash was necessary whenever they were outdoors.

“Yes, Miss Abbie,” it said instead, tucking itself into her shadow. The untethered loop slapped its knees as it walked, every beat a reminder that despite the many undeserved gifts she had so graciously given it in the days since the pet’s arrival—warm clothes, a bed (human-sized!), and delicious meals every day—it, too, wasn’t wanted by its mistress.

“Absolutely not!” she’d screamed. “Come here and take him away from me right now!”

But no one came to haul the pet away that day. Chase could only assume that was because from the moment Miss Abbie opened the lid, it did everything it could to prove its worth, secretly hoping she might let it stay. Even so, its wooden crate remained shoved against the wall in the living room, a subtle reminder of what would happen if it failed to please her.

Chase weaved through the aisles behind Miss Abbie, doing its best to note exactly which products she chose and where each item was located. It would need to remember such things for her eventually.

Their plastic shopping basket was overflowing with items by the time they reached the checkout lane. A dark-skinned teenager waved them in and Miss Abbie gasped, a playful smile on her face.

“Goodness, Darren! If you get any taller I’m going to break my neck trying to see your face,” she teased.

He laughed. “Afternoon, Mrs. Cooper. Find everything okay?”

“We did, thank you, dear. How is your mom handling the new job?”

Chase placed the items on the conveyor as inconspicuously as possible, avoiding the teen’s curious stare as the humans chatted.

It had nearly emptied the basket when a high-pitched giggle and a series of aggressive clicks snagged the pet’s attention.

“Mommy, look! I’m scanning Kiki!”

Glancing over in the self-checkout area, Chase spied a young boy, his mother, and a female Pet whose leash was clipped to their cart. The boy laughed as he triggered the handheld scanner over the barcode tattooed on their pet’s inner arm.

Chase remembered the fresh, burning itch of those same marks against its own skin; some pets screamed and cried when they got theirs, but it had never had a problem with needles, not like… like…

Something hovered at the back of Pet’s mind, as indistinct as a shadow behind fogged glass. Before it could figure out what, the scene before it resumed and the shape vanished.

“Good job, honey, but we already paid for Kiki and I don’t want to do it again,” the mother joked, ruffling her son’s hair. “Now put that back, it’s not a toy.”

The boy complied and the trio wheeled past, Kiki lagging behind at the end of the leash.

“How deplorable,” Miss Abbie spat under her breath.

Chase’s jerked, panic seizing its chest as it realized that it had failed to empty the basket. Surely Miss Abbie would think it lazy; useless. The pet’s gaze whipped back to Miss Abbie, whose eyes rested on the barcode peeking out from its own sleeve. Her lips pursed into a thin, stern line. Chase had no idea what that expression meant, but when she turned to pay, the pet tugged the fabric down until its mark was fully obscured.

As they walked back to its mistress’ house, the leash still swung, untouched.

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Taglist: @maracujatangerine @octopus-reactivated @dislexiher

[eishtmo]

Why Your Inventory Sucked Part 4

Sorry this is a bit late, my current job is kicking my butt this week.

It's weird how much my current job is like the old inventory job. Both are done when they're done, both have me driving to various places, both involve going to Dollar General, a lot. But there are some differences, like I can move jobs around, and choose when I start them, and in what order. I have a lot more freedom. And I get a lot more sleep.

Anyway, this is less a part 4 and more a continuation of the last part. Sorry, it was just getting very, very long and this one will be longer.

Here's the thing: Everything I wrote in the previous parts, all the issues that can make an inventory go bad, they can be accounted for. There are solutions, ways to reduce the the effect. It varies, of course, and the inventory won't become GOOD by any stretch, but it can be prevented from being worse.

But there is one thing, one solitary thing, that I can't do anything about. I can't fix it, I can't mitigate it. If it happens, everything gets worse. Minor issues become magnified. Stress goes up, crews get mad, it takes longer, it gets messier, everyone is unhappy. It's all about. . .

PART 4: Bad Prep

Inventory prep is a many nebulous thing. On the surface, it's really just about lining product up on the shelves, but there is more to it. Inventory takes over the store for a day, or two in some cases, and there's a lot more to be ready for, and a lot more that can be failed.

Let's start with the knowledge part. The store staff needs to know what to expect when we come in. Because eventually they will hear the mating call of the inventory counter

"SKU CHECK!"

Sku's (pronounced skew) are basically the identification number for a product. Usually it's the UPC, but not always. The scanners read the UPC, find a match in the master file the scanner has in memory, and then prompts for a quantity. However, if the UPC doesn't have a match in the master file, it complains, "NOT ON FILE." Thus, "Sku check," is called. "This isn't on our master file, come tell us what to do with this."

It's also the catch all for when we need help with, well, anything. No barcode to scan? Sku Check! Need help moving something big and heavy? Sku Check! Oh dog the shelf is falling, help me! SKU CHECK! This is all fine and good, but it requires the store staff to KNOW why we're calling Sku Check.

Which bring us to Lowes. Yeah, the blue hardware store. They are notorious for not responding to sku checks. I even developed a special "Lowes voice" for them. It was loud, and got louder every time I had to say it. Once it got so loud that I, in one corner of the store, could be heard in the OPPOSITE corner of the store. No one responded to that either.

Why? Because Lowes has a special inventory crew that goes in, and NONE of them tells the regular store staff what's going on. They have no idea that Sku Check means to come as soon as possible. The Lowes inventory crew can't be with us because they have their own tasks, so we have to hope someone responds. Eventually I tried to learn enough about how their item system worked so *I* could respond to Sku Checks.

Which is better than what one counter told me he did. He was a legit bad counter, not just slow (which he was) but also inaccurate and just didn't care. Anyway, he said he would call Sku Check twice, and if no one came, drop the item on the floor and kick it under the shelf. He lost his job not long after.

Lowes also had an annoying habit of opening multiple boxes of the same thing and throwing them on the shelf. STOP THAT! You do not need 6 boxes of outlet covers open on the shelf. For one, it makes loss prevention easier because, guess what, it's easier to steal one item than entire box of items. Two: Sometimes people want to buy a whole box of those things. Three, now I have to count them because a sealed box has a set number of items in it, an open box does NOT. Don't open them until you have to, PLEASE!

Inventories are inherently destructive. We WILL destroy your store. We try not to, and the better prepped for inventory the less destruction we will cause. I used to tell my counters to try not to wreck the store any more than a customer would, and if you know what a customer can do to a store, that should scare you.

When you don't prep the store, the gloves come off. We have work to do, and we aren't going to make your store look nice, we don't get paid for that.

I was in a JC Penny. I had already done a morning job and was asked to help (and deliver some extra tablets, we were always short of them). So there was this table of stacked, long sleeved, Nike shirts. Probably 20 piles of shirts, maybe more. Now in a well prepped store, the store staff will pull the tags out so they're easy to access. I mean, I will still turn the piles over to make sure I got them all, but the pile will stay more or less sorted, you know, how a customer might leave it.

No tags were pulled. I can still do it, just pull the tag out. It's either in the collar or at the end of the sleeve (usually, there are cases). Well, they weren't in the collar, so at the end of the sleeve. So I reach in and, I can't find it. What I mean is I can FEEL it, through the clothing, but I can't get my fingers on the tag itself.

Turns out they were folded so that the tag was IN the sleeve, and that was folded up inside the shirt. In other words, the only way I can get to it, is to undo the fold. On ALL of the shirts (clothing is AQ-1, gotta scan them all). Now I kept the piles together, but that neat table I started on was a wreck when I left, and I apologized to a nearby worker, but I don't get paid to fold, I get paid to count.

Another factor is basically hiding stuff from the inventory crew. Franchise stores are often like this, especially the gas stations. As I said before, whatever they're short, they have to pay the parent company, in cash. So they have a "trick" to minimize that. They bury product, look at the numbers and then go "oh did you count this?" and pull of box of bullshit out of a shed.

This is a bad idea, they shouldn't do that. The parent company tells them not to do it. It can only lead to issues further down the line. But sometimes, they don't do it on purpose. I had one store that was coming up short. The franchisee (or was a store manager for a franchisee, I forget which, doesn't matter) looks at the numbers and we start walking through the store making sure we didn't miss anything.

Now the office area in this store is quite large, big enough to contain the cigarette cage (locked box for cigs and tobacco) and both freezers for their hot wings or whatever. I have a tag just for this room and separate tags for the freezers and cage, so to my knowledge we have counted everything in this room.

Then he opens a drawer in his desk.

Disposable razors. Half a dozen at least. Opens another drawer, more razors, another, more razors. Must have been 20 or 30 of the damn things, and it's a good chunk of money. We counted this room together, and he didn't think to mention these were in the drawers, in fact, he didn't seem to REMEMBER they were there. Now maybe he was hiding them, maybe not, but it made me paranoid at every store from then on, I would pull open drawers looking for more product.

And sometimes, things happen. Dollar Tree is a store that respects our time as counters: It knows it's full of junk and lets us treat it as such. Those giant bins at the bottom of the shelf are scan one, count them all. There were a few exceptions, namely Bibles, and flowers which were to be counted AQ-1.

This store was packed. It was in a shopping center with a K-Mart as an anchor (yeah, this was a while ago now) and so if people went to K-Mart and couldn't find what they wanted at the price they wanted, they'd swing over to the Dollar Tree. Which was fine, until the K-Mart closed. Now fewer people came to the shopping center at all, yet they kept sending the same amount of stuff to the store. So it was packed.

I was set to count the over stuffed stock room, which took a while. They did the best they could, so I don't blame them for bad prep here. Anyway, as I get near the end, the store manager comes up to me. He apologizes and tells me that he only recently took over and has just found something his predecessor had left behind.

The previous manager would get in seasonal flowers that needed to get put out. But the current flowers had packed the sections so what to do? Well they grabbed a box, dumped the old flowers in and threw that box in a closet. And did this SEVERAL times. Something like 20 times.

These are not small boxes, these are big moving boxes. So instead of me finishing the stock room and joining the sales floor crew, the sales floor crew had to come back to help me count the boxes of freaking flowers. Hidden in a closet, GAH!

Now I must rant about Dollar General.

DGs are the quintessential inventory. They have a bit of everything and represent just about everything we do. It's also where I came to loath bad prep, and understand the difference good prep can have on an inventory.

Their stock rooms are usually made of rolltainers. They're cages on wheels. Full boxes of product are placed on it and when prepped right, the specials labels are facing outward so I can scan them. Of course the distribution center doesn't do that, so the store has to. If they don't, I have to remove everything from the rolltainer. Worse, there are certain labels that I cannot scan, which we called "Pack Ones" which had to be opened and counted. Or sometimes they would miss a single box and either put the label somewhere unreachable, like inside of the stack, or behind one of the bars of the cage.

That said often the stock rooms were just full of rolltainers, to the point that we would have to stage some out on the salesfloor just to be able to get the next one out to scan. Pray to dog you sequence it right so the salesfloor crew doesn't run into them while you're working or they'll skip the 2 or 3 tags those rolltainers are blocking.

Then there's the top stock, or as some corpo dipshit called them "sky shelves." The idea is good, instead of keeping stuff in your stock room, you'd stack excess on the top most shelf of the area and restock from there, except DG doesn't stop sending shit to the store so the stock room is still, to this day, full to the brim with crap. Worse, the top stocks are now full of crap too, including bins full of candy (otherwise it falls on the floor). So it takes that much longer to count and, and. . .

Totes.

Dollar General wants many things AQ-1'd. Some of them are silly, at one point they wanted toothbrushes counted this way, for example. Packs of underwear, pillows, towels, nicknacks in their "home" section, picture frames, all books, and of course flowers. It makes SOME sense, so I won't completely knock it, but then there are totes.

Totes are technically gray, plastic shipping boxes with folding tops that the distribution center uses to send items that can't easily be stored on a rolltainer. You've probably seen them sitting on the salesfloor as the staff empties them out onto the shelves. But they can also be any bin, box or container in the store. Everything in them MUST be AQ-1'd. Yes, even that full box of candy bars someone put in there, every bar is supposed to be scanned (this never happens because we have better things to do with our lives).

DG had a problem with them for a log time, still does in some places. I've heard tell of 300 totes in one store, but I don't think I've ever seen more than a couple hundred, and that was enough honestly. One store I did had random boxes of all shapes and sizes in their stock room. One had a label as to what was supposed to be in it, and it simply said "bunch of shit" and it wasn't wrong. It was so bad that at one point the entire crew would descend on these boxes and try to knock them out early, only to be there for a couple hours before even starting the proper salesfloor.

And then there was that one store. The worst store I have ever seen and counted. I shouldn't have counted it, I should have forced a cancellation, but I was a fool, and had a fool for a boss.

Would you like to see pictures of it? Oh yeah, I still have them, it was that legendary. Keep in mind these are small due to me having to use our scanners to take them to send them to corporate, but they're clear enough. Let's start simple shall we?

There's some totes for you. This is down the hallway leading to the bathrooms. The registers are behind me as I take this picture, easily viable by anyone at the registers. That's 23 totes just here, not even in the stock room.

Those boxes are held together with hopes and dreams and stuffed to brim with toys. Random boxes like this were all over store.

Remember how I said full boxes were supposed to be on rolltainers? Well they took them off and put them on the salesfloor, without opening them.

But really, this isn't the true madness. THIS is.

The front door is at the far end of this picture. Look at the boxes. Those aren't just boxes, those are boxes whose flaps have been taped up so they could get more shit into them.

Reverse angle. See that shape in the back? That's a rounder of clothing, there's another box UNDER that we wouldn't find until the end of the count. I look at these pictures and I keep tell myself this was at about 6 am that morning, while my memory is of much later when my counters got through with them and dumped PILES of items that were to be disposed of (penny items) on the floor because where the hell else was it supposed to go?

The worst part is that those gray totes from earlier, there was an entire WALL of them in the stock room which I didn't picture because it was UNREMARKABLE!

But this pile of Christmas stuff is. BTW, if you need Christmas wrapping paper or lights in the middle of summer, ask the local Dollar General. The manager especially, odds are good they've got some in their stock room they'd love to get rid of. But this was just stupid.

The point of all this? We remember the bad stores. We will TALK about the bad stores. We will tell other stores in the same company about the bad stores. It doesn't just effect YOUR inventory, but every inventory. The affected crews will be tired and cranky. We will dread returning to your store, and pass warnings to other offices. It will hang around your next like a stone for a long time.

I think it took them another year after this to put a hard cap on tote count. If it was crossed, the inventory would be canceled, no questions asked. To their credit, most stores managed to cut down on this mess and near the end there were maybe 50 totes in a store, if that.

Good prep, though, is the greatest thing. A very different Dollar General, with the same layout as this one, had what I call "perfect" prep. The stock room was empty, like straight up empty, no totes, no rolltainers. The shelves were heavy but organized. The crew ripped through the store so fast we had to wait for the audits to catch up at the end. A 4 hour day for a store that should take at least 6. Prep the store right, and the inventory goes smooth as butter and fast as lighting. We don't forget those stores either.

There, I think I spent all my ranting energy finally. It's out of my head now. I feel better.

Wait.

No, there's something else. One last thing. See, there is one client, one company, one chain of stores that I hate for all the right, and all the inventory reasons. One store that is basically a living nightmare, and one that I must talk about specially. So next time, that story.

[chayscribbles-archive]

   ↳ the in-between extra content  - IBIP unit 2-6

UNIT CHIEF: Piotrowski, Jeremy

ASSIGNED AGENTS (AS OF 2019-11-03):

Reese, Veronica

Humphrey, Joshua

Ellis, Andrew

Arroyo, Theodore

Fox, Brittany

more info below

Agent name: Veronica Reese

DOB: April 14th, 1985

Joined: March 27th, 2017

Relevant past experience: firefighter

Notes: displays strong problem solving and leadership skills.

Agent name : Joshua Humphrey

DOB: June 13th, 1985

Joined: May 14th, 2017

Relevant past experience: police officer

Notes: excellent marksman. occasionally displays lack of discipline.

Agent name : Andrew Ellis

DOB: December 8th, 1987

Joined: November 17th, 2017

Relevant past experience: M. Sc. Physics; athlete

Notes: excellent scores on final training exam (theory). displays mastery handling IBIP equipment.

Agent name: Theodore Arroyo

DOB: September 6th, 1992

Joined: October 3rd, 2018

Relevant past experience: N/A

Notes: excellent scores on final training exams (practical and theoretical). very promising recruit despite young age and lack of relevant past experience.

Agent name: Brittany Fox

DOB: November 9th, 1990

Joined: July 17th, 2019

Position: Field Agent

Relevant past experience: athlete; personal trainer

Notes: excellent practical physical skills, but overly dependent on teammates when accomplishing basics tasks.

Ditzy’s notes: some of these agents are more relevant than others. you might recognize a few names i’ve mentioned here before. 😉

[learn more about the IBIP here]

[read the in-between intro post here]

[girl-next-door-writes]

This Evening Has Been So Very Nice

Characters: Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: A sudden emergency has you and Steven standing out in the cold, and in that chilly evening air Steven has a moment of clarity.

Word Count: 1029 words

Prompt: #9: A didn’t put on enough layers when they went outside, so B lends them their coat

“You know, you don’t have to be here, right?” Steven looked at you with a mixture of guilt and gratefulness. The two of you had supposed to be going for something to eat, but Donna had dumped a last minute stock take on him and now the two of you were in the store room, surrounded by boxes, scanning barcodes.

“I don’t mind. Besides, it will be quicker if there’s two of us doing it. Plus, there’s the added bonus that I get to stare at you across a crowded store room and you have no clue because you’re too busy concentrating on scanning boxes of sarcophagus shaped jelly sweets.” You grinned and it instantly put his mind at ease. You obviously wanted to spend time with him, even when that meant doing something as spectacularly boring as the task at hand.

The strip lighting overhead flickered slightly and Steven frowned, the thought of suddenly being plunged into darkness did not appeal to him, but then he realised he would be with you in the darkness and maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. His cheeks flushed a little at the thought and he tried to hold back his smile. The two of you had held hands, and you had pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek that one time after your coffee date, but Steven wondered if the darkness would make him braver, brave enough to pull you close and hold you the way he really wanted to. Brave enough to whisper how you made him feel, how he was fairly certain he had fallen completely in love with you. Brave enough to cup your face and press his lips to yours. He let out a soft, dreamy sigh before he caught himself in that daydream and glanced over to check you hadn’t caught him.

He might never be brave, might always let people walk all over him like Donna does, and he may never be the hero you rightly deserve but he could be someone who could do the little things. He could take care of you in the small ways, and maybe that would be enough. Hopefully that would be enough as he wasn’t sure he could offer you anything more than that. Steven wasn’t really a fighter, definitely more of a lover, at least in theory. In truth, he didn’t have much experience of either.

His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill shriek of the fire alarm piercing the quiet and sending a jolt of panic through his body, his fight or flight reactions kicking in. Grabbing his coat from the stool beside him, he hurried over to you and took your hand, pulling you towards the nearest fire exit and out into the cold evening. His heart was pounding, his eyes wide as he scanned the area for any indication of what had happened, of where the danger might be.

“I bet it’s those damned kids who were trying to climb on the dinosaurs.” One of his colleagues was grumbling nearby as people began to join you at the assembly point.

“Can’t go back in until we’ve been cleared by the fire department.”

“It’s bloody freezing.”

“If this is someone’s idea of a joke then it’s not bloody funny.”

Sirens blared as two fire engines pulled up and a host of hunky hero types jumped out, heading into the building to ensure everyone was safe. The kind of man Steven knew he could never be.

“Sorry about this.” He turned to you and frowned, suddenly realising that you were shivering. He’d been in such a rush to get you out of there that he hadn’t thought about grabbing your coat and now you were standing in the below zero air in just a few thin layers, the air from your lips coming out in bursts of steam.

Immediately, without even a second thought, Steven was shrugging off his coat and wrapping it over your shoulders, pulling up the hood to try and preserve whatever body heat you had. Pulling your hand through the sleeves, he began to rub his hands over yours to warm them up as the guilt once again began to gnaw at him.

“Steven.” He stopped his movements as he looked up at you with soft, apologetic eyes. “You’re going to freeze!”

“Nah, I’m fine. You need to warm up more than I do.”

“Maybe we could share?” There was an enigmatic smile playing on your lips that he couldn’t quite decipher and his brow furrowed as he tried to follow your trail of thought.

“What? Like you take a sleeve and I take the other? I’m not sure that’ll work, love.”

“No, Steven. Come here. If you wrap your arms around my waist then I can wrap the coat around you too. It won’t go all the way round so your back will be cold, but it’ll be better than nothing.”

His brain stopped for what felt like an eternity. You wanted him to be that close to you? You were asking him to press his entire body against yours? He blinked slowly and the world came back into focus, you standing there looking up at him nervously.

Slowly, he moved into your personal space, tentatively slipping his arms around you. As you pulled the coat around him he could feel the warmth of your body and he ducked his head to hide his nervous smile. He could feel your breath against his neck and Steven wondered if he could find an excuse to hold you like this more often. You seemed to fit against him perfectly, as if that was where you belonged, as if you were made to be right there.

In that moment, standing out in the cold with the other evacuees, Steven believed that maybe you didn’t need him to save you, that just maybe he was enough. The great love stories of history were always filled with such drama, but perhaps that wasn’t how it really should be. Perhaps, the greatest love stories were the ones where two people shared a coat on the damp pavement while they hoped a museum wasn’t burning to the ground.

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 2

Previous // Next

CW: bbu, dehumanisation, institutionalized slavery, it/its pronouns, ableism, blood mention

Taglist: @honey-is-mesi

Rowan paced in the front entryway of his apartment. Each footstep was a dull hammer alongside his racing heart. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he had put a wad of cash into the hands of the WRU saleswoman and hastily signed the contract. Less than twenty-four hours since he had bought a human being. 

He swore he was going to be sick. 

Sure, the Pet Liberation Front had rescuers rehome some cases that had the possibility for rehabilitation. It had attorneys that worked to free certain cases from their WRU contracts, as rare as a victory could be. But those were people who had prepared, taken courses with PLF volunteers on how to reintegrate and rehabilitate, and had already set up comforting spaces in their homes. All Rowan had the chance to do the night before was push the furniture out of his office and set up a futon with blankets. He’d browsed some of the PLF’s rehabilitation materials over breakfast that morning, and knew he was woefully underprepared. 

I have no idea what I’m doing, he lamented as his pacing took him across the short hallway again. 

Before another thought could cross his mind, the doorbell rang. 

He swung the door open without a second thought and immediately felt woozy as he glanced at the box on his doorstep. It was so impossibly small, he couldn’t imagine how the boy had contorted his limbs to fit. 

“Sign here,” the gruff delivery driver requested as he shoved a clipboard into Rowan’s hands. Rowan complied, scrawling on the ledger, and then suddenly he was alone. Just him and the box - no, the boy - alone in his kitchen. 

He knelt down and started to undo the latches, moving slowly so they didn’t make much sound. As he undid the last one he remembered that talking sometimes had a soothing effect on victims, so he muttered his way through attempted placations. 

“Uh, hey there. I'm Rowan, and I just want to let you know it’s gonna be alright. I’m going to get you out of this box and everything will be fine, yeah? Alright. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

---

Someone is speaking, Pet thought as it pressed its ear to the lid of the box. The vibrations were unmistakable, but the words were lost. Another dull hum below the endless ringing. At least the speaker wasn’t angry. It knew what the sound of angry voices felt like - harsh, deep rumbling, the kind it felt in its chest. 

Pet also knew what the box meant. Handler had told it so, said it was going to a new Master, that it had to behave or would be thrown out. So it had climbed into the box, a space as tight as it was comfortably safe, and thought about being good. It thought about really trying to listen, listen so good, try and push down the ringing and pay attention to what Master wanted. 

Light streamed in through a crack before the lid was heaved off. Pet took a deep breath, ignored the cramping in its shoulders, and scrambled to get to the floor. In half a moment its knees hit hard wood and Pet knelt reverently. Forehead to the floor, inches from Master’s feet, arms to its side. Perfect posture, heavy breathing. Waiting, straining for a command. Aching for one.

---

“Shit.”

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen a million times before. The open subservience, the proof that the pet understood the dynamic between the owner and the owned. But now it was happening in his home, on his kitchen floor. If someone were to scan the barcode tattooed on the boy’s neck, Rowan’s personal information would come up. Ownership. Responsibility. 

His breath caught in his throat before he was able to speak up again. This was everything he had spent years fighting against.

“Uhm, hey, don’t do that.” Wait, no, he shouldn’t have phrased it like that, not like a command. A suggestion or question would have been more appropriate, that’s what the manual had said. He tried again.

“You don’t have to kneel here if you don’t want to. It’s alright.”

Still, the boy didn’t move. Rowan saw that the thin body was shaking, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the chill of being naked or from fear. Perhaps it was a bit of both. 

---

Pet knew that Master was speaking. It could make out the faint rumbling of a voice, not yelling, just talking. Perhaps it was a command. Pet couldn’t tell. 

Kneeling was safe. Staying there motionless, in position, was better than taking an action it wasn’t supposed to take. If a blow came across its back, Pet would know then that it needed to move, do something.

A new Master terrified Pet. It had only ever had two Masters before, but it couldn’t remember the first one very much. That had been a very long time ago, but Pet thought it could remember that Master being very nice. Then there was its last Master, and that Master was when things started to get hard for Pet. 

Master had liked Pet to be quiet, and if Pet wasn’t quiet, it got punished. Pet learned to be so very quiet so very fast, because Master would box its ears until it couldn’t see straight. The ringing had started with Master, too. Soft at first, but louder and louder the more Pet was punished. 

Now that it was with a new Master, Pet was confused at why the ringing stayed. It had thought the ringing was punishment from its last Master, to teach it to listen better. 

Maybe Pet is still being punished. Maybe Pet was so bad that it can never hear Master’s commands again.

---

Somehow the trembling form on Rowan’s kitchen floor began to shake even harder. 

What did I say? Was it something I didn’t say? Fuck, I can hardly cook dinner for myself some nights, what was I thinking in rescuing a whole person?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He squatted down on the floor and hovered a hand over the boy’s shoulder, marked with faint scars, and paused. No, he shouldn’t touch him, not yet. Not without permission. 

Getting closer made the collar around the boy’s neck all the more pronounced. It was securely fastened close to the skin, a silver ring protruding from the front of the thick leather band. The sleek black was the highest quality standard issue, but Rowan was more concerned about getting it off than pondering its workmanship.

“I’m going to take this off of you now, yeah? Then I can show you your room. It’s not much, but it’ll be yours, just yours. Would you like that?”

---

The mumbling of speech was quieter now, and Pet couldn’t tell what was happening. Not knowing was terrifying. Not knowing meant it was likely going to be punished for disobedience again. It wanted so desperately to be obedient, but it couldn’t, not if it couldn’t hear the commands it was given. 

Hands brushed against its neck and it bit back a whimper. Was it going to be choked now? Strangled until it clawed for air, its face burning hot with the need for a breath? Perhaps Master was going to yank its hair, drag it to its crate, deposit it there like the worthless piece of garbage it was.

It braced itself, careful not to make a sound. It tried to still its body as much as possible as the fingers found their way to its collar, breathe deep, remember its training. Be still, be quiet. Be oh so still, be oh so quiet. Being still and quiet was safe. It was good. Pet wanted to be good. 

When new Master’s fingers loosened the collar until it fell away, Pet whimpered in spite of itself. Why would Master take away its collar so soon? 

Maybe it hadn’t earned it yet. Maybe Master saw the collar as something Pet needed to earn first, to prove it was worthy to wear. It remembered training, before it had a collar. It had to earn a collar then too, and there was nothing but pain before the collar was secure around his neck. Only then, when it was good enough, did it experience relief.

Master was safe. Having an owner was safe. Master was good, and Pet wanted to be good for Master. That was how everything should be. 

No matter how hard it tried to bite them back, tears started to well in Pet’s eyes.

[rouiyan]

𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ part of the 2020 home for the holidays collective ⧐

synopsis: jeno decides that, this time around, he would rather risk heartbreak than love you in silence for seven more years.

✧ lee jeno x (fem.) reader) ✧ childhood best friends to loverz, next door neighbor au, (mentioned college au)

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slight comedy ✧ word count : 19.3k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, underage swearing (?), shirtless jeno, legal alcohol consumption

✧ author’s note — i am unsure as to why you would spend your christmas reading this heckin long fic, but in the case that you do, i hope that you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. it’s longest fic i’ve written thus far (though only by a hundred or so words) so happy reading <3 and i’ll see you around :D

jeno’s glad his mom’s asked him to go to the grocery store, a two minute walk away, to grab some eggs, a tub of sugar-free yogurt, and a breath of fresh air—the most welcome change of pace to his stuffy bedroom or the dust of the stale garage. he thinks he's the first of his high school graduating class to arrive back in town for the winter but it’s here at the store that jeno sees you for the first time in years. his hand, the right one, clutching an empty basket goes limp and he's two steps away from being fully unconcealed by the far end of the dairy aisle. surely, he must look like a creep with only his head peeping out.

it's been years. your hair is now a faded silvery brown, presumably dyed, and gathered into a messy ponytail. the ends of your hair fight with the hood of your sweatshirt, a distilled blue and loose fitting atop a pair of gray sweats. and the basket, looped upon your left elbow, is as empty as his own but you're overturning a can of condensed milk in your other hand, eyes scrutinizing the packaging for the expiration date, the later the better.

he would go and say hi, maybe even strike up a conversation, ask you how you’ve been, but he can’t bring himself to because he’s wearing that one bright green shirt from his seventh grade math competition that is certainly not up to your liking nor preference. really, it’s not that he thinks you'd judge him, knowing you, you’d probably get a good laugh from it and move on, but things have changed since then.

you are no longer the girl he walked to middle school with everyday in the mornings, in the afternoons. and jeno is no longer the boy that was the same height as you; the glasses are long gone and so is the thirteen year old boy who'd cried at his mom for telling him he'd have to go to a different high school than you. things are different and things have changed.

it was all this, paired with the gut feeling that if he went up to you, shirt stretched out like a muscle tee, he’d simply be cowering in your presence. jeno had not the faintest idea you’d be returning this winter since the last three years were spent without (and the four before, though that was only because he lacked the guts to ring the doorbell three houses down). he sticks his head back before you notice him. rerouting, he goes for a stroll in the chips aisle and then right back to the dairy after he sees the slightest indication of your sweatpant cuffs rounding the corner. 

jeno catches his breath there. he gets the goods and makes a beeline for the cash register, keeping his head down and nearly toppling into the display tower of canned corn along the way. the lovely granny at the register, with a nametag labeled 'poppy' on her pink cardigan, is kind enough to check up on his tattered state as she squints at the barcode to scan the yogurt, "young man, are you alright? you're panting awfully hard there."

he only realizes he's spaced out when she repeats with added concern, "sir? do you need some water or-"

"oh, no- i- no, thank you. i'm-" he clears his throat, a plastered smile to aid in his response, "i'm quite alright, thank you." she gives a faltering smile back, one meant to assure, as she discloses his total, "that'll be seven dollars and forty-eight cents." the items are bagged and handed over to him with a receipt. he's in the midst of giving the kind lady a nod in thanks, in the midst of turning and heading in the direction of the exit, in the midst of taking that first step to freedom, the land of no pressures, when he hears your voice from behind, "jeno? is that you?" 

well, shit. he swallows thickly. conscious of his every move, he turns deliberately, the plastic bag hanging, swinging to hit his knee and a hand coming up to the scruff of his neck. he turns to see you next in line, smiling and approaching him with paced steps. only, in his mind, it seems as if you are charging towards him at full speed. although conscious of his every move, jeno unconsciously takes a step back. "y- yeah, that's me."

you beam at the words, setting the basket on your hip as you empty the items onto the checkout conveyor belt. "gosh, i knew it!" he sees your favorite gummy worms, a pack of those flamin' hot cheeto fries which are admittedly too spicy for you to handle, both in the mix of what seems to be baking ingredients. dusting your hands off with two definitive swipes, you fist them and set them on your hips, an adorable pose if he were to be honest. hand falling to his side, jeno watches as a corner of your lip lifts into an emerging grin, "so, how have you been?"

he almost coughs as his words tumble their way into air, "i've been well, home for break, you know, from college and stuff." huh, he thinks, not a bad start.

apparently not because you giggle in turn, "well, obviously." the way you gesticulate your hands with each spoken word strikes familiarity within him. "you don't have to be so vague, jen, we were best friends at one point, remember?" the hand is back at his neck as if it never left, the nickname you had used making him squeak, "yeah, of course i remember." jeno watches as you stare for an awfully long time (two seconds) at his shirt. he knows you're just a thought away from commenting on it when dear mrs. pops clears her throat, a half-apologetic smile on her face, "your total will be sixty-four dollars and twelve cents." your eyes go wide, "oh shit- i mean, oh no!" you feel odd swearing around an elderly though you're really only muttering to yourself, "did i buy that much stuff?"

for some odd reason that he's unable to pinpoint just yet, jeno perks up at that and, seemingly involuntarily, offers, "i got you." he slips his wallet back out, eyeing the twenty dollar bill clutched in your hand. jeno holds out a fifty to mrs. poppy and she takes it before you can protest. you protest anyways, "jeno, wait- no, you don't need to- i could just take some stuff out, you know." he merely nods along, a small smile edging upwards on his lips. mrs. poppy hands you the change and your bagged items and you shove the bills towards jeno who, though no longer needed, is just standing there. he refuses with a shake of his head and hand in tandem, leading the way to the exit but before the two of you make it two steps, mrs. poppy smiles wide before mumbling, most likely meant to herself but discernible to your ears anyways, "looks like someone has a crush on you, dearie."

jeno's heart speeds erratically, again for reasons he has yet to comprehend, and his head snaps to make sure you hadn't heard what he'd just heard. eyes wide upon realizing you had, his head snaps back into place to avoid your teasing gaze. jeno utters a curt, "see you around," the second he's out the automated doors and speed walks to his car, the contents of the plastic bag jostling with each ushered step. 

the door to his pristine condition '93 chevrolet vette, his baby, shuts behind him. the grocery bag is set in the passenger's seat, mindlessly. jeno starts up the engine but stays put. he can see you across the parking lot, trying to find the keys to your hyundai kona, the white one that's now a certified gray. he chuckles.

he chuckles at the fact that it's been years upon years and you still have yet to fail to put a smile on his face. he chuckles at the fact that it's been years and your cheery, snarky persona has not changed one bit. he chuckles at the fact that he stills finds every aspect of you effortlessly charming, for so many and no reasons all at once. he chuckles at the fact that he still, still feels the need to impress you every chance he gets. perhaps, things haven't changed all that much.

"i'm home!"

shuffling off your shoes, you hear snippets of your mom's voice coming from the living room. a hand on the doorframe, you push yourself up, only to realize that she isn't even talking to you. rather, and upon entering the room, she's on the phone, unaware of your entrance and exclaiming into the jabbed speaker as she crochets a baby blue piece into existence. stepping into her line of vision, you give her a small smile in return to her nod of acknowledgement before moving on into the kitchen.

you've only just finished up with storing the flour into the pantry when you notice your mom has followed you into the kitchen as well, phone supposedly hung up. she sets her elbows, leaning, onto the counter as she watches you put away the baking goods. there's a glint in her eyes that you're wary of. sure enough, "guess what?"

"mom, i'm not interested in going on another blind date. not after what happened last time with that son of your cowork-"

"no, no, nothing like that," and though her words contradict what you thought was to be another stood up date, you're still on edge for the glint in her eyes has anything but subsided, "i was just going to inform you that mrs. lee's son is back in town."

your eye roll reverts itself halfway. crossing the room, you lean opposite of her on the counter. "you mean jeno?" she nods in slight confoundment. "yeah, i just saw him." your mother leans a little further and her voice comes out bordering a whisper though no one is around to hear but you and there's nothing scandalous to what she's saying, "mrs. lee tells me he's almost six feet tall! is that true?" you lean forward as well, not in interest, but in actuality to grab at the nutmeg extract. "pfft, as if. i'd say five eleven at best."

the humor in your eyes is enough to get your mom to defend her trusted source, "oh, i bet he's getting there." you shake your head, "he's twenty-one mom, i doubt he's still growing." turning your back on her to prop open the spice rack, her voice mumbles along, "you never know…" she relents and moves onwards to the next topic in line, eyes eager, "so, did you get to talk to him?" 

she's busying herself with tying up the plastic bags for later use as trash can liners when you turn back around, "i did but i mean, it was short," you gesture to the rest of the food you've yet to put away, "but he did pay for most of this." her face is drawn in teasing and she's about to comment on 'how sweet of him that was' when she realizes what you'd just said. "why? did you not have enough money?"

"no, i only brought a twent-"

she hits you lightly with a tied bag before sticking it in the compartment under the sink with a huff, "how dumb can you be to only bring twenty dollars to a grocery store? especially with all that junk food you always buy." now that's the motherly nagging you're more used to. but the teasing comes back soon after when you're upon exiting the kitchen in favor of changing out your clothes. "why don't i make some food for them so you have an excuse to pay him a visit?"

you very clearly remember your mother's propositions of your wedding all those years ago, after you'd gotten your first boyfriend. she didn't even really like him but it was enough that you did. she'd sworn her preparations were all neat and ready when you'd sat her down to tell her that you'd broken up with him. turning on your heel, your mother's eyes expectant, you give her a knowing shake of your head, a warning for ever since that first boyfriend, you'd refused to tell her a thing about your love life, a torturous prospect for her and just the right thing to ward off any of her coming interventions.

as for her incessant questions that were still sure to come, you supply her with this, "i'm sure he'll come visit us first!"

and in some way, you're right.

head and hands on the wheel, you let out the shakiest of breaths, and another and another until the air before you is laden thick with heat. you release the knuckle-white grip that held the wheel, the pads of your finger an angry red. sighing, you let yourself fall back in the seat with your sights set on the blinking red light under the speedometer, your ears ringing at the blaring alarm. another sigh escapes your lips, vaguely resembling a shudder, as you jerk the keys from the ignition. the red light and the alarm cease and you exit your car.

jeno nearly crashes as he turns the corner onto his street. he didn't expect to see you so soon after the horrid scene at the grocery store the other day, the other day being yesterday. he slows the car as he approaches your driveway, rolls down the window of the opposite seat and ducks, only to see you, hands fisted and on your hips, a similar stance to the one he'd seen yesterday; he blushes unknowingly. 

the purr of a nearing car sounds from behind and you whip around to catch the red finish of his vette as it comes to a stop along the sidewalk. tucking a lip under teeth, you cross the length of your driveway to meet the boy in the car. the crease in your brow unsettles him. he clears his throat, "hi, y/n. fancy seeing you around here."

"jeno, i live three houses down from you."

he's not in that green shirt anymore, thank goodness, and he'd prepared for this exact scenario with a slightly more put together outfit. the outfit consisting of a hoodie and sweatpants with his socks and sandals. but now that he thinks about it, he still feels slightly underprepared, "that's right…," he does his best to not sound unintelligent, "what happened there?"

"ahh," fisted hands are back on your hips and a war is brewing within him, fighting to keep his composure. you look back at your car, which looks fine to the eye, "apparently i have a flat tire and i-"

"were you driving when it happened?" jeno gets out of his car as he speaks, questions shooting like rapidfire, "was it on the freeway? how bad is it- wait no, are you injured?"

jeno and his furrowed brows are fast advancing on you and you take a step back in surprise but under the guise of moving back towards your car. genuinely, you weren't quite sure why you hadn't thought of jeno being a 'car person,' especially when that's exactly what his car tells of him. "i don't really know but the alarm went off right before i got off the freeway so nothing serious happened." the two of you tread down the side of your house, back up the driveway. "which one is it- oh, i see." jeno bends down the side of the rear left wheel, a solid smack and squeeze applied and he looks up and back at you, "a nail probably, you got a spare?"

you nod, "i'm pretty sure." crossing your legs you cock an eyebrow at him, at your suspicions. there's something about you being right about all your little inklings because he confirms them almost instantaneously, "i can fix it up for you then," a smile eases onto his face as yours perks up, "really? i mean you really don't have to, i can just go get it-"

"how are you gonna get the car to the shop then?"

and that's how jeno finds himself hauling the car jack from his garage, to yours while you cradle the tools needed in both hands, trailing behind him. he gets to work with the wheel cover as you maneuver around your own garage for the spare and when you find it, you sigh. sighs, seem to be very plentiful, maybe a preferred form of communication this one day. "jen," you wedge yourself back to the driveway between your mom's car and the built-in cabinets. jeno's eyes are focused upon the lug nuts but his eyebrows are raised in expectancy.

"gosh, i'm sorry, but it's- the spare's kinda heavy...do you mind? you know…" you feel bad for asking, almost reluctant but with a wave in the general direction of your hands, he gets it well enough, "oh, it's no problem. i'm here to help you anyways." jeno retrieves the tire with a smile on his face.

you stand off to the side and watch as he raises the back end of the car (seven inches, he said), removes the loosened lug nuts, pulls off the flattened tire, and pushes the spare into place. you give remarks and ask questions once and awhile, all of which must seem pretty dumb to him though he answers each one with a smile and a reassurance to make sure you've understood. tightening the bolt, replacing the tire cover, and lowering the car is done within minutes and he's left rubbing his sullied hands on the towel hung upon his shoulder.

jeno stands and looks over at you. the little complacent smile you've put to show tells a lot about how bothersome you feel in the moment. "you don't have to feel bad, y/n. i offered."

you nod as he packs up his things, blindly handing over the wrench and uttering a thank you in your daze. heading inside, you note that the heater is on and that the window next to the door offers a view of the busying boy. you watch as he leaves and you watch as he comes back again to drive his car up into his garage. 

there's something about your inclinations that you can't shake. either the fact that you haven't been home in three years is really getting to you, maybe you're just horny, or whatever is brewing in that head of yours is telling you that first loves stick with you even when they're gone, even when you've been given reasons to get over them, and even when you really are over them.

but when they're there, when he's there, in all his glory, there's only so much you can refuse.

thirteen-year-old donghyuck is a mean little shit, that we all know, and when he eventually pieces one and one together to make two, he's bound to act on it.

especially when one is the fact that you've been skipping out at lunch for "group project" reasons for the past two months and the other one is that jeno has also been skipping out at lunch for "club meeting" reasons, also for the past two months. he's dumbfounded at the fact that it's taken him this long to track the two of you down and he almost wants to laugh at the situation at hand. 

donghyuck guesses the slats of the bleachers block him out of your view, but he's certainly in the perfect spot to see the both of you, under the bleachers sitting atop jeno's jacket, meaning that there was barely a space in between you and him. his pride would have been hurt, after all his newest revelation comes in the discovery of his two best friends leaving him with jaemin and renjun during lunchtimes, also his best friends but he grumbles at the thought of being left with those two (one being a flirty little shit and the other an annoying little shit, not all that different from himself; you'd think he'd tone down his mean-ness after witnessing, firsthand, renjun's mirror antics).

a hand of yours is flipping through the pages of a textbook while the other holds a subway sandwich, at which he observes jeno to steal bites from every time you look away towards the book. the scene sprawls into a mess as you begin to notice when jeno tugs particularly hard at the string of cheese that's been pulled far too long. the boy gets a flick on the forehead and an impish smile forms; he almost looks elated to be caught by you. 

before he even knows it, donghyuck's onto something, and much more than something he can simply tease you about, oh no, this is the real deal. he reroutes his mind to the image he'd retired from—ducking his head back under the cover of the bush—to the image of you and jeno, smiley, giddy, and secluded from everyone else. the image of jeno and the little giggles he gives as red blossoms on his forehead from where you'd flicked him. and the image of you and your suppressed smile as you try to retain your thinly-veiled frustrations from him. this is it, his friends are falling in love. he's convinced and he also has now appointed himself as the wingman, the cupid in disguise.

the thing is, we're talking about donghyuck (mean little shit) here, not jaemin. so when jeno waltzes into his shared sixth period class, spewing some apparent nonsense of how his club meeting went, (perhaps something that you and him had mutually and meticulously coordinated), donghyuck sits him down in the seat next to him and leans in for a whisper, "i'm gonna ask out y/n today, what do you think?" 

jeno doesn't respond, he doesn't even seem to have remotely heard him. or if he did, he must've suddenly underwent a malfunction of sorts because the boy is quite literally just sitting there, staring listlessly at the empty beaker and the lab tools in front of him.

"jeno? are you hearing me?"

lee jeno, instead of feeling a sudden urge to race donghyuck to the finish line, to confess to you before he does, rather feels defeated, deflated, discouraged. donghyuck is a terrible judge of his character for he pushes on, "do you think i should do it right after school today or tomorrow?"

he gulps and while his eyes are still deep in rumination, his mouth is already squeaking the worries have come to haunt him in the last thirty seconds, "you like her?" donghyuck's eyes glint with mischief that the heavens wish jeno hadn't missed though fair enough, they think, because his thoughts are all over the place as donghyuck goes on to respond, "yeah, i've liked her for awhile now," sounds familiar," been wanting to tell her for the longest time," me too, "and i've been kinda scared to," well i'm scared shitless, "but i think i'm ready now," i'm not. 

"i think you should go for it," jeno deadpans, eyes still trained on the glass, 500 mL beaker that is very interesting.

donghyuck nearly jumps out of his seat, "wait what?!" 

"yeah, you should jus- why're you so surprised- no, why are you even asking me?" jeno finds it much easier to play the role of a supportive friend rather than a jealous rival. he thinks it was rather dumb of him to assume that he was the only one going after you all these months and that he could take his sweet time in confessing and growing your relationship. at least, that's usually how his classroom daydreams go. 

but at the same time, they only go that way because though it really has been a few long months, jeno knows that he's still a long way from making his sentiments known to you. he's a reliable kind of guy, who's reliance is often built upon trust. and while the little folder in his mind of all the possible telltale signs that you like him back has been steadily growing, he needs to know definitively for really, thirteen-year-old jeno lacks the courage. even more so now that his best friend, donghyuck, displays the exact courage he needs to confess. jeno figures that his folder must be gargantuan in comparison.

donghyuck doesn't confess to you, not at all, but he makes a show of rushing out the class right when the clock strikes three, leaving jeno to collapse into himself in utter despair. shoulders hunched over, he counts the minutes until he deems it safe to leave. his chair scrapes the floor with a resounding squeak as he stands up, the chemistry classroom now empty. running his fingers through his hair, he makes sure he doesn't cross paths with you as he navigates for the exit, purposely avoiding the area of the campus with your locker and last class. 

jeno makes it home with a heavy heart, far heavier than what could be the doing of any simple crush. stupid of him to think it a simple crush when the tug of his heart squelches and sqirms like there's no tomorrow, but it's only years after that he realizes the ache in his heart was the payoff of his first love.

he'll admit that he's never asked what actually happened that day, a part of him was terrified to even imagine the prospects of you and donghyuck being a thing. and even if that wasn't the case, he wasn't keen to risk it in the first place. 

so jeno cries on the night his mother bore him the news that he'd be transferring schools. he'd have friends there, sure, jaemin had made the same decision and chenle was to follow in the year after. he'd have the opportunity to make new friends, to start fresh as a high school student but the biggest problem he faced was that there would be no you.

no you to greet in the hallways two minutes before class as you rushed your books into your backpack, slamming your locker shut in a frenzy with your elbow. no you to catch dozing off in history, math, english, and probably all the other classes he didn't but wished he shared with you. no you to sneak off with during lunch, far from your noisy (and nosy) friends and a hair's distance apart from each other. no you to stare at when class gets a little too boring, to share an eraser with, to brush fingers with, to steal bites of a sandwich from.

jeno cries because he'll never get the chance to ask you to prom, he's quite sure you'd never want to attend another school's. he cries because he doubts he'll have the fortitude to text you on a daily, to text you at all, to keep in touch. he cries because in his eyes, the dwindling remainders of your relationship are coming to a close.

one day or another, it'll come to him that it was because of those very thoughts that they actually do.

"oh no, no you definitely planned for this to happen."

"did not!"

"so you're telling me that having me go three houses down to ask the boy that you just so happen to think is cute and the same age as your daughter to go tree shopping with me because you can't carry a tree and dad just so happens to be at work right when you desperately need the tree-" your rambling ceases abruptly as you struggle to find the correct structure of your question that, for emphasis purposes, had derailed itself, "...is all just happenstance?"

"yes," your mother has the straightest look on her face. you're sure she's having a hard time keeping it that way. "unbelievable." she keeps the straight face pretty well and the staring contest you're currently participating in with the snowman candle behind her is futile and broken as you grumble, "fine." your mother has the gall to lift her face into a smile almost immediately upon hearing that.

in all honesty, your reflection in the mirror looks pretty damn good. after spending the few of your days back home in tracksuits and large tees—a minimum effort outfit—dressing up a tad bit for today was certainly not a bad idea, your favorite green corduroy coat making its appearance in the december cold.

the same reflection can be seen in the glass of jeno's front door, the door that swings open right as you're about to ring the doorbell for the third time. his mother is the one who answers and she seems a great deal surprised. "y/n! oh wow, you've grown quite a bit since i last saw you."

you giggle with her, partially out of incredulity because of course you've grown, the last time you really saw her was at your middle school graduation. "it's nice to see you, mrs. lee." she opens the door wide, the smile on her face beaming just as wide, "i assume you're here to see jeno. let's see," the door shuts behind you, "he should be over in the garage," and she leads the way through the house, the layout teeming with renewed familiarity. 

"the garage is just down there, sweetie," pointing at the door far down the hall, to the left, "tell me if you guys need anything, okay?"

"will do," you give her a warm smile as she treads off.

pushing at the handle, you think first that jeno isn't there at all but then there's the sounds of metal clanking and his legs that are situated outwards from under one end of his car. in a fear to startle him with your presence, you decide upon a clearing of your throat and a small but sure, "jeno, it's me," to which he responds with a surprised grunt and the further clanking of his tools.

there's the squeaking of his mechanic's creeper before he draws himself straight before you. you nearly give a double take because, well because he's without a shirt, he's shirtless, he's half naked. however you want to put it, it's the dead of winter and he's standing there with his toned chest bare and glinting with sweat while the two of you furiously blush without even looking at each other.

"y/n," his voice comes out strained, "wha- what are you here for?" jeno fusses around hurriedly for a shirt, any shirt, any article of clothing, any piece of fabric. the shirt he eventually finds is almost enough to get him to put it back down but he's desperate. your eyes glimpse across his body once again, and entirely on accident, before he slips the bright green material over his head, your own head snapping in the other direction.

the two of you stand diagonally in opposition to each other, seemingly speaking to no one in particular, "i'm- i came to ask if you'd want to go christmas tree shopping with me? since i don't think i'd be able to by myself…?" you turn towards him, the tension in the air somewhat subsiding, the difference a mere shirt could make.

he stance is awfully rigid as he responds, "yeah, no yeah i can definitely go with you. right now though?"

"if it's not too much to ask of you then yes, right now."

"oh okay, i can do that, i jus-" jeno catches your line of vision dip down to his shirt, he squirms under your gaze, "-i, do you mind waiting for a bit while i get washed up?" eyes flitting back up to meet his, you nod fervently, "fine by me."

the shower runs in the background of your thoughts as you swing your legs off the side of jeno's bed, the same bed he had all those years ago that's sill littered with random pencil marks and stickers on the headboard. the walls adorn large prints of cars, none of which you can identify but you're intrigued nonetheless by how well his childhood room entwines his whole lifespan together. there's mvp trophies on the bookshelf just opposite of you and if you squint, you can see the fine print that spells 'lee jeno, 2015 varsity swim mvp.' a certificate on the wall titles his participation in some algebra competition, a few ribbons to demonstrate his scientific achievements, and a little under where those are pinned into the wall is a framed and familiar picture you haven't seen in a long while.

it's the five of you, eighth grade graduation, with mark behind the camera and chenle and jisung far off in the background. jeno's in the dead center with one arm draped around donghyuck and the other around you, though you're noticing for the first time how the arm around donghyuck falls limp while the arm around you is held tight. gears are turning and shifting in your mind but before you can come to any sort of conclusion on what that could possibly denote, the door to the bathroom on your left is held open.

jeno's dressed fittingly, you think, for christmas tree shopping that is. the green of his sweater matches the green of your jacket and jeno makes sure to comment on that as he reverses his car out of the driveway even though his choice in clothing was deliberately made to match your own. he catches a glimpse of your car in your own respective driveway on the way out the street and at that, he already has another conversation queued and in mind.

"you took your car to the shop, right?"

you find that your eyes dry out if you face them forward for too long, the heat blasting from the front is doing its job well enough. you don't complain though, jeno's just making sure it's not too cold in the car. "yeah, i went this morning. was also going to get it washed but my mom had other plans."

"other plans being making you go buy the tree, i'm guessing."

you click your tongue, "exactly."

silence hangs between the two of you as he veers into the freeway entrance, mulling over what to say next. bring two seven years disconnected best friends together and you'd think there'd be more to talk about but today must be an exception, the only other words exchanged being the following.

"you know, i could wash it for you."

"i've already asked you for too many favors."

"i mean," jeno gives a smile to the side, "you could help."

a smile of your own forms as you muse on, "i could."

"tomorrow?"

"tomorrow."

jeno pulls into a makeshift parking space for the vast christmas tree lot you've decided to buy from this year, your usual having moved further out of town disappointingly. although with all things considered, you doubt there's much of a difference between the trees that are leftover for the few days before christmas and as suspected, the selection isn't all that impressive.

your town and neighboring seemed to have taken a liking towards fraser firs this year, no surprise in that, which leaves the dilapidating alternatives of douglas and noble firs, both of which would be fine if one wasn't prone to browning in a week and the other wasn't so tall. jeno holds up the last of the trees up and you do your routine inspection by viewing it from three feet away to seven, and ten. the boy scrunches his nose as you give a shake of your head, "too full, how are we even gonna decorate it?" and he sets it back against the fencing with a huff, "now what?"

"now, we…," you're unsure as well, eyes roving across the farm to give any candidate of tree a second chance. that's when you're hit with a revelation, well two revelations. rather sardonically, the wilting pines of the trees lead you to the first of your revelations; you're quite literally standing in a tree graveyard and if you were to go so far as to compare it to a graveyard in itself, there comes the thought that you've came with the purpose of buying a poor, dead tree to take it home and prop it back up as if it were alive, dressing it and decorating it, only to throw it to the curb a few weeks later. funny how all your life that seemed perfectly rational.

but christmas is a tradition, and traditions don't necessarily have to die even though they're faulted from the start, certainly not if you can help it.

jeno gives an eensy yelp as in a sudden flurry, you take the sleeve of his sweater between two fingers and drag him down and through the aisles of decaying trees to find the very thing that'd ignite your little light bulb. he's dawdling behind you, best he can, as your steps quicken and stop almost as abruptly before a sizeable army of potted christmas trees, smaller but also more alive than the usual lot. "how's this then?"

"i'm on board," jeno's beside you now and ever-so-aware that your fingers are still gripping his sweater. it doesn't stop there, however, because now your hands are enveloping his arm in its entirety and you're speaking softly, "of course you are, you're not even needed anymore," the words coming close to his ears from the proximity you've set. they don't warrant a blush by any means and for certain, the reason he's blushing aren't the words, it's you.

you leave his side as you release your hold on his arm, though it seems as if he's the only one who notices. a few steps away, you crouch in front of one that suits your likings to a T. you barely notice jeno's presence behind you, reading off the tag and muttering to yourself, "sustainable, affordable, replantable, eco-friendly, a natural scent, convenient...oh boy, i think we get it." upon further observation you decide that this one's the one—the green is vibrant to the tips and it's just full enough that the pines poke out in all the directions needed to support a modest amount of tinsel. "jeno, i think this is it-"

really, you really really had no idea that he was right there, head right above your shoulder. if you had known, you wouldn't have turned your head in the first place, much less allowed your lips to brush his, however brief. evidently flustered, the two of you snap your sights back ahead, at the same time, with both your hearts beating at the same, turbulent pace. you bring a hand up to your lips, partially in shock and partially in the thought that you basically just kissed lee jeno.

"sorry about that, i didn't think you'd turn…"

even when he's speaking, you don't dare look over at him. but in comparison to the tempestuous replays you're imagining, jeno's thoughts rumble a deeper current than anything he's felt all winter break.

the pot of the chosen tree rests against his hip as he stands a little off to the side to let you pay. he watches you keenly and uses the opportunity to scrutinize what exactly about you makes him feel that one way. as of the late, he finds that none of his emotions are describable and it's frustrating to say the least when all he knows is that the cause of his inner turmoil is you. you and your little sniggers whenever his clumsy side acts out too much for his liking, you and your undeniable affection for all things sweet and all things spicy, and you and your fisted hands on your squared hips, a fighting stance perhaps, a ready-to-throw-hands stance most definitely.

but finally, he gives his feelings a name when he witnesses in the rear view mirror, you and the little smile that creases your eyes, lifts your cheeks, bares your teeth, as you strap in the potted plant to the back seat, giving it a gentle pat as if it were your own child. he names it 'the long lost crush, the one that got away, the second season of his middle school one-sided affair, the-'

"are we...gonna go?" 

jeno jumps in his seat, "huh? oh." hand on the gear stick, he avoids your gaze fervently and pulls out of the spot. there's a shift in the air, at least from his end, and he thinks it has something to do with how he's come to terms with the fact that he likes you, again. is he surprised? no. why not?

because he knows this much, the longer you're by his side, the less it can be helped. he remembers every night in high school when, even in the time the two of you'd stopped talking, he'd stare lethargically at his ceiling before he went to sleep and imagine you by his side. he remembers another handful of nights in college when, long after he'd thought he was well over you, he still found himself rethinking your smile and refiling that folder of his. time carried on, and though he didn't necessarily have a heartbreak for it to heal, it wouldn't have mattered anyways because in his case, time could never heal. not for him and not in the face of you.

so jeno laughs along with you when he trips over your front steps, he sets both hands on the doorframe and leans in ever so slightly to say his goodbyes, and when the door shuts behind him, he takes a good look back over his shoulder anyways, hoping that you'd pop your head at the window, that you'd catch his lingering gaze. jeno's steps are resolute because he's not thirteen anymore. it's no longer about whether you like him back or not, it's about dealing with the fact that he likes you. and if his coping mechanisms come in the form of pushing his bounds as just a friend, flirting an obscene amount, and perhaps even confessing, then so be it.

jeno decides that, this time around, he would rather risk heartbreak than love you in silence for seven more years.

propping a knee, you catch the back end of the trash bin before it can thud on the pavement beneath you. a huff and a grunt are uttered into the air as you push it against the fenced side of your house, to the curb. you slide it against the elevated sidewalk, down onto the road, and it gives a resounding thump as it hits the ground. you dust off your hands and pivot to retrieve the last one and upon setting that one down in the spot adjacent to the previous, in the corner of your eye is perceived a figure.

born of instinct, you almost rush back into the house, a case of kidnap tends to loom when you're a young adult female taking out the trash in the dead of night. but another glance is given and the silhouette draws familiar notion, broad shoulders and especial proportions, not to mention the bright green you catch in the light of his porch lamp. it's jeno, and a hand of his clamps over his nose as the other thrusts a plastic bag into the black bin. and it's when he turns to retreat into his residence that his eyes catch you as well and he jumps a bit, recollects himself, waves, and watches as you wave back in the hopes that he could maybe approach you. 

instead, he finds that you're the one approaching him and that somehow makes it all the more nerve-wracking as he rushes to meet you in the middle. even a simple, "hi," from you makes his cheeks grow warm. he's breathless when he speaks, and not because of the brisk actions he undertook prior, "hey there." 

"are we still on for tomorrow?"

jeno's mouth parts as he retraces his memory to extract what exactly was planned for tomorrow. "ahh, yeah i can do tomorrow...morning?" you clasp your hands behind your back as you nod along, "morning it is then." your lips quirk to the side as you place your gaze on anything but him, to pass time, perhaps to make the silence a little more bearable. jeno's voice is so low the next he speaks, it almost spooks you out of your wits, "have you met up with any of the boys yet?"

his eyes keep their track on you as you take a few steps to the edge of the curb, lowering yourself atop it, "well, i hung out with hyuck the other day," you motion for him to sit beside you and he follows suit, "and i think he mentioned wanting to do some reunion thing at his house. i don't know, i'll have to ask." jeno stirs in his thoughts for the time being. hyuck. though he'd kept in touch with the boy after middle school and a bit after high school, even his name brings up a shitload of memories. "have you?"

"huh?" his eyes whirl to meet yours, "oh. for me, mostly just jaem, and renjun too the other day."

conversation seems to flow intermittently between you two, ongoing or nonexistent at all, for another lapse of silence is thrown into the mix. the air is certainly not governed by awkwardness, jeno feels that the time you've spent with him in the last few days guarantees at least that. but it's also laden with a sort of tension you can't quite place, a territory you're unwilling to traverse into. you move past your thoughts and voice only a sliver of them aloud, suppositionally, "if- if we do meet up, like all of us, do you think it'll be weird?"

"weird how?"

"weird as in…well, a lot's changed, since we were thirteen, and we haven't been in a room together all at once, since we were thirteen."

"i don't know. i think," he shrugs, "i think we'll be fine, me and you at least." jeno likes saying 'we' when it pertains to you and him. he mumbles it over a few times, under his breath, and though it's not entirely out of your earshot, you're far too busy taking long and zoned-out glances at him to notice. that in itself is something he surely notices.

undoubtedly, you must not be the only person in the world to think that jeno grew up well. lee jeno is kind, kind enough to grant you all the favors you've asked of him. lee jeno is warm, you feel he emanates warmth even by simply sitting by his side. lee jeno is sincere, his smiles beam of genuinity and his words are coated in truth. and in the spotty moonlight, flitting in between the boughs of the tree just above, lee jeno is good looking, chiseled jaw, pretty lips, those eyes. but more than that, he lives up to his good looks. you can only wish you'd been there to see him grow up, to grow up with him.

"jen?"

"yes?"

you tap your toes alternatingly on the scratchy pavement, your eyes and his as well are trained on them. licking your lips, you take your gaze from your feet to his side profile and your breath hitches before you speak, "what...what happened to us?"

jeno reverts his eyes onto your own, "what do you mean?" now you're staring right at each other which is usually how any conversation should be, but conversations between you and him seem to always be an exception. fiddling with your fingers, you trace your sights back down to your feet, "you said that we'd keep in touch. well, we both said that."

in truth, as much as the distance that divided the two of you could be denoted from his seemingly unrequited feelings for you, there was much less of a romantic touch in what happened for the most part. for the most part, things panned out as they usually do when two people, once close and once sworn to never not be close, end up being separated by the one thing that brought them close in the first place. that is not to say that your friendship with jeno had no value outside of school and school-related things but really, school was the one thing that made it so you saw the boy day in and day out, shared with him an intimacy that could only be reached with that basis of interaction. more than any derivative of feelings that could drive the two of you apart, your friendship was split by the common ground idea that people come and go. perhaps it was fate that wielded the sorts, perhaps it was merely meant to be. and if you were to chalk it up to fate, you could say that meeting jeno again, like this, was fate as well.

but jeno here, twenty-one-year-old jeno as opposed to thirteen-year-old jeno, would like to come clean with his feelings. at least his feelings of way back when, because this turn of the conversation had churned a past within him that he had yet to be willing to unearth; that is, until now as he susurrates, "because i liked you." jeno feels his eyes gloss over involuntarily, "and with the whole high school transfer and everything, it just kinda all fell apart." 

he looks to the other side, as naturally as he can, but there's the unmistakable shuffle of feet from behind him and when he turns back around, sure enough, you've inched closer than his current mental state can handle. you watch as jeno blinks, his eyes lain upon your lap, and a tear proceeds to trace its merry way down his cheek. you catch it with the sleeve of your sweatshirt but even after he's cried through his emotions, your hand stays there, cupping his cheek. 

the tips of your fingers protrude from the fabric of the sleeve and they, your thumb in particular, swipe across the heights of his cheeks and the bags under his eyes. your own eyes are soft on his, soft in knowing and in understanding because, "well if it offers you any comfort, i liked you too."

jeno, though fresh in the surprise of revelation, feels an ease pool his mind. he takes a hand and brings it to cup the side of your face as well, mirroring your actions with an equal, loving gaze that holds the memoirs of your cherished past. a past that no longer tugs at his mind, begging for his attention, that no longer muddles his afflictions between what is new and what is old, and a past that he can now move on from, with renewed finality.

you break the exchange with a breathy laugh. a smile stretches across his face. the one hand on his face turns into two and the same is applied to you sequentially. two twenty-one-year-old college students sit on the curb in front of a house that belongs to neither of them but rather lies in between their respective homes. they sit side by side, their eyes boring deeply into one another's and, with both hands clamped on the cheeks of the other, occasionally squishing to produce the silliest of expressions, they laugh and they imbue in the elation of being at peace with their entwined pasts.

when you stand first, brushing off the dust on your bottom, jeno, still sitting, catches your wrist and lets the quirk of his lips and a small, "thank you," express the lengths at which the conversation had gone in its endeavors to mend a somewhat dysfunctional relationship. but now in full functionality, jeno wonders if his feelings still persist.

and if there's one thing to tell him they do, that they're as present as ever if not more so than before, it's the way he blushes warm when you entangle his grip on your wrist into your hand, giving his palm a brief squeeze before you look down upon him with an enraptured smile of your own. he watches you take your leave and, in the blackness of night, he thinks you are the most personable being to have ever walked in his life. he thinks he wouldn't mind another seven years, though only if he was promised to have you by his side the whole while.

"you mind if i tag along?"

yeah, i mind. jeno clicks his tongue, "no."

"you sure?" hyuck edges him on, nudging his old friend with the end of the hose. jeno can only roll his eyes at that, taking the hose from him, "not like i have a choice if she brought you here in the first place." jeno, while watching you roll up the windows of your dirtied car, can't help but wonder why you had to bring this damned boy. he really thought that after such a heartfelt moment the two of you shared just the past night, you would have been more open to venturing into alone, one on one, time with him. he does his best to clip back the snarky tone that's just waiting to be let aloud whenever donghyuck speaks.

"so who do you think's gonna be third wheeling today? me or you?"

"you," jeno bleats with not a second to spare. though he's sure the boy means it all in good-natured fun, jeno's dead serious when he says, "guess we'll just have to see who prevails."

and that, oh dear, that is sure to bring out the competitive temper of the one and only lee donghyuck, winner of all games ever played. jeno knows he's perhaps just dug a hole for himself, a shovel in hand and all, because right off the bat, hyuck is off to hog all of your attention and very rarely does he fail with his witty remarks and his position as 'most recent best friend.' in fact, he's right in the middle of telling you what is sure to be the joke of the century when the idea pops into jeno's mind, a godsend. 

he turns the knob on the hose to its fullest power before trudging off to the dial, his absence going unnoticed as you laugh at whatever hyuck has just said. donghyuck's turning to see if jeno has caught yet another point he's scored when he's met with a forceful discharge of water square to his face. it's four seconds of just standing there before hyuck remembers that he has the miraculous abilities of mobility, and upon moving out of the way in a terrible coughing and choking fit, the spray of the hose lands upon you. 

jeno gives a squeal that's comparable to yours as you snatch the second hose from donghyuck's limps hands, his body now wilted rather dramatically across the hood of your car, and point it to jeno, dousing him full as you charge right at him. he doesn't move, to your liking and more because he feels bad for having just accidentally drenched you in freezing cold hose water in the dead of winter. the punishment he has willingly subjected himself to is also freezing cold, bone-chilling, and numbing to the core. but he doesn't mind it nearly as much when the gush of water hitting his chest stops and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his eyes to reveal your smiley, smiling face that looks to be having way too much fun in the face of hypothermia.

he's left kneeling when the water clears and you are as well, though while he's kneeling from the sheer force of the deluge, you're kneeling out of laughter. trudging over to your spot a little ways from him, the blades of the grass of your front lawn beneath tickling the skin of his kneecaps, jeno blithely lifts a few stray and wet strands of hair out of your face, tucks them behind your ear. your laughter subsides into gentle smile, one that erupts into giggles recurrently, and jeno has the gall to steal a look a donghyuck, who has since recovered and is now staring at the scene itself, eyebrow cocked and a tongue jutting out his cheek in a challenge he gladly takes up on.

jeno returns from inside his house with the two towels he had his mom fetch, only two because in his eyes, it's only fair that donghyuck doesn't get one. needless to say, hyuck's displeased as he watches jeno pat and dry your hair as you sit, propped atop the hood of your car. jeno isn't all that surprised when his own towel gets stolen from his shoulder and the boy also props himself onto the hood, next to you. funnily enough, jeno's now the one who's displeased because you've taken the towel from donghyuck's hands and instead of using it to dry the damp ends of his own hair, like it was intended to be, you turn slightly and echo jeno's actions, but instead on hyuck.

and while jeno's nose scrunches in a distaste that only hyuck catches, his eyes seemingly everywhere all at once, you turn a tad bit further to the side to reach the back ends of hyuck's head of hair. jeno complains as your own head moves a little too far for his positioning and a hand leaves the towel to move you back into place. that meaning his left hand holds solid on your right thigh. that also meaning the sudden halt of your actions, jeno's too, as donghyuck simply stares, observes, analyzes, comes to a realization, and smirks.

jeno also comes to a realization that his hand is still, still on your thigh, shown in how his hand snaps back into the oblivion and beyond, and how the tips of his ears are exceedingly quick to flush a cherry red. his thoughts of just yesterday, 'get the girl!,' are now very much diminished as his stare fixates on the ground and the ground only, even as you ask for him to move a little to the right so you could slide off the hood, even as hyuck excuses himself to the guest bathroom, though his hand is quick to fish out his phone before he even enters the house. jeno's eyes are unmoving, even as time resumes around him, and even though he understands how crazed he must look in your eyes. he understands, but that's about it because it's nothing that can be helped. 

you quirk a brow at the boy, eyes a flood of worry, and with those same eyes on him, lee jeno, in the middle of winter, begins to sweat. it starts at the palms, a sticky, tacky feeling but then he feels it creep at the back of his neck, coming in the form of a shiver of nerves. and although those two remain unnoticed, you bring a hand to his wrist to catch his attention because the beads of sweat forming along his temple have caught yours. "jeno, are you okay? you seem to be…" 

jeno lifts his gaze from the floor, a feat no doubt, and brings his eyes to yours. there are many things he notes. one, the worry in your eyes irks him, he despises even more that he's the cause of it, however silly. two, your hand remains at his wrist, unsure in the lightness of touch but assured in how it stays put nonetheless. three, your lips, they're very pretty; an observation that he's always been aware of, but when your face is only a rough seven inches from his own, the observations become a fact, ingrained in his mind for now and forevermore whenever he so much as looks at you. though more unconscious, there's a four. he wants to kiss you. and in a way that's quite far from the simple, accidental brush of lips he'd shared with you just the day prior. it's significantly far, a dot in the distance.

he almost goes in for it.

"do you mind if i shower at your place? it's fucking cold."

you remove your hand from his wrist, jeno's fingers twitch in longing to reach after it. with your own fingers absentmindedly toying with the cinched waistband of your sweats, you shift your weight from one foot to another. remarkably, only your top half was drenched but that in itself was sure to trail little shivers up your spine. jeno avoids your gaze, feverishly, hand coming up to the nape of his neck. he mumbles a short, "sure," before turning upon his heel, leading into the house. 

while hyuck is in the guest bathroom, you venture into the one through jeno's room which is noticeably cleaner since the last you were there. he tells you to wait there while he messes around in the bathroom, cleaning, but he leaves that detail out. one leg crossed over another, you bunch up the soaked hems of your shirt so as to not drip everywhere, standing there in apprehension and also halfway in the dark with the slatted blinds above his bed turned shut, the only source of light being the little that slips in between the slats. resolutely, you cross the room and gingerly lean a knee into the bed, reaching for the handle to twist them open. that's when you see it, slung upon the footboard of his bed.

that's also when jeno calls, voice distant and steps in a hurry as he pronounces, "i'll get you a shirt from my closet, hold up." but as he emerges from the bathroom, it seems that you have different plans. his eyes go wide as he sees the one, unfortunate garment he'd forgotten to put away this morning in your hands. yes, the bright green shirt from that one seventh grade math competition, with the now faded and very corny geometry joke proudly displayed on the front. it's that one that his mom asks him all the time why he never throws it out even though it's been years. he almost lets it show how he sulks into himself because they're his pajamas, and for a reason that he knows that you know and, to him at least, it's all the more embarrassing when you know. there's a lot of almosts today because jeno almost shits himself at the thing you say next.

"can i wear this one instead?"

the shy glint in your eyes and the light smile that glosses over your expression are all he needs to say, "sure," it comes out nonchalant but jeno is freaking the fuck out internally. you asking to wear that specific shirt suddenly made all the embarrassment garnered from it seem significantly less embarrassing. 

he sits on the edge of his bed as the sounds of the shower going skirts his thoughts. feet kicking up and down, back and forth down the side, jeno sighs with his bottom lip tucked under his front teeth. he's directly opposite and in line with the one picture on the wall he couldn't dare put away in his prior and precautionary cleaning in the case that you would come over once again. the edges of the photo are frayed with time and brash handling, seen even in its frame, but if anything, the memory of it is intact as ever. 

jeno thinks of all the things that would have gone differently, had he confessed to you that day as he planned he would. graduation day it was, and it was cloudy and on the verge of raining but his spirits weren't dampened in the slightest, clapping the loudest as you crossed the stage to shake hands with the principal, head awkwardly facing the crowd as your father had implored you to do so for his picture. his spirits were far dampened when you returned to your seat, a row ahead and a few down from where he was himself, mouthing a, "stop it," in annoyance as he mimicked your ungainly actions from just before. he felt that his spirits could never be dampened as he returned to his own seat, looking over in your direction automatically as you posed a thumbs up and another mouthing, this time an, "i'm proud of you," before getting caught by a passing supervisor and being forced to turn back around with a huff.

jeno remembers his spirits plummeting as he sat with you under the bleachers, for the last time, half his body situated on his jacket and the other on the scratchy grass. he didn't mind it as long as you were fully atop it yourself. despite what his quick wikiHow search on 'how to confess your love to someone,' there was no surge of confidence, not one stroke of it within him. he gave small smiles to your animated talking and the bare minimum of responses when prompted. and when you'd fished your phone out of your back pocket at the sound of a ping to see your mom texting you to go back to the field for pictures, he took your helping hand as he stood but even then, he couldn't dare be bold enough to keep your hand in his. with an arm set loosely across the back of donghyuck's shoulder and the other across yours, he made sure to hold you tight by his side, for fear and acceptance that this would be the last time he would have you there, by his side.

but as his gaze is pulled away from the picture, instinctively towards the sound of the door being propped open, jeno's reminded that, for now, you're all for his taking as long as he's up for the challenge. he watches as you linger by the door for a second, lip tucked under teeth yourself as you contemplate your next steps, next words. and as jeno watches, the shirt hanging tight on his figure but loose on yours, he can't help but think that this time around, he's in it to win it.

forms clutched in your left hand, all of them filled out in your neat, pencilled handwriting, you tap your toes impatiently. the line that you were currently in, placing at about the middle, was long and not at all to your liking. against your best wishes, your parents really had the gall to sign you up for this; you have foolproof evidence that math is your weakest subject, the foolproof evidence being a years and years accumulated stack of report cards. they claimed it was for you to get some extra practice and you'd countered that the annual math competition at your middle school was only really for the people in the advanced math placement, which you were most certainly not. you were still forced to go, though you declined the offer to buy the gaudy green shirt, but you were also right in saying that because none of the people in the line, at least of those in front of you, were from your class. you look towards the back end of the line to check the same so that you could provide extra evidence to your conviction, not that you were going to really need it after you took the test but you would like something to pair with your lacking results when rubbing it in to your dad later.

at first glance, there's no one really that you can spot but then you look at the person directly behind you and what you don't expect is it to be that one kid that is indeed in your class, your low level math class. he's quite the sight and you wonder why he didn't catch your eye earlier with his hair sticking up in all directions as he frightfully balances on one leg, his other hiked up and being used as a makeshift table. upon closer inspection, the paper he's furiously writing upon looks to be akin to your filled out form, only it's not filled out at all.

twelve-year-old jeno feels your gaze on him, and though he's verily preoccupied with writing, he's much more intrigued by your interest in him. head snapping up in a sudden movement and snarky in his greeting, "got something to say?" and it reminds you a little too much of hyuck to simply let it pass, "yes, i do." no, you actually don't so the empty pause you leave is in search of anything relevant. when you do happen upon something, your continuation is in equal snarkiness, "your hair's a mess."

at that, he stands up straight and you note how at the age of twelve, the boy is annoyingly taller than you, "shoot, really?" a hand rushes to pat down the straight strands in a hurry. a mild surprise lines your countenance at how the snarkiness ends there, watching as he furthers his comments, "i was in a rush this morning, that's probably why," and when you, again, have nothing to add, he goes to say, "renjun told me about this competition and i just had to do it."

now it's confusion that can be seen in your bewildered stare, you only knew about this since your mom is pta (parent teacher association) president; the competition, though advertised as open to all seventh graders, was only really promoted to the higher level math students, namely renjun and his lot. the kid, whose name you place to be jeno, friend of renjun's who's a friend of hyuck's, is now expectant in a response from you, less the conversations take a turn for the worse. you provide something short but enough to compose your inquiries, "why? who would want to do this?"

a part of you already knows. lee jeno, though you know little of him, sits at the front of your math class and never forgets to bring his glasses to school. a pencil is almost always in his hand when he raises it to ask a question at least ten times per lecture which is also the only reason you actually know of him because unlike him, you don't pay much attention at all in math class. jeno raises his eyebrows and replies as if his reasoning was common knowledge, "well i thought it'd be fun!"

"fun?"

"yeah!"

"fun how?"

jeno's standing complacently but his hands are making vague motions, "because you know…," a hands comes to the nape of his neck and he whispers as if his utterances were frowned upon for a lower level math student. to you they are indeed. "i like math."

"yeah no shit, you're the only one who participates in math." his eyes widen at your profanity, head snapping to see if anyone had heard. upon realizing something else, he motions for you to move forward, neither of you had noticed the line had started progressing onwards. 

jeno's still on edge, eyes peering side to side to make sure no teacher had passed while you spat such a vulgar word, "shhh, what if someone hears you?!" a coy smile creases your eyes, you decide that you're certainly very fond of this boy, or at least you're very fond of teasing him. "then how about...damn?" jeno's startled. "ass?" jeno looks like he's on the verge of shitting his pants. thus you go on, "another shit?" the twelve-year-old's mouth drops wide open, "y/n-"

"asshole, dickhead, son of a bitch, mother fucker, your mom's puss-"

he's rushing right up to you and before you can proceed, jeno's hand is clamped tight over your mouth. "y/n, that's-" and as if he weren't already a close seven inches away from you, he leans in further and you swear his lips graze the side of your cheek as he whispers, "y/n, that's illegal," and suddenly and in your eyes, the humble, wide-eyed boy that you'd only thought to tease of has you floored with his gaze locked on yours, breath fanning across your skin. he looks good, even at twelve years, lee jeno is easy on the eyes.

you gulp, push him off, and turn back around to the line that'd moved up four people since the last you'd moved, leaving jeno to stand there, hands limp by his side and in complete neglectance of his still half-filled out form. it takes thirty or so seconds for him to move up in the line as well, the mutters from the people lagging behind him also going unnoticed. and when he does notice, taking a few steps forward and once again hiking his leg up to be used as a viable writing surface, it's only after he spent those same thirty seconds spaced out in aftershock of why he did that, or rather, where the sudden surge of confidence came from that had him in the position in the first place. perhaps that's the first time that jeno ever thinks of you a little differently, only because there's something about you makes it so he does things a little differently, makes it so he can't simply act normally around you.

and perhaps you've also undergone the same predicaments because you pay extra attention when the test is handed out, and the way your brows pull together with your eyes trained on the paper tells a lot about those normally divergent acts. you're the last to turn it in, even after the bookish jeno, and when he takes a glance at you across the room as he returns to his seat, a little smile creeps its way upon his lips.

the same smile is there when you plop down next to him in math class the following monday, right at the front of whiteboard, and there goes the tug of his heartstrings when you lean over, eyes in wonderment, to ask him a thing or two about hypotenuses or some of the sort which he more than happily obliges. jeno beams when you hold him back after class to show him your score on the unit final he'd tutored you for and he beams the year after that when the two of you both climb the ranks into the prestigious advanced level placement. 

for many reasons, jeno proved to be a blessing in your life. your parents loved him specifically for the studiousness he instilled within you, something neither of you have ever pointed out but are in mutual understanding of. jeno was by your side through your traumatic first post-breakup stage, the douche of a boyfriend, or rather another twelve-year-old boy, had dumped your ass after two and a half days. jeno was the one who coughed into your ear during that one fateful game of telephone, the one played on the bus to the museum field trip; he'd defeated, and i mean absolutely crushed, donghyuck in a game of rock, paper, scissors to win the spot next to you, still a feat he considers one of his many prides to this day. jeno was the one who picked at your food, but also magically produced his own to share whenever you were without a lunch. 

lee jeno was the epitome of right person, right time, and even though the same sentiments weren't carried all the way through, were interrupted, displaced, all the things he gave you, left for you, they stayed.

lee jeno remembers the day he met you with keen lucidity. he remembers all the days after that in a chorus of feelings that swept him in the most unintelligible way, after all, who expects to fall so deeply in love at the age of twelve. at twelve you'd think the thing you'd be most worried about would be having fun before high school, occasionally grades, or maybe even the changing appearances that come with puberty and puberty in itself. for a good chunk of it, jeno thought that his feelings could be explained by puberty but it proved especially ignorant of him to think the same in high school when his feelings that persisted were only sustained by the mere memory of you. 

maybe it wasn't from day one, by no means was it love at first sight, second sight, or even third or fourth or fifth, but it was the succession of some inevitable process, the day you met through the day you graduated. to finish a thought, maybe lee jeno could have claimed spot as your boyfriend of seven years, had he not yielded in the face of profession. perhaps, you would have broken up already, the simple outcomes of distance and the natural order of relationships. would he have let you go? or would it have been you to call it off?

it's unfortunate that he'll never know, no matter how much he wonders, but of all the things he's sure of in the moment, it's that your laugh is the prettiest thing known to man, known to him. your feet dangle a significant amount over the edge of his bed, stark from his own toes that are stagnant and grazing the floor. he doesn't look over at you and his mumbles say enough of why, "i'm not kidding, y/n- don't laugh at me! i'm being serious, you really do."

"really now, you're telling me that i look good in your old pajamas. as if it weren't just to tease me."

"really!" his voice hits a pitch higher and he clears his throat, a scrunch of his nose at your laugh follows and denotes much regret in how he accidentally spoke his thoughts aloud in the first place. you really can't tell but he's trying his best to get in a few compliments, he'd heard that girls like flattery (he didn't hear, per se, he'd seen it somewhere online—read: wikiHow). "you look far better in it than i ever would." 

with his hands on either side of him, jeno pushes himself upwards the bed, lowers his back upon the sheets, and folds his hands across his stomach. he didn't expect as such but you do the same. it's now that his heart sees it fit to speed its pace, only because of that one pesky thought that's infiltrated his mindset. you're in bed with him after all, and though it's nothing close to what would be considered crossing the line as two friends, the thought itself is enough to ignite a fervid warmth through his cheeks. his eyes are rigid on the ceiling when you speak, "do you even remember where this is from?" they itch to look over at you but he's afraid it'll be too obvious then; his plan is to woo you, not to make a fool of himself.

jeno senses the sheets stir from beside him and he can only guess what position you've assumed, and hopefully not the one where you're facing him while his everything is still aligned straight ahead. he hopes it's not because if it were, he'd be missing out on one of those *romantic moments* that he so wishes to achieve. jeno's inability to think straight, about positioning, hinders his ability to respond, something that's only brought to his attention when you perk up again, "jeno? did you hear me?"

jolted, his eyes instinctively snap to yours in the sense that yes, now he's facing you and yes, he sees that you're facing him also. there seems to be a little something lodged in his throat when he replies because it comes out as if his neck were a squeaky toy that'd just been stepped upon. "of course," he clears his throat with a grunt, "that math competition, seventh grade." jeno concludes that that something in his throat must be his heart because he can quite literally hear its beating in his ears and feel its thrum through his organs. he licks his lips and sits in silence, save the thumps of his heart, as his eyes trace to your own lips, not seven inches away.

"that's...that's when it all started," you muse, a hand coming up to brush a hair from your face and hitting jeno's chest on its way, as if just to remind him of how close you are. "i mean, for me that is."

pushing his rather uncivilized thoughts from his mind, jeno gives a, "what do you mean?" before dutifully returning to glancing at your lips. if you notice, you don't comment upon it, choosing rather to answer promptly, "i think that's when i started to like you." he gulps and says just about the same, "me too." jeno's nerves think they are just about ready for whatever is thrown his way but not until a leg of yours moves to nudge his gently. "wow, it's like we're meant to be." his nerves, they must be on fire now and just about ready to take on the whole world in its entirety because he notes with keen incredulity that your use of 'we're' could indicate that you still like him, the possibilities of it being an 'are' versus a 'were' are only fifty-fifty.

"yeah…," he trails off, misses the look in your eyes, shifts to land onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. you do the same and decide that it's enough of 'testing the waters' for today. but apparently jeno thinks otherwise because just as you're moving to sit upright, he spells a slither of his heart out for you, "you're my first love, you know."

jeno would like to pride himself in the usage of 'you're,' also vague and could be taken either way. upsettingly, he lacks the know-how to understand that what this situation needs right now is certainty to topple over the tension and teetering statements. he's a bit too used to hiding behind the veil of 'what ifs' and resting atop the net of safety to realize. 

blinking up at the ceiling, you rustle to sit up once again, but not before donghyuck bursts through the door with an expression that sits pissed at first but melds into his signature leer as soon as he surveys the pair he's stumbled upon. "been looking for you two." jeno's shooting upright himself and all of a sudden, things are happening too fast.

there's two seconds before you're off and bounding towards hyuck as if he were your means of rescue; there's the, "what took you so long?" that slips from your mouth as if you'd been waiting for him all along instead of willingly giving jeno your time of day; there's donghyuck's phone that rests limp in his hand, by his side, but not yet clicked off because the screen gleams bright and it's showcasing jaemin's contact, a recent call most definitely; there's hyuck's response, muttered but in good humor, "i took a shit, that's why." 

and then there's the sinking feeling that sets fire within jeno. maybe even jaemin as well but it's for certain and even further confirmed when hyuck's smirk makes its way to meet jeno's benumbed expression, his eyes locking with sickening devilry and the traces of a challenge. donghyuck knows. and though he's sure to take it upon himself to get the two of you together for once and for all, jeno knows far better, with experience in hand, that though his friend's sentiments are in support, his chances fair much higher when it's only him that's left to trifle with the dealings of his love life. only him, and his languishing confidence.

plucking a kernel from the carpet, you toss it into the bin over the arm of the couch. the paper towel on the same arm is used to rub off whatever dust had soiled your hand and it's returned to the bowl to rummage for another, slightly more buttered, popcorn. you wish that your mom was into those hallmark christmas movies, because in all honesty, you're quite the fan but you suppose 'rise of the guardians' ranks close enough. glancing down to the bowl in your lap for a second time, you groan upon realizing that the only reason you've been munching on the terribly unflavored popcorn was because you've already tired out the supply of the buttered ones. that enough gets you to set the bowl on the coffee table, done with snacking for the night as you pick up your two crochet hooks and get to work, your actions mirroring your mom's though she's a lot farther in her chain.

you suppose the movie is just about halfway through when you're sidetracked by how you've somehow messed up a turning chain, warranted though, as you're an amateur in the dark. it's a shame because you really would have loved to pay at least half attention to the very gorgeously animated character, jack frost, but are instead struggling. after reworking the chain a few times, you decided to give it a rest and set it aside as well. it seems that being a quitter is the overarching theme of today.

the sound of your head thudding against the back of the couch gets your mom to separate her attention as well. seeing your state, she opts to make conversation in the light that you're far from returning to the movie. it plays in the background, the only source of light in the living room. "how's the car?"

"clean." a sour mood you're in, it seems. your mom hesitates for a second before approaching a second question, "how's jeno been?"

"great. he's been great, mom." she sets down her crochet for the time being, the foot of hers that's jutting out of the blanket bouncing up and down. you doubt why you even tried to conceal your feelings with curt responses when really, you're unashamed in front of your mom. that's the sole reason why she deems it fitting to dig a little deeper, "anything you want to tell me?"

it's an, "of course," that has her crochet set in her lap for the rest of the night. you turn towards her in full, shifting your weight so that it faced her position on the armchair diagonal of the couch. sighing, you shove a tongue in consideration to the side of your cheek before pulling back the curtains a third of the way, "i think he likes me." your mother's eyes sparkle, she sets her hooks and yarn on the coffee table as well, urging you to go on with a nudge of her head. "but at the same time he doesn't?"

she nods in the processing of her thoughts, "so, mixed feelings?"

you nod along with her, "mixed feelings."

your mother never disappoints you when a situation of yours arises and she's bound to give you her advice, her very blunt, very to-the-point advice. "just ask him. i mean, if he rejects you, you're only going to have to see him for a few more weeks before you're back off to school."

and you never disappoint yourself when a situation of yours arises and you're bound to adhere to her advice, the very blunt, very to-the-point advice because as always, she's right. but then she muses on with the littlest care in the world, "or you could just mess around with him for a bit-"

"mom-"

"what's making you think i mean it in that way? did i really raise such a slu-"

"mom! oh my goodness-"

"i'm just saying," she drags on the word and you almost rush to interrupt her with another exclamation before noting her demeanor, her countenance in the dim light. you lick your lips in apprehension, vaguely reminiscent of salted butter. "i'm just saying...keep him on the hook for a little longer," her crochet reference is bad but you don't miss an opportunity to let a small smile show. it's gone the next second when she resumes with more to her thought, "really, take it slow. i doubt that he doesn't like you. i'm pretty sure he did back in middle school-"

"he told me he did, something about how i was his first love."

she's taking this a lot less seriously than you thought she would. it irks you to know why. your mother has her head propped on the palm of her hand, her weight on the arm of the couch, "then i'm pretty sure he's never had a second." your brows draw in, "why?"

"no matter how much i love you, y/n, i would never pay for your groceries, change your tires, haul your christmas tree, or wash your car after not seeing you for seven years. just think about it, seven years without contact is as good as being strangers." you watch as she pushes herself off the arm, off the chair, blanket falling aside. your mom takes your discarded bowl in her hands, her own crochet, and the tv remote before clicking the movie off. you watch her as she moves casually across the room and you hear her just before she flicks on the light. 

"it's either that he likes you or that he's jesus, your pick."

it's a christmas rule, or at lease a rule that you and your friends go by, that if christmas day is for family, then christmas eve is for friends, hence why donghyuck had so cleverly gathered everyone in his basement on the very day, or night actually. he stops you with an arm just before you descend upon the staircase, "what'd you bring?" he motions towards the plastic bag clutched in your hands, the same one that'd bagged your groceries the other day (reduce, reuse, recycle!), but it instead carries, "pumpkin pie, i've come bearing pie," and hyuck removes his arm for you to pass before holding it up again for jeno, "and you, sir?" 

"eggnog."

you turn back to see donghyuck give jeno the heartiest pat on the back, "now that sir, that's what i'm talking about." scrunching your nose in good-natured fun, you quip at that, "what's wrong with my pumpkin pie?" jeno's a step above you, hyuck on the step behind as he retorts, "nothing, it's just that jeno here remembered that we're very much legal." shrugging, you trod off down below, missing the way donghyuck holds jeno back for a second. firstly to ask, "brandy or bourbon?"

"whiskey, actually."

and secondly to ask, "so what are you waiting for?"

"huh?" jeno takes a step back up the stairs and away from the hustle and bustle of the basement where you might have lingered to hear what he thinks the conversation is steering towards. "or did you do it already?" he checks himself before jumping to conclusions, "what do you mean?"

hyuck's hand is impatient on his friend's shoulder, after all, it's been eight years and counting since he first discovered jeno's little secret, plus only a day since he rediscovered it. "did you ask her out yet?" jeno's about to disagree with him, partially out of habit, "i-" before he realizes it's for naught, "no, i haven't."

"do you perhaps, i don't know, have a time in mind?"

repositioning the gallon-sized jar in his hands, jeno's response rumbles deep and low for only him to hear, "yeah actually, i was thinking next-"

"next?!"

"what-"

"no next! you have to do it like- tonight!"

"what, why?"

hyuck isn't smirking but the look in his eyes is somewhat akin to it. "because…," it seems that he isn't up to letting his mischief spill for his answer is really quite lame, "because timing is imperative! remember what happened last time?" jeno doesn't let it get to him nearly as much as it should; his plan is foolproof and he's convinced that nothing of what haechan does should be able to catch your gaze tonight, or for the rest of nights. he leaves the boy at the stairs as he treads into the space, ready to take on step one. different plans await him as he draws nearer to the sectional, only to find that the one available seat next to you, at the far right of the couch, has been taken by jaemin.

awkwardly, jeno sets the eggnog on the table and takes the next best spot, the one next to the boy, squeezing beside renjun who gives him a glare and a scowl, "first time you see me in awhile and you decide you want to sit on me? really jen?"

jeno puts his whole heart into apologizing, "oh whoops, my bad," as he turns his body in your direction, and jaemin's, only to feel his stomach furl at how jaemin's body is also aligned with your own, effectively blocking him off. again, the awkwardness that's emitting from him is awfully discernable to renjun, watching the boy turn back around again and give him a sheepish smile, this time in actual contriteness. with step two out of reach and thwarted, he sets his sights on the eggnog. jeno's quite the simple man. his approach was simple. he was sure that simple would get him many places, unlike donghyuck's abundant and conflict-laden schemes.

his plans were simple in that, one: sit next to you, make sure that no one else sits next to you. two: talk to you, make sure that no one else talks to you. and three: ask you out, make sure that no one else asks you out. and that's how it should've gone! though it's certainly not how it's going.

jeno's left to pick up the pieces of your and jaemin's delightful conversation as the same boy reaches for the eggnog at the same time as him. retreating, he watches as jaemin fills a mug for you, then for himself. he listens as jaemin questions, "first time drinking?" pfft, even i know that.

"yeah, actually," it's because you're mom's strict. "my mom's strict."

 "oh wow, so eggnog for a first must be kinda heavy, huh."

i wish that you would start with something lighter, just in case. "i know right, i wish that i could start out with something lighter, just in case. but i don't mind." i'll mind for you. if you can't finish it, i'll finish it for you.

"if you can't finish it, i'll finish for you."

with that, jeno's off to minding his own business because na jaemin is quite literally, stealing his spot, stealing his lines and it's evident that whatever he'd planned for tonight was simply, as simple as his plan, not happening. glare and scowl set into place, akin to renjun's earlier, he fills his own mug, only up to the halfway mark because his last glimmer of hope lies in when he walks you home later in the night. hell, he regrets just thinking that he should've just asked you out on the way here.

setting the mug down, he leans back in his limited space, arms behind his head and an elbow digging into renjun's space as well. the boy is about to comment on it when donghyuck finally returns from his room with the board game of choice this one christmas eve. "since y/n's here for the first time, i've decided to go with something mild," everyone, except you, is transported into the memory of last year when the now-snapped-in-half connect four contraption had bewitched them all into a death match (at least it wasn't raining and at least it wasn't on the rooftop), "so we're going with monopoly." jeno notes the smile that makes its way to your face.

renjun from beside him groans, "monopoly's boring though, ("-because you suck at it-") why can't we just play like-"  

"i think it's a good idea," jeno announces rather suddenly, to which donghyuck rejoins, "and i asked neither of you for your opinions." he tugs off the top of the case and throws it back, "my house, my rules." although jeno wants to confront the urge to counter hyuck's sass, he doesn't because you look pleased at the game of choice, elated almost. but then there's jaemin beside you, commenting and remarking into your ear to further the little smiles you give and, change of plans, jeno decides that if he can't beat jaemin in winning your attention, he'll just have to beat him in winning monopoly. 

the fake bills in his hands stack steadily as renjun, who'd been appointed banker, hands him, two hundreds, then another fifty. but with each increasing increment of jeno's money and competitiveness, jaemin's seems to dwindle as any inverse relationship would do as such. jeno seems to have forgotten that he, na jaemin, is the self-proclaimed 'least competitive person in the world' and how that held true in most any circumstance, including the case of girls or this case of boardgames. rather than narrowing his focus on winning, jaemin catered his role in the playing of the game to comedics. and while jeno dearly loves to hear you laugh, he finds it unfortunate that you find jaemin very funny.

he thinks he's had quite the night. the two rounds of monopoly, an hour each where he'd won both times but was also unrivaled both times, the movie marathon that followed suit (though is the word 'marathon' really warranted if only one and a third were watched?), and the grand finale, eight rounds of drinking games. certainly any singular event could have ignited a spur within him but after enduring all of them, paired with the fact that he was now mildly drunk, lee jeno is, to put it simply, not having it.

jeno undoubtedly has had a drink or two more than he should have because he sways a bit when he stands. he isn't sure but somewhere in the midst of seeing jaemin's hand rest casually on your thigh (missing the way you brush it off politely) and the way he seems to exclusively talk to you and you only (though your half-hearted responses are just out of earshot), jeno came to the conclusion that drinking copious amounts of eggnog seemed the best course of action. he also comes to duly note the looks that jaemin has been sending him, periodically. it's something along the lines of a smirk without the smile, a challenge set in his brow, and a glint of smugness in the eyes. drunk jeno is having exceeding difficulties in stripping down the implication of those regards, especially when his forefront train of concentration is currently being narrowed towards not tripping up the steps.

the jar of eggnog, now empty, is left behind on the table with the cumulation of also empty mugs and extra beer cans, soju bottles. your plastic bag and the aluminum container that held the pumpkin pie are long gone as well. you track your eyes down to each step of the stairs you take because if you look up, you'd be face to face with jeno's bottom. face to butt, really.

the night had ebbed, slowly but surely, into a mess. for whatever reason, you had minimal interactions with any of your friends except for jaemin, not that jaemin wasn't your friend, just that you had hopes of a christmas eve spent with the boy you talked the least to in the course of the night. the one whose bottom has just backed into your forehead. "jen…"

he pays no mind, perhaps doesn't even hear you at all because he proceeds to stumble around for a bit, taking another step down until you're forced to do the same, else your sanity be damned. both hands on the rails on either side, you suck in a breath. "jen, get your ass out of my face." and at that, the boy seems to get a grip on himself, tossing a dumbfounded, then staggered look back at you before straightening and taking the surest steps the rest of the way up to the utility room landing where donghyuck is seen to have been holding the back door open for the better part of three minutes. jaemin is there as well, lingering to see you guys off, you specifically, and jeno finds that same look being thrown at him, except this time he's slightly sobered up. the haze that had hitherto hindered him from thinking through his thoughts with clarity had cleared. he realizes what's off.

maybe it's the flashback, episodic memory style, to donghyuck's phone displaying jaemin's contact after intruding upon the little moment you'd been sharing with him, only a day ago at that. maybe it's that paired with hyuck's, "you have to do it like- tonight!" something that he'd brushed off but also made a lot more sense when put into consideration with the fact that jaemin's looks emanated of provocations, a dare of sorts. and that in itself speaks volumes of nonsense now that jeno's remembering that jaemin is the least competitive person in the world, not only to his own standards but to everyone else's. na jaemin, jeno's other best friend, wasn't deliberately trying to steal his (soon-to-be) girl. he was rather (rather infuriatingly) trying to rile up his dear friend into asking her out. bitterly, jeno notes that it's working; he's a great deal ticked off, even more so now that he's in the know, and his plans on asking you out have indeed been sped up to tonight.

so as jeno holds an unnecessary hand out to help you up the last few steps, a hand that you take with an apprehensive smile quick to form, he makes sure to give jaemin that same look he's been receiving all night. and while jaemin holds an elbow of yours to steady you as you slip on your shoes, jeno makes sure to take both sides of your open jacket and zip it closed, tugging the garment tight to your frame. he relishes in the feeling of your eyes on him, for the first time that night, as you bid your farewells to everyone else. jeno tries to hide a smile of his own as he says his goodbyes, eyes never leaving yours. he ushers you out of the house soon enough, the door clicking shut behind him and offering him the makings of possibly the confession of the century. he paces himself beside you.

hyuck's house is only four blocks down from your own, the only reason the two of you had agreed to walk there in the first place which was a seemingly good idea, if only you had considered the fact that by the end of the gathering it would be three forty in the morning, on christmas morning. the sky is dark, the moon itself offering little light in the presence of clouds, though the air is crisp as it is cold, nipping at the exposed skin of your face and hands. you shove those same hands into the pockets of your jacket as you shuffle along the side of jeno; just being by his side seems to provide a steady stream of warmth you're unwilling to stray too far from.

it's when the two of you cross the second intersection that jeno thinks to start up the little conversation that's been playing in his head for the last six or so hours. it's also then that an idea, though rather dumb, dawns upon you. your neighborhood circles around a fairly small lot, one with only a lawn of grass and a childrens' playground to earn it the title of being a park. a corner of your lips turns itself upwards as you grasp a hand on jeno's forearm, lightly steering him, "let's go sit on the swings for a bit, how's that?" and he complies, mind rerouting the scenarios of the conversation as the circumstances fluctuate. 

the swings, a set of two, creak and groan as you kick up and back, the movement coursing the wind to whip cold across your cheeks. your hands clasp the equally frigid chains from which the seat you're on is sustained, the metal is sure to leave red streaks along the lines of your palms. jeno, who remains unmoving, merely looks on at you with a bemused and adoring gaze, his hands fisting and unfisting in his jacket pockets to retain their warmth in the case that you would be willing to hold them. a wide grin spreads across his features as he watches you dig your heels into the bark to stop, your giddy laughter quiet but perceptible to his eager ears.

with the last bit of momentum edging you on, you almost stumble off the seat. lunging forward with added force, your arms are thrown out on either side to maintain your offset balance. jeno startles at your actions as well, a hand of his own is flung out instinctively to steady you but the distance makes it so the closest he gets is your thrust out hand. he's holding your hand. and it jars him a bit because the sequence of planned events, the notecards by which he was dutifully following, are now jostled and out of order.

he's yet to let go of your hand and that's yet to leave your notice. you don't question it either but you look over just in time to see him gulp, his eyes on the ground before him. the second you revert your eyes, jeno speaks, "do you mind if i ask you something?" his hands are warm.

"go for it."

"i- i said yesterday that...that you're my first love." despite the weather, jeno can almost feel the sweat rush to his palms. he hopes it isn't noticeable and pushes on, "am i yours?"

jeno's banking on your answer to give a green or red light to follow through with all else, he'd phrased the question to deliver precisely just that. never more than now have the differences between 'were' and 'are' meant so much to him. 

he turns to see a smile light your expression as you continue to stare into the ground and when he turns back, the fruits of his efforts are bestowed upon him. "yeah, you are my first love."

the green light has been given, jeno's palms are growing clammier by the second. he stands, hand still in yours, and pads over to where you're seated, the sound of wood chips crunching beneath his steps. jeno holds out his other hand and you take it. thumb rubbing over your knuckles, you find that jeno simply stands before you. the dark shrouds the two of you entirely but you make out enough of his features to see that he's smiling, blindingly, and it's in that moment where your mother's advice falls short because in all honesty, you have no willingness to 'take it slow.' you want him fast and you want him now.

"jeno, i like you."

his thumb on your knuckles stills. jeno isn't sure if he's falling or willingly lowering himself onto his knees because that's what's happening, though he's almost positive that he's come to a dead end on controlling his bodily functions. his mind, all those thought out scenarios of how this night could possibly pan out, every plan that's been enforced and redacted, it all short circuits because he's met with the one possibility that he thought unthinkable. you've confessed to him.

"you what?" jeno's looking up at you with what you believe to be wide eyes, they're beautiful to say the least. you give a squeeze to his hands. he almost jumps in response and in his sensitive state. with another five words, "i said i like you," and it feels as if you've decked him in the head with a chair, or ran him over with a truck, flew an airplane square into his chest. he squeezes your hands back, but harder and for longer as if to convey what he cannot possibly fathom into words in the moment. so he gives it two moments, maybe three or four, before he comes to grasp his bearings with a little more certainty.

but jeno can't bear to look you in the eyes. the thought of his sweaty, clammy hands in yours enough to render him an ungainly mess. with the bark digging sharply into his knees and beckoning for his attention, he doesn't think much as he drops his head into your lap. in fact, he doesn't think at all when he mumbles, "well, i love you," in such a casual manner, it's as if he were implying, 'hah, beat that.' 

and you do. to add on to the shitload of emotions he's currently surfing atop of, you retract a hand from his hold and bring it to his head, fingers weaving in and out of his locks, back and forth on his scalp. the world of thirteen and twenty-one collide because when he looks up, you're the same, pretty, endearing middle school girl and the same enthralling, though stressed college student that he's been loving for so long—almost too long, for the length of time would have deemed incredulous and in vain had you not uttered in the second following, with your fingers laced into the curls at the foot of his head, "well, i've loved you for as long as i can remember."

jeno goes in for it.

his lips on yours, at first, are hot like fire on a cold winter night. they burn and they scald and they sear until the memory of how they meld in perfect unison with your own has seared itself into the forefront of your mind, riveted and ravaging your every thought. sequentially, the initial pang dulls in the trail it's blazed as your movements settle into the languid pace he's set, lips encasing your own repeatedly no matter how many times you part. on perhaps the seven or eighth time you've met your lips to his own, he stops, though his lips remain on yours, and he breathes, "if that's the case...," he suckles on your bottom lip but falls back before you can act on it. jeno brings a hand to the line of your jaw and traces his finger along it, tilting your head to his as they happen upon your chin. "if that's the case, then i guess i must've loved you since the beginning of time."

if christmas eve is for friends, then christmas day is for family.

and perhaps jeno can be filed under friends and family after all because when you awake on christmas morning, or rather afternoon, it's not to the knock on the door from your dad or the screeching of your mom but rather, to jeno's leg shifting atop your own.

"oops, didn't mean to wake you," is what you first hear and the sight of him, hair messy and without a shirt, is what you first see. the brightness of your room, evidence of how you'd forgotten to draw the curtains closed before going to sleep, is almost enough to get you to shut your eyes again but you don't because it's lee jeno who's in front of you, in bed with you, with his arms around you. you wonder how you even fell asleep the night before.

yawning as you speak, "how long have you been up?" he glances at your bedside table, "since nine," and you follow suit, only to see the time on your alarm clock spelling out a 1:04 PM. "shoot, did my alarm wake you?"

"it should've woken you too."

you let a chuckle out at that and he returns with a hearty laugh that reverberates through you. letting your head hit his chest, you mumble, eyes closing shut, "why didn't you just wake me up then?" jeno's glad that you're unable to see him in the position you're in because he's sure to be sporting a blush when he says, "because you're cute when you sleep."

"and so you just ogled at me for four hours?"

yet somehow, he's anything but embarrassed when he retorts, "oh believe me, i've been ogling at you for years." you look up at him once again to see that his eyes are already on you. jeno pulls you closer until your clothed chest hits his bare one. "why am i the one wearing this?" he eyes the bright green material of the shirt and shakes his head, "i thought i already told you that you look better in it."

"in this musty old green tee?"

"not just any musty old green tee. it's my most prized possession, means a whole lot to me."

a smile finds its way to your face, "then why do you wear it to sleep every night? wouldn't that like, i don't know, shorten its lifespan?" jeno only shakes his head a little more, "i wear it to sleep because i like going to sleep thinking about you, it makes me think about you."

"then do you dream about me?"

shameless as he never was before, he nods, "do you?" you shuffle your legs around with his a little more, "i don't even remember my dreams but i'm sure that if i did, they'd all be dreams of you." the smile on his face stretches wide, neither of you are sleepy anymore.

you move to get up but jeno holds you still. complying, you decide to further your interrogations, "does your mom know that you're here?"

"no, but she probably thinks i just stayed over at hyuck's or something," you hum along, figuring just about the same. "the real question is, does your mom know i'm here?" musing along, you can only imagine the look on her face when jeno trails behind you on the steps down to breakfast (overdue lunch), "no, but i'm sure she'd be more pleased than anything. she really adores you, you know."

"then she wouldn't mind it if i asked you out, no?"

good god, it's like the reciprocation of his feelings has made him out to be a whole different man. gone is the stutter-filled, wide-eyed thirteen year old boy who could not, for his life, lay out his love for the one girl he'd only ever had eyes for. in with this smooth little fucker that has you stuttering over your own words, "n-no, i don't think she would mind." and he seals the deal with a kiss, lingering his lips on your own and pulling your bodies flush.

jeno wishes that things never change, the shoulder stitch of his shirt falling far too low on your arms and far too high on his collarbones, the white paint of your car gleaming and his clothes doused with a hose or two, the eggnog drunk until words string incoherent and his ass is shoved unceremoniously into your face. jeno hopes to keep you by his side, to go grocery shopping with you instead of having to bump into you by chance, to throw out his trash and return to your house instead of his own, to feel the arm of your jacket brush against his as you walk side by side in the blackness of night, to be able to close the distance every single time because you were always seven inches too far; the prospect of you and him had been withheld for seven years too long and since the seventh grade too young. but now, with your forehead pressed to his, legs tangled in ways unimaginable, it seems that he has you all to himself for seven eternities on end, endlessly, forever, forevermore.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — it’s ree here, and i hope you enjoyed my christmas gift to you hehe <33 as the new year comes into sight, i’d like to pass on to you some of that *good energy* and say that 1) i love you, very dearly. and 2) if you ever need anything, i’m right here for you, inbox always open. with sentiments as warm as ever, i am exceedingly glad to have been able to spend the latter third of this year with you guys. much more to come, rouiyan.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

“I think you might be pregnant.”

Minor cussing and some drinking in here along with hospital, IV, and blood. This is a continuation of this fic but you don’t have to read it to understand what’s going on in this. 

January 21, 2020 8:00am 

All was quiet in the ER that morning. Or as quiet as it could be with two gunshot victims and several heart attack patients. It had been crazy since he punched in at 5:00am for his 12 hour shift. 

He threw himself into a chair and surveyed the waiting room. He was waiting for something to happen but for the moment it was temporarily calm. 

He was lost in his thoughts, thinking of the dinner that Racer had promised him, when a chart was thrown on the desk with a bang. Looking up, he saw Plums standing there with an unsettling look on her face. “You alright, Plums?” 

“Just felt off for a moment.” She pushed a smile to her face, sitting in a chair. “Hey, good job with that gunshot victim earlier. Not sure how but you got him calmed down.”

Spot grinned, thinking back to the first 30 minutes of his shift. “Got him talking about his daughter. Works like a charm.” 

“Well I appreciate it.” Kat grinned, looking at the clock before turning to her chart. 

Spot watched her. “Something’s off with you Plums. Are you doing alright?” 

“I’m fine; don’t worry about me. Jack’s got all these ideas for projects this weekend and I’m a little nervous to be honest. But I’m fine.” She waved him off, as he raised an eyebrow. 

“And is there a reason you’ve been in the bathroom like 6 times already this morning?” Spot picked up a pen and his own chart. “Is there something you wanna tell me?” 

Her eyes went wide as her hands went to her ponytail to tighten it before giving him a look. “I didn’t know you’ve added stalker to your resume.” 

“For being a doctor you’re kinda thick headed, Plums.” Spot smirked. 

She turned, giving him a confused look. “Pray tell, head nurse Spottie, tell me what I’m missing.” 

Leaning in close to her, he grinned before whispering. “I think you might be pregnant.”

She pushed back in her chair, eyes wide. “There’s no way.” 

“Come on. There’s a way. You and Jack - trust me I know more than any brother-in-law ever wants to know.” Spot gave her a look. “You’ve got all the signs - frequent trips to the bathroom, sleepiness, fatigue, need I go on?”

Kat shook her head. “I’m not pregnant, Spot. Just drop it.” 

“Just take a test. If I’m wrong, we drop it. If I’m right, we’ll celebrate.” Spot kissed her cheek. “Why are you so worked up denying this?”

She sighed, flipping the chart closed. “Just drop it. I’m off the clock. I’ll see you this weekend, love you.” 

“Love you too Kat.” He gave her a look, watching her head to the locker rooms to grab her stuff. “I’ll see you this weekend.” 

The day passed, with more runny noses and coughs that he wanted to see but it was quiet, thankfully. No major crises or issues walked through the doors. Looking at the clock he saw that it was just past noon. He was planning on escaping to the cafeteria to grab something to eat when the bay doors were thrown open and a gurney was wheeled in. 

“What do we have boys?” He caught up with them, accepting the chart they had started before looking at the patient, eyes going wide. “Kat?”

“26 year old female; husband found her fainted and lethargic. Her husband called saying she had fainted several times, hitting her head the final time.” Spot looked at the gauze on her forehead before looking over at a worried Jack. He gave him a tight smile before looking at the paramedics. 

“Let’s get her over to bed 2.” He said, pointing in the general direction.  

Stopping at the desk, he gave Isabel, another nurse, a look. “Page Dr Rush and Albert. Plums is in bed 2.”

Walking over to the bed, he was met by a few nurses and an orderly. They transferred her to the bed, letting the paramedics leave. Spot looked at Jack. “Jack, talk to me. What happened?” 

Jack kept an eye on the nurse as she started an IV, getting Kat hooked up to all of the monitors. Putting a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder, Spot looked at him. “She’s going to be okay. Now I need you to tell me what happened.”

“One minute she’s telling me what a pain in the ass you are at work today. And the next she’s falling to the ground. She was so still, Spot. She didn’t move for a minute or two while I called 9-1-1.” Jack cried as Dr Rush and Albert showed up. 

Albert looked between Jack and Spot before nodding at them. Dr Peter Rush sighed. “Didn’t we just kick you to the curb, Plums?” 

“Missed it too much. Had to come check up on all of you.” She grinned. “I’m fine you guys. It’s just a little head wound.” 

Dr Rush stepped up to the bed and looked her over. “Albert, would you take Jack to the waiting room? We’re going to do some tests and you can come back in.” 

Jack shook his head, giving Spot a pleading look. “I’ll come get you when we’re done, I promise.” 

Letting Albert guide him, Jack sighed loudly. “Love you, Kat.”

“Love you too Jack. Go I’ll be fine. Call your brother.” She gave him a look, watching him walk away before looking at the two men in front of her. “Spot don’t start. Order a full blood work panel and see what’s up. Also, just stitch me up.” 

Dr Rush chuckled. “She self diagnosed herself . . . why was I paged?” 

“Possible concussion and because she’s a stubborn little thing and I needed someone to look at her.” Spot chuckled. “Anything else?” 

Looking at Kat, Dr Rush gave her a look. “What year is it?” 

“2020.” She grinned. 

“And what day of the week is it?” He asked. 

“Tuesday.” 

“And what’s your puppy’s name?” 

Kat grinned. “Basil.” 

“I want a CT scan, I want to know why she’s fainting. I don’t think she has a concussion.” He handed her chart to Spot. “Let me know what you find out. Kat, take it easy; try to sleep some while you’re here. Let us run tests and we’ll see what’s going on.” 

Waiting until he left, Spot gave her a look before drawing blood. “Did you take a test?” 

Swatting him, she shook her head. “No but knowing you, you’re gonna run one. Put a rush on those, please?” 

“Will do. You scared Jack.” He said, flicking the test tube a bit to ensure all the bubbles were out of it before putting a barcode on it. He would deliver the blood to the lab himself. “Do you need anything?” 

She sighed, pushing herself up in the bed. “I know I scared Jack - one minute I’m complaining about you and the next I'm on the floor with his mug hovering over me. Can I have some water? Can you grab Jack?” 

“I’ll have Al bring you some water. Anything to eat? And yes, I’ll grab Jack as I head to the lab.” He promised, patting her leg. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll figure this out.”

Kat smiled, biting her lip. “I had lunch. Thank you for everything, Spot.” 

Spot patted her shoulder before giving her cheek a kiss. “Rest. I’ll send Jack and Al back here. Love you.”

“Love you to, Spot.” She smiled. “Thank you.” 

He nodded, stepping out closing the curtain behind him before heading to the waiting room. Spot quickly found Jack sitting there with Racer beside him. They both stood as he approached. “How is she?” 

“She’s good. She’s hooked up to an IV getting some fluids. We took blood work and I’ll bring it up to the lab. She’s going to be getting stitches and a CT scan and will know more in a bit.” Spot smiled at the two. “You guys can come back and sit with her if you want, until we take her up for the scan.” 

They both nodded and followed him through the maze of the ER. He stopped at the desk and grinned at Al. “Hey can you come stitch up Plums? And grab her some water.” 

“Sure. Thought you’d want to do that?” Al grinned, looking between Spot and the two behind him. 

Fishing in his scrubs pocket, he pulled out the vial of blood. “Gotta take this to the labs. I’ll meet you guys by Kat in a bit.”

Tugging on Race’s hand, he pulled him closer. “Hi love. I’m sorry it’s so chaotic but I’m glad you’re here for Jack.”

“Hi yourself.” Race grinned, leaning over and kissing him. “Go be the hero and save the day. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

With a pep in his step, Spot gave him a look before heading towards the elevator. Tapping his foot, he took a moment to inhale a deep breath before exhaling. He hoped the vial of blood would clue them in on what’s going on, though he had a pretty good feeling. 

Walking into the lab, he grinned seeing Elmer standing there. “Hey man is there any way you can rush this and run this while I wait?” 

Elmer gave Spot a look. “It’ll cost you.” 

“Whatever it takes. I just need this done. Order should be in your inbox.” Spot handed over the vial, leaning against the wall, taking out his cell phone. 

A quietness descended on the two. Spot took that time to flip through the texts he had received, most of them from Race trying to figure out what was going on with Kat. He sent Race a text to see how Kat was doing and glanced up at Elmer. “How’s your day been?”

“Busy. Y’all couldn’t have a quiet day in the ER could you?” Elmer gave him a look grinning. 

Spot chuckled. “Never. But it’s been quieter than the last few days, knock on wood.” 

Elmer laughed, shaking his head. “Glad you’re in the mayhem and I’m not. Alright, the tests will be in the patient's file by the time you get back downstairs.” 

“Thank you! I owe you.” Spot clapped his hands, heading towards the elevator, pressing the down button. 

Stepping off the elevator, he headed to the desk, pulling up Plums’ chart before reading the labs. His eyes widened at the one result, a grin pushing through his lips. Logging off the computer, he headed back to her bed. “Oh thank god you’re back.” 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking between Jack and Race who both had grins, Albert who was frozen halfway between the bed and the curtain and Kat who just looked half asleep. 

“These two are trying to convince Al to put purple or green stitches in. They think they’re funny but they’re not.” She rolled her eyes, hand flying to her head with a groan. “Can you stop them?”

Spot gave his husband and brother-in-law a look, pointing at them. “Al go check up on status for a CT, you two sit there and touch nothing.” 

Walking to a drawer, he grabbed a few things, looking at Kat. “Did he numb you up yet?”

“No. He was too busy being egged on by these two.” Kat gave him a look. “Can you assign him flu cases for the next week?” 

Spot grinned. “Shhh that’s our secret. How are you feeling?” 

“Slight headache and just tired.” She gave him a faint smile as he prepped to stitch her up. 

“Race, don't look at Kat. Keep your eyes away from her.” Spot said, glancing over his shoulder. “Just a few more Kat.” 

Snipping the thread, he threw everything just as Al came back in. “They can take her now if you’re ready.” 

“You two will have to wait in the waiting room.” Spot gave Jack and Race a look as Jack started to protest. “She’s going to be upstairs, running tests. You’ll be bored so we’ll come get you once she’s back.” 

“Is she going to have to stay overnight?” Jack asked, standing. 

Spot shrugged. “Probably not but we’ll know more after the CT scan. Don’t panic - this is routine and normal. She’s okay, Jack.” 

Kat grinned at her husband and brother as they both gave her kisses. Al and Spot transferred her upstairs, Al leaving them at radiology. “So what did my labs say?”

“You owe me.” Spot looked at her. “You’re pregnant.” 

Tears clouded her eyes, as she shook her head. “Really?” 

“Yup.” Spot nodded. “We can do an ultrasound if you want when you go back down.” 

She chuckled. “Not exactly how I wanted Jack to find out or you and Racer.” 

“But it’s kinda perfect.” Spot grinned. 

She nodded, folding her hands over her stomach. “Can we not tell Jack? I will, I just want him not to find out with the hubble babloo of the ER.” 

“Let me talk to Rush and we’ll see what we can do.” Spot grinned. “Now let’s get this CT scan done and we can get you out of here.” 

He sent a text to Rush with Kat’s request and waited in the hall until she was done. Blink quickly read the report and didn’t see anything abnormal which they expected. Pushing her back downstairs, Spot put her back in her bed before going to find Race and Jack. “She’s back in bed. I’ll have Dr Rush come in and she should be released soon.” 

“Spot, give it to me straight. Is she okay?” Jack stopped him before he started to head to the back. 

He bit his lip, looking between Race and Jack. “She’s going to be okay, Jack. Dr Rush wants to look at everything before coming to talk to you guys, okay?” 

Jack nodded, following Spot to the back. Race followed them, but held back as Jack went to see Kat. “You’re lying.” 

“Am not.” Spot gave his husband a look. “And since when do you know all medical things?”

Race grinned. “You biting your lip is a tell. You know something.”

“Even if I knew something, I couldn’t tell you because of confidentiality.” Spot gave him a look. “Besides if they want you to know, you’ll know.” 

Race’s eyes lit up. “So you do know something. Spottie . . .” 

“No, Racetrack. Go in and check on Kat.” Spot pushed him towards the curtain, giving him a pointed look. “I’ve got to get the doctor then I’ll be in. Don’t be a nuisance.” 

Spot watched him disappear behind the curtain before heading to the nurse’s station. He saw Dr Rush standing there and slided up beside him. “Did you see Kat’s labs?” 

“I was just looking at them. Now what does she want to do?” Rush looked at him, flipping through the labs. 

Spot grinned. “She doesn’t want us to tell them about the lab results. So I was thinking we tell them she was dehydrated and she needs to push fluids for the next couple of hours.” 

Dr Rush nodded, motioning him towards Kat’s curtain. Spot walked behind him, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

They stepped in and all eyes turned to them. “We have your results. Looks like you’re dehydrated but everything looks good. I would suggest taking it easy for the next couple of days and push fluids - water and juice. Skip the alcohol.” 

Jack leaned over and kissed Kat’s forehead with a strangled chuckled. He closed his eyes, continuing to kiss her forehead. “Any questions?” 

Kat laughed, shaking her head. “I think we’re all set. When can I leave?”

“As soon as Spot writes up the discharge papers.” Rush gave them all a look before stepping out of the curtain. Spot looked at the pure excitement in the room and the relief on Jack’s face. “Kat, do you need anything?” 

She looked at Race and Jack who were both grinning brightly at her, a weight lifted from their shoulders at their wife and sister being alright. “Nah I think I’m alright. Just get the papers ready?” 

“I’ll get them ready.” Spot chuckled. “How are you getting home?” 

Race raised his hand. “I told them I would take them home since Jack rode in the ambulance with them.” 

Nodding, Spot left the area, heading over to the nurse’s desk to start the paperwork. Spot logged into the computer, reviewing his notes before typing them up. Finishing them up, he quickly printed them off. Grabbing that and a prescription that printed off, he headed back to Kat’s area. 

“Basically, keep hydrated, rest, don’t do anything dumb.” Spot gave Jack the paperwork, giving him a look. “Keep her calm, even though she doesn’t have a concussion, she might have a hell of a headache. Let me know if you have any questions.” 

Jack nodded, giving him a look. “Thank you Spot. I’ll text you if I have any questions.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” He gave Kat a look. “Let Jack wait on you hand and foot. No Dr Plums today . . . it’s just Katherine for the day. Go watch all those Hallmark movies you love and cuddle Basil.” 

He started taking the wires and IV out before giving her a look.  “Do you need anything before you go?” 

She shook her head as Albert came up with a wheelchair, before helping her into the wheelchair. Patting Jack’s back, Spot watched them walk out of the area with a smile on his face. He just hoped that Kat would tell him sooner rather than later. 

Race caught him as he walked out of the area. “Hey, what time will you be home tonight?” 

“Around 5. You still making dinner?” Spot asked, giving his hand a squeeze. 

Race nodded. “Pasta, right or do you want something else?” 

“Kind of craving homemade pizza.” Spot grinned. “I’ll see you at home, I love you.” 

“Love you too. Have a good rest of your shift.” Race kissed him, waving goodbye before heading out of the emergency room. 

Going back to the desk, he collapsed in the chair, rubbing his hand over his face with a loud sigh. Closing his eyes for a moment, he listened to the noises around him. He heard the chair next to him slide across the floor, as he peaked an eye open. “How are you holding up?” 

“I’m doing as well as I can be right now.” Spot sighed. “Got another two hours before I’m done and all I want is a bed for a nap. How are you doing? Ready for all the incoming flu cases coming your way?” 

Albert threw his head back, groaning. “Ha you’re funny. I’m fine. I wasn’t in the room all that much but it seems as if Kat’s alright - just dehydrated from what I saw.” 

Spot nodded, grinning. “I’m sure Jack will be the perfect nurse for him.” 

The next two hours passed by without an issue, a few simple cuts and bruises and an arm that needed to be set. He quickly grabbed his stuff before clocking out and heading home. He sighed, getting into the car, starting to head home.

He was looking forward to laying on the couch with Sassie, their dog, and looking forward to whatever kind of pizza Race was making that night. Pulling into their driveway, he quickly got out before slamming the car door behind him. Walking up the sidewalk, he pushed open the door, inhaling deeply, sighing in content at the spiciness in the house. 

“Honey I’m home.” He tiredly called, dropping his bag and kicking off his shoes. “And it’s been a hell of a day.” 

Race poked his head out of the kitchen while Sassie made her way over to him. He patted her a few times, before leaning over and kissing Race. “I love you. It was good to have you in the emergency room and not be the patient.” 

“I love you too and you’re not funny.” Race rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I have a beer open and ready for you.” 

Quickly changing into sweatpants and a hoodie, he sat at the kitchen table and watched Race finish up dinner. He relaxed in the chair and listened to Race prattle on about anything and everything. As they were finishing up dinner, both of their cell phones chirped with a text message. “OH HELL YES!” 

Race did a weird jig in the middle of the kitchen, with the biggest grin on his face. Spot gave him a look. “What?” 

“WE’RE GONNA BE UNCLES, SPOTTIE!!!!” Race yelled, continuing his jig. “Jack just texted the news.” 

Spot grinned, shaking his head, standing up and joining him in his awkward jig. The secret would stay with him now. In this moment, he would jig with his husband and celebrate the happy news.

There’s almost 3500 words of another emergency room fic featuring doc Kat and nurse Spottie. Hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! 

[sciencespies]

Could Tattoo Ink Be Used to Detect Cancer?

https://sciencespies.com/nature/could-tattoo-ink-be-used-to-detect-cancer/

Could Tattoo Ink Be Used to Detect Cancer?

When amateur artist Cristina Zavaleta signed up to take an illustration class with Pixar animators on character design, she had no idea she’d also be embarking on a new scientific study. At the time, Zavaleta’s work as a post-doctoral biomedical researcher in a molecular imaging lab at Stanford involved evaluating contrasting agents, like dyes, used to detect tumors in animals. During her art class, the researcher was struck by the intensity of the colors of gouache, vibrant water-based paints, that her fellow illustrators were using. “They were bringing back these pieces that were just incredible, really rich colors. And I thought, how do you even achieve that color, visually,” says Zavaleta.

That simple question ultimately led Zavaleta, now an assistant professor of biomedical engineering at the University of Southern California, and her colleagues to create a first-of-its-kind library detailing the optical imaging properties of commonly used pigments and dyes, found in everything from tattoos to food coloring. The researchers hope their study will open the doors for the novel use of everyday colorants as imaging agents in medical tests, that may be more effective at early detection of several kinds of cancers.

Currently, only three dyes with fluorescent properties used as optical imaging contrast agents—methylene blue, indocyanine green and fluorescein—are approved for human use by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA). In diagnostic medicine and in some surgical procedures, imaging contrast agents are materials used to improve internal body pictures produced by X-rays, computed tomography (CT) scans, magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), and ultrasounds. These materials can be ingested or injected and temporarily color targeted parts of the body, like specific cells, organs, blood vessels and tissues, to help clinicians see differences and abnormalities that may indicate disease. Yet, Zavaleta wondered about the significant catalogue of approved food, drug and cosmetic dyes that people routinely encounter in their everyday lives. Are there other imaging agents hiding in plain sight?

“As my art brain was thinking about these paints [from class], I thought to myself, what paints are already being used in humans?” says Zavaleta. “And a lightbulb went off.”

Tattoos. High quality pigments used in tattooing are made from mineral salts and metal chelates, which have been isolated from natural sources and used by humans for thousands of years.

Zavaleta’s next step was to do her homework, as any good researcher would. She contacted Adam Sky, a tattoo artist in the Bay Area whose work she admired. Sky was interested in her research, and gave her samples of some of the inks he was using, which Zavaleta collected in a well plate, a tray with multiple divots, or wells, that can be used as test tubes, she’d brought along, just in case.

“I immediately took them to my microscope over at Stanford, and I did all these different tests on them,” Zavaleta says. “I was amazed at what I was seeing.”

In a tattoo ink color palette, each color carries a unique spectral fingerprint that can be used as an imaging barcode to better identify and detect tumors.

(Tattoo and design created by Adam Sky)

She measured two optical elements of the inks, their fluorescence properties and Raman properties. Fluorescence relates to a dye or pigment’s capacity for absorption and emission of light, while Raman indicates how light scatters. Both are commonly used in imaging techniques in the cancer field. Highly fluorescent agents offer sensitivity in imaging; very small amounts are needed for them to illuminate areas very brightly. Raman imaging, on the other hand, offers specificity by allowing multiplexing, or the ability to look at several processes happening inside the human body at once. These can help show whether cells or tissues are expressing multiple genes, for example, or expressing one more highly that may be associated with a particular cancer, like HER2 and breast cancer or EGFR with lung cancer. Each of the targets has different receptors that will be illuminated by different agents, and depending on their optical properties, some agents will be better than others.

In all, the researchers evaluated the optical properties of 30 approved food, drug and cosmetic coloring dyes and tattoo ink pigments using a spectrophotometer, an instrument that measures the intensity of light after it passes through a sample solution. Seven of the colorants displayed fluorescence properties that were comparable to or exceeded the three FDA-approved clinical dyes. The researchers next measured the Raman signatures, to see how high the colors’ unique signatures of light photon peaks were, with high peaks being indicative of usefulness in terms of multiplexing. Finally, they tested the best-performing dyes and pigments by injecting them as imaging agents in mice with cancerous tumors.

The researchers evaluated the optical properties of 30 approved food, drug and cosmetic coloring dyes and tattoo ink pigments.

(Cristina Zavaleta)

Data from Zavaleta and her colleagues’ study showed that FDA-approved Green 8 dyes used in drugs and cosmetics have significant tumor targeting potential in mice with cervical and colon tumors, and the Orange 16 pigment found in tattoo inks also showed, according to the authors, promising fluorescent properties and tumor targeting potential. This is significant because, as they note in the study, “no single imaging modality currently meets all the clinical needs of high sensitivity, high spatial and temporal resolution, high multiplexing capacity, high depth of penetration, low cost, and high throughput.” In other words, no single imaging agent can provide all the information a doctor might need.

The USC lab where Zavaleta and her colleagues conducted the research uses nano-based imaging contrast agents, or tiny spherical vesicles that are loaded with the dyes or pigments. While nano-based agents are approved for use as a medium in human imaging, they have been controversial in the past because of potential toxicity. Metallic-based nanoparticles like those made from gold and silver have been known to stay inside the body for long periods of time after exposure. This is one of the main reasons the team instead uses liposomal nanoparticles, made up of biodegradable materials with fatty skins similar to human body cells, that are already used in other applications, like drug and nutrient delivery.

“You can think of it as us having all these different batches of nanoparticles, and one has a different tattoo ink [or other dye or pigment] inside of it. And that tattoo ink has a very special barcode that’s associated with it; every ink has a unique fingerprint, yellow different from red, red different from purple,” Zavaleta explains. “So, if we have all these different flavors of nanoparticles that we can now target to different receptors on tumors, we can enhance our ability to distinguish between different [cancers].”

One use for such materials could be gathering real-time information during a test, such as a colonoscopy, where physicians are visually searching for certain kinds of polyps. Enhanced imaging agents have the potential to also reduce the invasiveness of disease detection and diagnosis, such as the number and size of biopsies needed, by providing more information from a smaller sample.

Christian Kurtis, who made the career change from biomedical researcher at the National Institutes of Health to tattoo artist in Rockville, Maryland, spent his post-doctoral period in a cancer research lab at the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences. Kurtis says the specificity these kinds of dyes could offer for imaging is key to better treatment.

“The unfortunate problem with malignant [tumors] is that they comprise a [variety] of molecular markers that may not be present on all cell types. The increased metabolic activity of malignancy is the signature most commonly exploited in imaging, and is the reason these liposomal techniques are effective,” says Kurtis. In other words, because cancer cells tend to spread quickly, researchers and physicians are able to track their growth with imaging. Having multiple types of agents that bind to the different markers would be even more helpful. “In my opinion, it will be personalized or individualized medicine that will hold the key to meaningful early diagnosis of disease,” he adds.

Jocelyn Rapelyea, the associate director of breast imaging and the program director of the radiology residency program at the George Washington University Cancer Center, adds that while tools like molecular breast imaging have been around for a while and help to identify problematic cells before they grow into lumps, advancing knowledge is always a positive. What works well for one patient may not for another.

“It’s always exciting to have the ability to be able to identify tumors at a potentially early stage. It’s quite interesting how [Zavaleta] came to dyes,” Rapelyea says. “This is obviously a model in mice at this point, but it is promising to see that there could be potential of being able to identify earlier development.”

Zavaleta knows the dyes and pigments her team has catalogued in a library will be subject to the FDA’s rigorous regulatory procedures before they could ever be used as imaging agents in humans. “We’re not suggesting in any way that they’re safe,” she says. “We’re saying, ‘Hey, these are dyes that we’re continuously being exposed to on a day-to-day basis. Let’s have a look at them further.’”

#Nature

[catflowerqueen]

Non-Quadrant Marriages

(Make sure to read my previous post on Earth C first!)

Human-style:

In a nutshell, this is basically human marriage as it is now. Messy, complicated, and you more or less hold all your quadrants in the same person/small groups. Weddings would likely be highly varied in appearance/traditions since certain cultures/historical events probably wouldn’t have developed in the same way as they did on our version of Earth. I mean, for all we know, the continents and climates might not even be the same enough to allow certain plants/animals to even exist outside of alchemization. I’m not entirely sure how long it would take for things like continental drift to have happened, but considering the state that the world was in when Jade grabbed it, and how it was heavily implied that a lot of time had passed for there to have even been trees and plant life around before they touched down, I don’t necessarily know for sure how much would have changed in that regard.

Those who have this form of relationship legally recognized would “officially” refer to those in the relationship as “spouse” or “spouses” in order to denote that they are referring to a human-style relationship. They would also share rings—which would be plain, aside from maybe having carvings on them, or limited amounts of a very small and specific pool of gem-types—to symbolize this. Humans and non-seatrolls would wear the ring on their left ring-finger, seatrolls would probably wear the ring as part of a bracelet on their left arm, or on a cord around their neck—because otherwise they would have to pierce through their fins. In either case, however, they would definitely still have a plain/carved ring denoting the relationship in order to differentiate it from other types of relationship that I will get into in a later post.

It is entirely possible that someone in a human-style relationship would still have outside quadrants, but it would probably be a lot messier to actually work that out among the spouses, as, by its very nature, a human-style relationship implies a certain amount of monogamy that the quadrants don’t. Otherwise, it would be simpler to just enter into one specific quadrant—likely a matespriteship, if there is a human involved—and then one spouse would simply have that as their only relationship while the other/others would enter into other quadrants. And then they would use a term different than “spouse”

Oh, and also—there is not the sort of imperative on filling all your quadrants (or at least the concupiscent ones) that there was on Alternia. All relationships would be optional on this planet.

This type of relationship is also the one in which you would hear the terms “husband” and “wife” the most, with spouse being the gender-neutral term as well as one most typically used if the marriage includes more than two people. It is perfectly fine to use “husband” or “wife” in the other types of relationships as well, it’s just that the traditions behind the word implies this kind of relationship.

Now, what that means for canon Rosemary I don’t care too much to speculate on—it seems like they prefer to refer to each other as “wives” over “matesprits,” but they’re also coming from different cultures—Alternia didn’t have weddings, and Earth didn’t have matesprits, after all—and neither of them would have been all that familiar with the specifics of the Earth C culture at the time of their marriage. It is entirely possible that other quadrants might get involved at some point, but it’s equally likely they will just stick to matespritship, or not use any sort of label like that at all. But I’m not talking about them—I’m talking about Earth C’s culture in general.

 Carapacians:

I have my own headcanons about historical Carapacian society and the way they run things that I’m not going to get into here, but basically… they don’t really have the same sort of need to label their relationships like humans or trolls do. At least, not traditionally. We obviously saw in the human and troll sessions that certain pairings seemed to follow the quadrants, but it’s unclear how much of that was influenced by the specific players of the session. After all—Bec Noir didn’t seem to feel the same amount of remorse in killing his Game’s Black Queen as Spade Slick did when killing Snowman. And even then—who is to say that’s what was really going on, rather than that just being what the troll/human audience saw when filtered through the lens of how they understood romance based on their own culture?

I’d say that Carapacian romantic relationships are probably more flexible and shifting than either human or troll romance. There are probably elements of both the quadrants and human-style forms in it, which, by that nature, probably does push it a bit closer to human-style. But, like, not completely? If that makes sense?

If they absolutely had to choose a label, though, I think they would go with “Bonded.” It would probably lean more towards couples, but small groups wouldn’t be out of the question. And I don’t think there would really be any sort of special ceremony to denote that relationship? Or any sort of ornamentation? What would most likely happen is that the couple/group would decide in private, and then maybe add each other’s barcodes into a special slot, akin to the “next of kin” or “power of attorney” position that would pop up when their own barcode was scanned. (So, like, if a carapacian got into, say, a car accident, their barcode would be scanned at the hospital and show things like their medical records, and then they could look at the “bonded” slot and see who they should inform about the accident.)

At the same time, though… while this is the most “flexible” one, I think it’s also the rarest form? You probably wouldn’t see too many Bonded couples/groups—and not just because there’s no real signifiers on the outside. I feel like because their romance is so flexible and shifting, it means that you would have to be far more certain of things to actually put the label of “Bonded” on someone. The decision would be very private and special.

 Consort-style:

I… honestly have no idea. Consorts are so weird and varied anyways, and so prone to just copying things that look cool/interesting/special that I feel like it would be hard for an outsider to tell what was going on? I’m sure that they have something, but it probably differs by species and, to be honest, I don’t think I would really be focusing on them enough in my stories for it to matter? So, sorry to those who are really interested in consorts, but I have nothing.

 Leprechauns:

Yeah, I don’t really think we got enough in canon to get the specifics of what the different symbols signify in their own culture, let alone how that would work if they were mixed in with other species, so I’m not touching this one. There aren’t any leprechauns on Earth C, anyways, so it doesn’t really matter as far as worldbuilding goes.

 Cherubs:

Same as above—there’s really only one cherub on Earth C, and Calliope isn’t really following along with any sort of relationship structure anyways, so it doesn’t really matter for my worldbuilding purposes. Cherub courtship is also so rare and complex anyways that I doubt it would be long-lived enough for a particular pairing to put a label on it. But if Calliope or some other random cherub did, for some reason, decide to enter a romantic relationship, it probably wouldn’t be with another cherub outside of mating purposes, in which case they would probably just go with whatever term/form their partner was using.

 The next post will talk about quadrants.

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Echo pt1

A very happy birthday to Kat @kthomas325 I hope you enjoy this little Modern/fantasy tale. 

Warning: This is a little dark. There is blood, death, Strong Language and yeah ... please read with caution. **Still not sure what direction this is taking so I should add a warning for Author with no plot **

Masterlist

---

Echo part 1

The move had been hectic. Boxes everywhere stacked high in her office like some sort of interactive Tetris game. When they got the word that they were to relocate and join forces with another team she had hoped for a bit more time. Still, missions to be undertaken at a moment’s notice with frustratingly tight time frames that had required superhuman capabilities to accomplish were nothing new to her. Thank god she could handle high levels of stress in the workplace because otherwise, she was a likely candidate to be sent off to the looney farm.

Pretty much all of her team had already managed to settle in, she was the last. The trouble with being a partly freelance brain for hire was you tended to get sent tasks on the side that took up valuable time. This is exactly what happened the day she received the orders to move.

It had been a normal boring day pouring over the latest data from some tests on the guys that had just come back from overseas and her internal email pinged.

Notice for the attention of Dr K response required ASAP

If she hadn’t been bored out of her proverbial tree, she might have groaned a little more when she saw the familiar sender’s address. It wouldn’t be the first time her friend in the Met had abused his powers of friendship in calling for her help, but these little cases of his had a way of snowballing.

Clicking the attachment on the email her eyes scanned the words like a barcode. It was meticulous and read exactly as she was expecting it too, except for one little detail.

Undetectable traces of blood.

She reread it to make sure she hadn’t missed something before reaching for her Cell phone and searching her contacts. Fingers gliding over the screen she dialled the number for her friend. The line didn’t even manage to ring two times before it was answered a bright voice on the other end speaking.

“That was faster than I thought. Slow news day or were you just that desperate to speak to me?” There was the sound of rustling papers in the background which told her she wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil.

“Right the first time. You sent me the complete report, right?” She asked in a way that sounded like she was accusing him of trying to pull a bad practical joke on her. Her brow creased as she looked again at the text illuminated on her monitor.

“After the lecture you gave me last time where you chewed me out over lack of information? Course I sent it all.” His adamant reply just seemed to add to the rising tension she felt.

“What does it mean where you wrote the bodies had no traces of blood? You mean at the scene or…”

“Scene and autopsy. I mean there was nothing. Not a damn drop. Bodies were fresh as far as the guys in the coroner’s office could tell. They weren’t marked in any way and yet they were as empty as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.” He chuckled at his own bad joke.

“And that was seriously it? Nothing else?” She clicked at the attachments but they were only the basic preliminary photos the police took of the scene.

“Why are you asking like it’s obvious there should be?”

“Because this is all like a bad dream.” It was strange, she was logical and rational to the point of being accused of being almost robotic at times. And here she was looking at something that probably has a totally scientific explanation for it, feeling like she was being targeted. Something that was lying in the back of her mind dormant was setting off alarms.

“… Hey. Are you ok there? You know I hate it when you go quiet.” She had zoned out and the concern in the man’s voice as he spoke reminded her of the fact he was still on the line.

“Yeah. Let me know the minute you find anything else. And I want to see the full report from the medical examiner, toxicology and photos.” She knew he was making a note on something because she heard him cuss under his breath about how he could never find a pen when he needed one.

“So, you’re taking the case?”

“What do you think?”

Hanging up the phone the silence that was once comforting in her office was suddenly oppressive. The shadows felt like they were cold and creeping, prowling around her. It had been a long time since she had felt this. Getting up from behind her desk she went in search of coffee to try to distract herself with a warm drink.

There was a ringing in her ears that was low like a buzz from a hive. Her head started to pound behind her eyes at the contrast between the soft lighting in her office and the phosphorescent lighting in the building’s corridors that was harsh and bright. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to acclimatise herself as she walked to the break room.

*

Time had no place here, at least not the kind of time that other realms had. The twin suns had set long ago allowing the triple moons to rise high into the indigo velvet sky. The crimson rock gleamed deep and dark with a foreboding subliminal idea that it was rich with blood. The rocks here always looked fluid; the veins of magical deposits threaded their way through them giving the land underfoot a pulse.

Moving swiftly with soundless ease a single figure clad in a white cloak slipped out of a dense tree line and continued forward to a crossroads. The marker there pointed them in the direction of tonight’s meeting place, a symbol visible only to those who carried the sigil to reveal it. After following its direction for a time, a fracture in the bedrock of the Mesa that ran along the border.

The veins in the deep red rock glowed as the figure entered illuminating their journey into the flat-topped hill better than any lantern. Voices began to bounce around them, the glow becoming brighter before the walls of the narrow pathway disappeared. 

A void in the rock created a natural cathedral. The stone couldn’t have followed a more structured path if it had been carved by hand. The ceiling was vaulted and appeared almost black as it was so far away from them. In the centre of this space sat the heads of some of the largest households in the known lands. With the arrival of the figure in white that made six.

“You kept us waiting.” A strong imperial voice from a black-haired man carried over the group setting a heavy silence in the air. His red-trimmed robes wrapped around his figure as it sat on a rock by the fire in the same way he would perch on his own throne.

“My apologies. It took slightly longer than planned to leave the castle.” The cloaked figure made a theatrical bow after speaking.

“You weren’t followed?” The man sitting to the left of the regal one had a slightly less polished appearance. His sandy brown hair looked a little frazzled, no doubt a result of running their fingers through it in moments of agitation as was their habit.

The cloaked figure was more than aware of the eyes of the gathering being focused on them but they showed no sign of reacting to it.

“Naturally. If I hadn’t, I would have been disappointed. But I was able to give them the slip, otherwise I would not be here at all.”

“What is the news?” A rather impatient man sporting a different style of dress and an eye patch interjected. The loose-fitting clothing was clearly easier to move around in which allowed for a better range of motion in a fight. Something the man was renowned for in the realms. The wild chestnut brown hair on his head seemed to reflect the spark of energy in his singular blue eye.

“The throne remains unchallenged. In fact, it would appear that the dear Queen is in possession of new strength.”

“What?” Their collective outcry reverberated for a moment before falling flat again.

“How could she get that?” One of the younger men gathered grumbled his question. His emerald eyes flashed for a moment with worry.

“I can only think of one way in which she might find such a thing now. With supplies into the land limited from each of ours…” The silver-haired Lord produced a ledger from inside one of his pockets and began talking as he flicked through the pages checking details of something written in an almost indecipherable font.

“She’s found a fault line.” The black-haired Lord leaned back elegantly, an amused wicked smile on his face and his crimson eyes flashed. He looked entertained but the atmosphere around him told a different tale.

“But there were no fault lines. She searched before and turned up empty it was why she arranged for trade negotiations to start with.” The concerned Lord to his left dragged his hand through his hair leaving it to settle on his neck. He had every right to be worried as they all were but it was his land that bordered closer to the Queen.

“What we gain from our harvesting in our own territory is always greater than what we would gain by trade. We are attuned to the land after all.” The young lord with emerald eyes tossed out his words factually with a sigh.

“Yes, but for her to gain such a noticeable increase that is should be sensed by others…” a crystal tipped quill scratched over a page on the notebook the ink appeared magically on the paper filling the space quickly making it appear almost completely black.

“She isn’t just feeding.”

“Keep a close eye on her. Depending on what you find our plans may change.”

“Of course.” The figure in the white cloak bowed once more before turning on heel and leaving as they had come.

No one said this was going to be easy. They had all known what they were signing up for, but the development of the Queen’s new hunting ground after the loss of the King was not one they could have foreseen.

---

After unlocking her front door, she pushed it open with her hip before entering with a large box in her arms and closed it with her foot. The box made a heavy thud sound on the coffee table the files, documents and other office records had a layer of dust on top of them that she failed to remove before tossing them in and bringing them back with her.

The dates on the files were all from around nearly 30 years ago. It had been a little shocking how many there were given the few cases there had been but that is what happens when several governing bodies investigate at once. Each department has its own methods and documents them eventually you have them accumulated together by one department into a file that could be used in court if you were at a point of prosecution for the offence.

She wasn’t interested in combined facts abbreviated for a jury and judge she wanted complete records, which was how she came to raid the archives on-site before leaving work. Dumping her bag next to the box she went straight into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboards there looking for the ground coffee.

The kitchen was a room every house had but here it seemed a little bit of a waste. She wasn’t home enough to cook meals so there was typically next to no food in the place. There was a microwave and coffeemaker on the countertop and that was all. The rest of the property suffered the same neglected fate. There were enough furnishings to be comfortable but it was not what you could call a warm environment.

This was what happens when you spend more time at work than you do at home. She sighed a little as she listened to the water boil in the coffee maker. The buzzing in her head hadn’t gone away and had brought with it a tingling sensation she could feel in her bones.

She glanced up and caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window. Something about it looked different but she couldn’t place it. A nagging feeling of something she had missed was gnawing at the back of her mind. Abandoning the coffee maker, she went over and grabbed a file hoping that the answer she wanted was somewhere in all this mess.

---

[tifu-today-i-fucked-up]

TIFU by taking a nude photo on my wife’s phone

So my wife left her phone in the bathroom a few days ago and I saw it as I got out of the shower, so I did what any dumbass husband would do, I took ridiculously cheesy nude photos of myself around the house. Nothing sexual or anything. Just things like me eating cereal with my diving hood on and legs spread eagle for no reason, or me watering the plants willst my legs were unnecessarily too far apart and so on.

We don’t really go out much and we have no friends in this country (we just moved), so I thought she’d find it really funny when she came home.

Well, I went to work and forgot all about it completely. Fast forward to today. We’re at H&M and trying to pay. My wife uses this member thing (I don’t really know exactly what it is. I guess you could be an H&M member or something) that’s on an app on her phone and for some reason, the barcode just won’t scan! 2 people at the counter are trying everything possible. No luck. My wife gets the clever idea that maybe she should take a screenshot of the barcode, zoom in and enlarge it. Maybe it will work then.

By this point, there’s a bit of a queue behind us, and the 2nd cashier has to give up and start getting this under control. She’s ringing up the lady next to us. Her kid’s basically watching our cashier basically frantically try to find some sort of solution whilst staring at my wife’s screen, and when my wife opens her photos, well, 20 incredibly unflattering naked photos of myself popped up, the cashier gasps loudly says “oh my god!”, and this little fucking kid shouts “he is naked mommy! That man is naked!!!” My wife’s a fucking tomato , a group of teenage girls behind us burst out laughing at the whole situation and my pits began sweating in ways I never knew my body was capable of.

Anyway, my wife didn’t find those pictures as funny as she would’ve at home*, I scarred a child and won’t ever be going back to that particular branch ever again.

I should be asleep, but I keep thinking about this and audibly groaning. Probably the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.

Oh and we couldn’t find a solution about the app thing. She told my wife to do something online, but I was so embarrassed my brain shut off.

Tl;Dr: My wife unwittingly unleashed my unflattering nudes on a child and our cashier at an H&M.

as I was typing this post, she’s laughing her ass off at the photos now, 12 hours later.

Edit: no idea why I titled it as if it were only 1 photo.

submitted by /u/ohshitdontdothat [link] [comments]

[thegazettefanfiction]

The New Roadie (Uruha)

“Hey, (Y/n)! Can you bring me an A string? This one just snapped.”

“Sure!”

“(Y/n), I need your help over here!”

“Okay!”

“(Y/n)! Can you grab some coffee for me?”

“Yes, sir!”

Uruha’s bandmates watched the scenario with mild amusement, occasionally blinking owlishly as they watched the girl walk in and out of the green room. This became something they’d been seeing almost every day. With the commencement of their first tour, everyone was working hard; and that includes the new roadie (Y/n).

It all started when the management thought it would be a good idea to hire some roadies, seeing that they were lacking some manpower for the upcoming tours, especially when plans regarding the world tour were still in progress. They began scouting for volunteers, and in less than a week, their inbox was flooded with hundreds of applications. But after narrowing down the applications, they’d only accepted a total of fifteen roadies.

(Y/n) was part of the crew. Not long she moved to Tokyo, where her once laidback lifestyle became as hectic as the busy citizens hastily walking along the famous, busiest crossing of the heart of Tokyo. Had she knew that cost of living was going to be higher than what she was used to in her hometown, she wouldn’t have happened to be in need of a part-time job to earn a little extra. She was desperate enough to consider working at a fast food restaurant like Sukiya or Matsuya, but another part of her felt that such an odd job wouldn’t give her the opportunity she deserved. She craved something more than taking orders from customers or scanning the barcodes of groceries and totalling up the price.

“Why not work as a roadie?” suggested her friend, one day. The two girls were sitting inside Genki Sushi having lunch.

“A roadie?” she repeated dubiously. “Where did that idea come from?”

“I know someone who works in a record label called HERESY Inc.,” began (Friend’s name). She whipped out a black iPhone 6 protected by a cyan silicone case and unlocked it. She began to dig up the information she needed to share while scrolling through a chat feed. “Apparently, a band named the GazettE is recruiting some roadies for their tours.”

“What do I have to do?” inquired (Y/n), who was now interested in the job.

“I’m not too sure,” replied her friend. “But I’ll forward the link so you can have a look if you're interested. Generally, you travel with them on tour and handle every part of the concert productions.” Once the link was sent, she put down her phone and picked up her chopsticks to continue eating the remaining sushi on their plates. “I think it's a good choice for you since you’ve been complaining about the jobs offered around here. And I think it’s good for you to broaden your network. You may never know who you’re going to meet.”

If only they knew of such foreshadow.

Fast forward to almost a fortnight since she applied and was accepted for the job. Here she was going up and down the venue carrying out her tasks, whether it was bringing an extra towel or a bottle of water, unloading the equipment, or on some occasions, she had to help out with the makeup and costumes. Though she knew what she was signing up for, she didn’t expect this amount of tedious work, but she couldn’t complain about it; not that she had anything to complain about.

After a while, (Y/n) returned to the green room with a cup of steaming hot coffee. “Here you go,” she said, passing the paper cup to the guitarist. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

He accepted the drink and smiled, saying, “Good work, (Y/n). You can go and have a rest now. I’ll call you back in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” With a bow, (Y/n) left for her break, not noticing his gaze fixated on her retreating figure while he sipped the hot latte.

His bandmates were watching the whole scene from the side and finally decided to step in. “Okay,” called Aoi. “What was that all about, loverboy?”

“What do you mean?” questioned Uruha.

Ruki sat on the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t think your lovey-dovey look can escape us,” he said with a teasing smirk. “We’ve been noticing that you keep bossing the new roadie around ever since she got here. What’s up with that?”

“What are you trying to imply?” responded the guitarist with a tone that he didn't seem to realise it confirmed what his bandmates were suspecting.

“Ah-ha!” exclaimed Reita excitedly, pointing at his friend with his index finger. “I hear denial coming from you! So you were trying to get cosy with the new roadie.”

“Not to mention,” continued the grinning Kai, who was enjoying the confrontation a little too much than what he planned. “You even requested to have her assigned to you as a personal assistant.”

“We know you’ve had eyes on her for a while now,” added Ruki, whose smirk hadn’t faltered even a slight. “And among the five of us, you’ve been talking to her an unusual amount for someone you met for less than two weeks.”

Uruha felt his face became hotter. Was he really blushing at this point? Was he really having a crush on the new, young roadie? Maybe his bandmates were right, now that he thought about it.

When (Y/n) joined them on their NINTH PHASE #03 tour, he was somewhat drawn to her. It was weird, considering the fact that he knew her for less than ten minutes at that time, and he couldn't pinpoint what made him attracted to her. Maybe it was that youthful exuberance, or the air of elegance that seemingly shrouded her. Whatever it was, she definitely caught his attention.

His mind was occupied by these questions that he realised neither the cup of coffee that had been cooled down nor the guitarist inspecting his face up close.

“He’s blushing,” he noted in a playful manner, making Uruha snap out of his thoughts. “So our guess is correct, then.”

The latter merely sighed, sipping the rest of the coffee before turning to leave the room. “Think whatever pleases you,” he said, giving in. “Just don't do anything funny.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t catch their smirks, nor did he hear someone murmur, “No promises.”

After a series of successful live shows in Tokyo and Fukuoka, it was time for the band to proceed to Fukuoka. Just like their previous shows, everyone worked hard to deliver the best show for the band’s adoring fans. Fortunately, the hours of rehearsal paid off, for the live show was just as good as their previous ones. Everyone was happy and had lots of fun during the show.

(Y/n) was packing up her belongings when she heard someone call her name, making her look up to see the leader of the band smiling, showing his prominent dimples.

“Kai-san,” she greeted back with a smile. She let go of her bag to stand straight and face him properly. “Is there anything you’d like me to help you with?”

“Oh, no!” he assured. “Actually, we were thinking of going out for dinner and decided to invite you. Wanna join us?”

(Y/n)’s smile widened. “Sure!” she replied. “Let me get the rest of my things.”

“Okay!” was Kai’s response before leaving her to continue what she was doing. Unfortunately for dear little (Y/n), she didn’t see the drummer turning to the rest of the bandmates - excluding one particular guitarist - and whispered, “Mission, started!”

Later that night, (Y/n) was standing outside the venue dressed in a dark blue coat and a white beanie keeping her head warm. It was a cold February night, not even those pieces of clothing could keep her warm.

I knew it was a bad idea to not wear another shirt, she thought. A sudden gush of cold wind blew, making her shiver.

Just then, she felt something warm wrapped around her neck, prompting her to look up and see a concerned Uruha holding a red scarf.

“Take care,” he advised. “We wouldn’t want you to fall sick while still on tour.”

(Y/n) merely blushed, and it wasn’t just the wool scarf that gave her a bit of warmth. “Thank you,” she said meekly. But it didn’t take long for her to realise that she was alone with him. “Um, where are the others?”

Uruha kept silent for a short while before replying, “They suddenly said they couldn’t join.”

“What happened?” she asked worriedly. “Did they become sick?”

“Apparently,” was all he could say. But if he could heave a huge sigh, he would. He should’ve known they dare to invite him and (Y/n) for dinner separately, and then go missing once they meet.

What are they? he thought. A bunch of high school boys?

“That’s a shame,” said (Y/n), sighing.

Uruha glanced at the girl, taking in her appearance as he thought about what his bandmates said. Maybe he did have a crush on her. If that was true, then this might be a blessing in disguise. Think about it. He would have the chance to get to know her better without having anyone interfering them.

Taking in a deep breath, he blurted, “Well, we can just go and have dinner ourselves. If you don’t mind, that is.”

(Y/n) looked up with surprise, and Uruha swore he could see her cheeks turned a darker shade of red. “S-Sure!” she stammered.

So off they went for a nice dinner at Motsunabe Yamanaka Honten, where they get to know each other better over a steaming pot of motsunabe that warmed their bodies on a winter night; from their backgrounds to interests to future plans. They learn about things they never knew, and this night allowed them to get closer to each other.

It was also at that moment when Uruha realised why he was attracted to her. No matter the job, she constantly strived to challenge herself into learning new things and doing better than when she first attempted; and she didn’t complain about anything. He wanted to see more of the passion that lit her eyes when she did her work. He liked how he shared her experience with her friends with excitement instead of dread. Perhaps that was why he made her get the things he could’ve gotten them himself so that he could ask her more about how her day went, hoping that she would reply in the same enthusiasm.

Soon, the night was over with some laughter over a bottle of warm sake. After paying the bill, Uruha walked her back all the way to her hotel room. Standing in front of the room door, she turned around to look at him and said, “Thank you for dinner, Uruha-san. It was nice to know you more.”

“You’re welcome,” he assured, although he didn’t expect to blurt out the next sentence. “I hope we can do this more in the future.”

(Y/n) raised a brow, as a red blush tinted her cheeks. “Well,” she began shyly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Uruha looked at her with surprise. He thought he would lose his chance when he said that last sentence, but she actually took his offer. Could this night get any better?

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts to see that she had already unlocked her room door.

“Yeah!” was his initial response. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she responded with a smile, walking into the room and shutting the door behind her.

Is she the one for him? He wouldn’t know just yet, but with the way things were, he felt contented to take things slow and steady. A goofy smile plastered on his face, and he began to make his way back to his room, where he found his bandmates - who somehow managed to sneak into his room - waiting to interrogate him.

This is going to be a long night, he thought with an inward sigh. But hey! He had to thank his mischievous friends for it.

[wristbandsblog]

Customised Wristbands for the Snow beat Festival

Around a week ago, I decided to order 100 custom wristbands for an upcoming snowbeat festival that I was organising. The name of the event is Snowbeat Festival and it's being held at an outdoor venue in UTRECHT, NETHERLANDS. The idea behind these concerts is that there will be no headlining acts, but rather local bands are showcased as headliners through different stages to create unity among the performers. I wanted to really make our local acts the focus of the event rather than some act from abroad who has no connection to the city.

My idea was to make customised wristbands with our band's logo on them so that people would know who we were and what we were doing while they were at the concert. I ordered my custom wristbands from Wristbandseurope.com and they were exactly what I was looking for in terms of the product.

I was incredibly impressed with the work that was done. The custom wristbands are top quality and the design looks excellent. The quality is amazing, and the writing is really clear to see – even in the dark! No doubt it was also great value for money as they only cost me 10€ including the customized print. I paid more for plain wristbands last year from another company and am so glad I found these guys. I got a lot of positive responses from people who have seen them. Some people even thought they were official wristbands due to how professional they looked.

The person that I dealt with at Wristbandseurope.com was extremely responsive, quick to reply to emails, and willing to work with me on every step of the order. Overall, it was a good experience and I would like to thank Wristbandseurope.com for helping me put the finishing touches on my project. I wanted everything to be perfect for the festival and thanks to the team I was not disappointed. For next year I might even include a QR code on the wristband that links to the band’s Facebook page so people can follow our page and keep up to date with gigs.

My order was completed within a week and the wristbands were delivered to me in Amsterdam via DHL so I could pick them up locally. Overall, I couldn't be happier with the outcome of my order. I will use Wristbandseurope.com services again in the future. I just wanted to say that the wristbands were a great hit at the festival, and I think we could have done a lot more promoting with them than what we actually did since they were such an eye-catcher.

Importance of wristbands in festivals

Festival Wristbands have become a popular trend in the concert scene. They ensure that visitors are able to attend the right shows and have access to freebies and other amenities. Wristbands also help festival organisers with accurate attendance numbers, event logistics, and barcode scanning opportunities. Here is everything you need to know about them!

For many people, their first experience with wristbands was at a music festival.  The plastic bracelet on their arm meant that they were allowed entry into the show and even if they didn't like what was happening on stage, the branded accessories were enough of a draw for them to stay until the end of a set time. Of course, most people loved the music too and the wristbands were a little memory for people to take away after the event was over.

The popularity of wristbands has grown as technology and event management processes have improved. Today, they are available at all kinds of events and venues for music, sports, and even hotels. While my small Snowbeat event used wristbands most of the biggest festivals in the world use them too such as Tomorrowland, Glastonbury, and others. I hope our event will grow and become similar to some of those amazing brands.

After a quick search online, it was clear that www.wristbandseurope.com has the best quality and price! They even have an in-house print shop which means they can customise any order to your own specification. The online designer allows customers to add logos and text and see a live preview of how the band will appear. That’s great as I was able to show it to my partners before moving ahead and placing an order. Thanks for the great work guys and hopefully next year I will need even more wristbands for the event!

[treya-barton]

"You were my new dream." With your choice of muse/characters! :3

Shortly after Prompto heard the news about the invasion of Insomniaby Niflheim, he is abducted in broad daylight by MTs that beat him up and draghim away, without any of the other citizens batting an eye or making a move tohelp him.  Prompto ends up right back atthe same facility he had been rescued from as a kid, feeling ice run throughhis veins as he wakes up in a tank and vaguely recognizes things from his nightmaresthat used to cause him to wake up screaming as a child.  After being rescued by a mysterious stranger,he had been dropped off to be raised by the resistance movement in Niflheim.  The resistance was upset with how the Emperorwas running things and would undermine the government by spreading undergroundpamphlets about shady things the Empire had been doing and infiltrating thegovernment to gather intel.  

They had protected Prompto growing up, who was the onlyclone that had ever been saved from the MT program; due to Prompto’s appearance,it was too easy for those looking for him to tell who he really was.  Thus, he had been careful his whole life, wearingdisguises or avoiding going out in the day in order to stay safe.  Once he grew older and proficient with a gun,he mainly stayed outside of Gralea, helping to protect resistance members asthey smuggled supplies into the city, acting as a form of protection againstthe beasts and daemons that roamed outside. He had been in the city that day after a successful smuggling operation,and he had been horrified to learn about the invasion and the fall of Insomniaseveral days ago.  The Lucians had beenthe last major power standing in the Empire’s way, and with the capital fallingPrompto wondered what would become of their little resistance movement withinNiflheim.  His thoughts had beeninterrupted by the sudden attack, and now he found he had more personal thingsto worry about as he struggled to pull himself from the wires connected to himin the tank.  He knew from theinformation that had been uncovered in some of the facilities exactly whathappened to clones and how they turned into MTs, and the thought of that happeningto him – becoming daemonified and having his humanity stripped from himcompletely – terrified him.

He hoped that maybe he would get a second chance, and Araneaand the other members of the resistance movement would find out that he hadbeen captured and come to save him, but he also knew that such an operationwould be foolish and probably end up with them getting caught too.  Any resistance member caught was immediatelyexecuted as an example and a way to trample the movement; another reason whywhen he had been abducted, no one had come to his rescue.  To do so would merely bring them trouble too.  Prompto was unable to escape and eventually gaveup struggling to conserve his energy, hoping that maybe he might be able to buyhis time until an opportunity to get away presented itself.  Or at least an opportunity to avoid hiseventual fate if he continued to stay at the facility.  He was mostly ignored by the scientists workingat the facility, who were used to the clones being raised without anypersonality and thoughts of their own. They were all barcoded and tested before being injected and eventuallyturned into an MT; thus, there was really no reason for them to treat Promptoas any different, even if his hair was longer and his physique different afterhis time in the real world.  They hadunfortunately stripped him of his clothes, so he no longer had that to differentiatehimself anymore either.

Prompto began to feel detached as he floated in the tank,and he found it hard to figure out how much time had passed as well.  There were no windows to the outside worldand everything was lit up by the bright, sterile lights in the lab.  He also hated looking at the other clones intanks surrounding him, always so still as they floated, barely having whatcould be considered to be a life before their tenuous tie to humanity wasstripped away.  He found himself focusingon anything else he could in the room, eyes following the scientists as theyscurried around, gaze looking desperately for any means of escape.  It was fortunate he kept himself so hypervigilante, in fact, since he noticed immediately when there was suddenlycommotion in the room.  

The scientists had all huddled together next to the mainpanel, and they looked like they were whispering about something to each other,until a loud alarm began blaring which caused Prompto to startle and thescientists to immediately scatter.  ‘Whatis going on?’ Prompto thought to himself, and he used the opportunity to desperatelytry to struggle again, hoping to find a way out of the tank.

To his even greater surprise, about 10 minutes later, threemen dressed in all black attire that was definitely not Niflheim in style camebursting into the room and began to search around.  Prompto immediately took that as hisopportunity to get freed and began kicking at the glass to his tank in order totry to get their attention.  He reallywasn’t happy that he was naked, but getting rescued was more important than hismodestly.  Luckily, his kicks caught theattention of the largest of the three men, who turned to scan the room in orderto see where it was coming from.  Promptonoted the moment that his eyes widened as he finally looked at what was in thetanks, before he noticed Prompto and looked him directly in the eye.  Prompto gave him a pleading look, and the brunetcaught the attention of the other two before pointing Prompto out.  The one with green eyes and sandy blond hairlooked horrified for a moment before carefully hiding his horror behind a mask,while their dark haired, blue eyed companion did nothing to hide his horror andanger at what he saw.  He alsoimmediately threw his sword, before disappearing with a blue flash andreappearing where the sword had lodged into Prompto’s tank.

Prompto’s eyes widened – the only people who could do thatwere Lucians who could use the power of their Crystal.  And with the king verified dead, the only oneleft would be the Prince who had been declared dead but had rumors going aroundbefore Prompto was captured that he was actually still alive.  The blue eyed man locked eyes with Prompto’sindigo, and he mouthed that he was going to get him out of there before lookingin frustration at the panel and looking again to lock gazes with Prompto.  Prompto understood the message and nodded hishead, and the dark haired man immediately ran his sword through the panel,causing all of life preserving functionality of the tank to cease to function,which immediately cut off Prompto’s air supply. As he began to choke, all three men managed to break open the glass onthe tank, causing whatever liquid inside to burst out while Prompto gasped forbreath.  The green eyed man reached upand carefully sliced the wires still holding Prompto in place, while the bigguy with tattoos caught him as he immediately began to fall afterward, carefullyprotecting him from the glass.

“What the hell is this place?” he grunted, as the green eyedman wrapped one of the discarded lab coats around his shoulders.  Prompto had immediately began to shiver oncehis temperature was no longer regulated in the tank.

“This is an MT manufacturing facility,” Prompto forced outaround his chattering teeth.  “They makeclones and then turn them into MTs.”  Heclutched his wrist as he spoke, thumb covering his barcode.  They had taken his wristband that he used tohide it when they took his clothes.

The blue eyed man stared closely at him before turning toglance at one of the sleeping clones. His eyes then widened.  “So you’re…”he started to stutter, and Prompto shook his head.

“I’m not quite like them. I escaped and was raised on the outside. Until recently that is.  Theyfound me and dragged me back here to finish the job I guess.”  Prompto began shaking again, only this timeit wasn’t from the cold.  The other threemen exchanged glances before the green eyed one cautiously spoke.

“We are from Lucis.  Weare trying to find out where our Crystal was taken so we can try to recover thethrone.  If you would be willing to helpus, we would be more than happy to get you out of here.”  The dark haired man shot him a glare, butdidn’t say anything.  Prompto had afeeling they would all help him anyway, but it just so happened their goals alignedwith his.

“That’s ok with me.  I’mpart of the resistance,” he replied.  “I’msure we all want to help you, honestly. Without Lucis, there’s no one standing between the Empire and all of Eos…”

They exchanged glances and nodded.  The big guy finally let go of Prompto, whoimmediately missed his warmth; the facility was freezing and he woulddefinitely need something better than this lab coat.  “I think we passed some barracks back thatway,” the dark haired man said.  “I’m surewe can scrounge up some clothes for you. I guess if this is…an MT facility. There won’t be much information about the Crystal then.”  The young man looked kind of upset aboutthat, before he turned to look at the other clones.

“Should we try to free them too?” he asked curiously, andPrompto glanced at him before shaking his head.

“It would do no good. They’re basically braindead at this point.  The only time we have a chance to be saved iswhen we’re still kids before they start doing the testing.  And I have no idea where they’re held.  Last time I was here I was still a childmyself.”  He then looked at the otherthree, who were still looking around the lab while looking sick as they beganto realize what went on there.  “I’m Prompto,by the way.  Thanks for saving me.”

The other three turned to look at him.  “I’m Noctis,” the dark haired man said, andPrompto’s eyes widened.  It looks like hewas indeed in the presence of the Prince of Lucis  Before he could try to bow or anythingthough, Noctis quickly shook his head.  “Pleasedon’t.  Honestly I don’t really have acountry at the moment so it’s not like it matters.”

Next to him, the green eyed man tsked lightly, beforeadjusting his glasses and shaking Prompto’s hand.  “I am Ignis, Chamberlain to His Highness,” heintroduced himself.

“And I’m Gladio, his Shield,”the big guy said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.  “We appreciate all the help you can bring us.”  Prompto nodded, and soon they found Prompto achange of clothes before he helped them escape the facility.

Not long after their escape, Prompto introduced them toAranea who was overjoyed to find out that Prompto had escaped.  She was one of the leaders of the resistanceand had looked out for Prompto as he grew up, kind of treating him like heryounger brother.  She was also one of themain ones who had connections to the Empire, for she had infiltrated them as a mercenaryand would often bring intel back for them to use.  She was more than happy to assist the princeand his retainers, and they were soon welcomed to the resistance movement.   Theybegan tracking down any information they could about the Crystal’s location,while Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio helped where they can while they waited.  They often ended up getting paired withPrompto on his tasks, and it didn’t take long for the blond and dark hairedprince to get along.  Noctis would sharestories about his childhood and growing up in a relatively peaceful setting,even if possible war was always on the horizon, which Prompto latched ontoalmost as if it was his own personal fairy tale.  

It was nice to imagine somewhere in Eos kids got to grow upnormally and have such a rosy childhood, since in Niflheim they werebrainwashed and indoctrinated to follow the Empire’s regime at a youngage.  Children were taught to tattle ontheir parents if they saw anything that could be possibly against the Empireand were rewarded for bringing information like that forward.  It pitted child against parent and causeddissonance between each generation that struggled to gain power from the other.  Aranea had told him stories of a kid of whenshe was younger before things had been like that when the Emperor was still benevolentand cared for his people.  She likeNoctis had a normal childhood up until right before middle school when thingsbegan to change to what they were now; most people in the resistance were fromher generation who experienced the changes first hand and knew that thingsweren’t always like they are now.

Noctis, meanwhile, would listen in pained silence as Promptoexplained his childhood or what it was like for most kids growing up inNiflheim.  He hated it.  He couldn’t understand how the Emperor coulddo that to his people, when he had an example of what a great monarch should doin his father.  Eventually, one day afterPrompto had shared a personal tidbit, he finally brought up something he hadbeen holding close to his chest for awhile. “You know, my dream is to save my country from the Empire’styranny.  I mean, obviously it’s what allof us want in the resistance.  But Imainly want it for the kids.  I want themto have the childhood they should have – that I wish I had.  I guess technically I wouldn’t have been made…”he started to say, until Noctis interrupted and insisted upon born, “fine, born, without the Empiredoing what they have, but I think it’s a good trade off for everyone getting tolive happily.”  Prompto looked down as hespoke, his blond bangs covering his eyes and freckled cheeks so Noctis couldn’tsee how torn he looked.

Noctis sat back, looking at Prompto thoughtfully, beforesaying, “I’m glad you were born though and that I got to meet you.  I guess my dream is just to save Lucis andget it out of Niflheim control.  Butafter hearing that?  I think I want to goeven further.”  Prompto glanced up athim, curiosity in his eyes that Noctis could see peeking out from hisbangs.  “I want to bring peace to all ofEos – Niflheim included – and unite our countries in peace,” Noctis said, eyesnot leaving Prompto’s.

He saw Prompto’s eyes widen, the indigo almost turning moreviolet for a moment, before he blushed slightly and looked away.  “That’s a good dream,” he said softly.  “I think it’ll become my new dream too.”

Noctis grinned at him, clappinga hand to his shoulder, and changed the topic to something lighter.  They were soon laughing as they chatted awayagain, although a warmth had settled in their chests about their shared goals.

Not too long after that, they finally started to gaininformation about the Crystal’s location, and began to make strides in order toreach it.  Aranea was cautious,especially when she learned from Ignis and Gladio that they had received helpon their journey from a man that they later realized was the Chancellor of Niflheim.  She explained to them that he wasn’t to betrusted and that it was his influence that had actually changed the Emperor allthose years ago.  She had done a lot ofdigging when she started working for the empire as a mercenary, and had lookedinto Chancellor Izunia’s background specifically.  His history before joining the Empire waspretty hazy and every single change in law along with the start of the MTprogram happened after Ardyn had moved through the ranks.  “I would be cautious if Ardyn’s trying tohelp you,” she said.  “There must be somesort of trick involved.”

Right after they finally found the location of the Crystaldeep within Zegnautus Keep – a flying military installation and MT researchlaboratory that was usually docked in Gralea – Noctis finally learned thereason for Ardyn’s help.  He received amessage that had been smuggled to him from his childhood friend Lunafreya,Princess of Tenebrae and Oracle, who had been meant to be his fiancée untilNiflheim had broken their treaty and invaded. She let him know that once he touched the Crystal, his life was meant tobe sacrificed so he would be able to kill Ardyn and free Eos from influence bythe daemons.  It was his fate as the Kingof Light.  

Noctis stared at the letter for several long moments, hismind racing, while around him his friends crumbled.  Ignis looked devastated at the idea of losinghis prince – his brother really – that he had helped raise, while Gladioluslooked angry and stormed out of the room. Prompto, meanwhile, looked crushed, and he had immediately slid downagainst the wall he had been leaning against before placing his head betweenhis legs and trying his best to steady his breathing.  Noctis, the sometimes dorky, sometimes moody,but always kind prince who expressed nothing about indignation about how theEmpire treated its people and worry about how his own people were fairing undertheir rule?  Why would the Astrals takehim away?

After awhile, Noctis folded upthe letter and shoved it into his pocket, not addressing its contents and insteadfocusing on the matter at hand – getting to the crystal.  Ignis kept giving him a worried look, eyesstill hurt over his fate, but Noctis carefully masked his feelings behind a stoicface.  Gladio eventually returned aswell, still looking angry but contributing to the plan as was his duty.  Prompto, meanwhile, stayed balled up in hiscorner, unable to look at anyone as his heart broke inside.  Later he would try to lift everyone’s spiritsup, but for now he just didn’t have it in him. After the meeting, where they came up with their plan to infiltrate thekeep so Noctis could get to the Crystal and fulfill his destiny, Noctis madehis way over next to Prompto and slid down to sit next to him, before puttingan arm around his shoulder and tugging Prompto over until his head rested onhis shoulder.  Prompto buried his faceinto his shoulder and finally began to cry, letting his feelings out, whileNoctis gently ran his fingers through his hair comfortingly, tears alsostreaming down his face.  Prompto wassuddenly brought back to the moment he met Noctis, floating in the tank andfeeling like everything was about to end in a horrifying way.  He didn’t want that to happen to Noctis.

Not long afterward, they and a small group of resistancefighters including Aranea, finally made their way to the chamber housing theCrystal.  Outside, a larger group of theresistance were acting as a distraction, launching a guerilla style attack todraw the MT forces away from the installation so they could sneak in.  Noctis squared his shoulders as he faced theCrystal, and slowly made his way too it, reaching forward with a trembling handin order to touch its glowing surface. Right before he could, however, Prompto dashed forward, startling Noctisas he pushed him aside, placing his own hand on its surface and gasping as themagic of the crystal suddenly pulsated through his body.  He slammed his eyes shut and sent a desperateplea to the Astrals, asking simply, ‘Take me instead.’

Behind him, Noctis gasped out his name in shock, whileAranea from somewhere further back cursed his recklessness as well.  He knew she knew exactly what was going on,and he felt a slight pang of regret knowing how much it would upset her to losehim.  However, he had made his decision,and he wanted to do everything he could to save Noctis and allow him to carryout their dream.  Suddenly, he heard  a strange voice in his head speaking in alanguage that he did not understand, even though he somehow understood the gistof it.  It was asking if he was sure ofhis decision, and Prompto painfully nodded his head and gritted out a, “Yes.”

Immediately, the power of the Crystal burst from his body,travelling to Noctis through him instead of to Noctis directly, and he barelymanaged to stand under the ferocious power that was threatening to tear himapart.  He was barely able to registerthat Ardyn had suddenly appeared, laughing at his fate while Noctis’s eyesglowed a bright purple with the power of the Astrals flowing through him.  Prompto passed out and collapsed to the floorright as the last of the power faded away as Noctis summoned his armiger tolaunch his attack on the Chancellor.

Prompto woke to something warm and wet hitting his face, andpainfully opened his eyes to see Noctis hovering over him, cradling his head onhis lap and desperately shaking him awake. Prompto was finding it hard to breath and could literally feel hislifeforce draining from his body.  ‘Betterthan losing my humanity,’ he thought idly. His feverish eyes met Noctis’s tear stained ones, and Prompto suddenlywished he had the energy to comfort Noctis the way the other man had comfortedhim several days ago when they had learned of his fate.  Instead, he tried desperately to speak,fighting past the pain and Noctis desperately telling him to conserve hisstrength and that they’d figure something out. “You were my new dream,” Prompto finally forced out, his voice hoarseand whispery from the effort.

Noctis’s face crumbled at the admission.  “And you were mine,” he replied back.  Prompto smiled sadly before closing his eyes,ready for the pain to finally fade away, and feeling more of those warmdroplets fall on his face from the prince’s tears.  Thus, he missed it when the teardrops beganto glow blue with the remainder of the Crystal’s power, slowly branching outpatterns across Prompto’s body and healing the damage it had caused when it ravagedhis lifeforce before Noctis had used it to save Eos and begin the fulfillmentto their dream.  Eventually Prompto’spain faded completely, and he finally opened his eyes in confusion, gaze muchsharper now that his injuries were healed and his lifeforce was no longerdraining away.

“Did I die?” he asked after a few moments, and Noctis chokedout a laugh before crushing him in a hug, as around him the other members ofthe resistance along with Gladio, Ignis, and Aranea cheered.  Noctis then pulled Prompto into a joyfulkiss, salt on his lips from his tears, and Prompto smiled into the kiss beforerunning his fingers experimentally through his hair.  

When Noctis finally pulled away, giving Prompto a warm andtender look, he said softly, “I’m glad that I get to keep my dream.”  His hands were cradling Prompto’s face, andhe kept running his thumb along the freckles on his cheek.

“Me too,” Prompto said, smiling back at him.  They were soon pulled apart as Aranea wantedto also give Prompto a hug before berating him for being so stupid, while the resistancemembers all planned a large celebration, for they were hearing reports that theEmperor and several of the higher ups in the Empire had disappeared and itlooks like the Empire had also fallen along with Ardyn.  Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio planned oncelebrating with them before making their way back to Lucis to begin rebuildingefforts there.  Noctis shyly invitedPrompto to come with him, and the blond immediately accepted.  They made plans that once Lucis was doingwell again, they would find a new dream together and eventually live happilyever after.

[doarw]

That’s How They Track You

I don’t remember the exact day that this happened, but I know it was back in March.

The store that I work at offers a discount card. All you do is sign up with your name, address, and telephone number. You don’t get spam messages on your phone or unwanted mail. If you do get anything in the mail, it’s just coupons to use at the store, which can result in some very nice savings.

One day, I’m scanning a customer’s items and the last item was a case of beer. I asked for his ID, as it’s store policy to see an ID for all alcohol purchases. He hands it to me and I swipe the back of the ID, where the barcode is, over the scanner, because it’s quicker than entering the DOB on the register’s touch screen. The touch screen doesn’t always register that you pushed a selection on the screen, which can be fucking annoying and it can be a time waster. Here’s the exchange that happened after I scanned the back of his ID.

Customer: Oh, you scanned my ID.

Me: Yeah… (So?)

Customer: That’s how they track you.

Me: Oh? (Wtf?)

Customer: First, it was the store’s card that they used to track you, now it’s done by scanning IDs.

Me: *hands back ID and finishes up the transaction* Alrighty, you have a nice day, now. (Holy fuck, what insane conspiracy is this guy on?)

For the less than 6 months that I had been working at this job, I had only heard about encounters with those types of people from other workers, but that was my first experience encountering one. (So far, I haven’t encountered him or others like him again. Knock on wood.) My mind is still blown over the experience. Who is this “they”? I have no idea and I don’t think I ever want to know, because I have a feeling that it’ll be something crazy. Our registers don’t store personal information on people. They aren’t capable of it. Hell, they can’t even do Apple Pay.

[g-ayjay]

Bring It In - Jared Kleinman

A/N: Hi, this is actually one of my first ever DEH kind of fanfictions and (if some understand my love for Jared) I decided to write about something that @writing-prompt-s has prompted about. It’s not exact but it’s still the same idea. I’ve actually never really wrote this out so I’m going to try to allow my thoughts to spill out. Happy reading?

Tags: @knifes-n-wifes

There’s actually been something that Jared honestly never had the guts to really admit. The brunette jerk-ish male really likes hugs. Though he never really received him, he just loved the thought of actually being embraced by someone he loves. Though, things have been kind of different lately.

The story is thought up in his mind once again. The short past is slightly fuzzy but he can still be able to make out what has happened. About a month ago, Jared’s cousin, Michael, started out with the doctors diagnosing him with terminal cancer. Jared and his family were devastated when they heard the news. Though he was under the chemo influence, he was still happy and smiling. Jared couldn’t stand the thought of his cousin on the edge of dying. While Michael was still awake but weak, Jared quickly but carefully wrapped his arms around his fatigue and sick cousin. He felt him tense up as his blood pressure began to heighten. Jared let go of his still and more colorful cousin. Michael didn’t speak but his face definitely looked way better than it had did before. At this moment, Jared knew that it wasn’t a miracle that saved his cousin, it was him.

He didn’t really want anyone to know about this whole shebang with Jared and his hugs because he was the kind of person who would think that if someone found out, they would take them to the scientists to test him out and use him as a test subject for the rest of his life. For Jared, he didn’t want a life like that. His thoughts would often decided to keep this a secret until he can figure out how to really make something of it. He couldn’t let the fame or profit get to his head, even if he really wanted to.

Jared sighed and plugged in his headphones as he played Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus. “This could be life changing.” He thought to himself. “But I don’t want to cause too much of a change in the world and become a breakout of my entire life.” To be completely honest, Jared was afraid. His thought didn’t arrange to what to do in this type of situation. He felt his anxiety throb up to his chest and his heart started to pump at an irregular rate. “What am I going to do?” He thought to himself once more.

He quickly sat up and looked at himself. His arms. His hands. His wrists. His palms. What was he anymore? Was he a monster? This isn’t anything close to normal for a human. He needed someone to talk to. He couldn’t handle the heavy negative thoughts at once. All of this unwanted and useless pressure held emotional pain on his shoulders. He needed to put a stop to this or wear it off somehow. He wasn’t the right person to be a hero and he wasn’t the greatest person to have this kind of technique that messes with the laws of humanity.

Jared quickly picked up his phone, tumbling and shaking with fear as he dialed his friends number and held the device to his ear. He just wanted a friend to talk to, he mustn’t say a word about what’s been on his mind. No.

“Hello?” The voice echoed through his brain as he tried to catch his breath and choke back on the fearful tears.

“Evan.” He says quietly yet bluntly.

“Yes? Jared? Is something wrong?”

Jared faked a snicker, “Everything is fine, I was just wondering what you were up to since I haven’t really seen you in a big while. Then again, it’s mid-summer.”

“O-Oh.” Evan said quietly, seemingly doing nothing or maybe work.

“How’s the fam?” He questions.

“They’re okay, just kind of bumming around. How’s your new apartment going?”

Jared laughs a bit at that, “Oh, it’s hell. I can understand how much of a handful I am.” He laughs a bit more.

Evan quietly laughs to himself, “Expect difficult kinda of things, b-but know you’ll get through it.”

Jared pauses. His thoughts were attacking his brain all at once and he felt like his entire head was going to fall off of his spine. It wasn’t a migraine but just so much anxiety filling up his body that he wanted to throw up.

“J-Jared?” Evan stammered a bit through the phone.

“Oh, uh, hey Evan, something just came up, I’ll talk to you later!”

Evan went quiet for a good second before complying with a simple “Ok.” Jared quickly ended the call before falling back in his bed, realizing what he’s done to himself. He sighs and drops the phone to the side of his bed. “This is nuts..” he says to himself. He was afraid. He was afraid. He was afraid. He was afraid. He was afraid. He was afraid. He was afraid.

The thought of was Jared could do. Jared’s hugs could cure the worst of illnesses. There’s beautiful children around the world who are dying from these types of things. There’s loving family who are being separated from their families because of these types of things. He couldn’t stand the amount of people crying inside of his head. The broken hearts, the heartstruck pain from these people. He doesn’t even understand the consequences he gets from this but he could be a hero for so many. Not all, but many. He thought of the amount of happiness the parents and the children would feel if their loved ones were cured. The amount of positivity shared by Jared.

This kept him up all night.

The next morning, Jared did his normal routine. Got up, got dressed and fixed himself, and went to work for a normal full-time shift.

The day went by slow as any other day. I mean, it jumps from the busy sides of his job. Though, that same thing still ran through the back of his mind and he couldn’t stand it. He scanned the barcode of a few simple items for a customer, causing the machine to beep. He typed up the price and said the exact amount due, brought the change in from the customer and bagged their items, giving it to them. He quietly sighed to himself, sitting at the cashier spot and waited for the next customer.

This one was off. A young lady, maybe in her late twenties, crying softly to herself. She slowly but surely but the box of tissues on the counter.

Jared scanned it and looked up at her, “Did you find everything okay?” She nodded at him slowly. He couldn’t hold his voice back anymore, “Is everything alright?” She looked up, tears rolling down her cheeks, ruining her makeup completely.

“No. It’s not.” She said quietly, “My son is in the hospital with terminal cancer.”

Jared’s heart sunk. Not this again. He forced his head to look down at the items in his hands, looking away from the woman. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles under his breath. He shakily hands the woman the bagged box of tissues, no amount due.

“Take it.” He says quietly. The woman looked at him and paused for a second.

She gently takes the bagged and asks, “Are you sure?” He nodded at her reassurance. She smiled a bit at him and thanked him quietly before leaving the store.

“Oh God.” Jared thought to himself.

The shift ended and Jared packed his things and checked himself out of the store. On the way home, Jared would end up seeing his life flashing for a couple of seconds before his eyes where he’d stop and stare. He was getting pretty tired of this.

Once he was home, he flopped on his bed and felt himself wanting to cry but held himself back. An idea sparked his mind as he quickly got up. At this rate, he was crying with all of the tears in his head. He grabbed a piece of cardboard and a permanent marker. His keys were still in his pocket so he ran in his car and sped off.

There he was. Clementine’s Hospital. A hospital known for terminal cancer patients. He knew this is the most he could do in order to get those thoughts out of his head. He wanted all positivity at this rate.

He grabbed his cardboard sign and scrubbed words onto it with the permanent marker. Jared quickly jumped out of the car and ran inside of the hospital and looked around at the faces that surrounded him. He wasn’t afraid anymore. He was more of stiff and firm about the whole hospital thing but that didn’t stop Jared from taking another step into the building.

Jared grabbed a small chair from one of the hallways and sat down. His heart was pounding and he felt more tears rush down his face as he may suspect this could cost him most of his life. For once, he felt happy and proud of himself. He gently picked up the cardboard sign.

“Free Hugs”