#i keep goin back and forth on how sun and moons body looks when their separated

[heyimanowl]

WOAH MAMA!

[ratcarney]

wordless

on top of his normal wakachi duties, raikou struggles to find a way to communicate with gau without the use of his voice. gau takes on more responsibility. yukimi is playfully homophobic, but not to a worrying extent.

based on this post and my newfound obsession with the wakachi monologue.

———

“you’ve heard me do it a million times, gau.” raikou whispered. “you’ve got this.”

“stop talking.” gau murmured as he paced back and forth, repeating raikou’s infamous wakachi speech to himself in his head.

raikou sighed and adjusted his scarf. “i can do it if you’re too nervous.”

gau looked pointedly at him. “no way. and i said stop talking.” he stopped pacing to take a breath, then turned his attention back to raikou. “drink some tea.”

raikou rolled his eyes, but obeyed the order. he sipped from one of gau’s teacups and winced as he swallowed.

if he was being honest with himself, while losing his voice was probably the least of his problems, it was the problem that frustrated him the most. so much of wakachi work depended on him being able to communicate with gau. they needed to be on the same page if they had a chance at succeeding in their field. success meant trust from hattori, and trust from hattori meant everything.

“i hate that we have to go out when you’re feeling like this.” gau fretted. “you’re sure you can’t ask the boss to reschedule?”

raikou shook his head. “i won’t make excuses for myself, especially not now when we’ve made it this far.” he held his teacup with both hands, savoring the warmth of the porcelain. gau frowned and walked over to where raikou was sitting. gently, he touched the palm of his hand to raikou’s forehead.

“do you feel warm?” gau asked, the pitch of his voice rising the way it did when he was anxious.

“not at all.” raikou exhaled. “stop worrying, gau, i’m fine.” he set his teacup down and crossed his arms over his chest. outside, the sun was setting, sending orange-tinted light spilling from the windows.

gau took his hand back. “stop talking.” his tone was firm, but raikou heard the concern in it.

raikou nodded and let his head tilt back slightly so it rested against the wall. he closed his eyes, trying to stave off a brewing headache by sheer force of will alone. the stubborn brightness of the setting sun certainly wasn’t doing his head any favors. asking gau for a painkiller would have been easier, but now, talking also seemed like a lot of work. the only appealing option was to fall asleep until they needed to go out and find a traitor, but raikou wasn’t in the habit of falling asleep before at least midnight.

—

“raikou.” gau whispered, touching his shoulder. “wake up. it’s time.”

raikou blinked in surprise. looking out the window, he saw the sun had disappeared, leaving a cloudy darkness in its wake. he opened his mouth, but a withering look from gau made him close it again.

“please don’t talk.” gau stepped back and shrugged his coat on. he carefully handed shirogamon over to raikou. “how do you feel?”

raikou tried to smile, but judging by the look on gau’s face, it probably looked more like a grimace.

“we’ll make it quick. yukimi’s driving us.”

raikou raised an eyebrow.

“i asked him about ten thousand times and he finally agreed.” gau smiled. “but he made it clear that he was doing it for you, not for me.”

they walked in silence down to the elevator and rode it to the basement level. yukimi was waiting for them, leaning up against his car and jotting something down in a notebook.

“it’s about time.” he growled, but upon making eye contact with raikou, he softened. “damn, look at you.” yukimi looked him up and down with something a shade darker than pity. before raikou could enter the car, he rolled up his sleeve and touched the inside of his wrist to raikou’s forehead.

raikou tried to dodge it, but yukimi stopped him by gripping his shoulder. unable to say anything, he opted to roll his eyes in lieu of a defiant comment. concern from gau was one thing, but pity from yukimi made him want to scream.

“not too bad.” yukimi sighed and loosened his grip on raikou’s shoulder. “you shouldn’t be out for too long, though. and don’t try anything fancy, just get in and out, you hear?”

raikou nodded, trying valiantly to make a face that accurately communicated the phrase “shut up, yukimi” with equal parts annoyance and begrudging affection.

“i’m serious, raikou. no showing off.” yukimi narrowed his eyes. “save the flashy shit for when you can talk.” then his glare fell upon gau. “get him back in one piece. then we’ll have kazuho take a look at him.”

“yes, sir.”

“alright.” yukimi moved so that raikou could get in the front seat. “you’re goin’ downtown, yeah?” gau rattled off the address, and yukimi pulled out of the parking lot and into the street.

raikou sighed and tightened his scarf. yukimi glanced at him and snickered. clearly he was amused.

“you’ve got a goddamn accessory for everything.” yukimi snickered, trying in vain to suppress his schadenfreude. “fucking ridiculous.”

unable to do anything else, raikou glared at him. he was thinking quite a few choice words, but after reminding himself that yukimi was doing him a favor, he let his sullen thoughts fade away. he would get yukimi back later. raikou contented himself with silently scheming for the rest of the car ride.

“this is it.” gau said from the backseat, and raikou snapped back to reality. yukimi parked the car and stared into raikou’s eyes.

“look at me. keep it simple.” he growled. “and come right back.”

raikou nodded and signed “yes,” which was more or less the extent of his japanese sign language knowledge. he knew yukimi knew more than he did. he had been trying to find ways to talk with the kira technique kid who was holed up in his apartment all the time.

yukimi chuckled, a rare moment of genuine amusement without a trace of sadism. “go, kid.”

raikou stepped out of the car to join gau on the sidewalk. he kept a cautious hand on shirogamon as they walked through a back alley.

finally, after about ten minutes, raikou heard faint footsteps around the corner, the trained kind that could only belong to an iga ninja.

he felt gau tense up next to him, and touched his shoulder to put him at ease. gau looked at him expectantly.

the wordless tilt of raikou’s chin said “well, go on.”

gau nodded and stepped out from around the corner. raikou casually followed, knowing that his presence was a lot more threatening than gau’s, and it was better to be fashionably late than directly on gau’s heels.

the traitor, a tall, grizzled man, eventually said the words raikou and gau knew to be inevitable: “who the hell are you?”

to raikou’s surprise, gau smiled.

“we are the wakachi.” he said coolly.

they raised their right hands to show their identical bracelets at an angle that perfectly caught the light of the moon. the metal shone, sinister in the dim light of late evening.

“treason control officers of the kairoshu. meanwhile…”

raikou stopped listening to the words he knew by heart and observed gau from the corner of his eye. he was standing tall and confident in a way that he had never stood before. the infamous wakachi speech was comprised of words he had heard a million times before, but it was evident that the words didn’t control him. he controlled them.

in the light of the moon, gau’s eyes glittered with a certain delight. he was taking pleasure in having power, raikou realized with pride. gau deserved this power, and until now, raikou hadn’t seen it from him. raikou took some more pride in hearing gau emphasize the same words and syllables as he did when he did the speech himself, mirroring his own cadence and tone, but making the speech uniquely his nonetheless. the change in his attitude was mesmerizing, and raikou almost missed his cue.

“...you are to be severely punished.” gau stepped back of his own accord, not needing raikou to remind him.

raikou narrowed his eyes and ran towards the traitor, keeping his head low in case he had a weapon. sure enough, raikou heard the familiar click of a gun before thrusting shirogamon into the traitor’s chest. he removed his blade quickly before looking back to see the man hit the ground. his gun clattered against the pavement and slid a few feet away.

the traitor was suitably punished, having paid for his disloyalty with his life, and raikou raised shirogamon a final time. he hesitated, and yukimi’s words echoed in his head.

don’t try anything fancy, just get in and out, you hear?

keep it simple.

raikou sighed and sheathed shirogamon, feeling exhaustion setting into his body. the adrenaline of the kill was draining away.

gau knelt and cut a lock of dark hair from the body. he sealed it in a plastic bag and pocketed it before approaching raikou.

“your scarf.” he tilted his head, a worried expression on his face replacing the confident one he had worn a few minutes earlier.

raikou looked down. blood had spattered onto it and dark red stains bloomed on the fabric. gau inspected it closely.

“i can probably get those out.” he mused, looking up at raikou. he swiped at raikou’s cheek, attempting to remove some blood from his face. “you’re usually more careful. we should get you home.”

raikou dipped his head in agreement. gau stepped over the body and looked back to wait for raikou, who had walked around it. they made their way back to the main street side by side. after a minute, gau looked up at raikou.

“did i do okay?” he asked. “with talking, i mean…”

i’m proud beyond belief, raikou wanted to say. you impressed me. you did amazingly, and i am so lucky to have you by my side, gau.

but he couldn’t.

gau looked at him with bated breath.

raikou stopped and did the only thing he could think to do.

he hugged gau.

physical affection wasn’t usually his ideal avenue for expressing his feelings, but taking gau in his arms was easy, like he belonged there.

gau had tensed up at the contact, but relaxed after the shock wore off. he hugged raikou back, his chin resting on raikou’s shoulder.

raikou felt gau’s hands on his back. they were still a little shaky from doing the wakachi speech by himself. his adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet.

slowly, gently, raikou reached up and cupped the back of gau’s head with his hand, bringing him even closer. he swallowed hard. “you did so well.” the words were barely audible, but the weight they held made up for the lack of volume. in that moment, hattori didn’t matter. the traitor didn’t matter. earning trust and advancing the ranks of the kairoshu didn’t matter. what mattered was how tight gau was holding him, like raikou would fade away if he wasn’t careful. communication didn’t have to be through words, raikou realized, suddenly hyper-aware of gau’s arms wrapped around him. through his touch, gau conveyed the honor, the gratefulness, and all the pride he felt not only to have done the wakachi speech correctly, but to have done it by raikou’s side.

gau pulled away and raikou noticed with concern that his eyes were shining with tears. before he could apologize, gau smiled brightly and wiped them away. “you don’t know how much that means to me, raikou.” he said softly. “and please stop talking.”

raikou nodded. he tousled gau’s hair, hoping that the little gesture conveyed his pride the way gau’s touch had. by the look on gau’s face, he knew that it did.

“are you done?”

gau and raikou’s heads whipped toward the opening of the alley. yukimi stood there, leaning against the wall and pointedly checking his watch.

gau jumped back from raikou, his cheeks reddening. “sorry, yukimi.” he squeaked.

“gayass.” yukimi muttered, just loud enough for raikou to register that he was addressing both of them.

raikou looked up at yukimi, adjusting his scarf and daring yukimi to say something about it. to his confusion, yukimi’s eyes widened.

“raikou…”

before raikou could do anything, gau piped up. “it’s not his.” he assured yukimi. raikou looked down and saw the traitor’s blood stained on his scarf, vest, and sleeves.

yukimi sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. “scared the hell out of me, kid. get in the car, i’m sure you’re tired.” as raikou walked to the car, yukimi’s eyes narrowed. “you’re usually more careful.”

“that’s what i said.” gau said, already sitting in the backseat.

“pipe down.” yukimi rolled his eyes. “get in, raikou.”

raikou nodded and walked around the car to get in the passenger seat. he sank into the seat, only then realizing how tired he was. yukimi noticed.

“just hang on ‘til we get to your place.”

raikou’s eyelashes fluttered, his eyes threatening to close completely, but before they could do so, he felt gau’s hand on his shoulder. he didn’t have the energy to turn his head, but he could tell that gau was smiling. his touch conveyed affection beyond the likes of what could be said aloud.

raikou’s pride for gau and his wakachi performance was still coursing through the air between the two of them, speaking volumes in its electric silence. they had created a form of communication that was all their own. raikou exhaled and let himself get lost in gau’s gentle touch.

there were no words needed.

[possibilistfanfiction]

stardust brought to life (we have only just begun)

[museum au part 1/2—lexa works at the museum of natural history & clarke works at the hayden planetarium. lexa’s seen some shit but yknow they get to fall in love, all that jazz. v hap, v gay]

//

stardust brought to life (we have only just begun)

.

what we do know, and what we can assert without further hesitation, is that the universe had a beginning. the universe continues to evolve. and yes, every one of our body’s atoms is traceable to the big bang and to the thermonuclear furnaces within high-mass stars that exploded more than five billion years ago.

– neil degrasse tyson, astrophysics for people in a hurry

//

your shoulder still aches.

you try not to think about that, though, especially right now, because it’s the first snow of the year and it’s beautiful, and clarke waves to you, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. it almost knocks you off your feet, how pretty she is, so you casually lean against the railing so you don’t fall down the stairs.

‘hey lex,’ she says, settling next to you, seemingly happy to stand on the stairs instead of heading to the planetarium where she’s supposed to be.

‘good morning, clarke.’

‘always so formal,’ she says, then tugs on your arm lightly before starting up the stairs. ‘octavia is in the café today, let’s get coffee for free before kane is here and can tell us not to.’

‘clarke—’

she rolls her eyes, tugs on your hand. ‘you can get hot chocolate or tea or whatever if you’re still on your insane kick to give up caffeine.’

‘that’s not—’

she stops and turns toward you, glaring. it’s soft, though, made softer by her tone: ‘it’s the first snow, lexa. live a little.’

you sigh and scuff your boot on the marble stairs once, then nod. ‘whatever. fine.’

clarke laughs and takes off again.

your stomach hurts sometimes too, aches all the way into your chest, into your shoulder, but you try not to think about that either. you think about the size of the universe instead, about how last year there were 23,237 recorded live trees in maine.

clarke doesn’t let go of your hand all the way to the fourth floor, and it maybe hurts a little less.

//

you’re trying to eat your pizza slowly, but you’re sweaty and starving and your hands are barely warming up from the cold but you don’t really care. anya had convinced you to join this stupid intermural hockey league this year—‘you can’t keep making excuses, alexandria, for the things you still love,’ and for a moment you were sure you weren’t talking about hockey’—and you’d wanted to get in a fight right then and there earlier when you’d seen clarke and raven and octavia cheering on the bleachers.

anya had laughed when you’d checked her into the boards, especially because you were on the same team, but the game is over now and you’re at a pizza place near the park that clarke had suggested, and she’s drinking wine and laughing and she’d convinced you to have some too.

you all walk to the subway together, and clarke doesn’t hesitate for a moment before giving you a long, warm hug, the same as always, even though you’re sweaty and probably smell terrible.

you have the impulse to kiss her cheek but you don’t, and when you’re icing your shoulder later that evening with anya, passing a bottle of bourbon back and forth while you watch reruns of game of thrones, she laughs a little when you smile at your phone.

‘is that clarke?’

you debate lying, but you’re really bad at it and you’re also drunk, so there’s no point. ‘yeah.’

‘she’s hot.’

you sigh and anya grins.

‘keep showing her those big hockey muscles,’ anya says, and you roll your eyes when she flexes, ‘and i’m sure she’ll reciprocate.’

‘fuck off.’

‘unbutton that polo every once in a while, lex.’

‘suck my dick, anya.’

she takes a swig of the bourbon and then hands it to you. ‘just take your shirt off during one of those sleepovers you chaperone.’

you cough on your mouthful of alcohol, and it burns all the way down your throat. ‘there are children there.’

anya just laughs, delighted, while you sulk, trying not to cough more.

‘you have abs, lexa, children or not.’

your cheeks burn and you try not to smile. you don’t let her have any more of your bourbon that night.

//

raven invites you to a post-finals party. you think it could either be the best or worst idea you’ve ever had, willfully allowing yourself to get drunk around clarke, who will also be getting drunk, but you really do try to act your age every now and again.

apparently, you’re having this party at clarke’s parents’ apartment, because they’re out of town for a conference her dad is presenting at. as you walk with raven, she tells you all about his work in robotics, because they’re friends, you guess? she keeps rubbing at her hip as you walk and you fish around in your backpack and find your trusty bottle of advil, offer her two without a word. she takes them without pausing, throws them back and swallows them without any water or anything, and then just keeps talking about stem cells and nanorobotics and she’s let you talk her ear off about endemic plant species in south africa, so you smile into your scarf all the way down park avenue.

//

clarke’s parents’ apartment is huge, as far as you’re concerned. you grew up in a little house in a little town on the coast of maine, and you didn’t want for anything—you’d had your tide pools and hockey skates and books, a pretty girl you loved and your uncle who would let you walk to the top of the light house with him at night.

but this is something altogether entirely, and you feel a little out of place in your sweater that has a hole in the sleeve and the same boots you wear everyday to work in the winter. raven doesn’t seem to care at all, though, and clarke skids in from the kitchen wearing a t-shirt (a very tight, lowcut t-shirt that leaves very little to the imagination) and jeans, wool socks with little penguins on them, and she hugs you both at the same time, groaning when octavia changes the music blaring to bodak yellow because ‘i love this song too, guys, but it’s not even 9 and this is the sixth time they’ve put this on.’

clarke takes one look at the little bundt cake you’d brought—you’d made it in your dorm kitchen, it’s full of quinoa and pumpkin and you’d bought real powdered sugar over the top—and seems to kind of melt.

raven laughs. ‘griffin, how drunk are you already?’

clarke shrugs, tugging you both with her to the kitchen where lincoln smiles, so handsome, as he mixes drinks while octavia sits on the counter, swinging their legs and rapping every word to bodak yellow.

‘my parents took me to brunch before they flew out,’ clarke starts to explain.

‘and then we just kept goin,’ octavia says, turning to you with a grin. lincoln seems far more sober, but you think he might just be better at faking it.

‘well i guess we better catch up,’ raven says, and clarke and octavia cheer, handing you both a shot.

it feels like a bad idea, but it also feels like a really good one.

//

clarke’s parents’ apartment has a rooftop garden, and it affords you an entire view of central park and the rest of the city, which you discover because clarke takes you there later, when the place is packed and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard bodak at least twelve times. you know you could call anya if you wanted to go home, but clarke is smiling and you should be cold, because it’s supposed to snow and it’s windy, but you’re warm.

‘anyway, okay, so like, yes, i want to be a surgeon,’ she explains, ‘but also we’re so young, you know, and i want to spend time with my friends and not have my mother breathing down my neck before residency in a billion years, because she’ll probably rig it so that i get matched with her program.’

‘it is one of the best in the country,’ you say, taking a sip of your beer. ‘you said so yourself.’

clarke leans close with a fond huff. ‘you’re supposed to be on my side, lexa.’

you laugh, and the motion brings you close to clarke, closer than you’d really meant to be. you swallow, suddenly far colder and more sober than you’d been seconds ago.

clarke’s eyes dart to your lips, and then your eyes, and then your lips again.

the wind whips your hair around your faces and you credit that for the tears in your eyes as you lean forward and kiss her.

you know that the moon is 1/4000th the size of the sun, but that the moon is 4000 times closer to the earth than the sun, which allows everyone on earth to see them as relatively the same size. it’s the only place in our solar system that this happens, and you think about this as you kiss clarke in the dead of winter, the stars pulled down into streetlamps and headlights.

the city, usually so loud, quiets.

//

you kiss her for a long time, until one of your sniffles snot from being so cold and the other laughs and she leads you back into her parents’ apartment. the party is winding down and you’re getting sleepy and when people start to leave and she invites you to stay the night, you want to say no but then you think of how tired you are and how much you want to be held.

she leads you to her old room, which is full of paintings and sketches and polariods, certificates of awards for a variety of academic achievements, a letterman jacket from her highschool still slung over her desk chair.

you run your fingers over it as she goes shuffles through her drawer for pajamas for you. ‘what’d you letter in?’

she laughs. ‘chess. i was nationally ranked, actually.’

‘wow,’ you say, delighted. ‘that’s—‘

‘—nerdy, i know.’

‘no,’ you say. ‘i was going to say impressive.’

‘sure, sure,’ she says, laughing. she turns and hands you pajamas and you want to ask, maybe, how she can sense you don’t want to have sex, because you’d just kissed her for at least twenty minutes on a rooftop in manhattan and most people would probably get some mixed messages from that.

you’re so drunk you don’t really care about going into a bathroom or whatever at this point to change, because you’re pretty sure clarke doesn’t care at all, so you start to take your pants off while clarke changes too. ‘did you letter in anything?’

‘hockey,’ you say.

‘right,’ clarke says, slightly muffled by her shirt. ‘makes sense.’

‘do not tell anyone this, but i also lettered in jazz band.’

clarke lets out a laugh. and you turn to her as you slip into some of her worn, soft boxers. they’re a little big so you roll them up and she takes a deep breath and then lets it out through her nose. you smile—you’re a little pleased and a little apologetic—and then she starts to ask another question, something about a saxophone or a trumpet, as you pull your sweater over your head. you’re drunk so you’d forgotten, for the first time in years, but when you go to deposit your sweater in a pile on top of your socks and jeans, clarke is quiet and fighting between staring at you and the corner of her room.

‘you’re my same age and you’re from maine,’ she says, things seemingly clicking into place.

you take your sweater and pull it over your head again, and your hands start shaking and your eyes press with tears.

‘lexa,’ she says, stepping toward you quickly, which only makes your heart race more. you’re drunk, you’re drunk, and you know you’re safe but your ears are ringing. ‘i’m sorry i just—i didn’t—god,’ she says. maybe she notices you trembling, maybe she notices the way you’ve seemingly forgot how to button your pants, but she straightens up and says, ‘lexa,’ just firmly enough of your to meet her eyes.

they’re so blue. you want to find comfort in them, and maybe you will, but everything is too loud right now.

‘i have to go,’ you get out, barely, all gritted teeth and you remember what it was like to choke on your own blood.

‘lexa,’ she says again, differently this time, pleading. ‘i’m sorry.’

you shake your head. ‘i’m not mad,’ you say, and you’re surprised you were able to express a thought as coherent as that. ‘it’s not—i have to go.’

she very gently helps you button your pants and then nods. ‘okay.’

you breathe a sigh of relief because clarke is kind, because clarke is fun and young and wild but she’s gentle, and your brain is trying to convince your body that it’s about to die again, but later you’ll remember this moment with such tenderness.

‘let me get your coat. i’ll get you a car too.’

you follow her out, nodding, maybe, and she helps you into your coat, walks you down and makes sure you get into a black towncar, makes sure her driver knows your address.

when you get to your dorm, you knock on anya’s door and she lets you in, mostly asleep, without a word.

‘you’re here,’ she tells you, helping you out of your clothes and into her bed, while she sets up a little nest of blankets on the floor. ‘you’re in new york and it’s winter and—‘ she pauses for a moment, then lets out a laugh— ‘you have a hickey on your neck, for sure.’

it shocks you just enough, happily, that your heart slows down a bit. ‘from clarke,’ you say, and her name feels solid on your tongue, quiet and present.

‘i never would’ve guessed,’ anya drawls from the floor.

it takes you a while to fall asleep and you have nightmares, but you do have a hickey from a very pretty girl when you wake up the next day, so.

there’s that.

//

it’s all very confusing: one minute you’re holding your piece of pizza, walking to the table you always sit at, every day, with your girlfriend and your friends. you’re tired and your hip is sore from hockey, your eyes hurt from reading the same history primary sources over and over again on the shitty library computers. costia is beautiful, though, and the pizza today looked less burnt than usual, and your uncle had promised to take you fishing this weekend.

one minute you’re holding your piece of pizza, and you’re sixteen, and then there’s a very distinct series of pops, a single click, and your pizza is on the floor because you can’t feel your hand. your arm is on fire and it takes you a few moments, but then everyone is screaming and there are so many pops, and it’s loud.

it occurs to you that you were shot, that this is a school shooting, that all of your classmates—your friends—are dying. Dead.

costia is rushing to you and then there’s another pop and you’re doubled over, because you can’t breathe and you can’t see because pain is shooting up from your abdomen and everyone is screaming, everyone won’t stop screaming, and costia is brushing hair out of your eyes but you can’t breathe, and it hurts.

‘lexa,’ costia is saying, ‘lexa.’

you swallow and you nod and costia is crying, and she presses down on your shoulder and then on your stomach, and you think you might pass out from the pain.

‘don’t go to sleep,’ she says, and her tears are falling onto your face. ‘don’t fall asleep, lexa, please,’ she says, chokes out on the edge of a sob.

‘it’s okay,’ you say, taste the copper and iodine of your own blood. you don’t know what drives you to say it, because there are so many gunshots and you know there are so many bodies but you can’t look away from costia’s perfect skin, her dark eyes, her pretty mouth. you don’t know where your friends are, and it registers somewhere that you might die, that you were shot and you have to have massive internal bleeding because you’re coughing up blood and you can’t feel your left hand.

but costia is saying your name and trying to keep your blood in your body. she’s saying your name, over and over again, her hands pressing hard into your skin, your gut. she’s saying your name until she’s not, until she’s slumped over you in a single instant.

you want to scream, and you hadn’t been scared until now. you want to scream but you can’t, and her breathing is ragged and she coughs up blood into the crook of your neck.

‘it’s okay,’ you say again, as clearly as you can, as best as you can, and you feel her nod, just slightly.

one minute ago you were sixteen years old, thinking about pizza and calculus and the federalist papers, walking to a table where you were going to sit with your friends and kiss your girlfriend, tuck your hands into the pockets of your letterman as you walked home.

costia’s breathing stops, you feel it stop, and it’s so loud, but you hear her heart stop. maybe you don’t, maybe that’s not possible, but you’re sure you’re going to die, and costia already has. it makes you feel sick, but she’s on top of you and you can’t move anyway, you can’t feel your hands or your legs and you can’t breathe.

one minute ago you were a child. you think you are going to die.

you will never be a child again.

//

anya tells you that you were asleep for four days. when you wake up in the hospital—in boston, with your shoulder shattered, your arm in a sling, two of your fingers still numb, your stomach cut open and stitched back together, from three different surgeries—when you wake up in the hospital you don’t think you’ll ever breathe again.

anya tells you, solemnly but without crying, that 27 people died. your friends, your classmates, people who have annoyed you since kindergarten.

you don’t have to ask if costia died because you know she died, but you ask anyway. your uncle is slumped over silently on the other side of your bed and you’re shocked you have tears left in you but you do, and the sob that works its way through your body burns.

they send a therapist in to talk to you, and you know you have ptsd and you tell her that you don’t know if you’ll ever feel real again, that you don’t really want to try to fall in love again. that you used to care about calculus and hockey ap us history, that all you wanted to do after school was make out with a very pretty girl in the back of your jeep. that you were excited about pizza.

she sits down and she sighs and she tells you that those things might never go away. but you tell her, a few weeks later, while you’re squeezing a stress ball as hard as you can, even though your hand isn’t working quite right, and your entire abdomen still aches when you try to stand up straight—you tell her that you still love trees. the ocean. your tidepools and all the words that have gone along with them.

you get to go home. it’s not the same—it’s hollow and it’s empty and gustus offers to move so you don’t have to go back to the same school. but you’re better enough now to wander along the craggy cliffs with your arm tucked around his study one. you have to pause a few times climbing to the top of his lighthouse, but you make it.

there’s a meteor shower, and you should’ve died.

you will never be a child again but there are shooting stars. you watch them above your head, and you watch them fall silently into the water below.

//

clarke finds you on sunday morning, far before the museum is open. she has flowers and two coffees and you’re blushing already.

‘first of all, i don’t want to trigger anything,’ she says, in a rush, and it makes you smile, ‘so i just wanted to say i think you’re beautiful and maybe some time you could stay and i promise not to ruin it.’

she kind of thrusts the bouquet in your face and you grin. you’re thrilled, because clarke is usually so confident and sure, and maybe she likes you just as much as you like her.

‘someone shot me and half of my school,’ is what comes out of your mouth, even though you hadn’t intended for it to at all. you hurry to keep talking after that one. ‘you didn’t ruin anything.’

she sighs in relief. ‘okay,’ she says. ‘i’m still—you know.’

‘yeah.’

she waits a beat for you to say anything else, and when she senses that that’s it, she smiles gently and wraps her hand around your arm. you’re holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums in the dinosaur room and a pretty girl is laughing about the compsognathus, and you correct her because they lived during the jurrasic era, not the triassic, and when you’re kissing her again, beside the triceratops skeleton, it doesn’t feel nearly as terrifying as the end of your world, as the end of anything at all.

[zaney-hacknslash]

God From the Machine 8

Past Gojyo

             When I woke up, the world was fuzzy and dim and tilting back and forth, like that ride we went on when Jien took me to the fair last summer. My stomach felt sick. My head pounded and my body ached. Blood oozed down my forehead, along the line of my nose to my chin. The light in the kitchen stung my eyes like staring into the sun.

           I twitched and gagged. My head… Shit… My head…

           Mom and Jien were in the kitchen. He was holding her tight and she was bawling against his shoulder, screaming words I couldn’t make sense of. My brother looked at me, eyes wide with horror as I staggered to my feet. I fell, tried to catch myself on the wall, and landed flat on my face, moaning and writhing. I gagged again.

           My fucking head…

           I lay there, just trying to process the terrible pain in my head.

           Someone called my name. I looked up. Jien was still in the kitchen, yelling at me. Oh no. Was he mad too?

           “I didn’t…do anything…” I whispered at him.

           “Go to your room!” he yelled.

           “I’m sorry…” I murmured.

           “Go!!!”

           Mom pulled away from him and flew at me, screeching like a banshee, reaching for me like she wanted to tear me limb from limb.

           I scrambled up, almost falling down again, but he caught her and held her back, shouting, “Gojyo, get out of here!!!”

           Somehow, I managed to get up and stagger to the door. I stumbled outside and ran. In the house, my brother yelled my name again. I staggered to the road and fell to my knees, hunching over and throwing up.

           The yelling went on, every word like a sharp dagger through my brain. Mom screamed, “Jien! Jien, don’t leave me!”

           I forced myself to stand and turned toward the woods. The moon was rising. How long was I unconscious?

           Blood trickled down my face and neck as I ran into the trees. Jien hollered after me, but his voice faded into the distance, so I knew he wasn’t chasing me. I ran as fast as I could, tripping and ramming against trees every step of the way. Branches whacked me in the face, and I tumbled through bushes. At first I didn’t even know where I was going, but it came to me quickly enough.

           “Hakkai!” I yelled, voice hoarse and aching. I wanted to cry so bad. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. No way. I never had before, and I wouldn’t this time. I shouted as loud as I could, screaming his name as I fumbled through the forest. “Hakkai! Where are you? Hakkai, please! Please! Answer me!”

           I tripped over a branch and fell on my face again. I felt like I might throw up again too. My head hurt so bad. The night was so dark. I didn’t know where to go. I lay there, shuddering and screaming. I sat up on my knees. “Hakkai!”

           Behind me, I heard footsteps.

           Terrified, I whipped around, thinking it would be her, here to kill me in the forest where no one would find me. Everything was dark, and I didn’t see anyone.

           Then I heard a chirp and a soft cry, like a bird singing. In a flutter of wings, Jeep flew down and landed on my shoulder. I stared into his eyes. They were just as red as mine. He nipped at my ear and licked my face, crooning and shaking his wings.

           “Jeep…” I panted. I leaned back against a tree, vision starting to fade again, watching numbly as the forest tilted and spun like a top.

           Strong hands gripped my shoulders, and Hakkai’s face emerged from the dark, right in front of mine. “Gojyo!” He shook me. “Wake up!”

           I jerked my head, trying to clear the fog from my vision. I gripped his shirt, weakly. “Hakkai…”

           He knelt beside me. “Are you all right? What are you doing?”

           Looking at him, hearing how gentle and kind his voice was, I almost couldn’t keep from bursting into tears.

           His hand slid gently over my cheek and he murmured, “It’s all right, I’m right here. Can you stand up?”

           I didn’t know for sure if I could, but I nodded, and he helped me to my feet, supporting me so I didn’t fall again.

           “Easy,” he said. “I’ve got you.” He lifted me up in his arms, and I let my pounding head slump against his shoulder as he carried me through the woods.

           “Where’re we goin’?” I asked, words slurring.

           Hakkai didn’t answer, and I stared dully at the forest around us. Everything was blue and black shadows, spinning and mixing together, and the moon burned white above us, almost as round as the sun. Slowly, out of the dark, an orange glow appeared, starting as a distant point of light and growing stronger, little by little, until I realized it was a campfire. We walked into a clearing where a fire pit burned in the middle. There were a few boulders scattered around the perimeter, but I was too dazed to make out much else.

           Hakkai laid me on the sandy ground, close to the fire, and put his pack under my head for a pillow, and then he sat down beside me, examining the cuts on my face. He sponged at them with a wet cloth that stung, cleaning the blood and puke off my mouth and chin. He put band-aids on me and wrapped a bandage around my aching head, and cleaned and bound the arm Mom scratched, and he whispered as he worked, things like, “Relax, everything’s okay. This will sting a little. It’s not so bad.”

           I watched him sleepily until he was finally done, and then he put a canteen to my mouth and made me drink some metallic-tasting water. I could barely believe anyone other than my brother could be so gentle and so nice to me.

           Finally, he pulled his coat up around my neck like a blanket and sat back, smoothing my hair away from my face.

           “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked softly.

           Should I? I’d wanted to all day, and I hadn’t, but maybe I should have. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I did. It didn’t seem like I had a choice now that I’d crashed his campsite all beaten up.

           “My mom...” I sputtered. “She broke the window with my head…”

           “She what?”

           I wondered if I didn’t explain well enough. That was the only thing I could think of right now. “She smashed my head against the window…and it broke…”

           He looked away, and I couldn’t make out his expression in the shadows cast by the fire.

           “Hakkai…” I found his wrist and gripped his sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

           “Sorry for what?” He looked at me again, forehead wrinkling.

           “Sorry for crashing your campout.”

           “Shh. Don’t be ridiculous. You shouldn’t be wandering through the forest with a head injury… I’m glad you found me.” He laid his hand on my forehead. It was warm and gentle.

           I closed my eyes. Sleep sounded good now. Long, unending, quiet sleep.

           He shook me lightly. “Don’t fall asleep, Gojyo-chan.”

           Painfully, I opened my eyes again. “How come?”

           “You have a severe concussion. You have to try to stay awake.”

           I nodded even though I didn’t understand.

           He tucked the coat blanket around me tighter. “Why did your mother do that?”

           “I…” my mouth was so dry I could barely speak, I reached for the canteen again, and he helped me drink. “I made her really mad…”

           “I see…” He sat quietly a while.

           I closed my eyes again, still not understanding why I couldn’t sleep when I was so tired.

           “Tell me about home, Gojyo,” he said.

           “Home…” I opened my eyes.

           “Yes, you live with your mother and brother, correct?”

           “Nn, yeah… She’s not really my mom, she’s my stepmom. Jien’s my half-brother.”

           “What happened to your real parents?”

           “They’re dead. I guess they killed themselves… Everyone says they were disgusted by what they did…”

           “What did they do?”

           I shrugged. “Having me, I guess.” I dug out my cigarettes. If I couldn’t sleep I might as well smoke.

           “Do you believe that’s the reason?”

           I looked at him with the cigarette halfway to my mouth. No one had ever asked me anything like that before. “What’dya mean?”

           “Do you think your parents killed themselves because they were ashamed to have brought you into the world?”

           “I dunno… Why else would they do it?”

           “Love,” he suggested simply. “People do things like that sometimes because they feel it’s the only way they can be together. If they thought their neighbors wouldn’t accept their union, or if they were afraid of what your stepmother might do, perhaps they thought being together in eternity was their best option.”

           “Then why didn’t they take me with them?” I wondered, lighting my cigarette. “Then all three of us could be together.”

           “Perhaps they thought your best option was to stay alive and try to make something of yourself, but also…every adult, past the romance, knows better than to believe dying together means you’ll get to be together in eternity. Death is very finite. If they made their choice to take that chance, it was good of them to at least not take every opportunity you would ever have away from you.”

           I drew a long drag from my cigarette. “Hey. Are you just bullshittin’ me to make me feel better?”

           “Why? Is it working?”

           “I’m not sure. I don’t know if anything will ever make shit better for me…”

           “It’s easy to feel that way when you’re a child. It’s hard to imagine the places you’ll go and the things you’ll do…or the people you’ll meet. Childhood feels very permanent, doesn’t it?”

           “I guess,” I murmured, and I remembered what I’d thought this morning about how Mom probably wouldn’t let me get big enough to fight back.

           “What about your brother?” he asked in a little while, just when I was starting to slip off to sleep. “The two of you are close, aren’t you?”

           “Mmm, yeah. He’s my best friend. He helps me.”

           Hakkai didn’t answer for a while. Finally, he muttered, “That’s good.”

           “There isn’t a lot he can do either. Now that he’s older, he’s found some ways to calm her down…”

           “Oh?”

           “Yeah,” I closed my eyes. “When she’s really upset, they go upstairs and fuck, and then she usually passes out.”

           There was the longest silence yet, and then Hakkai said, “Excuse me?”

           “Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled. “Usually, after they fuck she doesn’t feel like beating up on me any more.”

           The pitch of his voice changed. Higher. Tighter. “I must have heard you wrong…”

           Squinting in the firelight, I looked up at him again. “Why?”

           “I thought you just told me the two of them engage in…” He shook his head. “Are you telling me they…that he…fornicates with her?”

           “For-ni-cates…” I echoed slurrily. “Umm. That’s like fucking, isn’t it? Sex?”

           His eyes got really big, and I watched his mouth fall open. He shook his head and muttered something to himself.

           “What’s wrong?”

           “That…happens frequently?” he asked slowly.

           My eyelids fluttered. I wanted to sleep so bad. I didn’t get why he was so interested… “I guess. Any time she goes ballistic.”

           Hakkai released a long sigh and stared into the fire.

           “Maybe some day…” I went on, “when I’m old enough, maybe she’ll let me—”

           He interrupted sternly, but not loudly, “No. No, Gojyo, that isn’t the answer.”

           “If she’d let me touch her though…if I could make her feel better the way he does…” I wasn’t sure how that would help exactly, but Jien thought it helped, and it did calm her down. It just seemed like it must be the thing to do. The only thing we could do.

           Hakkai stared at me a long moment. “Oh. I see.” And then he shook his head again in a way that made me feel like he was really disappointed. “Get some sleep now.”

           “I thought you said I shouldn’t sleep.”

           “I think you’ll be all right. I’ll wake you up periodically to make sure you’re okay.”

           I nodded heavily. “’Kay…” I closed my eyes again. “G’night…”

           His fingers slipped through my hair. “Hush now.”

           A second later, I was out.