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yungidreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Growth

Summary: Yunho, Mingi, and their girl take a trip to the botanical gardens and encounter things that make them think of the past and see a hope in their future together.

Wordcount: 5.7k

Content warnings: Mention and talk of injuries from the encounter between Yunho and their girl in the last chapter (bruises) a little residual angst and guilt, but this is mostly fluff. Discussions of the future including houses and babies, but also closer things and dreams they share together.

“I’m so excited to see everything today,” she said as they stepped off the train and onto the platform at Pelham Parkway station.

“There is so much to see here,” Mingi said as he looked at the map of the gardens on his phone. “Can we be sure to go to the greenhouses? I really want to see the rainforest.”

“Yeah sure,” Yunho assured him. “We have all day. It’s a little chilly this morning, do you want a little coffee or tea from the cafe to take with us?”

“Good idea,” she rubbed her hands together even as she spoke, trying to warm her fingers. “Not sure why it feels so chilly this morning. It was definitely warmer the other days.”

“It’s okay,” Mingi grinned, coming up behind her. “All the more excuse to hold your hands.” Reaching around, he gathered her hands into his much larger ones and brought them to his mouth to blow warm air on them. “See? All better.”

“Thank you, my Mingles,” she replied, turning her head to place a kiss on his cheek. “Oops, I forgot about my lipstick. Let me—”

“No no no, it’s okay,” Mingi pulled away enough to keep her from wiping it off. “I want to wear your kisses today.”

“Me too?” Yunho leaned down and offered her his cheek.

“Of course, I’d never forget my Yuyu,” she cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to the offered cheek, taking special care to caress his face as she kissed him. “I love you.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, pressing her hand against his cheek.

“I’m not going to let you doubt it again,” she promised, running the pad of her thumb over his cheekbone. “Let’s get something warm, then I want to spend the day looking at pretty things with my very favorite people.”

“Tea or coffee?” He straightened up and pulled out his wallet.

“I want the whipped creamiest, sweetest, fluffiest coffee they have,” she gave him a decisive nod at the idea.

“Okay, I’ll grab that, and you, love?” He turned to Mingi.

“Just a latte of some kind I think,” Mingi agreed, coming to hold their girl against him. Yunho nodded and leaned in to give Mingi a quick peck on his lips, then skipped up the steps and into the cafe.

Mingi lifted her hands up again, pulling down her sleeves slightly so he could press them completely against his cheeks. As he did, he noticed purple green bruises that ringed her wrists, which had been hidden by the long sleeves of her fluffy sweater. She pulled her hands back when she realized he had caught sight of them.

“I didn’t know he had held you that hard,” Mingi said, catching one hand to peek down her sleeve as she tried to hide it.

“Don’t mention it to him,” she requested, pulling the wool over her wrist again. “I think he probably feels bad enough. I want to have a fun day today. I can hide them with makeup tomorrow. He doesn’t need to know.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop him,” Mingi murmured, casting an eye towards the cafe to make sure Yunho wasn’t coming back already. “I should have stopped him, for both of you.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks I think,” she shrugged and offered him a sunny smile to help convince him that everything was fine. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t your place to stop him. If he really hurt me, I would have told him. He just… it was my fault anyway.”

“No babe,” Mingi shook his head and pulled her into a hug. “You didn’t kiss her, she kissed you. And you pushed her away, anyway. Yunho should trust you enough to know… to know that you aren’t going to leave.”

“I don’t have a leg to stand on there,” she laughed ruefully. “But I’ll build it back. With both of you.”

“I trust you,” Mingi declared firmly. “Nothing to prove to me. But I won’t say anything. I want to have a good time with you both today.”

“The best day,” she nodded. “I want to see all the fun things and see and smell all the cool plants.”

Yunho appeared beside them, three coffees in hand and a broad grin on his face. “Are we all ready to go to the gardens?”

Both she and Mingi nodded as they took their cups and turned down the streets that would lead them to the gardens. They made their way past the long blocks of mostly brick apartment blocks until they reached the edge of the park. They walked through the non-descript gray stone gate and over the pedestrian bridge, suddenly finding themselves feeling like they were no longer in the city. After checking in at the gate, they followed the light switchback in the walkway down and into the park before swinging left on the broad paved path. Ahead of them there was a sudden proliferation of blooms in pink and white stretching up into the blue sky. Cherry trees dotted the grassy areas of the hill ahead of them.

“This was absolutely the best idea for a place to visit,” she said as she looked up at the cherry trees surrounding the trail they were on. Smiling up at Yunho, she offered the beautifully teal-haired boy’s had a grateful squeeze.

“There are so many,” Mingi said excitedly, putting a protective hand around her shoulder as they walked. A light breeze stirred the trees, sending a brief flurry of petals into the air. The trees weren’t tall for the most part, but their limbs looked like they should be heavy with the blooms that had burst to life on them. They wandered in circles among the trees, admiring the different colors and shapes of them all.

“I love the ones that sort of droop,” she said as she pointed at one that had branches that seemed to flow down towards the ground. “They feel sort of peaceful somehow.”

“Did you see how many petals this one has?” Mingi asked, standing near one that was back up the hill closer to where they had started. She and Yunho joined him there at the low tree that branched out broadly from its base. The flowers looked like they should be made from water colored paper. Pale pink with occasional darker edges, the tightly packed petals bunched together in beautiful bunches of flowers on the branches.

“Do they have scent?” She asked, looking up at them. At her question, Mingi turned his face into the nearest branches.

“Mmm, just a little,” he nodded. “Come here.” Reaching out, he picked her up around her waist and lifted her up to smell for herself. Closing her eyes, she buried her nose in the pack of blossoms and breathed in. A barely there scent, something like roses with the light notes of lilacs came to greet her.

“Oh, I like it,” she breathed, taking another sniff. “It’s so light though.”

“Yeah,” Yunho agreed, smelling a nearby bunch. “I wonder if you would smell it more if you had it inside where the scent could build a little.”

“Maybe,” She nodded. “I’d try it if this were our tree, but I don’t want to steal from the gardens.”

“Me neither,” Yunho laughed. “Let’s go see the trees I know will smell.”

“Oh?” Mingi said, putting her down and taking her hand as they all started moving in the direction that Yunho set off towards. He led them north along the path they had come on, going past the fork in the path where they had entered, taking the one they hadn’t before. The path was surrounded by tall, old trees whose branches arched over the path and would shade it later in the year when their leaves had filled in.

Suddenly they found themselves coming up on a sea of trees dressed in pink, white, and pale green. The older trees here were larger and the blooms much bigger and growing as individual flowers rather than cloud-like bunches.

“Magnolias?” She asked excitedly, taking Yunho’s free hand in hers.

“Yeah,” He grinned down at her. “I really wanted to see these. I thought you would, too.”

“This is just… amazing,” she breathed, taking in all of the trees. Stepping off the path, she walked up to a small craggy looking tree blooming with flowers with petals that were a deep pink on the outside and bright white on the inside. Reaching out, she touched one of the velvet soft blooms, gripping it just hard enough to bring it to her face so she could breathe in the scent.

“The trees really do smell amazing,” Mingi agreed, coming up behind her. “Maybe, when we have our house, we can plant a magnolia that blooms in spring and we can sit under the tree together. Have breakfast on spring mornings.”

“Maybe with a picnic table?” She began, then gave an excited gasp. “Maybe one of those swings?”

“Or hammocks?” Mingi added with a big grin. “One that is big enough for three. Maybe room to grow?”

“Room to grow?” Yunho asked.

“Don’t you want, like someday, little mini us’s, you know, running around?” Mingi asked as he sipped his coffee.

“Yeah,” Yunho agreed, having had a vague picture of himself chasing after little versions of one or the other of them for as long as he could really recall. “I do.”

Stepping back she looked up at the two boys beside her. a little frown developing between her brows. “It wouldn’t… it wouldn’t bother you to not know, like, if it’s yours?”

“What do you mean?” Mingi asked, a quizzical expression on his face.

“You wouldn’t treat them differently if they looked more like Yunho than you? Or vice versa?” The question had been one of the many things that had been running through her head when she had tried to imagine their future. “Am I supposed to take turns?” She further wondered aloud, her mouth twisting into a distressed pout. “Do we have to make sure we know whose is whose?”

“Do you really think we’d be worried about that?” Yunho asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think most people would. And I think your parents will care. It would be okay if you cared. We can figure it out if it matters to you.”

“I don’t care,” Mingi shrugged. “And I really don’t care if it bothers my dad. In fact, I sort of hope it does.”

“My mom would love any kid we all had,” Yunho said with surety. “At least your parents will always know it's yours.”

“That’s true,” she let out a nervous snicker. “But I’m still not sure they would like it, that they would approve.”

“Does it matter?” Mingi asked. “Would it bother you if they didn’t approve?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s dumb, but I still want them to understand. I want them to accept me.”

“You know they love you,” Yunho assured her. “They’ll come around. Even if it takes some time, they want you to be happy most of all. I know that to be true.”

“I hope so,” she nodded, giving him a smile. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Gotta keep my girl warm,” he replied, pulling her against his side. “Hafta take good care of her.”

“You always do,” she soothed, patting his hand with her free one. “Would you mind if we just sat for a little while?”

“Actually, I brought snacks,” Yunho said proudly. “Let’s take a seat under one of the trees, finish our coffee and have a little something. Here,” he handed her his coffee and reached into the backpack he was carrying. Pulling out a small rolled up towel, he moved to lay it down under some taller mostly white flowered trees that were next to the path. He put the backpack down and sat cross legged on the towel and patted his lap, inviting her to sit. She smiled, lowering herself into his lap and leaning her head back against his shoulder.

Taking the coffee’s out of her hands and placing them on the grass beside them, Yunho wrapped both arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. He turned his face to nuzzle into her hair, just taking in her warmth and her scent. A part of his heart still felt uneasy despite the smile he had made sure to keep on his face. He had made a mistake yesterday and the guilt was eating at him, but he wasn’t sure if bringing it up again was just selfish and about soothing his conscience more than making amends.

Bringing a hand up to caress the side of his head and face, she tried to offer him a little comfort. Yunho wasn’t nearly as good at hiding his feelings as he thought. Even if Mingi didn’t think so, it was her fault and she would do whatever it took to make him really smile again. She felt Mingi’s hand land on their legs and she moved her other hand to entwine her fingers with his.

Around them the breeze fluttered the petals of the tree and people enjoyed the park. Pairs passed by using the paths for exercise as they socialized and laughed. Families with children ran and played, exploring nature or running through the open grass. The space was filled with people yet everyone still existed in their own little bit of it. No one took particular interest in the people they weren’t there with, simply tolerating or otherwise barely taking note of the others around them.

“I want a garden,” she said softly as she turned to look up at the tree above them. “I want a big magnolia in the yard and cherry trees that also make fruit we can have in the summer. And I want some climbing roses that I can pick and put in vases inside to make the house smell nice.”

“What about some wisteria on the porch?” Mingi suggested. “I like the pretty purple flowers.”

“What about a little place for herbs so I can cook you lots of good food with fresh rosemary and parsley?” Yunho suggested. “Maybe we could even just plant some actual food? Tomatoes, peas, zucchini? What else can you grow at home?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Mom and dad have black thumbs and have hired other people to care of the yard beyond just mowing the grass.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Mingi stated confidently. “We’ll make our own little botanical garden with everything we want.”

“It’s too bad it takes so long for trees to get big,” she looked up at the branches that stretched above them. “I want to sit like this with you two every morning.”

“We’ll just have to get something with trees already,” Yunho shrugged. “Then just add to it.”

“At least the place we have now is nice,” she stated, a small smile on her face. “I like that we have space for everyone. It feels like a home at least.”

“It is home,” Mingi pulled her face in for a kiss. “Any place with you two is always home.”

“You’re right,” Yunho nodded. “I think I’m just impatient to get to the part where we have it all figured out.”

“You mean when we are old and retired,” she joked, turning in his lap to be able to look at him.

Both the boys laughed and Yunho gave a blushing shrug. “I guess I’m optimistic to think we’re just a few years from having everything figured out.”

“I think we’re doing okay,” she assured him. “Maybe figuring it all out is more important than having it all worked out from the start.” She started to scoot out of his lap and Yunho tightened the grip of his arms around her. “I’m not going anywhere, I just want to do something.” He let her go after another seconds pause. She prompted Mingi to turn so he was sitting facing towards Yunho before she scooted into the space between his legs, she slipped off her shoes and crossed her legs. “Can you lie down? Is there enough space?”

“Yeah,” Yunho nodded, a warm sensation blooming in his chest. Laying down on his side, he put his head on the soft pillow of her lap. Her fingers nested in his lovely teal hair, tossling it and running her nails lightly over his scalp. The sensation sent a calming shiver through him and he wrapped his long arms around both their legs.

“Comfortable Yuyu?” She questioned with a smile. He nodded in response, letting out a sigh as he let his eyes close a little. Comfortable didn’t seem like a word deep enough to explain what they offered him. Laying with them was peace and happiness, it was warmth and the surety that everything was right in the world. Their love made everything else inconsequential, it always had. It was the thing in his life he never questioned. He wanted more than anything for the past few days to have never happened; to have never worried that they did.

When her movements paused he opened his eyes seeing her hand reach for her mostly empty coffee cup. The stretch of her arm caught the sleeve of her sweater, pulling it up off her wrist. It was just a flash, just a second before she caught it, feeding the sleeve back down her arm, but it was enough for the bruises to catch Yunho’s eye. Propping himself up on his elbow, he caught her arm and pulled back the fluffy, oversized sweater sleeve. She tried to stop him, tugging her arm back so that she could keep them hidden, but his insistent and gentle grip kept her from doing so.

“I…” he started, a lump closing his throat around the words he wanted to try and say.

“Yeah, they’re from you,” Mingi said, putting his arms around their girl from behind her as she averted her eyes. Yunho looked up to meet his eyes and saw a heat, a challenge he hadn’t ever seen there before as he held her protectively.

“I didn’t mean to…” He shook his head, bringing her hand to his cheek.

“I know,” she soothed, turning her hand to cup his cheek. “I know you never wanted to hurt me.”

“Yes you did,” Mingi interrupted, a sharp edge to his words. “You wanted to hurt her and I should have stopped you and I will if you ever do that again.”

“It’s okay, Mingles,” she reached her other hand to hold Mingi’s arms that were wrapped around her. “It was my fault; I deserved it. He didn’t mean to… not really.”

“No love,” Yunho rushed to correct her, his heart stuttering at the sad guilt that was filling her eyes. “You didn’t deserve anything.” His vision blurred and he tried to blink the burn of tears away. “Even if you did something you never deserve that. I wish I hadn’t…” There was too much that he didn’t know how to say, all the words sticking in his throat. “No matter what you do, I’ll never do that again.” He shook his head, letting it drop into her lap for a moment before he lifted it again to look at her. “Why did you let me touch you like that?”

“Because I deserved it,” she shrugged, giving him an ashamed look. “And I had to show you that I was sorry. We both needed me to hurt and it just… you needed me and I can’t say no if you need me.”

“No babe,” Mingi squeezed her tighter, a softness entering his voice as he spoke to her. “Never again. You didn’t deserve it. I’ll never watch that happen again and I don’t care what I have to do. Never again.”

“Never,” Yunho agreed, putting an apologetic hand on Mingi’s arm near where she held it. “I won’t ever again, but if something ever happens, I want you to protect her no matter what, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mingi nodded at him, a little of the heat of his anger dissipating, leaving only a slight simmer behind his eyes. “No one is ever going to hurt her if I’m there.”

“Thank you,” Yunho lifted himself to his knees and crawled up into their laps, hugging both of them, with her squished between their much larger bodies. He stayed like that for only a moment, certain that his weight would quickly become uncomfortable for her in no time. Pulling back, he guided Mingi’s lips to his, offering him both a thanks and an apology in the gesture. He stayed kneeling in the space just in front of them as he gave a supplicating lick to Mingi’s bottom lip, begging him to let him deepen the kiss. As Mingi acquiesced, Yunho felt her small hands come to rest on his narrow waist as she leaned her head into his chest. Gratefulness at their shared gesture of acceptance filled in around the spikey feeling of guilt that still sat in his chest, making it ever so slightly duller even as it stayed there weighing heavily on his heart. He felt their love with more confidence than any words could have given him.

“Thank you,” he said again, pulling his lips away but leaning his forehead against Mingi’s. “I am so fortunate that you both love me. Even if I don’t always deserve it.”

“We all have things we need to do better,” Mingi admitted, a feeling of pride in himself rising as he realized that he hadn’t once looked around to wonder what everyone must think of them. Even now, as the thought crossed his mind for the first time, he only thought, anyone who would be anything other than envious of having so much love would have to be living a sad life.

Yunho saw some thought pass over Mingi’s face, leaving a confident angle to his chin and a brightness in his eyes. He wondered, briefly, what it was but only smiled at him as he sat back on his heels, looking at the two loves of his life as they sat together, eyes on him and full of warmth.

“Yuyu,” she said softly, getting his attention. “What snacks did you get us, love?”

“Right,” he nodded, turning to reach for the bag. Out of the bag he pulled three boxed sandwiches, small bags of chips, and little containers of fruit salad and handed a set to each of the other two.

“Really?” She laughed, looking at the food he had handed her, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Hmmmm?” Mingi looked down at the girl sitting between his legs. “What’s funny?”

“I was wondering if you would notice,” Yunho grinned, pulling out cans of soda.

Mingi frowned slightly and looked at the food in his hands. Ham and cheese, fruit salad, chips… there was a little niggling at the back of his mind. There was something there but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Would it help if I said we could meet a little later and read together a little?” She gently patted Mingi’s knee. “Or maybe we should all fall in a lake…”

“Summer camp,” Mingi gasped, his eyes widening excitedly. “I would have never remembered. How did you remember?”

“How could I forget?” Yunho laughed back. “That summer was the start of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Aww babe,” she laughed, opening the cardboard box that held her sandwich. “This is adorable and sentimental, but if there are better sandwiches next time, you should probably get those.”

“What, are you trying to tell me there are better sandwiches to be had than this classic?” Mingi scoffed from behind her. “Classics can never be replaced.”

“My simple boys with their simple needs,” she laughed, taking a bite.

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” Mingi pouted, drawing his lips into a long line.

“No babe, not at all,” she shook her head, giving him a little bump as she spoke. “It’s just good to remember that it is little things that make you happiest.”

When they had finished eating they made their way along more of the gardens until they reached the large glass and iron greenhouse Mingi had so been looking forward to exploring. Taking a hand of each of the other two, Mingi set off at a lope to the entrance located at the front of the large central domed area. It was a gorgeous building and nearly intimidating in its scale. It somehow managed to give off both a staid and extravagant feel when you looked at it; simple and dignified in its colors but grand in its build.

Stepping inside past the ticket counter they found themselves in a small tropical world. It was warm and moist unlike the outside and felt natural and fresh in its air. The walkway circled a central pond that had a grand display of plants rising out of the water surrounded by large palms of all sorts.

“I wonder how tall it is?” She wondered for the second time during their trip as she stood below a grand dome that seemed larger than it ought to be.

“Wouldn’t it be cool to have something like this that you could visit all the time?” Mingi said, turning slowly in a circle as he took in his surroundings.

“Amazing,” Yunho agreed as he slipped an arm around Mingi’s ribs. Mingi smiled and leaned into the embrace as they both continued to look around.

“Boys, look,” their girl said excitedly as she moved over to one side of the first glass domed room. “Orchids.”

“Wow,” Mingi breathed coming up behind her to take in the long glass hall filled with flowers and plants lining either side of the paving stone walkway. “Look at all the different colors.”

“I bet there are more than we can see from here,” she coaxed as he paused near the entrance. He nodded and together the three of them stepped in, making their way along the path slowly as they took in all the plants. Bursts of blooms in every shape and color were tucked into every corner of the display. They hung from the branches of the trees and were tucked in among filler plants and in little pots placed on shelves or the ground.

“Yunho,” she turned and asked him as he walked half a step behind them. “Can we have a greenhouse?”

“You want one?” He asked, running his thumb along the side of her neck.

“I want to grow some orchids,” she nodded as she moved closer to a display full of flowers in pink, white, and red. “I want to grow some of these. And maybe some things like the herbs that can’t grow outside in the winter.”

“If you want it, I’ll build it with my own hands if you want,” he nodded.

“We could have our own jungle?” Mingi asked from beside her.

“Our own little jungle,” Yunho nodded. “Maybe we can sit there in winter and have our breakfasts.”

“Our own forest,” She agreed. “That sounds like home to me.”

“It will be,” Yunho nodded.

“I want to grow them too,” Mingi lifted her up, excitedly bringing her up to a level to better see some yellow orchids that were hanging from a branch nearby. “Let’s have them in every color.”

“I can’t wait,” she laughed. Yunho hugged them both from behind, resting his chin on Mingi’s shoulder as he looked at the flowers with them.

Yunho carried her into the room, having picked her up on his back about a block and a half from the b&b when he saw her yawn. He carefully knelt down, letting her slide off and take a seat on the foot of the bed to remove her shoes. Mingi flung himself on the bed beside her, nuzzling into her cheek.

“Did you have fun today?” she asked, turning to look into his sparkling eyes.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Can we get an orchid when we get home? For practice?”

“Practice?” Yunho grinned, taking a seat near his head. “To make sure we don’t have black thumbs before we invest in a whole greenhouse and all?”

“Yeah,” Mingi grinned. “Seems like a good idea.”

“Mmm, yeah it does,” Yunho agreed as he stroked the top of Mingi’s head. “I know another thing we could practice.”

“Oh?” Mingi said, looking up at him from where he lay.

“Yeah,” Yunho wiggled his eyebrows as he leaned down to take Mingi’s soft lips in an upside down kiss. “Like this. What do you think?” Mingi only grunted in response, bringing his hand up to hold the back of Yunho’s head.

Just as she was about to turn and join her two boys, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw Dad on the caller ID. Hitting the green phone button, she sat up and brought the phone to her ear.

“Hey, dad,” she answered. “What’s up?”

“Hey kiddo,” he replied. “You’re not busy are you?”

“Nah, what’s up?” She shook her head and stood up, moving to look out the window.

“I just wanted to let you know I rented the cabin upstate for the month of July,” He informed her, papers shuffling in the background. “Can you invite San to come? We’d like to have the whole family together for it.”

“Yeah, I can call him when we get off, but,” she turned and looked over her shoulder at the two boys still making out on the bed. “Can Mingi and Yunho come too? I’ve kind of gotten used to having them around all the time.”

“I think we have the space, so that’s fine, I guess,” her father replied after a pause.

“Thanks dad,” she said gently. “Maybe I can actually teach Mingi to canoe properly without getting us all in the water.”

“Good luck, honey,” her dad laughed. “That boy is a bit of a disaster with things like that.”

“Hey,” she returned, feeling the need to defend him even if it was sort of true. “He… tries hard.”

“He does, bless him,” her father let out a laugh on the other end. “He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, he is,” she agreed.

“You guys having fun there in the big city?” He asked in an almost absent minded way. “Everything has been okay?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “We went to the botanical gardens today. Do you remember the big tree grandma had in her yard? The one I always really liked?”

“The magnolia?” He replied after a pause. “Yeah I remember it. Why?”

“We saw a bunch of them today at the gardens,” she explained in a wistful tone. “It just reminded me how much I liked it and made me think of her.”

“That tree was beautiful and she always had a few cut in a vase inside whenever it was in bloom,” he reminisced, taking a moment to remember the amazing woman that had been his mother. “She would have liked knowing that magnolias make you think of her.”

“Do you think we could go by her old place and get some seeds from the tree?” She asked quietly. “Maybe see if I can’t get them to sprout?”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” he admitted. “The people that bought her house were nice enough. If they still own it, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. In fact, I’ll give them a call when we’re done, if you’d like.”

“That would be nice,” she agreed. “Thanks, dad.”

“Anyway, I won’t keep you,” he sighed. “I just wanted you to send an invite to San for me.”

“I’ll do that tonight,” she promised. “Thanks for calling, dad.”

“Love you, kiddo,” he told her warmly.

“You too,” she replied. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he said a second before his side went silent. Taking the phone away from her ear, she pulled up San’s number, clicking the phone icon to start the call before flopping into the soft armchair.

“Chipmonk, is everything okay?” San said when he answered the phone, having seen that it was her calling.

“Hey, bro,” she said warmly. “Everything is fine; good even. I’m calling with an invitation though.”

“An invitation?” He made an interested sound, a smile clearly in his voice. “Go on, you’ve got my attention.”

“I’m reserving you for the month of July,” she stated flatly but with good humor behind it.

“A month?” He asked in surprise. “What do you need me for a full month for?”

“Vacation,” she laughed. “Dad rented the cabin we get sometimes upstate. He wanted me to bring you along, and I told him you and I come with the boys. So, summer with us. It will be just like camp, but with my brother… and my parents… well okay, on the upside, none of the uncool kids like Laci will be there.”

“I can’t wait,” he replied. “Thanks for the invite, Chipmunk. You know my best summers were always with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she waved him off. “This summer will be great at least, I promise.”

“I know,” he sighed, a warm smile on his face, even if she couldn’t see it. “You guys are the best family someone could ask for.”

“You know we love you, San,” she reminded him sweetly.

“I know,” he nodded. “I’m so lucky.”

“I’m gonna go but I’ll send you a picture of me looking beautiful tomorrow,” she promised.

“You mean like you always do?” He asked, a grin in his teasing voice.

“Pfft,” she snorted. “You flatter me, but I’m gonna look so good for the dinner tomorrow. It will knock your socks off.”

“Love, of you looking good removed my footwear,” he scolded. “Then I would never have them on.”

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “You can save that flattery for whenever you get a girlfriend or something. But I’ll send you a pic of all of us together at least.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckled.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m gonna go, but I miss you. I’ll see you soon, okay? Take care of yourself.”

“Love you, Chipmunk,” San said with all the affection he felt in his heart.

“Love you, too, big bro,” she returned with equal love.

Masterlist

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oceanselevenism · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still doing them maybe number 12 with both the ocean's siblings and their partners?

hell yeah!! i’ve put it under the cut :)) it is Very Tangentially holiday-sweater-related but it is too long to not post now! hope you enjoy, and happy holidays :))

It’s the first Christmas they’ve spent together in... nearly a decade and a half, actually. The years had flown by, blurring into a mess of run-ins and arguments and you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, but hey, Danny can’t fault his sister for wanting to make up for lost time. No, he can’t fault her (after all, if she had been the one to fake her death, he’d probably have moved into her house for a week, just to make sure she didn’t do it again) but he can make fun of her, so that’s what he does. “Aw, you really did miss me,” he says when she gives him and Rusty perfunctory hugs on her way into his house (Lou just claps them both on the shoulder, and he’s not sure whether to feel snubbed or relieved). “I can’t believe my dear sister actually cares,” he tells her when she brings him a mug of cocoa, ingredients nabbed from some billionaire in Germany. “Pure family bonding for the whole family,” he remarks when she goes off on a drunken, expletive-filled tangent about the Met Gala’s security over a game of poker (they’ve given up on trying to enforce the no-cheating rule, and he’s pretty sure Lou takes the opportunity to peek at Debbie’s cards). But in all honesty, he can’t keep up the ribbing; it really is good to see her, even if she definitely gets along better with Rusty (she’s told him as much, and right to his face, too) and the third day ends in a bitter, wine-fueled not-argument about their mother and their father and they themselves. But on the fourth morning Danny gets up early (it’s five in the goddamn morning, why the fuck has Lou already left a note on the counter saying gone on a run) to make latkes, and when Debbie comes downstairs she scoops out a dollop of his favorite sour cream instead of her usual applesauce, so unless her latke preferences have done a complete 180 since the last time he’s seen her, they’ve forgiven each other.

She and Lou volunteer to go on a grocery run that evening, and Danny’s glad; he hasn’t had the chance to jump Rusty’s bones in, like, five days (turns out cleaning up for houseguests takes up way more time than anticipated) (hey, the only people they’ve had over in years have been the crew from the Benedict job, and he’s heard Reuben threaten to shit on Turk’s feet, they don’t need to clean up for them). And for a minute, as Rusty pins him up next to the to-be-composted bag that is currently overflowing with potato scraps, the only thought in his head is the usual why didn’t we do this sooner. But then Rusty pulls back-- “Rus,” Danny complains-- and he tilts his head in that We Need To Talk manner. Which would be hot, if not for the fact that Rusty probably wants to talk about Debbie.

“You’re good, right?”

“We were never on bad terms.”

“Liar.”

“Well, hostile terms, maybe,” Danny amends. “But never bad.”

Rusty shifts, adjusting his forearms so it’s more like they’re just two good pals having a conversation three inches from each others’ faces instead of two good pals about to do very unsanitary things in a kitchen, and says, “I think you’re putting too much water under the bridge.”

“What am I, a Dutch engineer?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I know I am. Now, are we gonna--”

The door opens. Danny swears. “We were gone for twenty minutes,” Debbie says. “Are you that desperate?” Danny regrets going for the open-concept first floor, and he regrets it even more as Rusty pushes himself off with an air of utmost nonchalance.

“Here,” Lou says, lobbing a ball of fabric at Rusty. Her aim is remarkable, and Danny almost asks if she ever played softball before deciding he likes his well-being more than teasing his sister’s motorcycle-riding, brass-knuckle-owning girlfriend. It’s fine; next to him, Rusty huffs an amused laugh at the unsaid comment anyway. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Rusty unfolds the fabric to reveal a truly hideous (and possibly offensive) Christmas sweater. It’s got red sleeves, a green torso, and a large, colorful fruitcake emblazoned on the stomach. Above it, in red and yellow, is text that reads FRUIT CAKE. “I love it,” Rusty says, pressing his lips together in that way that says he’s trying his damndest not to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

Lou opens her coat to reveal her own sweater, hers saying Ho Ho Homo. “I thought the theme was appropriate.”

“And for you, dearest brother,” Debbie says, pulling an atrociously-colored wad of wool out of a paper bag and chucking it at him, “you get the best of both worlds.”

With a mounting sense of horror, he recalls the year that he insisted on putting teal and orange streamers across the house, because it’s Hanukkah and Christmas mixed! That was the last year their parents had lived in the same house; Danny used to joke that it had been the final nail in the coffin for their mother. He pinches an edge of the cloth between two fingers and lets the rest fall open. It’s a Miami Dolphins holiday sweater. A teal-and-orange, festively-patterned Miami Dolphins sweater. Oh, his Boston-bred father would be frothing at the mouth. “We’re in Canada,” Danny says, equal parts shocked and awed. “How the hell did you get this here so quick? We were supposed to be meeting in Quebec until three days ago--”

“Danny, please learn what priority shipping is,” Debbie says. “Now c’mon. Wear it.”

There’s no way he can back out of this. If he refuses, she’ll just play the I thought you were dead card. He’s never regretted a decision more.

He puts on the sweater. Rusty-- his partner, his right hand, the love of his life-- wolf-whistles.

“I’m divorcing you,” Danny announces.

“Don’t worry,” Lou says with a grin, and is that her phone oh fuck she’s got a picture-- “Debbie, take off your coat.”

With the air of someone who has suffered the weight of the world, Debbie shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a matching sweater, and the dolphin on this one has a lovingly-embroidered smiling mouth stitched into it. Danny tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Shut it,” Debbie warns him.

“Oh, I’m not saying a thing,” Danny replies.

“We actually did get groceries,” Lou says, turning back to the door, “so--”

“Lemme give you a hand,” Rusty says. “Let these two bask in the joy of their new sweaters.”

“Fuck off,” Danny and Debbie say in unison. Rusty grins, cheery as ever, and leaves Danny’s side to follow Lou out the door.

“Great gift,” Danny says. “I’ll be laughed at by Reuben for the rest of my days.”

Debbie snorts, walking into the kitchen and rooting around in his cabinets. “Well, actually he’d-- wait, please tell me you didn’t, like, have gross old people se--”

“Shut up, Deborah,” Danny replies, feeling his neck heat up. “I’m only two years older than you. And no.” He refrains from adding on a “not this time.”

“Thank God,” Debbie says, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. “Anyway. Reuben’s not gonna laugh at you, he’s just gonna talk about your embarrassing baby stories in whatever groupchat you people have.”

Danny wonders how his baby sister got to be cooler than him. It’s very distressing. “That’s worse.”

“Yep,” she says, putting the pitcher down and picking her now-full glass up. She leans on the wall across from him, sipping her water, and narrows her eyes at him. “Are we, y’know... good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Danny says. Besides the thirty years of vaguely pretending the other didn’t exist.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Debbie says. “But... I’d just like to make sure. ‘Cause you’re the only not-completely-insufferable blood relation I have.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment; Danny picks at a loose teal thread, trying to think of how best to phrase the thoughts rattling around in his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally says. “And I don’t dislike you, either. You’re a pretty good sister. And a great thief.”

“I know,” she replies. “I’m not gonna say it back, ‘cause then you’re gonna get an inflated ego.”

“Works for me,” Danny says, grinning a little.

“I guess it’s just... I mean, I let all the old resentment get in the way of, y’know. Having a decent relationship, personally or professionally.”

Danny nods. He’s still got the scar from the time they both went after the Ruby of the Isle; he’d won, but just barely, and only because he had Rusty and she hadn’t found Lou. But at the end of the day, neither of them have tried to kill the other, and they still did grow up together, playing in Atlantic City casinos and building sand castles under the boardwalk. “I think we’re too old for that now.”

“You’re the old one here,” Debbie replies, no bite in the remark.

“Only two years,” he reminds her. “But I did the same thing as you, letting petty grudges get in the way of family, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Thanks, Debs.” He frowns. “They’re taking a really long time to get the groceries, aren’t they?”

As if summoned, the door opens, and Rusty and Lou, each with a measly two bags in their hands, walk in. And Rusty has his phone in his hands. “Rus, I swear--”

“Too late,” Rusty grins, as the shutter sound rings out through the living room. “That outfit has already been immortalized.”

“Have I already said I’m divorcing you? I’m divorcing you.”

“Does it count as fratricide if he’s your brother-in-law?” Debbie asks.

“Disproportionate reactions,” Rusty accuses. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Linus.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Not Linus.”

“You heard me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Linus Caldwell himself, consisting of a single thumbs-up emoji and two grinning cats. “You’re all terrible people. Terrible, terrible people.”

(the sweater rusty is wearing is real) (as is lou’s) (and the ocean siblings’)

#oceans 11 #oceans 8 #danny ocean #debbie ocean #rusty ryan #danny x rusty #debbie x lou #lou miller #my writing

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misssunflowersandsangria · 4 years ago

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Please Have Snow and Mistletoe

Hello my Reindears! Please indulge me, this idea for a Christmas/Holiday story came out of nowhere lol. Don’t take it too seriously it’s choc-full of clichés and holiday fluff. Still, I hope that you enjoy the fantasy and fun of it all!

Summary: Temari was hoping to be home for the holidays. A winter storm grounded her plans but along with it brought a handsome man with a proposition for her.

Chapter 1: Flight 4XMAS

“How can there be no flights available?” Temari demanded trying to keep her frustration in check. She knew that it wasn’t the girl’s fault but her anger needed to go somewhere.

“I’m sorry ma'am but the weather conditions are so severe that flights are grounded till the storm passes. You are welcome to check in the next few days to see when flights will resume.”

Temari sighed but nodded her head. “Okay, thank you.”

Visiting her family for the holidays was the bright spot in an otherwise bleak year. Temari had moved away from home and it had been months since she’d seen her family. She had wanted to surprise them by arriving early but the storm had delayed her grand plans. Still, as long as she’d be able to make it home she’d be thankful.

“Excuse me.”

Her teal eyes met the deep brown orbs of a handsome man. His long dark hair was pulled back and away from his face. The expensive black sweater framed his lean muscles perfectly.

“Yes?”

“I overheard your conversation and I think that I can help.” She peered at him curiously. How could he possibly help her?

“I can get you home for Christmas. I’ll just require your help for a few days.”

“Doing what?” She asked carefully, he didn’t come off as a creep but it was hard to tell these days.

He chose his next words carefully. “An acting job if you will. I’d need you to pose as my girlfriend for my family.”

Temari’s eyes widened in confusion. “What?”

“I know, it’s ridiculous but my mother is expecting me to bring someone home. I was supposed to be home a few weeks ago, I lied. I told her that I couldn’t leave earlier because of my girlfriend’s work schedule and promised that she’d be coming for Christmas.”

Shikamaru didn’t blame the utter confusion and disbelief on the poor woman’s face. He knew how crazy it all sounded but his mother was a force to be reckoned with. He didn’t want to think about what she would do if she found out he lied.

Words failed Temari. This had to be a joke right? She was about to ask that very question aloud but his eyes were serious and sure.

“So I help you out by pretending to be your happy loving girlfriend for three days and you make sure that I can get home for Christmas.”

He nodded and she felt herself agree. She could try to wait it out but there was no guarantee that in the next few days she’d even be able to get a flight. This was her best shot.

“I’m Shikamaru by the way.” The name sounded so familiar but she could quite place it.

“Temari.”

“How can you expect me to remember all of these names?” Temari groaned, taking another sip of her drink. At least the jet had a great assortment of liquor.

“Temari, you’ll be fine. They’ll be more interested in you anyway. We just have to get our story straight.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “That’s easy, we use what happened today. We met in an airport blah blah blah. It’s not a total lie.”

He considered the idea carefully. It was better than making up an elaborate story. “That could work.”

She could see the tense look across his face. It was sweet if she thought about it. His family meant the world to him and this elaborate scheme all so that he didn’t disappoint them. In exchange, she got to fly on private jets and enjoy holiday traditions with a rich handsome stranger.

He’d walked her through all the people that she’d been meeting and all the various family events. It would be a busy few days but nothing she couldn‘t handle.

“Your family loves the Holidays.”

Her assessment was correct. “Naras are very serious about their traditions.”

Temari’s eyes shot wide open. “You’re Nara Shikamaru?”

“Yup.”

The Naras were one of the wealthiest families in Japan. There was little known about their son other than that he’d amassed an incredible amount of wealth on his own. That explained the private jet.

“Seriously? You could have easily picked up some celebrity to play your girlfriend. Why pick out some random girl at the airport?”

He shrugged unaffected by her shock. “I don’t know, I just had a good feeling when I saw you.” Temari couldn’t help the blush that crossed her face at the idea he saw something special in her.

Shikamaru glanced at her from the side. Temari wasn’t what he’d expected but he was pleasantly surprised. She was witty, interesting, and even now despite learning his lineage didn’t seem intimidated by him. All of this on top of being gorgeous. He knew that this was a risky move. Temari could easily take this information and out him to his family or worse the media but she didn’t seem like the type.

He glanced down at his phone seeing a message from his mother and groaned.

“My mom wants a picture to be sure that we’re on our way.” Nothing got past that woman. Temari nodded and took a seat by his side and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her face flushed at how close they were but smiled for the photo. She couldn’t help but think that they did make an attractive couple.

“You really think we can pull this off?”

“I have no doubts.” He told her reassuringly and it was hard not to believe that they could. She rested her head against his shoulder the stress of the day getting to her.

“Alright Shikamaru, I trust you.”

Shikamaru sat there while she slept thinking about just what he had gotten them both into. He was usually so specific and detailed in his plans. In this case, they were working off a wish and a prayer. Still, part of him knew that this would work. That they could convince everyone and once it was all said and done, well he wasn’t sure.

When they finally landed they drove past the city. They arrived at a quiet and dense forested area dotted with large family homes. His home was the grandest of them all. It was a large stately mansion with numerous Christmas lights that gave it a warm glow. It was something straight from a fairy tale. Temari could make out a couple standing at the front waiting for them.

“Ready for this?” Shikamaru asked, placing a gentle hand on hers.

“It's a little too late to be asking that now.” She frowned beginning to second guess her decision to help.

“Don’t worry Temari, they’ll love you.”

She was barely out of the car before she was swallowed up into a hug.

“Temari, my dear it is so wonderful to meet you.” She met warm brown eyes so similar to Shikmaru’s and returned the affectionate hug.

Yoshino was absolutely overjoyed at her son being home but especially because he’d been accompanied by Temari. She had been worried that her son would simply work himself into the grave, never experiencing all the joys that made life worth living. She prayed that perhaps this relationship, that Temari might be the one to change it all.

“Mrs. Nara it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Yoshino linked her arm with hers. “None of those formalities. You’re practically family. Call me mom. You are absolutely gorgeous dear. I can’t understand why our son would keep you hidden away from us so long.”

She barely had a moment to greet Shikamaru’s father who he was a splitting image of before she was swept inside.

It was a blur of faces and names once inside the home. His mother and father were there of course along with his extended family. They joked that they needed to see her for themselves.

Temari was thankful that Shikamaru had given her a rundown on the plane of the people that she’d be meeting. They were all welcoming and shared the same sentiment. That it was about time that he’d brought someone home and how he could have kept their relationship a secret for so long.

She’d been nervous and worried for the entire experience but as the night wore on the conversation flowed and the laughter came easily. His family was far too kind and inviting and they were more than happy to welcome her into the fold. The night turned into the early morning hours and even then she could have stayed up with them.

“Okay kids time for bed. We’ll have more time together tomorrow. Temari please let Shikamaru know if you need anything.”

“Thank you...mom.”

Yoshino’s smile was bright and beaming and she couldn’t help but draw Temari into a tight hug.

“I’m so happy that you are here.”

“We’ll continue our Shogi game tomorrow Temari. You can ask Shikamaru for some tips.” Shikaku told her with a smile. “Good night kids.”

They were put into Shikamaru’s old room. His awards and old photos lined the walls.

“And who is this?” She grinned holding up a worn stuffed deer.

“Careful with that, he’s an antique. I can sleep on the floor, and you’ll take the bed.” It would have been strange to ask for separate rooms.

Temari rolled her eyes. “Shikamaru please, we’re adults. If you promise not to grope me while we can sleep in the same bed. Besides your mother seems like the type to just barge in here. It will be hard to explain why you’re on the floor.”

“Okay, you’re right. Feel free to use this bathroom. I'll go to the one down the hall.” She nodded watching him leave.

Temari slowly unpacked her luggage and finally had time to reflect on the last few hours. Shikamaru was something else entirely. A genius, mogul, and devoted son. His family had been so sweet to her that it wasn’t hard to love them. If she wasn’t careful she’d get caught up and forget that this was all just an act, a lie. Whoever did manage to capture his heart one day would be so lucky.

Temari was already snuggled under the covers when he returned and she couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the reindeer pajamas.

“Laugh all you want but I guarantee that she will have a set ready for you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.” He shook his head and got settled into bed.

They both naturally turned to their sides to face the other. His eyes were soft as they gazed at her.

“Thanks again Temari.”

She smiled at the appreciation. “I’m enjoying myself Shikamaru, your family is wonderful.”

“Thank you. They really like you.”

“Really?” She didn’t realize how much she hoped that they did.

“I haven’t been around too much the last few years, my own fault. Seeing my mom smile so much well it means a lot. It’s hard to get my parents a present as you can imagine.” His hand casually pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Bringing you home is the best gift I could have given them.”

Temari was floored by the compliment. Maybe, just for a little, it wouldn't hurt to get caught up. She leaned into his warm hand.

“I’m glad that I could help then. Good night Shikamaru.”

“Good night Tem.”

When Shikamaru woke up the following morning he felt an unknown weight on his chest. He grinned seeing Temari’s hair sprawled across his chest his stuffed deer held between them. At some point during the night he must have pulled her in and she hadn’t let go.

His hand gently brushed over the top of her head. The quiet of the early morning and warmth of Temari against him created a kind of peace within him. He’d dedicated the greater part of his adult years chasing accolades and accomplishments. Never stopping to pursue things like love and relationships. And he was content. It was enough. Now, even after just a day with her and his family, it created a strange emptiness in his chest. Seeing her cook with his mother, and learn how to play Shogi from his father were images he never wanted to forget. Scenes he wanted to view again.

He had just a few days and maybe in that time, he’d know just what he wanted for Christmas.

Okay my loves, the game is how many Christmas cliches can we fit in one story haha. This is going to go fast. Then I promise I’ll work on Stalemate and Yamanaka week. No smut in this one, you can read Stalemate or my Lemonade series for that. This is just going to be sweet and fluffy. Love you my dear readers! Thank you!

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hetacakes · 5 years ago

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hitchhiking.

miya twins x fem! reader

snow white au, aka me making fanfics about my own fanfic

in which reader leaves her home in the big apple, the busy city, the whatever you'd like to call it, and takes a trip to a forest, the literal opposite of home. in fact, the two places are so different that in order to get there, a plane ride is preferable over a road trip. after a week, it's time to go home, with souvenirs, of course. leaving with a heavier bag is to be expected, but the empty backpack meant for said souvenirs was a bit too heavy, suspiciously heavy

aka reader just wants to relax and ends up bringing two hitchhiker foxes home

the others aren't included in this one, sorry :( one certain bluebird will make a guest appearance but other than that the storyline is in no way connected to snow white (though i made a few ~allusions~ for the Drama) anyway, i hope you love these annoying foxes as much as i do <3

also this is borderline abo but in my defense i wanted to make them seem more animal-like since they're technically wild animals

warning for cussing because life is hard and osamu hates atsumu

word count: 9,505

You grew up in the suburbs, always just a half hour away from the big, bustling city, where everything is fast paced with streams of people working and struggling to make their dreams come true. So it was no surprise that when you were old enough to move out, you immediately made a home in a rundown, shitty apartment, taking the typical "small apartment, big dreams" approach to life. And it was true, you did have a dream, a big dream. While you could have been anything else: a doctor, a lawyer, a profession that would make your parents happy and keep you reliably comfortable your whole life, you could never picture forcing yourself to work through something that made you unhappy, and so you decided to take the writer path.

It was as if you were meant to be part of the busy metropolis, meant to be the same as everyone else in the crowd: broke, fresh out of uni, and barely paying the rent for a small, crappy apartment. You soon learned that dreaming to reach your dream job, a job where working hours weren't physically and mentally draining but were rather hours of doing what you loved, would only become more than just a dream at the price of your blood, sweat, and tears, just like it did for everyone else.

But after working your ass off and putting two books on store shelves, you were able to end your contract with the sketchy landlord in the shady part of town and move into a nicer, actually livable apartment in a better building with a better landlord in a better neighborhood.

Now when you stepped out of your complex, you were greeted with the refreshing sight of people passing by, the sky a clear blue, with a soft breeze you could feel underneath your windbreaker as it ruffled your hair and rustled your sleeves, the bright red, blue, and yellow fabric almost as bright as the sun overhead. Birds chirped in nearby trees, and if you walked around and looked for a while, you could find a few cats hanging around the sidewalk or hiding behind dumpsters.

It was all you could have ever asked for and more.

But sometimes, city life can be a distraction, and sometimes, you really, really need a change of pace and scenery.

Which brought you to the present, sitting with your legs underneath you on your soft couch, squishing the plush grey throw pillows and balancing your laptop on your thighs. The money you got from your newest releases was in no means enough to call you rich, but it was comfortable enough that costs weren't one of your concerns as you typed a quick Google search. An airline website was open on your screen, and you were browsing through the available tickets, looking for one that would take you to a nice getaway, a small break from the nonstop chaos of your city, which had finally begun to wear you out from the endless stress and sleepless nights.

"Seven day long camp resort in one of the country's most beautiful and idyllic forests," said the advertisement that popped up on the side of your browser. Clicking on it, it took you to a pretty convincing website about Inari Lodge, a tourist attraction in the middle of a forest you had never heard of before. Lists upon lists of hiking trails, forest tours, and crafted souvenir shops caught your eye, and before you knew it you were booking a week's stay in one of their cabins. Sealing the deal and buying your ticket, you sat back and sighed, ready for a vacation.

Two weeks later, it was a few hours before your flight, so obviously you had already packed. Not. You called a friend over to help and keep you company while you packed, and ten minutes later, a familiar brunet walked through the door, ruffling his chocolate brown locks.

"It's nice to see you, Tooru," you greeted, padding closer to him as he opened his arms for a hug. "Your hugs are the best, as always," you smiled up at him, before taking a step back.

"You would have seen me either way; I was just on my way to bother you," he said. "You're taking a trip without me? How will I survive without you?"

"Don't be dramatic, Ruru," you chided, pulling your suitcase onto your bed. "I know for a fact that the week I'm gone is the same week the team you're coaching has tournaments."

"Ugh, don't remind me. They're good kids, but they suck ass," Tooru groaned, flopping next to your suitcase. "Do you have everything you need?"

"You tell me. Check things off," you answered while looking through your closet.

"Oooh, do I get to see your clothes?" Tooru asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes at him. "My shirts and pants, yeah. Everything under that has been packed into this," you said, holding up a medium sized makeup pouch.

"Bummer. Oh well, there's always next time."

"Ruru, stop being dirty."

He grumbled something underneath his breath, low enough that you missed it. "Well, how long is the stay?"

"A week."

"So you need seven sets of clothes?"

"Yeah, assuming I don't pee my pants," you smiled over your shoulder, watching as Oikawa held back a laugh with his hand, a wide smile spread across his face.

"Haha, you got the whole squad laughing. How cold is it there?"

"It's pretty cold, apparently. I'm not surprised, it's farther north than where we live, and it gets pretty chilly here sometimes," you answered, pulling a few sweaters out of your closet, pairing it with random pairs of jeans you grabbed, and passed them to Tooru, who folded and put them in your suitcase.

"Aww, aren't I such husband material? Wait here wifey, I'm gonna get your stuff from the bath," Oikawa winked, throwing up a peace sign at you before he turned and disappeared behind the white door.

"Can you get my toothbrush stuff too? Thank you~," you called after him in a sweet singsong voice.

You glanced at your bookbag, still on your couch, just where you left it. You looked at the scarf in your hands, a large white scarf too bulky to wear, and decided to throw it in there, along with your laptop and charger. You put an extra pair of comfortable boots in a reusable bag, neatly settling it between your clothes. Tooru handed you another bag, and a peek inside showed you your bath and bathroom essentials. You flashed a grateful smile at him, before turning and grabbing the last few items to throw in your bookbag-turned-carry-on, which included your notebook full of your messy brainstorming, a pack of pens, and your phone charger. Zipping your suitcase closed, you pulled up the handle and hung your bag around it.

"Okay, I'm ready. I've got everything, except you," you winked mischievously at Tooru.

"You're flirting! It's not fair," he complained, hand grabbing at his heart, the other draped dramatically over his forehead.

"Guilty as charged," you winked, throwing up a finger heart. "Drive me to the airport?"

"Of course, babe."

You had already checked in your suitcase, got your ticket safely in your hand, and all that was left for you to do was wait an hour or so until boarding. You turned to Tooru, giving him one last hug. "I'm gonna miss you and the others, Ruru," you whispered softly, even though you were only leaving for a week.

Tooru hugged you back, holding you tightly against his chest. He let you go, before taking a step back and pulling his hoodie over his head, his shirt riding up a bit, showing some skin for a split second. "Here, wear this," he said, handing it over to you.

You brightened, smiling like a thousand suns before slipping it on. It was huge on you, and you were almost drowning in the soft, teal blue fabric. He gave you a fond look, his eyes shining in such pure, unadulterated love that it took your breath away for a moment.

"Thank you, Tooru."

"Keep it warm for me, okay?"

"I know, I know, I promise you'll see it when I come back."

He gave you one last hug, short and sweet, before walking away, turning to look back at you one last time. You stood there until the doors slid closed behind his back, a soft smile on your face, before you turned away and walked to your terminal, hoping to kill time either shopping, eating, or sleeping.

You could finally lean back and relax once you were secured in your seat, miles in the air. Boarding and finding your aisle wasn't much of a hassle, thank the gods, and the glass of the plane window was refreshingly cool against the tip of your nose as you peered down at the clouds passing by. You held your bookbag against your chest, looking inside at the empty space in between the few items you did pack into it. Your laptop was safely zipped up in its designated pouch, along with its charger and your notebook, and the pack of pens that had somehow opened inside the pocket, which you had found out earlier as you tried to fish one out but instead pulled the empty cardboard packaging. Your phone charger was the only thing laying on the scarf you threw in there, a makeshift nest for nothing. Well, nothing yet.

You were excited to spend a week in a completely different environment, surrounded by lush forestry and the coos and calls of whatever animals lived there, a place where you're never truly alone, but in a good way. It was a stark contrast from the car fumes in the city air, with the only plant life in a park square and the only sounds are the constant chatter and hum of people and cars finding their destinations. There never once was an hour of silence, and while you had been able to enjoy it as your background noise while writing, it wasn't long until you finally got tired of it. You could've sworn that the city had gotten louder on purpose just to exhaust and stress you out every night, so you were more than ready to finally be able to clear your head and maybe even flesh out an idea or two.

The sound of the intercoms crackling to life made you jolt, holding a hand to the cold imprint on your cheek left from sleeping against the window. The pilot announced that the plane was descending, and you gathered your bag and Tooru's hoodie, bundling them both in your arms.

Truth be told, you were glad to step off the plane. You felt the chill of the outside while walking off the plane through the passenger boarding bridge and stood for a second to put the hoodie back on, humming slightly at Tooru's smell still on the cloth, a nice, sweet but not too sweet scent that made you smile to yourself.

You got lost in thought, so your body was on autopilot when you went to pick up your luggage and almost picked up the wrong suitcase, until the actual owner picked it up first, eyeing you weirdly. With guilty, heated cheeks, you grabbed your suitcase, checked it once, then twice, then three times, and finally hopped into an Uber as fast as you could, hoping that you wouldn't be starting your first day on vacation dying of embarrassment.

You hurriedly thanked the driver for dropping you off, then made your way into a wooden building, the wood a warm oak with a little golden bell that chimed as you walked in. A woman behind the desk smiled at you, and you sighed, happy to have nothing to worry about, now that you were finally there.

"Hello, welcome to Inari Lodge! Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, please," you said, pulling your luggage close to you. "I reserved a cabin, and I need the keys, right?"

"Of course," she smiled at you, and for a quick second, you thought that she resembled a cat, with black hair and upturned eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry if I'm being intrusive, but are you a mom?"

"Haha, don't worry, you're fine! Yes I am, my name is Kozume Sakura, and I have a son," she answered kindly, and you couldn't help but feel relieved to finally have a good thing to improve your currently-going-badly day.

"Ah, it's just that you seemed familiar to someone I've seen around campus."

"Ah, that would most likely be my son," she said, a sweet smile spreading across her face. "Anyway, here are your keys, and I've written the directions to your cabin right here. Don't hesitate to come and ask me for anything, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," you nodded gratefully, making sure to wave goodbye as you walked out the doors, looking at the map in your hands.

"I can not believe how hard it was to find you," you said to the cabin as you flopped on the bed, tired of having such a conflicting day. You sat up quickly, slapping your cheeks, "No, I won't let a few fuck ups ruin everything for me."

Grabbing your phone, you slipped it into your hoodie pocket as you walked out the door, set on exploring the area.

You decided not to take an official trail, preferring to save them for later, which brought you to an ordinary worn dirt path as you walked aimlessly, taking rights and lefts as you pleased.

A rustling in the bushes lining the trail caught your attention. Just as you walked closer to separate the branches and peek through, a fox fell out of the leaves, as if something had pushed it out. The fox seemed to scowl at whatever had shoved it, before it turned its attention to you.

Before you could think better, you crouched on the ground as you cooed, resting your cheek in your palm. "Hello, cutie fox, how are you?"

The fox stared at you, which was good, because if it started speaking you would've booked it right then and there, but also bad, because you didn't know if it was irritated by your presence. It seemed to look warily at you, not ready to attack, but not fully trusting either.

"Come here, I want to pet you," you crooned, holding out the end of your sentence as you leaned forward against your better judgement, shifting your legs from against your chest to underneath you. Before it could make a decision, however, another fox jumped out of the bushes and straight into your arms, settling happily in your lap. Caught by surprise, you stared, while the first fox yipped at it, jumping forward and pushing it out of your lap. You watched as they tumbled to the ground, rolling as they fought and wrestled.

"Um, okay… I think I'll just go now, bye!" You quipped before turning around and walking steadily back to where you came from, not wanting to get caught up in a wild animal fight.

"Look at what ya did 'Tsumu, why do ya always mess everything up?"

"Me? Me?! You were the one that jumped me!"

"'Cause I didn't recall inviting you to our conversation, dumbass!"

"Yer a fuckin' fox, you can't talk! You're just jealous!"

"So are you! We're twins, shithead!"

And they kept arguing, voices carrying throughout the forest, even as they walked along the path the pretty, perfect, kind, and amazing love of their li— , ahem, the completely normal girl from earlier took, leading to the all too familiar lodge situated at the edge of their forest.

"That was close," you whispered to yourself as you leaned against the door, as if the foxes would be strong enough to bust it open. They hadn't even followed you, as you didn't hear them, and when you glanced behind you, nobody was there.

"Anyway, I guess I should plan out what I'm gonna do here, I don't want this trip to be a waste," you said, opening your suitcase and putting your clothes in the drawers, setting your bathroom essentials on top of it. You grabbed your bookbag from where you had thrown it on the bed and set it on a glass table. You pulled out your notebook and flipped to a blank page, cringing as you passed by page after page of chicken scratch.

"The only reason I can read my own handwriting is because I'm there when it's written," you muttered to yourself as you rummaged for a pen, finding one out of the set of five. You wrote down the days of the week you'd be staying there, with your first official day starting tomorrow, on Tuesday. Your flight back was scheduled for a week later, on Monday. You hummed happily, glad that your timetable worked out so neatly as you wrote down the days of the week, leaving enough space for a bullet list underneath.

On your last day at the lodge, you made sure to make a note to leave at noon at the latest, since your flight was at six in the afternoon, and you wanted to be extra, extra, extra sure that you would not miss it. Ideally, you would be all packed up Sunday night, but knowing you and your procrastinating self, you wrote it down for the day before, even though you knew you would probably be packing the day of, just as you did before.

You made sure to set Saturday as souvenir hunting day, hoping to bring back something for Tooru, a thank you for the help and hoodie.

The foxes you met earlier crossed your mind, but the grumbling of your stomach reminded you to get some dinner and wrap up your day. Holding the map out in front of you, you memorized the directions to a cafe not too far from your cabin, and went on your way.

"Hello, can I get the sandwich of the day with a cinnamon hot chocolate and a slice of pumpkin bread?"

"Of course! Here's your total."

The worker you were pleasantly talking to gave you a small smile before glancing to the side, as if something caught his eye. He pulled a face at whatever he was looking at, and you followed his annoyed gaze to the two foxes you met earlier, playing next to one of the bean bag chairs next to the door, near the window wall of the cafe.

You laughed awkwardly, "Haha, um, is there something wrong?"

He seemed to snap out of giving them the stink eye, profusely apologizing to you as he provided an explanation, "No, no, it's fine, it's just that those two foxes are some of the forest animals that walk around the lodge, except they're the only ones that are more annoying than cute. Some cats and birds and such come by and usually will just sit next to the register, you know, like nice and normal animals, but these foxes seem hellbent on walking around and biting at people's ankles and fighting and making huge messes that they can't clean up because they're damn foxes."

You laughed again, though this time it was genuine. "You seem to have very strong feelings about their mischief," you joked, watching as he relaxed.

"Yeah, but at the end of the day, they're still just foxes, and we make sure all the animals of the forest are safe and sound."

And if the foxes decided to cause more trouble than usual, that was their business, their decision, and not in any way related to the slight dislike of the barista, which was in turn totally not because you got along well with him.

After paying, you made your way to a table in the corner of the windows where the glass met the wall, looking absentmindedly at the visitors and workers walking past, occasionally with a rabbit or bird or other critter.

"I have your hot chocolate and sandwich, and your bread will be in just a moment. Unfortunately, I also brought these two," the barista you were talking to said as he set your food and drink on the table, before glancing at the floor. Just as you were about to lean over and see, two foxes jumped up on the seat across from you, settling themselves on the table, curled up like cats.

You waved him off with a grin, "Oh it's fine, I have a feeling they'll behave."

You took a sip out of your hot chocolate, savoring the warmth it gave you after being in the outside chill. You picked up your sandwich and took a bite, before speaking, "Are you done fighting?"

Both foxes stared at you, and if they were people, you were sure their mouths would be hanging open, dumbfounded and mildly offended as you nonchalantly took another bite, not waiting for them to respond or react.

You reached a hand out while they were frozen and pet the head of the fox nearest to you. It lowered its head slightly, shyly accepting your affection.

"Aww, you're so cute. What's your name?"

Of course, it couldn't speak, but it batted your hand with its left paw. "So cute," you crooned, "Come here?"

Just like before, when the fox was about to walk towards you, the other one jumped at you, and you hurried to wrap your arms around it. You stared at it in your arms, tummy up like a baby.

You rubbed its stomach. "What about you? What's your name?"

He happily raised his right paw, and you held it gently before putting him back on the table, which was good, because the left paw fox was a second away from pouncing on it again. The fox you set down scrambled onto the tabletop, and watched with what you would call betrayed eyes as you carried the other fox into your lap, petting its head lightly.

"It's not your turn," you quipped, focusing your attention on the fox in your lap. "You're so cute, so cute, please be my baby~."

The fox you dumped on the table yipped indignantly at you, and you decided to mess with him. "Oh, you're still here? Well, I guess you're okay…" you trailed off, struggling to keep a poker face as he looked at you with puppy eyes, while the other fox barked out high pitched laughs, which made him get up and get ready to jump.

You pet him between his ears. "I'm just joking. Jeez, you're always at each other's necks," you complained, sitting back and continuing to eat your sandwich.

As if to prove you wrong, the fox in your lap jumped on the table and curled up with the other fox, both of them leaning against each other like close brothers. Coincidentally, the waiter walked by with your pumpkin bread, watching in amazement.

"How did you do that?" he asked, and you just shrugged in response, your attention mostly on your sandwich.

When you finished it, you took another sip of your drink before you tore off two pieces of your bread. You offered it to them as a reward, for finally behaving themselves. They yipped happily in response, content with spending the rest of your time together eating in comfortable silence.

You pulled yourself out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Embarrassingly, jet lag made you sleep in on Tuesday, your first official day at the lodge, and by the time you woke up, you had nothing to do but eat and jot down some story ideas, none of which stuck to you.

So you made sure to wake up nice and early the next day, dead set on going on at least one trail. You showered and changed into a new pair of jeans and a knit grey sweater. You stood for a moment, debating if you should wear a jacket or Tooru's hoodie over it, but decided against it and deemed the sweater good enough.

Thankfully, it was one of the warmer, sunnier days. You looked down at your map, making your way towards the open lodge outlet, taking note of the small clusters of people milling about, a familiar sight, albeit on a smaller, calmer scale. You looked up at the wooden signs pointing towards various shops, restaurants, and forest attractions. You finally found the one you were looking for, pointing to your right with the word "birdwatch" carved across. When you followed its directions, you came to a small gift shop at the start of a wide, dirt path, imprints of boots and footsteps all over the light brown ground. Walking inside, a small wind chime announced your arrival, twinkling like bird chirps, and the person behind the counter looked up.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed, recognizing your face.

"Hello again! I thought you worked at the reception desk?"

"I'm covering for someone's shift right now, they had finals to take. Are you here for a birdwatch?"

"Spot on," you answered, bringing a hand up to rub the back of your head with a meek smile. Kozume winked at you, before taking out two binoculars from under the desk.

"Well then, let's go!"

"You know, some of these birds remind me of the ones that live near my apartment building," you mentioned, picturing the large cherry blossom tree that stretched its branches past your window. "The birds here are so much more interesting though," you lamented. "The city just has crows and small birds, but here there's robins and warblers and so many more species, with great diversity. It's like the bird version of the people back home."

"I can imagine not many birds want to live near so many humans, but these have all of the forest to themselves. Look, the bird over there, with the blue mohawk, is called an Asian Paradise Flycatcher, and…" she trailed off, continuing your tour of one of the forest trails, before whipping an arm in front of you, exclaiming, "Watch your step!"

You froze with your foot still in the air, watching as the fox you narrowly missed stepping on darted in front of you.

"I'm sorry, he's not really supposed to be here, he has his own trail," Kozume frantically apologized while glaring at the fox, before sighing in relief when you responded with a small laugh.

"It's fine, I've met him before," you reassured while looking around, searching for a certain somebody. "And I learned that he never walks alone…"

To prove your point, the other fox you were well acquainted with joined his brother, running around in front of you.

"Well, the next part of our trail is basically a circle back, so hopefully they run off to where they belong, I don't want you to get in trouble for messing with the animals because of them," Kozume said as you made a left, walking back to the start of the trail.

When you opened the door to the gift shop, two furry animals zipped past your feet, and you already knew who they were before you even saw them.

"Kozume, is it normal for these guys to always hang around here?" you asked, picking up both foxes in your arms, resting them comfortably in your arms.

Kozume turned around to look at you, her hands still in midair, putting away your binoculars. "Actually, no, they do come by once or twice but they never hang around, and we just assumed they don't like people very much since they really only hang out with each other. They've never let anyone pet them…" she stopped mid-sentence as she watched you pet their heads and stomachs with no resistance from the two.

You glanced up. "Huh? Oh, I don't really have a lot of experience with animals, but they're just so cute," you said, before snapping your head up, eyes wide in realization. "Hey, do you have some ribbon or something?"

"Yes! We use them to identify specific birds we keep tabs on, especially ones we just recently nursed back to health," she explained, pulling out a box of ribbons, offering it to you. You set the foxes on the counter, watching Kozume hesitantly reach a hand out to them from the corner of your eye. They protested, but allowed her to pet them when you eyed them. Looking into the box, you fished out two ribbons, one a golden yellow, and the other a nice warm grey.

"May I?" you asked, directing the question to Kozume. The foxes, however, decided you were talking to them and excitedly sat in front of you, pulling each ribbon towards them with their paw.

"I think they said yes," Kozume chuckled, and you took that as your permission to put ribbons on their, er, the forest's foxes. You cooed at them, asking which one would go first. The fox with the yellow ribbon in his mouth nudged your hand with his face, making you smile.

"Which are you, left or right?"

The fox raised its right paw and rubbed his face as your answer, and you kept that in mind while you tied the ribbon around his neck, finishing it off with a nice bow. You did the same to the other fox, who voluntarily shook your hand with his left paw, just in case you forgot. By the time you were done, both foxes were playing on the counter, ribboned bows securely on their necks.

"What if you started working here? The way you can interact with the animals so easily is honestly amazing," Kozume asked, springing the question on you out of the blue.

You jumped, before you began rubbing the back of your head sheepishly, "Ah, I would love to, honestly, but I work as an author, and it's best if I stay relatively close to my publishing company."

Kozume smiled understandingly, "Yeah, I figured. Well, just know that me and the foxes will be missing you hundreds of miles away." Then she brightened, pulling out her phone, "Put your number in, so we can stay in touch, and so I can keep an eye on my son," she winked cheekily as you accepted her offer.

While the two of you were occupied, focused on your conversation, the two foxes stopped playing, standing abruptly and whipping their faces towards you.

Loud crying made you turn away from Kozume and look for the source of the high-pitched whining, popping the question "who's making those crying puppy sounds?" into the air.

Your eyes landed on the foxes, both of which were crying and walking towards you, tugging at your sleeve and rubbing their heads against your arms. Your heart melted, and you turned to Kozume, pity written across your face.

"When I said they would miss you, I didn't think it would be this much…"

"No, you can't come in here! I'll be kicked out if I let you guys in!"

The foxes, still with the ribbons tied perfectly and safely around their necks, were looping around your legs, blocking your entrance to the cabin you've rented. They both looked up at you and cried, their whines catching the attention of some workers and visitors nearby.

"Okay, fine! If I get in trouble, it's your fault," you relented, turning the knob and carefully opening the door, watching as they slipped in, leaving you to shut the smooth oak door quietly behind you as you flipped on the light switch.

The second you let electric light flood the cabin, you realized the foxes were nowhere to be seen. Only mildly worried, since you knew they were at least somewhere inside, you shrugged it off and walked to the dresser, pulling out Tooru's hoodie and some sweatpants, before making your way to the bathroom.

Out of nowhere, a fox came zooming at your feet, eager to come inside with you. This time, you were firm as you said, "I'm going to shower, so you can back off and play around while I'm in the bathroom, alone, with no perverts!"

The grey fox started laughing at the peeping fox, which you realized was the yellow ribboned one. As expected, he launched at his brother, and you took the distraction as an opportunity to step inside the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it just to make sure.

Freshly showered, with your comfortable, warm clothes on, you shuffled out of the bathroom, already expecting the foxes right there, having to step over them to make your way to the bed. They jumped up with you, but once the grey fox came close enough to sniff your hoodie, it barked indignantly, biting at the hoodie.

"Hey! This isn't mine, it's Tooru's, so I can't let you destroy it!" you chided, pulling your sleeve away. Apparently you had said the wrong thing, because both foxes started pulling your sleeves together, before you yanked your arms out of their grips.

"Tooru doesn't even smell bad, he smells nice," you said, pulling the hoodie up to smell the familiar scent, the aromas of chocolates and sweets in fresh air, reminding you of the skies back at the city: the smells of bakeries and cafes wafting through the air and birds chirping above you every time you walked down a street. Still, when the foxes continued growling, you reluctantly tugged the sweater off and stayed in just a white t-shirt, an old, stretched out shirt with the print on the front long since faded and gone.

When you plopped back on the bed, the foxes crowded towards you, close enough that if you didn't know better, you'd think that they were trying to get you to forget about Tooru and focus on them. Subconsciously taking a breath, you caught the smell of a forest clearing or meadow, a smell of fresh grass and fresh air and petrichor, which you would expect from foxes that were supposed to stay and play in the forest, but you also noticed slight variations in the scent, obviously coming from either fox.

Yellow ribbon had a scent like honey, with a strong undertone of a woodsy musk, which made you picture drinking tea sweetened with the golden syrup right outside your cabin.

Grey ribbon had a strong campfire scent, the smell of crackling wood and fire and melting chocolate. A scene under a clear night sky surrounding a fire with the aroma of cinnamon in the air came to mind, and you let yourself get lost in thought, your senses being occupied with new scents, sights, and imagery.

If the foxes were human, their faces would surely have the widest, shit-eating grins, smug and satisfied at having you distracted from the minor annoyance from earlier and focused on them, just as they wanted.

You snapped out of it. "You little—, you just want me to give you attention and affection and baby you," you accused, pushing them away from your face. They didn't protest or bark at you, and you figured it was because they knew they were guilty as charged. "Jeez, you're acting like Tooru is a threat or something…"

You heard two big sighs, and blinked in surprise at the foxes as they settled onto the plush white covers. Maybe it was because they were so human-like and made you honestly contemplate whether they could understand you or not, or maybe it was because the only animal you've heard sigh is your mom's dog back at your family home, but whatever it was, it made you think, for a split second, that the foxes were humans turned animals, kind of like the frog prince. But that was stupid, so you shook your head, got up and turned off the lights, opening the curtains but keeping the blinds closed, and settled back into bed as slats of moonlight came from the spaces between the blinds.

The foxes climbed into your arms, and you held them close to you as you fell asleep, telling yourself it was only because you had crossed the line earlier, even though deep down you knew that wasn't the real reason.

You pulled the two fluffy sources of heat closer to you, unwilling to open your eyes and start the day. It's only when the heaters started licking your face that you panicked and freaked out.

High pitched yips made the events of yesterday evening rush back to you, and you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes tiredly, surprised that you had a good night's sleep with two, technically, wild animals.

You scooped the drowsy foxes into your arms before making your way to the big wooden door and pushing it open, setting the foxes on the ground.

"You weren't even supposed to be in there, you know," you said as the foxes tried to get back in, pawing at the door. You shivered, the chill in the air numbing your exposed skin and wrapping around your bare arms, and you hurriedly shooed them away before retreating back inside the warmth of the cabin.

Safely bundled in a sweater from your university under a hoodie, one of your own this time, you joined a group going for the fox trail, wondering if you'd see yours.

Pointedly ignoring how you immediately thought of them as "your" foxes, you listened to the tour guide, an employee you hadn't met yet, talk about how the foxes don't always show on the trail.

"That's a shame, let's just hope for the best," other visitors and families whispered around you, with some of them saying they didn't see that many foxes yesterday, only a few odd ones out here and there. Knowing where they actually were the day before, you stifled a laugh, even as your ears turned red with guilt and embarrassment, before following at the back of the group as they started the trail.

Luckily, you saw a few grey and brown foxes, who seemed like actual normal foxes and not borderline sentient, but around the middle of the trail it was basically deserted.

"Let me try to call them," the guide offered, bringing his hands up to cup his mouth and whistle loudly.

Silence answered, with no signs of anything coming to visit.

The tour guide encouraged the group to call out and whistle, and various whistles and voices rose from the group.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you crouched low, at eye-level with the bushes, and softly called out for two specific foxes, your hello muffled by the rest of the crowd.

You gave up, feeling stupid and unconvinced that your almost-whisper would carry over the noise of the crowd, and sat on the ground, legs folded under you, deciding to wait until the group either got tired or another fox actually showed up for them. Just then, the bushes in front of you started to rustle, and your lovely grey ribboned fox jumped out, immediately crawling into your lap to nuzzle your face.

The people closest to you turned at the noise and noticed you cuddling with him on the ground, and word started spreading throughout the group that someone had successfully lured out a fox.

"Look! There's one running this way!" the ones at the front of the group called, and you looked just in time to see your other fox running towards you, straight past the tour guide and the rest of the group. You smiled fondly at them, before lowering your face to let both of them rub their cheeks against yours.

"Ma'am, could you please not touch the animals?" the tour guide told you timidly, obviously not wanting to reprimand you for being able to actually call out foxes on the designated fox trail, but you understood it was mostly so others didn't start getting any ideas, thinking they had permission.

You nodded sheepishly, lightly putting them on the floor before standing up, wiping the dust off your knees. However, the whole group watched as the foxes looped around your feet, even going so far as to jump up and paw at your thighs.

"Do you work here? You're so good with animals!" a mom in the crowd asked, and you looked at the actual worker, unsure of what to say. He stared back at you with just as much confusion, before shrugging, leaving you to make up a convincing story on the spot.

"Actually, these foxes used to live near me, but I live in a city, so I brought them here so they'd be safer than on the streets," you fibbed, though you gave yourself a pat on the back for how reliable the story was. If anyone really did have to ask, yes, you did live in a city, and yes, you would one hundred percent bring foxes and other animals to a forest or wildlife lodge. Did that really happen? No, but could it? The answer was yes, and you sighed in relief when the mom turned, accepting your answer. You giggled when the tour guide released a breath he didn't even know he was holding, and he continued the trail, sending a discreet wink your way.

You didn't notice the way your foxes growled at that, and if someone had asked you why you had two foxes right at your heels, walking next to you protectively like a pair of guard dogs, you'd blink in confusion, oblivious to the reality of their words.

Before you knew it, it was Saturday, souvenir shopping day. You slung on your bookbag, ready to put some weight in it.

At the lodge's shopping centre, you saw gift shops, clothing shops, and random trinket shops alike. In the gift shop, you found crystal figurines of animals in and around the lodge, and a cute little bird the color of a clear sky caught your eye. For some reason, it reminded you of Tooru, and you couldn't stop yourself from buying it and watching as the cashier wrapped it in paper before setting it in a white velvet box, cushioned and safe. Huh, crystal bird, blue, bluebird. You may have found another nickname for Ruru. You absentmindedly slipped it into your bag, happy to have found what you were looking for so fast and a new nickname.

But stores weren't anything if not eye-catching, and the shelf of plush animals distracted you. The fox plushies, specifically, were so similar to actual foxes that they'd be perfect replacement cuddle buddies for when you went back home to your big city.

But then you felt incredibly embarrassed and childish for that, so you shook your head as you walked out of the shop, ignoring the way that thought stuck in your head like a moth to a lamp.

Still, you found yourself walking through store after store after store. Once you finally snapped out of it, you had just stepped out of the birdwatching souvenir store, all too aware of the set of postcards themed after the various birds you could spot on the trail. You told yourself that the blue mohawk bird on the front was a great reminder of both the trail and Kozume, and made a mental note to get her to write something before you left, lessening your guilt over having bought something almost useless.

By the time you came back to the cabin, your wallet felt significantly lighter while your bookbag was very obviously heavier. You had stuffed the velvet box, postcard deck, two maroon sweaters with "Inari Lodge" printed across the front with the forest's logo, and a large and heavy book about spirits and legendary deities that guard and dwell in the forest. According to the summary on the back, the book was basically a collection of the myths and legends surrounding the forest, including one about people that could transform from animal to person and back again. The cover of the book immediately made you think "grimoire", and you were set on buying it, if not for the stories, then for the aesthetic.

You wondered briefly if it was real as you unclasped the leather string binding the book shut and flipped through yellowed pages with torn edges, looking at all the pictures that looked believable hand drawn and writing in a language you could only understand when you squinted your eyes.

You had wrapped everything in the two sweaters, and then in the white scarf, making sure they were safe and at no risk of being crushed or damaged, especially the crystalline figure.

"Are ya sure she isn't coming back?"

"Yes, 'Tsumu, last I checked she was dropping off her keys to Kozume."

"But she'll be back soon?"

"Yeah no shit, genius, that's why you either get in here with me or stay behind."

"Hey, I'm just makin' sure you're prepared for this y'know, in case you start crying for momma or somethin'."

"Shut yer face and die."

"What do we do now?"

"I don't wanna pay for a ticket, 'Samu."

"Me neither, but we can't hitch a ride in her carry-on anymore, it's going through TSA."

They both leaned against the wall, realizing that they were both stupid and their plan was stupid squared.

Atsumu looked up, the ribbon around his neck moving with him, and he watched you walk into the bathroom, leaving your luggage outside the door. He nudged Osamu, pointing at the bathroom door.

"Nice," he praised.

And if people saw two foxes crawling into a bookbag? It's the airport at three in the alternate airport timeline, who cares.

"My bag is so heavy," you complained, flopping into your assigned seat. It was another window seat, and the view of the land underneath becoming smaller and smaller until it was covered by a sea of clouds made you feel a little better. Still, how did your bag get that heavy? When it was empty, it was literally lightweight, and when you were still shopping, it wasn't that hard to carry it as you went from store to store. You groaned, rolling your shoulder from the pain of carrying the boulder of a bag.

"That's what I get for buying so much," you berated yourself, opening the flap and looking inside. Surprisingly, two fluffy foxes were curled up in there, resting comfortably on your white scarf. For a moment, you thought your foxes had hitched a ride and were coming home with you, but you'd obviously notice that, right? And besides, you did see the stuffed animals in the gift shop.

"I can't believe I actually bought the stuffed foxes just because I'll miss the real ones," you huffed, blushing slightly, as if the foxes were there and could hear you. But the foxes were not there, you had left them at the lodge, so you settled for stroking the faux fur of the stuffed foxes, the silky smooth strands so lifelike that if you didn't know better, you'd think it was real.

"Finally," you gasped, face planting into the soft fluffy white of your blanket. You tugged off Tooru's sweater and folded it neatly, walking out and placing it on your counter, ready to return. You rummaged through your bag, that you had dropped to the floor as soon as you opened the door to your room, and tugged out the scarf from underneath your very suspiciously heavy fox plushies.

You unwrapped the bundle, pulling all your souvenirs out before bunching up the scarf and throwing it into your laundry basket. You set the book and postcard deck on your bookshelf, next to other various books and collectibles you've found over the years, and grabbed the velvet box, feeling its smooth texture against the palm of your hand. You set it on top of the teal hoodie, before changing out of your jeans and shirt into shorts and an oversized tee, boyfriend style.

Ugh, a boyfriend. You've been single for way too long.

"Please let me wake up to a miracle," you prayed, closing your eyes and pulling a serene face, before immediately flopping over and falling asleep.

Of course, you do not expect to wake up cuddled up to a warm chest while listening to someone messing around in your bathroom, the shutting of cupboards and a phone call drifting from the white door.

You laid there, relishing the comfort that came from being flush against someone's side, tucked under their arm.

That's when it hit you that strangers were in your house.

You bolted up, using your hand to choke back the scream bubbling from your throat, not wanting to let either person know you were awake.

You looked down, realizing that you had just left the side of a very handsome and very shirtless man, his eyes slowly opening when he felt the absence of your warmth, showing you his beautiful light brown eyes, getting lost in the gold specs like stars.

You ripped your gaze away from him and moved to swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Unfortunately for you, the mystery man reached up and tugged you back down to him, holding a finger up to his very pink and very kissable and very attract— , wait, no. He held his finger against his lips, shushing you.

"Wait, he's coming out. Stay beside me."

Just as you opened your mouth to retaliate, he had already thrown your white covers over the both of you and looped an arm around you, his hand resting at your waist.

The door to the bathroom opened, and yet another stranger walked out, though it was only him, making the total number of intruders two. He had the same eyes and lips, which were the definition of picture perfect, and he was also lacking in the shirt department. His brows furrowed, and you could already feel the argument starting.

"What the hell do ya think yer doin'?!"

"She prefers me."

"No she doesn't!"

"It's true, right doll?"

Both pairs of identical eyes stared at you, and you started panicking under the pressure.

"I don't even know you! This is literally stranger danger!" you yelled, jumping out of the warmth of both the blanket and the guy in your bed, dodging as his hand reached out to pull you back in.

You pressed your back against the wall, staying as far away from them as possible. You then realized what you were wearing, and tugged your shirt down even further, mentally slapping yourself for wearing shorts that left almost nothing to imagination with a shirt that reached your thighs, which would put you at a disadvantage if you had to fight or flight.

The stranger finally got out of your bed and walked next to the other, but it was only once they were next to each other that you realized they were twins, identical twins. Both had dyed hair, but one was blond while the other had grey hair. Their bangs were parted to opposite sides, so they kind of mirrored each other, which made you shiver.

"Don't ya remember us?"

"Yeah, you liked me better."

As they started bickering, as almost all siblings do, you noticed the two sweaters you bought sitting on the edge of the bed. Snatching them and balling them up in either fist, you threw them at them.

"At least wear these!"

"Those sweaters would eat me alive, but they fit you so well," you sighed, sitting on your legs on your bed, the two still standing in front of you.

As they pulled the cloth over their head, you noticed the ribbons tied around their neck as they popped free from the neckline. You felt your heart sink to your stomach when you realized they were grey and yellow ribbons.

"'s not like we've never slept with you before," yellow ribbon said.

"You even asked me to be your baby," grey ribbon added, catching his twin's elbow in his hand.

"I haven't even been in the city for the past week! I was at the lodge forest thing."

"So were we."

"Yeah, we came from there."

"Then how did you end up here?!"

"We came with ya," yellow ribbon said matter-of-factly while the other shrugged in agreement.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you flipped the flap of your bookbag over, looking at the empty space in dismay.

"Where are my foxes?"

"That's us!" they chorused, identical smirks of pride on their faces, as if being yours was something to show off or brag about.

"They were plushies! People cannot be plushies!"

"No, they were real foxes, and we're real foxes, 'cause they were us."

"Where the hell would I get real foxes?!"

They saw the moment you pieced two and two together, your face turning from one of anxious anger to acceptance as you realized what they were trying to say.

The ribbons. Their colors. The plushies that felt a little too real. That one night in your cabin. The day you fed them in that one cafe.

They were your foxes.

"Yup," grey ribbon nodded his head, and you shut your mouth, not wanting to accidentally say what you were thinking again.

"Why did you come here? You belong in the forest!"

"No, we're your foxes," they said in unison.

"No you aren't," you groaned, covering your face with both your hands.

The two of them had attached themselves to your side, and when you said that, they seemed to get even more annoyed, and so they snuggled even closer to you, an arm slung around your shoulders and around your waist.

"What are your names?" you finally relented, relaxing in their grip.

"Miya Osamu," the one with the grey ribbon said, pulling you closer from the waist.

"Miya Atsumu, the better twin," the one with the yellow ribbon retorted, tugging you back with the arm around your shoulder.

"Stop pushing me around! We barely know each other!"

"Can you stop with that already?" Osamu said, though he had no actual anger or malice behind his words.

"Or do we have to remind you who you belong to?" Atsumu said suggestively, and you braced yourself for whatever mischief he had planned.

In one moment, you were sitting normally in the middle of your bed. In the next, you were back against your headboard, your head on your pillows. And you became a pillow, as Osamu tucked his face in your neck and Atsumu rested his head on your chest.

"We're taking a nap together again whether you like it or not," Osamu said decisively, and you could tell that was that, no arguing.

"At least let me pull those off, it's embarrassing," you complained, your hand drifting up to Atsumu's ribbons.

"No," he said, catching your hand warningly. Something in his voice made you obey immediately. "That's mine."

"Well this is mine too!" you replied heatedly, bringing a hand up and cradling Osamu's head against you. But instead of doing anything or acting out like any normal person would, Osamu started purring, a satisfied grin on his face while you had a look of dismay, your cheeks reddening.

Atsumu glared at him, moving your hand so your arm was wrapped around him, pulling him closer as well. You got the hint and raised your other hand to run your fingers through his hair, leaving you to deal with two purring fox-shifting idiots.

"Fine, you're both mine, I guess," you gave up, fighting back a blush and pretending that statement didn't warm your heart as much as it did.

"And your ours," they chorused happily, and you didn't even try to hide the pink spreading across your cheeks when they rubbed their faces against yours.

"Okay," you said quietly, accepting the fact that them being yours and you being theirs made you feel something happy and content in your chest, something that was dangerously close to love. If you were like them, you were one hundred percent sure you'd start purring, too.

I mean, you did say you wanted a boyfriend, and the universe was kind enough to give you more than what you bargained for.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with yellow and red while the blues and purples of night crept closer. The clouds were fluffy and lined with silver, their normal white reflecting pink hues.

The last rays of sunlight filtered through a sheer peach curtain, coating everything in gold lighting.

Three people were sleeping soundly on a bed, the white blanket thrown over their tangled legs, breaths even and in sync. Dyed grey hair peeked out from under a chin, and blond hair tickled a collarbone. Natural hair was sprawled out on the white stuffed pillows.

Osamu opened an eye, before raising his head and pressing a soft kiss to the sleeping beauty's lips.

And if he raised a finger to his lips? Well, I can't say what happened next, because my lips are sealed.

oh my GOD did this take forever between writing this and school and the fanart of this (which i’ll post later) i took way longer than i normally would

that being said, i hope you still like it <3

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyū #miya osamu #miya atsumu #miya twins #haikyuu miya atsumu #haikyuu miya osamu #haikyuu miya twins #snow white au #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #i can't believe i made an au of my own au #fanfic of my own fanfic #fanfic³

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jmeelee · 5 years ago

Text

Trick or Treat (You look good enough to eat)

Derek didn’t mind working Halloween night. It was notoriously dead (pun intended), lacking the usual pain-in-the-butt patrons, and gave him time to catch up on his year-end book orders. Cindy made him a double batch of her famous salted-caramel brownies as thanks for covering her shift, and proceeded to show him no less than thirty pictures of her one-year-old dressed in a bumblebee costume. “It’s her first time going trick-or-treating,” she said for the umpteenth time. “I’m so grateful I don’t have to miss it.” He hummed politely at the pictures (he liked kids, just, you know, not thirty pictures of the same one) and snatched the proffered plate of caramel-chocolate goodness, mouth already watering.

“Trick or treat, smell my feet. You look good enough to eat.”

At first, Derek thought the statement was directed at him.

The words echoed through the silent, almost-empty library like a tomb. The digital clock in the bottom right corner of his monitor read 5:39 PM. The only other staff working tonight were two elderly clerks clad in sparkly pumpkin sweatshirts and the teenage page who was too old for Halloween but still wore a cat-ear headband.

Derek glanced up from the computer, over the top of his black-rimmed glasses, mouth set in a firm, no-nonsense line. It was his best librarian face, the one he slid on to deal with censorship challenges and patrons who loved to loudly announce, “I’m a taxpayer!” when the movie they wanted to borrow was already checked out. But the guy—tall, wiry, with shaggy brown hair in need of a cut—wasn’t trying to sweet-talk Derek at all.

Shame. He was devilishly handsome, and just Derek’s type.

Instead, cute-guy was buttering up the bowl of candy corn sitting on the circulation desk, next to a festive sign with smiling black bats proclaiming, “Bat-ter take one before they’re gone!” A grin stretched his generous mouth, dimpling into pale cheeks dusted with tiny dark moles. He reached a long-fingered hand into the orange plastic dish.

“I wouldn't do that,” Derek warned, voice soft but commanding.

The patron tore his laser-focused attention away from the sugary treats, large teddy-bear brown eyes going wide when they landed on Derek’s face. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. He dropped a single tri-colored kernel back onto the heap, cleared his throat and slowly reeled in his hand. “Oh, uh…sorry? I thought the sign said they were free.”

“They are,” Derek informed him. “But they’ve been sitting here since my shift started at noon, and about a dozen kids have dug through them.” Derek inclined his head and lowered his voice, tone intended to strike terror. “And Dave, too.”

The candy corn caper’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned a little further over the desk. “Is Dave the monster who made you work on Halloween night?”

Derek took great satisfaction watching the guy’s reaction. “No. He’s a regular who always picks his nose.”

“Gross,” the cute guy said, looking at the bowl with a grimace. “These things are terrible, but they’re my favorite and I couldn’t resist. You really did me a solid.”

He stepped away with a sad sigh. Derek found himself not wanting to break the spell, so he added a flippant, “Trust me, you’re better off buying a discount bag in a day or two. Less chance of contracting the plague.”

The guy threw his head back and howled with laughter, the sound liquid and warm, hitting Derek’s veins like a double shot of espresso, giving his heart palpitations. “Well, thanks—“ big brown eyes slid down Derek’s face, his neck, catching on the magnetic name tag clipped to his tan cardigan—“Derek, for saving my life. Unfortunately, there’s no corn-syrupy goodness lurking in my near future.”

He gestures to a young, brown-haired boy bedecked in a DJ Yonder outfit, quietly pulling puzzles out of the activity bin. “I’m Stiles, and that’s my son, Jordan. He has some pretty serious food allergies. I only have partial custody, but I don’t keep anything in my house that might cause a reaction. He’s anaphylactic to most nuts and has celiac disease.” Cute patron—Stiles—shrugged, holding his large hands away from his body in a what-can-you-do gesture. “Hence why we’re visiting the library on Halloween, instead of Trick-or-treating.”

Derek blinked, brain working overtime to absorb the information dump. Cute guy. Lickable moles. Pornographic hands. No ring on his finger. Sweet, well-behaved kid. Single dad.

“You guys didn’t want to hit up some Teal Pumpkin spots?” Derek asked.

Oh. Add adorable nose crinkle to the list. “Some... what?”

Derek spun forty-five degrees in his chair, kicked off the file drawer and rolled to the reference shelf, where he pulled down a green binder.

“Impressive.” Stiles raised an eyebrow as Derek glided back to the desk and stood, opening the binder and handing it to him.

“A lot of people are starting to provide non-food treats for trick-or-treaters since food restrictions are so prevalent. It’s called the Teal Pumpkin Project. You put a teal-colored pumpkin on your porch, and add your house to the online map.” Derek pulled a copy of the local map and an informational brochure out of a laminated sleeve. “This map was printed yesterday morning. You can have it if you want.”

Jordan looked up from his puzzle, eyes hopeful. “Can we go, Dad? Can we?”

Stiles turned toward his son, face softening, and Derek found himself wondering how it would feel to have such unadulterated joy directed at him. “Sure, dude. Let’s give it a shot.” Jordan hooted, fist-pumping the air.

“Thanks again,” Stiles said, waving the map between himself and Derek. “I can’t believe I’d never heard about this. You’re a lifesaver.”

Derek shrugged, half-satisfied at providing excellent customer service, and half-guilty for not wanting Stiles to leave so soon. “That’s what I’m here for, to help you find information.”

“And to protect me from contaminated candy corn.” Stiles winked, and Derek’s stomach swooped like he’d eaten one-too-many brownies. “Not all heroes wear capes. Some wear cardigans.”

“Have fun tonight,” Derek said to both of them in parting. It was the first time in ten years on the job that he didn’t want a reference interview to end. “And be safe.”

Jordan dragged his father toward the automatic doors, and Derek definitely did not lean over and covertly check out Stiles’ retreating back side from behind the staircase to the second floor.

If he hadn’t been paying such close attention, Derek might have missed Stiles halting them at the door with a soft, “Hey bud. I forgot one thing. Wait here for a second.” As Stiles turned and jogged back to the desk, Derek quickly grabbed some loose papers from the desk, shifting them around in his hands and burning holes in them with his eyeballs. Too late he realized one sheet was upside down.

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles asked, a little breathless.

Derek cleared his throat and laid down the paper armor. “Yeah?”

“I know stuff like this probably happens to you all the time, since you look, you know…” Stiles gestured to Derek’s face and broad, sweater-clad shoulders. “Like that. And I promise I’m not trying to be creepy here, though technically Halloween is the perfect night for creepy-”

“Stiles,” Derek expertly interrupted. “How can I help you?”

“I was wondering… I was hoping…” He took a deep breath. “I have to drop Jordan off at his mom’s tonight at 8:30, and if you’re free after work…”

Derek exhaled the manic butterflies tickling his ribs. “You want to go trick-or-treating?”

Stiles blinked, then burst out in a cackle loud enough to rival a witch. “As long as it involves you, me and some caffeine, I’m game for anything.”

Derek scratched at his bearded jawline. “Well, there’s a live ghost story reading happening at the coffee shop down the street. It starts at 9:00. I could meet you there?”

And oh. So that’s what it felt like to have Stiles’ soft, happy look directed at him. It felt frighteningly good.

“It’s a date,” Stiles said, backing away, smile big enough to make sweet little laugh lines crinkle around his eyes . “See you in a bit.”

Derek munched another brownie and watched the swing of Stiles’ slim hips as he walked away.

Yeah. Definitely good enough to eat.

#sterekhalloween5 #eternalsterek #sterekweek2019 #sterek #haleinski #halloween #sterek fic #photoset #moodboard #a HUGE thank you to sterek week!!!! you guys are the best

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fletchphoenix · 4 years ago

Text

Skating On Thin Ice

Chapter 4 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU is upon us!

Agh, I LOVE WRITING THIS SO MUCH!!! I’m so so sorry if all the content is getting annoying - I really want to get as much as I can done before school starts up again (in a week,,,,aha) so just let me know if it’s annoying y’all. Anyway! Thank you for the support!

Word Count - 3588

TW - Strong Language

-----------------------------------------

Varian tied his hair back into a ponytail as he walked downstairs to the kitchen, Ruddiger strutting after him happily. He dragged his feet across the silver carpet in his still-sleepy haze, passing awards and family pictures that were displayed proudly in the main hall of the house. A yawn escaped his mouth despite his attempts to hold it back, and he reached up to rub the tears that built in his eyes away along with the last remnants of sleep. A sleep his body desperately wanted him to return back to, judging by how sluggish he felt. The kitchen door moaned as he pushed it open, taking his time on every movement he took.

He scavenged through the kitchen for something to eat, all the while Ruddiger mewled and meowed to gain some attention and, while he was at it, some food to eat. Varian eventually gave in, lifting the bowl onto the counter and grabbing a sachet of cat food. He emptied the packet, the tabby cat jumping onto the counter and scoffing it down, causing him to chuckle while he took out the bread and butter from the refrigerator. “Toast it is, buddy.” he uttered to himself as he slid the bread into the device.

While the toast was..well, toasting, he climbed onto a counter and opened the cabinet near the stove. An assortment of cups greeted him - all with different colours and various patterns. A certain one met his eye. The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile as the memories came flooding back to him.

“Are you sure you want me to have this? After all I’ve done to you..?” his nervous voice asked. He was sixteen again in Rapunzel’s kitchen after his father had woken up from his coma. The aroma of cinnamon was in the air combined with apple, creating the illusion that it was fall in the small room as Rapunzel set aside the gift and took his hands in her own. Her expression was earnest, honest.

“Varian..I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. We’ve all forgiven you, regardless of what you may think. You’re family.” she stated with a smile that held nothing but love for the boy in front of her. Tears built in his eyes as he looked over at the silver box, wrapped in a teal bow, set on the kitchen table by the blonde only a few moments prior.

Taking a seat on the lilac cushioned chairs, he brought the box closer to him with shaky hands and unwrapped the dainty bow carefully, as though it would fall apart at even the slightest amount of force. Upon lifting the lid, he was met with the sight of some paper - matching the color of the bow. Pulling it out, he gasped as his eyes met the mug that had been placed in the box with care. He took it out and examined it in his hands.

The mug was teal (also like the bow and paper it was packed with) decorated with paintings of test tubes, beakers and a small raccoon on the side. Ruddiger. Unwillingly, his eyes started to water again, tears betraying him and rolling down his cheeks hitting the table cloth below him. “Thank you.” He uttered, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to hold back his tears. Arms came around from behind him and pulled him into a motherly embrace, a gentle kiss being placed on the back of his head as he let himself cry freely. A swift turn allowed him to hug the blonde, his eyes squeezing shut to rid them of the last few tears that had developed in them before he moved away.

“Me, Eugene and Cass searched for hours, but couldn’t find the right one. Then I thought ‘Hey! Why don’t we paint a mug for him?’ and thus..that was created. It’s okay, right? I tried to put everything I knew you liked on it, but I wasn’t sure, so I had to get Cass to-” Her rambling was cut off as the boy clinged to her with his face buried into the fabric on her shoulder. Reluctantly, she ran her fingers through his raven locks and exchanged the hug.

“I love you, Rapunzel. You’re the best sister in the world.” he whispered as he held onto her, his hands gripping onto her shirt as he let himself be vulnerable around Rapunzel. He’d tormented and hurt her so much..but she still cared for him.

“I love you too, Varian.” She replied, moving out of the hug when he was calmer and ready. “Anyway, Cmon! We need to make you one of my infamous vanilla lattes now that you have your own cup!” She declared, clapping her hands and picking up the cup to start the drink. His eyes followed her as she moved expertly around the kitchen and prepared his drink. A smile steadily grew on his face.

He was forgiven.

He was home.

He seized the cup and hopped down from the counter, closing the ivory door of the cabinet and heading towards the coffee machine. He set the cup under it and started up the machine, leaning against the counter and checking his phone. Wednesday, 8:14am. Good - he woke up in time to get ready for his class at 11. “No messages from Hugo though.” his brain reminded him, disappointment making a heavy weight in his stomach. Maybe he wasn’t up yet? Probably, he reasoned as he took the toast from the toaster and buttered it before grabbing his coffee and sitting at the table.

Ever the greediest cat on earth, Ruddiger settled at Varian’s feet and swatted at them with his paw. “Oh my god, you’ve just had your breakfast! No!” he shook his foot to scare the cat away, but he didn’t let up. The evil little bastard continued swatting at his foot until, eventually, Varian let up. “Okay!” he yelled, accepting his defeat as he opened another package of cat food, emptied it into the burgundy food bowl and threw it away. That seemed to do the trick - the stubborn feline finally moving away from the table and leaving his owner in peace.

“I swear..all you do is eat and sleep all day, every day.” he muttered to himself as he took a prolonged sip of his coffee. It hit the mark - him feeling way more energised as the caffeine kicked in. Taking a bite from his toast, he smiled to himself and looked around the kitchen at the wallpaper that had been wearing away for quite some time, at the window just above the sink that looked out on the garden (that they honestly never used enough now) he used to play in as a kid with his mom, at the small frames across the wall holding precious memories of his childhood from before the incident. It wasn’t much by any means, but it was his home.

He glanced at his phone screen again. 8:30am. “Okay, time for me to get ready.” he proclaimed to no one in particular, moving to his feet and scraping the chair back across the kitchen floor. Cringing at the noise, he cast a glance to Ruddiger, who was sleeping contently on the windowsill. He could be so cute sometimes. Only sometimes though. He picked up his plate and cup, placing them in the sink underneath the cat. He reached his now-free hand out and ran it down the cat’s fur gently before heading back upstairs to his room.

Once he was dressed, opting for a black sweater and navy trousers along with some sneakers, he picked up his bag. Packing in his laptop and chemistry books, he moved downstairs for the final time to head outside. He glanced at the coat rack, pulling on an ink-like coat and a knitted emerald scarf Rapunzel had given him as a Christmas present one year - him silently noting that it matched the color of Hugo’s eyes. (This thought made him feel bubbly - knowing full well Hugo would love it if he saw it. He made a mental note to wear it next time Hugo offered for them to go on a date.) He unlocked the door, scooping up his keys and heading out the door.

The first thing that he noticed was just how cold the temperature was - the chill travelling down his spine. Nonetheless, he shoved his hands into his pockets and began his journey to the campus, eyes focusing on the floor in silence. It wasn’t long, only 20 minutes, but the chill got to him fast and by the time he’d stepped into the labs, he was shivering intensely. Giving a nod to his professor, he took his seat (second to last row, three seats from the aisle) and took out his equipment, ready to start the lesson.

He couldn’t focus - all lesson he subtly scrolled through his phone as he prayed Hugo would send him a text or something to let him know he was okay. He gazed down at the phone screen. Surely he would be awake by now, so why wasn’t Hugo texting him. He huffed and slid back in his chair, desperately trying to keep his focus on the lesson.

The professor kept them late. Again. Varian hurriedly shoved his stuff into his bag and began rushing down to the library. Wind whistled past his ears and his scarf blew frantically around his neck from just how fierce it was. His cheeks went a deep shade of scarlet, dusting his nose and ears. Freckles sat defined over his face as he made his way past the nameless students and over to Nuru and Yong - who, by the looks of it, had started astronomy without him.

“Sorry guys, I was just-” he cut himself off at the sight of Hugo, leaning over Yong and explaining part of the physics work set out in front of him. God, he looked breathtaking. His hair was tied back in its usual small ponytail, with a moss green winter coat around his shoulders and goggles hanging round his neck. He glanced up at Varian and immediately straightened, pushing his glasses up his nose with a broad smile on his face. Fuck. Why did he have to look so good in green?

“Varian! Hey, I’ve been waiting for you!” he commented, making his way around the table to put his arm round the other boy’s shoulders. The mere action made Varian’s face flush in embarrassment, Hugo not helping whatsoever as he pulled the younger closer to him. He seemed to be revelling in the way he was making Varian a flustered, stuttering mess. “Well then. I know this may be extremely heartbreaking for you, Nuru, but we must be taking our leave now. I bid thee farewell!” he declared, ushering Varian towards the door as Nuru rolled her eyes and muttered ‘Yeah, you wish.’ under her breath.

“Hold on-what do you mean? Where are we going?” Varian queried, looking up at the taller boy who had just swept him away from his friends with absolutely no explanation. His mood became disheartened as a wicked grin grew on Hugo’s face, him stepping back and raising his eyebrow. “What are you planning, Hugo Atkinson?” he implored.

“Welllll….” Hugo began as he took Varian’s hand in his own and interlaced their fingers, moving to stand in front of him. “I promised you another date! So I came to pick you up and remembered ‘Shit, it’s Wednesday!’ so I drove to the library and waited! Your friends showed up and you hadn’t yet, so I just..sat down with them and decided to offer my extensive knowledge on literally everything to them. And managed to convince Nuru to give you up for a day so I could take you out. Also off topic but..I’m ninety-eight percent sure she hates me, but as if I care!” he rambled, looking down at the confusion on the raven haired boy’s beautiful face. A smile tugged at his lips. “Long story short, I’m taking you on a date. Surprise!”

Varian stood dumbfounded before a breathy laugh left his lips, bringing Hugo down to his level and placing a fleeting kiss on his cheek. “That’s adorable. Go on then, take me away, Casanova.”

He relished in the blush that flooded over Hugo’s cheek and the stuttering that followed as he held Varian’s hand tight and led him along the cobbled streets of Corona. They walked and walked until Hugo gestured to a small ice-skating rink in the town centre. “And our date is ice-skating!” he remarked, squeezing Varian’s hand. “I hope that’s okay. I just thought we needed a little switch up from the coffee shop.”

Varian gasped in excitement and gave a frantic nod. “Hugo, this is perfect! Thank you so much!” he cried as he dragged the blonde along to go and get some skates so they could go onto the ice. The taller boy merely laughed and looked down at the childish excitement on his face. God, he loved this boy so much. It didn’t seem real.

As soon as they got their skates on and headed onto the ice, Varian’s mood soured.

He must’ve slipped a billion times as soon as they got on, finally relenting and heading to grip onto the barrier. His mom took him thousands of times when he was little. Why was he forgetting how to do it now? He let out a groan of frustration and rubbed his face with his hand. Why was this so hard? Now he was embarrassing himself in front of Hugo and Hugo would never want to see him again and-

“Hairstripe?” a voice came from behind him, a hand resting on his waist. “Hey, no. Let me show you, okay?” Hugo gestured and trailed his hand down, linking it with Varian’s and beginning to glide, moving further and further away from the barrier.

It felt like time had frozen, or the universe had fallen away and left only him and Hugo as the travelled in continuous circles round the rink. Hugo squeezed his hand in reassurance whenever he thought he might fall and caught him when he stumbled. It was perfect - just them with no interference from anyone else. It was perfect.

After a while, they exited the rink laughing and high on a cloud of pure euphoria with their hands still interlaced and warm. Varian let out a happy sigh and turned his head to look at Hugo, who’s free hand snaked around his waist. “It’s been fun today. I wanna do this again. All the time.” He muttered, moving his hand to cup Hugo’s cheek and rub it with his thumb absentmindedly, his eyes focusing on the way Hugo’s sparkled in the soft light of the lanterns outside.

“Varian.” Hugo whispered his name in response, letting go of his hand to rest under the boy’s chin. He tilted his head and began to lean in. Varian’s eyes fluttered shut as they were only centimetres- no. Millimetres apart. He could feel Hugo’s breath on his lips. Just a little more-

He was tugged back by a hand grasping his collar to see Eugene in front of him. “Varian what the fuck are you doing?! Why the hell are you out here with him?” he yelled and turned to face his little brother. Varian took a mental note on the fury painted over Eugene’s usually relaxed demeanour. “Y’know what? Tell me in the car. We’re leaving.” He grabbed the boy’s wrist and forcefully tugged him towards the car, despite Varian’s struggling and protests.

Hugo stood dumbfounded and watched as Varian was pulled away from him, tears building in his eyes as he looked at the sidewalk he was left on as the car drove away. He pulled out his phone to make a call.

“What.” Donella’s voice dripped with annoyance.

“I won’t be coming in tonight, sorry.” he declared as he hung up the phone. Quietly, he pulled up the hood of his coat and picked Varian’s emerald scarf off the floor before silently putting it on and beginning his journey home. He knew full well he’d suffer tomorrow for that, but it didn’t matter anymore. He pushed his glasses into his hair and wiped away the tears they were hiding, continuing to walk away from the town centre and to his apartment.

Unlocking the door, he leaned back to shut it before sliding to the floor and letting himself cry unabashedly. Why? Why did it have to be like this? Did life really hate him that much? Now he’d never be allowed to see Varian again-or Varian would find out about everything he’s done and decide he didn’t want someone like that in his life and leave him. Just like everyone else.

He felt like he’d cried for hours when he finally went upstairs and lay on his bed, letting Olivia out of her cage to sit on the bed beside him as he stared numbly at the ceiling. Maybe that's how it was meant to be. Maybe him and Varian weren’t meant to be together. Someone as perfect as Varian deserved better than him...he let out a pained sigh and turned to face Olivia. “Well Liv..it was fun while it lasted, huh?”

As soon as they were in the car, Eugene’s tangent had begun. “What happened to texting, huh? To letting your family know you weren’t gonna be there because you were busy with something else? Jesus Christ, Varian, we’ve all been terrified! I have been waiting outside the library since 5! Now it's 8pm! And what’s worse is you were with a criminal! A goddamn CRIMINAL!” he ranted on and on, Varian turning his head and glaring at Eugene.

“What do you mean ‘criminal’? Weren’t you one before? Never mind that, I was a criminal before too!” he snarled, his head whipping back around to glare out of the car window. He didn’t even recognise where they were driving anymore - the surroundings too dark to see anything.

“That little shit has been committing petty theft in the area - pickpocketing and all that. And so what if we were like that? People like him never change. I would know!”

“But we’ve changed, Eugene!”

“We’re different to him, Varian-” “How the fuck are we different to him?!”

“Varian-” “NO! Tell me how the fuck we are different to him!-”

“THAT'S ENOUGH, VARIAN!” Eugene’s voice boomed through the car, stunning Varian into silence as he flinched away from the brunette in shock. His bottom lip trembled and his shoulders shook as he desperately attempted to hold back his tears. “Shit-Varian, I-”

“Pull over. Now.” Varian stated, his voice oozing with hurt and anger as he kept staring at his feet. Eugene obliged sadly and pulled the car over, watching the younger boy get out and start sprinting into the night. He rested his head against the steering wheel, tears building in his eyes. Well, now he’d fucked up. He hadn’t meant to yell so loud at Varian...fuck. He sighed and began the drive home, praying to himself that Varian would get back safe.

Once he knew he was far away from the car, he stopped running. He sat on the floor and pressed his head against his knees. In 7, hold 7, out 7, he told himself and kept repeating multiple times. His chest eventually stopped heaving and his limbs stopped aching. He leaned back and stared at the stars in the sky, deep in thought.

Everything was perfect. He was happy, Hugo was happy..so why did it all have to end so badly? He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought of Hugo. He had to see him again. He couldn’t just leave him. His hands shook as he unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He took one final deep breath and called Hugo.

“Hello? Varian?” Oh god. His voice sounded so broken. He must’ve been crying this whole time. It was so much different from how it usually sounded. Varian felt his heart shatter a little bit more as he listened to the boy on the other end of the phone. “Varian, whats up?”

“What’s your address? I’m coming over. Now.” He bluntly stated, more of a request than a question. He definitely needed to see the other boy now, desperately.

Confusion laced Hugo’s voice as he replied to Varian, a light creaking sounding in the background as he presumably moved to sit up. “Are you sure, Varian? What’s going on-”

“Just tell me, Hugo!” He yelled, his desperation clear. “Please. I need to see you.” He added the last part, lowering his voice significantly and brushing his tears away at the other boy’s barely audible ‘okay’ in response.

Hugo shut himself up, sending through the address and hanging up on the distraught boy. He lay back on his bed, a frown on his face before heading down the hall to sit in the living room. 20 minutes later, a knock rang through the tiny building and he sprinted to unlock the door, his eyes meeting the tearful boy that he loved so dearly. Silently, he stepped out of the way to let the boy in before closing the door and pulling him into an embrace. The younger gripped onto his shirt and cried, each sob wracking his whole, thin frame. Hugo bit his lip and let out an exasperated sigh.

This really was going to be a long night.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo coffee shop au

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patchwork-panda · 4 years ago

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If A Moment Is All We Are (32/?)

AO3 link HERE

CW: suicide mention

I had followed Professor Matsuyama not to a mistress’s house, but to a cemetery perched at the edge of Yokohama—and a Western-looking one at that.

Suddenly, the white chrysanthemums in his hand made sense.

Professor Matsuyama breathed a heavy sigh, his shoulders slouching slightly, and walked in past the gates.

He was visiting a grave...?

Taking out my camera to snap another picture, I steeled myself, thankful that at least here there would be plenty of trees to hide behind, and followed. I tucked myself behind the gates and carefully peered down the row as Professor Matsuyama walked past several lines of upright tombstones. His shoes clicked quietly against the neatly cut cobblestone path and the sound echoed slightly inside the grounds. As he walked past the hill in the distance and disappeared behind the tree on its crest, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and jogged after him just as the sun came out from behind the clouds.

Light flooded into the cemetery from above and I stopped jogging at once to stare.

Brilliant, flourishing greenery dominated the landscape. I looked out across the cemetery to see neat, alternating rows of peridot and beige stretching down the terraced hillside. Every cobblestone path was lined with a black wrought-iron fence and carefully pruned shrubs and each of the graves was nestled comfortably within a perfectly manicured lawn. Here and there, spots of yellow and white shone upon the gravestones—flowers left behind by visitors—and as I slowly proceeded down the walkways, past a long line of headstones, I realized that each grave site had been cleaned so meticulously that I could still read the names and inscriptions as if they had just been freshly carved.

I had no idea there was a place like this in Yokohama...

My Oxfords scraped softly against the pavement as I walked, following along the path the professor had taken as he ventured deeper into the grounds. Behind me, the pointed gray spires of a tiny church with white-washed walls rose above a line of trees. And in front of me, stretching out into the distance beyond the sloping hillsides, was the ocean. I could see the Yokohama Bay Bridge gleaming in the harbor above sparkling teal waves and as I quietly stared out across the water, a soft sea breeze swept through the cemetery. A sense of peace slowly washed over me along with the scent of salt and fresh ocean brine and I closed my eyes to breathe it in.

What a place to be laid to rest...

Smiling softly, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to take a picture.

“It’s beautiful...”

“It certainly is, isn’t it?”

I nearly dropped my phone in shock.

There was a soft laugh and I jerked to my left just in time to see Professor Matsuyama approaching me from several paces down the path.

“How long have you been following me?” he asked pleasantly.

I flushed.

“N-not long,” I stuttered, to which Professor Matsuyama let out another soft chuckle.

“I see. So you were following me.”

He smiled and I felt my face burn even hotter.

“I... I’m sorry,” I mumbled, tucking my phone away into my pocket.

“It’s okay,” the professor replied. “I guess I’m not too surprised something like this has happened. I haven’t exactly been myself lately and someone was bound to take notice eventually...”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nomura-kun put you up to this, didn’t he?”

My jaw dropped.

“Eh?!”

“There’s no need to look so shocked,” Professor Matsuyama said calmly, taking off his glasses so he could clean them on his gray knit sweater. “He’s been acting pretty skittish ever since he spotted Kei’s photo in my office that day. I really shouldn’t have snapped at him (or my wife) the way I did, but there’s really no taking back what happened now, is there?”

He stopped polishing his glasses and placed them back onto his face.

“I don’t mind showing you where I’m going, nor do I mind you telling Nomura-kun what I was really doing today. However...”

His dark-brown eyes hardened and he frowned.

“I would like you to keep this visit a secret from my wife.”

I started.

“Eh?”

“I don’t want Natsuki to know I was here today,” the professor repeated, sticking one hand in his pocket as he stared me down. “My visits to this cemetery have always been a solitary affair and I prefer to keep it that way. If you promise me you won’t tell my wife the truth of what I was doing today, I will tell you whatever it is you—or rather, Nomura-kun—would like to know.”

“I see...”

I paused to consider the professor’s offer.

I didn’t understand why a simple visit to a grave had to be kept so secret but...

If I agreed to Professor Matsuyama’s terms, then I would learn the truth—or at least, the professor’s version of the truth, anyway—behind today’s visit. But after everything that had happened during the CORVID case, I was a little less trusting of the people I investigated.

Additionally...

I frowned.

If I agreed to this offer and the professor’s story turned out to be the actual truth, then Nomura, Professor Matsuyama and I would all be in on something that only Natsuki would not know.

Somehow, this didn’t feel right...

The professor studied me.

“Well?”

I sighed.

As much as I didn’t want to agree to this, I had already promised Nomura to try not to involve Natsuki. Plus, I’d already lied to her once earlier, so this shouldn’t make a huge difference in the long run, right?

I could feel my stomach churning as the professor looked to me, waiting for my answer.

Right...?

“Alright,” I said at last, my shoulders drooping a little in defeat. “I promise.”

Professor Matsuyama nodded, shifting the chrysanthemums in his grip.

“Thank you.”

He turned on his heel and gestured to me.

“Then, please come with me.”

I nodded back and followed. As I trailed after him, up the hillside and past the tree on its crest, the professor spoke again.

“So tell me.”

His voice held no trace of the sternness he’d displayed earlier. His tone was friendly. Conversational, even.

He looked over his shoulder and back at me.

“Miss...?”

“Kusunoki,” I said, inclining my head a little in a sort-of bow.

“Kusunoki-kun,” the professor said, nodding. “You don’t look like one of my students. Are you a friend of Nomura-kun’s?”

“Uh... sort of,” I mumbled.

What should I tell him? Nomura had asked me to keep as much of this investigation a secret from the professor as possible, but what was I supposed to do now? Did it make sense for me to keep up some sort of charade “just because?” Or might Professor Matsuyama be a little less forthcoming if he knew I was lying to him? He didn’t strike me as the kind of person who was easily fooled.

“I met Nomura off campus.”

But before I could decide whether I should actually tell him the truth or not, the professor nodded, as if thinking to himself about something.

“I see,” he said, staring off at the road ahead. “That’s nice. I’m glad to hear Nomura-kun has friends outside of school. He’s been over so much that I was beginning to think he might not have any...”

Ouch...

I winced, realizing that it was exactly what Natsuki had said.

Nomura must not get out much. But then again... it’s not like I couldn’t say the same about myself.

Suddenly, the professor stopped walking.

“We’re here.”

I paused to take in my surroundings as the professor turned to a headstone on his left and knelt to place the flowers on the marker. We’d come a long way from the entrance and were now so deep in the middle of the cemetery that if I didn’t have the professor to guide me, I would’ve easily gotten lost in the middle of all these graves. I could barely even see the tree on the hill that we’d passed earlier.

Apparently, the professor came here often enough that he didn’t need directions to know where to go.

I watched as he continued kneeling by the marker, clapped his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes. The headstone we’d stopped in front of bore a familiar name.

“Masaoka Kei...”

I felt my heart twist a little inside my chest.

How often did he come here to leave flowers?

Without thinking about what I was doing, I, too, slowly clapped my hands together and offered a prayer for the deceased.

“I come here about once a month,” Professor Matsuyama said, his voice low, but steady. “To pay respects to my dearly departed friend and brother, Kei.”

My eyes snapped open.

“Your brother?”

“That’s right,” the professor said, his eyes still closed. “Kei is my brother. We may have different last names but don’t let that fool you.”

He smiled softly.

“We were as close as any blood siblings could possibly be.”

That’s right, he was listed as Kei’s next-of-kin in that police report.

“Was one of you adopted?” I asked quietly, taking out my phone to write a memo.

“Kei was,” Professor Matsuyama answered. “When we were in high school, his parents died in an accident. We went to a rather prestigious school that Kei would’ve been forced to drop out of if he’d moved out of the area to live with other relatives. So my parents decided to take him in.”

A small smile crossed his face.

“Make sense if you think about it. We were really close back then. In fact, Kei was even helping me study for my college entrance exams. It’s really thanks to him that I managed to get into the school that I did. I suppose to everyone else, it must’ve seemed like we were paying back some sort of favor.”

So that explains it.

Making a mental note to verify the professor’s story when I got back to the Agency, I took a step back as the professor slowly got to his feet.

“Now then. Kusunoki-kun, was it?”

“Sir?”

The professor turned to face me.

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask me? About either Kei or myself?”

Slowly, the corners of his lips turned up in a soft, melancholy smile and I heard myself gasp as I suddenly realized exactly who he’d reminded me of.

With his wavy brown hair, dark, mysterious eyes, and warm, yet wistful expression, Professor Matsuyama looked a little like a forty-year-old version of Dazai. Even the lines on the man’s face couldn’t hide the fact that he must’ve been a very handsome man when he was around my age.

I brought my fingers to my lips.

And his eyes...

“Hm?”

Professor Matsuyama’s gaze grew solemn.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes look just like Dazai’s the evening I spoke to him in the hallway...

“N-nothing...”

For a moment, I had no idea what to say.

“Um... Professor?”

“Yes?”

Professor Matsuyama’s smile widened slightly and the resemblance to Dazai grew even stronger. I suddenly felt like I had cotton wool inside my mouth.

“You said you were okay with Nomura-kun knowing about your visit today,” I said slowly. “Why are you okay with him knowing but not your wife?”

“Ah.”

The professor grew quiet for a moment before answering.

“I suppose...” he murmured, his eyes downcast. “It’s because I would hate to have her see me... as the scoundrel I truly am.”

Huh?

Another soft breeze swept through the cemetery and I felt a slight chill settle into my bones as wind slowly dissipated.

“What do you mean?” I whispered.

“I owe Kei a great debt,” Professor Matsuyama said.

He lowered his gaze to the bouquet of white chrysanthemums he’d placed on Kei’s grave.

“It’s as I said earlier. Kei helped me get into this university, which led to two of the greatest joys I could’ve asked for in this insignificant life of mine. The first was the graduate program and subsequent teaching position I was able to enter into. The second...”

He smiled again and I stared, startled by just how uncanny the resemblance was to Dazai whenever he made that face.

“...was being able to meet my beautiful wife, Natsuki.”

He closed his eyes and sighed.

“What a dreadful friend I was, paying him back the way I did...”

He trailed off and placed a hand upon Kei’s headstone. When he looked at me again, his eyes suddenly seemed as dark as coals.

“Do you know why Kei is buried here in this cemetery?” he asked.

I shook my head.

I was confused. Did he mean to ask me why Kei was buried in this particular cemetery? Or did he mean...?

“Kei,” the professor said softly, returning his gaze to his friend’s headstone once more, “killed himself when we were in graduate school. It happened one night almost fifteen years ago when I was working late in the school library.”

Exactly what the police report said.

“I...”

His fingers dropped to the name etched upon the stone.

“I know what the police said,” he said bitterly. “I know what the evidence pointed to. But I can’t help but feel responsible for his death. If I had just thought to talk to him in the weeks before or if I had just gone home a little earlier that night—”

“You couldn’t have known!” I burst out, surprising both the professor and myself.

Flushing slightly, I clenched my hands into fists and continued.

“How could you have?” I stammered. “It’s not like he told you specifically that he was going to—”

But the professor’s dark eyes flashed.

“You don’t understand!” he snapped, his tone suddenly heated. “He may not have said anything specifically to me but I should have known! There were so many things I could have—should have done!! Before that horrible night—!”

His voice broke then and he clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes, his face screwed up in pain.

“You don’t understand,” he said again, his voice no louder than a whisper.

I felt my blood turn to ice as he bent over the grave and I finally understood what he was muttering under his breath.

“It was my fault Kei killed himself...” he breathed.

I inhaled sharply.

“What?”

I didn’t understand. How...?

“I may not have put that bullet into his head,” Professor Matsuyama whispered, “but I might as well have. I’ve done something completely unforgivable to my best friend and brother and that...”

He straightened up a little, staring hollowly at Kei’s grave.

“That will be my burden to bear... for the rest of my days, however long I may yet live.”

He turned to me and I flinched.

“I won’t say anything more on that matter,” he said sullenly, deflating just as quickly as he’d gotten riled up. “If you want to learn more, feel free to continue your investigation, in whatever way you wish.”

His dark eyes swept over me.

“You’re not one of Nomura-kun’s friends at all, are you?” he said, to my utter shock. “I’d guess you were a private investigator of some kind, but you’re rather young to be a detective. I’ve met police graduates who are much older than you.”

He chuckled slightly and ran a hand through his hair as I immediately broke out into a cold sweat.

“Ah, well. It’s fine, no matter who you are. Honestly?”

Professor Matsuyama’s lips twitched upwards into an odd smile.

“I feel a bit better after talking to you. Knowing that Nomura-kun will at least know my shame after all these years... it feels refreshing. However...”

His smile vanished.

“I’d like to remind you to please, please, keep what I’ve said to you today from my wife. If she were to ever find out how horribly I have wronged Kei...”

His eyes clouded over.

“She would never look at me the same way again.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek.

“Professor...” I started, taking the tiniest of steps towards him. “Do you think that maybe... Nomura-kun and maybe even your wife... might be worried about you? They seem to care a lot for you, you know.” “I know...” Professor Matsuyama said quietly. “I know...”

As he trailed off, silence fell across the cemetery. Far away, on the hill high above us, the church bells began to chime the hour. Hearing it, the professor perked up and checked his watch.

“It’s getting late,” he murmured. “I need to be getting back.”

He dropped his arm and looked at me.

“Kusunoki-kun?”

I twitched.

“Y-yes?”

“If you are indeed a friend of Nomura-kun’s, feel free to drop by my house with him sometime.”

He smiled softly.

“Perhaps I could even lend you a book to read. Until then, take care.”

Bending forward slightly in a farewell bow (I rushed to do the same), Professor Matsuyama straightened back up and turned to shoot one final look at Kei’s grave.

“Kei...”

He laid his hand on the headstone once more and gave it a gentle pat.

“I’ll be seeing you.”

And with that, he brushed past me and made his way towards the exit.

As he disappeared once again behind the tree on the hill, I returned my attention to Kei’s grave and thought about what to do next.

Well, that went about as well as it could have. I might have gotten a lot of information and a fair number of leads to pursue, but...

I groaned and smacked myself upside the head.

How was I going to explain my failure to keep myself hidden from both Nomura and the Agency?

I could already see President Fukuzawa shaking his head at me as he contemplated demoting me to the level of an intern rather than a rookie detective.

And then there was the matter of Dazai and Kunikida...

I let out a soft whine as I sank to my knees in front of Kei’s gravestone.

As much as I didn’t want to endure Dazai’s endless teasing over my failure, seeing the disappointment on Kunikida’s face would be enough to make me want to put a bullet through my own head. At least if I was buried here in the cemetery with Kei, I wouldn’t have to deal with letting Kunikida down so badly!

Blearily, I opened my eyes and considered the grave site in front of me.

While I was here, I should probably take photos of Kei’s grave so I could document the case...

“Hmm...”

But... my grandmother had once told me it was bad to take photos in a graveyard (what if a ghost appeared in the picture?!). But on the other hand, I was going to need the photo of the flowers on Kei’s gravestone for the report I’d need to write up later.

Fidgeting a little as I made my decision, I took out my cell phone, snapped a quick photo of Kei’s headstone and put my device away so I could start cleaning the area around the grave.

“I’m sorry for taking a photo of your final resting place, Kei-san,” I said aloud, as I began clearing away the dead leaves with my bare hands.

I dug an old tissue out from inside my pocket to dust off the top of his headstone.

“But I promise... it’s for a good cause. I just want to find the truth about what happened to you.”

I began cleaning off the grave.

“And to the professor...”

Time passed. Clouds sailed overhead as I finished tidying up the grave. Once it looked noticeably neater than it had when I’d arrived, I tucked the dirty tissue away in my pockets and paused to take one more look around the cemetery before I left.

It really was beautiful here...

I could only hope Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki were able to be buried in such a peaceful place. Perhaps one day I should go to Nagano myself to pay my respects in person.

Taking out my phone and writing myself a short memo (maybe Yosano was right and I really was taking too much after Kunikida), I walked down the aisle, towards the exit and left Kei’s grave behind.

But as I came to the hill where the single large tree was growing upon its crest, I thought I saw something sticking out of the ground nearby.

It looked like... railing...

I stopped to stare at it.

“Huh...?”

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I headed for the short series of poles sticking out of the ground. I let my hand trail along the chains connecting them as I ascended the set of low stone steps and following the pathway up the hill, only stopping when I reached the flat zone at the very top. There, just below the emerald green leaves of the large, aged tree, was a single rectangular grave site.

I bent forward a little to examine it.

“Someone’s buried here?”

This... looked nothing like the other graves in the cemetery. Unlike the other headstones, which were stark-white and likely carved out of marble or some other long-lasting stone, this one was gray and looked rather dusty. Parts of the stone marker were covered in a thin layer of mildew, with the notable exception of a short stretch right across the very top. The grass around this site was slightly overgrown and as I turned my head to the right, I saw a thin line of dirt that trailed around the grave to the other side.

It looked like a tiny beaten path that had been worn into the ground by someone or something that was constantly walking from the front of the grave to the back. I followed it around to the other side of the grave site to see that this path ended in a small patch of dirt on the ground, just behind the upright slab of a headstone.

Almost as if someone deliberately walked around the grave so they could sit behind it rather than paying respects directly to the front...

“That’s weird.”

Curiously, the back of the headstone was noticeably cleaner than the front and as I peered around the hillock to see if there were other graves in similar condition here, I quickly realized that this was the only headstone beneath the tree.

I walked back around the grave to look at the name.

It was written in English and parts of it were hard to make out, so I took the dusty tissue back out of my pocket and began wiping off the mildew.

“S. Oda,” I read aloud as I cleared away the grime.

Oda... Why did that seem so familiar?

A cold voice called back to me from days long since passed and I gasped as the memory came rushing back.

“When they told me an Ability User who could see the future had appeared once more, I was set on capturing them at all costs,” Akutagawa said.

“Oda-san,” I murmured, staring at the headstone.

Could this the man Akutagawa was talking about?

But it’s such a common last name, how would I know if it’s the same person?

“I thought, perhaps, this was the second coming of Oda-san. After all, we learned several years ago that two people with similar Abilities can exist at one time. Why couldn’t his Ability reappear now, after his death?”

And as the gears slowly turned in my head, another voice called out to me from my memory, a brighter, cheerful one—one that I’d heard only just a couple hours ago.

“Oda-san...” Dazai chuckled, “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

The wind suddenly picked up and the dirty tissue I’d been using to clean S. Oda’s grave was ripped out of my hand. I watched as it flew up into the air and sailed towards the sea, gliding towards the shining blue water like a mottled graying bird.

“Oda-san...” I breathed, repeating the name as if just speaking the words would allow me to find the answer.

“Who...?”

The tissue floated over the black iron fences and disappeared from view.

“Who are you?”

#lol is anyone actually reading this?!!#bsd #fanfiction

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likexporcelain · 7 years ago

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A Crack in Everything (Chapter 2/8) - Jonerys

Summary: Six years after their high school romance ended in emotional ruin, Daenerys Targaryen runs into Jon Snow by chance on Valentine's Day, forcing old memories to the resurface. This sudden reunion could be cathartic, but it could also deepen the cracks already in their hearts. The question Daenerys grapples with is, will this all be worth it in the end?

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

First two chapters up on Ao3 - additional tags/warnings/notes there

The next day, Jon didn't come see me at Martell's, and I hadn't really expected him to, but I had hoped. After a full week of hoping, I had given up any attempt to make myself prettier in the morning, opting for an extra hour of sleep rather than a longer shower and enough time to straighten my hair and apply the right amount of makeup. When I got to work looking my usual, slightly disheveled self, the male employees working my shift made similar comments about how they preferred my hair straight and Daario risked me filing a complaint with the bosses by smirking at me and saying “Done trying to impress me, huh? You know you're my favorite, Dany.” I rolled my eyes and tried to avoid him the rest of the day, but I couldn't help but feel like a fool for ever doing anything to impress anyone, even Jon.

It would be another week, the first day of March, that I would see Jon again. I had just had a rather annoying conversation with Daario where he tried to convince me it was still February. His version of flirting no doubt, judging by the way he would wink his eye and lean toward me across the register counter. I had been moments from leaving to use the restroom, just to buy me a couple minutes alone, when the little box above the sliding front door dinged.

He looked the same as when I ran into him at his work, but this time in a white t-shirt exposing an arm covered in ink and his hair was down in dark curls I remembered well. When his eyes found mine, I dropped my gaze to the counter top, cowardly.

“Hi there, Sir. Let me know if you need any help,” Daario greeted him.

I had wanted to see Jon for days, but now I found myself hoping my manager's long back was enough to hide me from him. I heard footsteps move further into the store and when I looked up, Daario was sending me a look of displeasure. “I shouldn't have to do your job for you, Dany. That's why I'm the manager and you're the floor associate. Now go see if he needs any help.”

As I walked past the isles, I ran my fingers through my hair anxiously before just giving up and using the black hair tie around my wrist to pull it all into a pony tail. I found Jon in the last isle, hands in his pockets and staring at shelves stocked with grain-free dog food.

“Do you have a dog?” I asked, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice.

“No.”

When he turned to look at me, I forced myself to keep eye contact. “Do you have any pets?”

“No.”

Seemed like as sure a sign as any that he had come in to see me, but my mind still raced with alternate explanations. He needed to buy a gift for a friend's dog's birthday party perhaps?

“Neither do I.”

“Do you have a lunch break coming up or something?”

“No, I don't get lunch breaks because I only work five hours a day.”

“Oh. . . I have work at two.”

It was already one, according to my watch.

“I could take lunch at five, if you want me to,” Jon suggested.

Did I want him to take lunch at five? I got off work at five. He obviously wanted to talk to me, or he was just doing this because he thought I wanted to talk to him. This felt horribly awkward. Jon and I had never been this unsure with each other, not even when we sat next to each other in Chemistry all those years ago. Did I really want to keep doing this? Keep having painfully awkward conversations with a guy I wished meant nothing to me?

“Yes,” I answered. “Yeah, okay.”

He nodded and for a few moments we just stood there in silence. But then his feet moved and he left.

As soon as I got back to the register, Daario threw up his hands at me. “Maybe if you'd kept up the beauty treatments, you'd actually get someone to buy something every once in a while.”

* * * * *

At the end of the last lunch period before Christmas break, Jon put his number in my phone and told me to text or call whenever I wanted during the two week period we would be away from each other. I texted him as soon as we got into Chemistry, telling him to do the same. This would be the first stretch of time he would spend at his uncle Ned's house without the reprieve of school and – I thought, optimistically – me. He didn't say so, but I knew he was nervous about it.

“Are you in hell?” I had texted him Christmas morning just after waking up. The night before he had texted me almost nonstop about a horrendous Holiday party his aunt Cat had thrown, inviting a slew of neighbors, Ned's employees, and their families. Every other minute my phone had buzzed with a new message detailing another insufferable conversation he'd had to sit through, or another bizarre appetizer he was forced to try, or another tipsy middle aged woman hitting on him before pretending like she didn't know he was only seventeen.

He had told me Christmas would be “family day” which was not a good thing. It wasn't that he disliked his family. Although he resented his uncle on behalf of his mother, Jon cared for him like one cares for family and he genuinely enjoyed his cousins. Jon just wasn't good at being part of a family. A lone wolf trying to be part of the pack.

“I've been pretending to still be asleep for an hour. Eventually they'll send someone in for me,” Jon replied right away.

“I wish I could pretend to sleep. I've got work today. Pray for me and I'll pray for you.”

Christmas was a busy day at the outlet mall. I'd worked every day since our break began and would work almost every day until going back to school. On the bright side, I was going to stop by the Apple Store after my shift and get the 64GB Classic I finally had the money for. A Christmas gift for myself, since I wouldn't get any from anyone else. That was what I thought at least.

A half hour before my shift at Banana Republic was up, I felt a gust of warm breath tickle the back of my neck as I fixed the 50% Off rack. I giggled and twisted, swatting Jon on the shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down.

He looked nice. Too nice. Clear face, goop in his hair, and wearing clothes that looked like what we sold at Banana Republic, but more expensive. Not at all the sort of wardrobe I had imagined Jon would wear during his free time. A teal sweater – cashmere? – and black chinos.

“I snuck out.”

“You snuck out?”

“You would sneak out too, Daenerys. They were about to have a family portrait taken. Look at what I'm wearing right now. I told them I was going to the bathroom and went right out the window.”

Jon always used my full first name. He had found out on his own what Dany was short for and refused to use the nickname ever since. If he had been anyone else it would have annoyed me – I was self conscious about my name because it just highlighted the fact that I was a Targaryen, daughter of the infamous Aerys Targaryen, who was convicted of fraud when he stole over a billion dollars from his clients as a financial adviser – but the syllables sounded so soft on his tongue, never accusatory or cold. “I love your name. Your whole name. I want to know where it comes from,” he'd said to me, and when I reveled to him that both parts of my name were essentially made up – Targaryen being adopted some two hundred years ago when my ancestors wanted to stand out – Jon told me about his name. “My mom was a Stark obviously, but I never knew who my father was. Only Mom's name is on my birth certificate. As far as I know, when the nurse asked her what she wanted to name me, she said Jon Snow on a whim. All I know is that she never wanted me to be a Stark. I guess both of our names are made up then.”

After begging to be let off work a bit early, I made Jon go with me to the Apple Store and then we took a walk around the Outlets, buying a couple of cinnamon pretzels and talking like we were still sitting behind the basketball gym at school. While he had much more to complain about regarding his time cooped up at the Stark place, there were good things he shared as well. He told me about the strange things twelve year old Arya did to make him laugh and showed me goofy pictures of six year old Rickon. Apparently, ten year old Bran could scale the entire facade of the Stark mansion in less than sixty seconds, but got grounded whenever his mom caught him. Sansa, who I already vaguely knew as a freshman at our school, was quite the seamstress, according to Jon, and was already designing her dream wedding gown, despite not having a boyfriend and being only fourteen.

Lastly, Robb, just a bit older than Jon, was home for the holidays from USC and managed to get into Jon's good graces enough for an odd-couple friendship to form. Robb had graduated from Westeros Prep the year before. We had shared a math class but hardly ever exchanged words. He was always polite, though, and I hoped he wasn't trying to change Jon's opinion of me. If he was, Jon didn't mention it.

Even though they were Starks, I liked that Jon was getting along with his family. It made me feel like I could one day have a big family too and do alright.

I had no delusions that this was a date. Jon may have paid for my pretzel, but not once did he hold my hand and I didn't try to hold his either. However, this time together outside of school made me wonder what a date with Jon would be like. I wanted to find out.

The sun was going down and I was finishing up a hot chocolate when Jon finally looked at his phone. He cursed under his breath at all the missed calls and texts from his aunt wondering where he was. “Apparently I've ruined Christmas,” Jon told me with a small chuckle. I blushed at the irony, because from my point of view, it was the best Christmas I'd ever had.

I walked with him to his car and he offered to drive me home. I made up some excuse so that he wouldn't insist. Despite knowing Jon wasn't actually a rich kid, I didn't know enough about where he came from to feel comfortable enough showing him where I lived, alone in a tiny studio apartment above a Seven-Eleven on the wrong side of town.

“Okay, but before I leave, I have to give you your present.” He popped the trunk of the Mazda sedan his uncle got him shortly after he moved in.

“You shouldn't have gotten me anything, Jon. I didn't get you anything.”

“I don't want anything,” he replied and lifted a brown Ralph's bag from the trunk and presented it to me.

“You got me groceries? How thoughtful.”

“Just look inside, smart ass.”

Smiling, I dipped my hand inside and felt something soft. It was a sweatshirt in crimson and when I unfolded it, I saw big-print white letters running across the chest. “HARVARD.”

“That's where you're going to go, right? Sorry, I'm not really good at gift giving.”

I shook my head and hugged the sweatshirt to my chest with one arm. “Well, that's my first choice, but I think my chances of getting in are slim. Thank you, though. You're sweet.”

“Well, don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my cred.” He closed the trunk and leaned back on it. “Are you sure you don't want a ride home?”

“My gift to you will be you not having to drive me home. It's in the complete wrong direction, and it sounds like you might become the victim of domestic violence if you don't get home soon.”

He didn't move right away. His finger tips drummed on the car and his face scrunched in the way it would when he was thinking about something. I wondered for a moment if he was going to ask me out, or maybe even kiss me, but when he finally pushed himself off the car, he took me into a quick one armed hug and said he'd see me at school. I should have been happy. Jon had never really touched me before save for an accidental shoulder bump here and there, and that day, he had made the conscious decision to wrap his arm around my shoulders and bring me gently to his chest. But I didn't think of it as a step forward at the time. I thought of it as a missed opportunity, and figured I was doomed to wade in the frigid pond of friendship until he found someone he liked better.

* * * * *

The time on my watch read five o'clock and I realized that Jon and I hadn't discussed where to meet. Was I supposed to go to Whole Foods or was he going to come back to Martell's? I said goodbye to Daario, grabbed my purse from the back room and walked out into the breezeway in front of the shop. Figuring that if I walked toward Whole Foods I'd eventually run into Jon, I started moving. The sun was starting to fall and the lights lining the walkway were turning on. I got to the first set of Whole Foods' sliding doors just as Jon was coming out of them. I watched him pull out a cigarette and light it with a green Bic lighter before announcing myself.

“You're smoking for real now, huh?” I pretended like I hadn't already deduced that, just to have something to say.

He turned to me and expelled some smoke that puffed upward with the wind. “I know it's unhealthy, but I figure it's at least a better alternative than some things I could be hooked on.”

If he had been anyone else, I would have silently judged that excuse, but I knew Jon and where he came from. If he needed to smoke to avoid other substances, I wasn't going to give it a second thought.

“Yeah, I'm pretty much addicted to caffeine at this point. Still don't like coffee, but it's just Diet Coke and Dr. Pepper all day long. I once drank four Monsters in one day. I'm strictly soda now, though. But, I guess I don't really know the difference health wise.”

“Do you want to walk? I have to find something to eat that isn't organic.”

I followed him out of the Marketplace, across the street to the In-n-Out, both of us completely silent until I told him I'd save an outdoor table while he ordered. Despite the coolness in the dusk air, I was acutely aware of how much I had been perspiring and sitting inside a stuffy fast food restaurant would be torture.

After a bit, Jon sat down across from me with a tray of burgers, and two cups. “I know you didn't eat, so I got you a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake. You still don't like thousand island, right?”

“Yeah. Thank you. How much was it?”

Jon waved away my question away with a sweep of his hand before grabbing a burger and taking a bite. In school, Jon never ate during lunch period. He didn't want to bother one of the Starks' many servants by having them fix something for him and he didn't want to venture into one of the busy food lines on campus. On the few occasions I'd get to watch him eat, I enjoyed it maybe more than was normal. The way his jaw moved and his lips pursed while he chewed. . .

We both ate silently until Jon was half way finished with his burger. He set it down on the tray, wiped his mouth with a napkin and asked “So what the hell are you doing working at that stupid place?”

Swallowing hard, I took a sip of milkshake to sooth my throat. “Need money.”

“So you're still in school?”

I took another few sips, buying myself some time. “No, I'm not.”

“I don't understand.”

“What the hell happened to your face?” I asked instead, my anxiety turning to frustration at the way he was trying to interview me.

His eyes moved to the table top as he twisted a fry in his fingers. “Got cut,” he replied.

“How long have you been in Long Beach?”

“About a year. Sam lives here and I was staying with him for a bit, but it didn't really work out so I've been on my own for a little while.”

“Sam? Shit, I haven't heard from Sam in forever. I haven't heard from anyone in forever. How is he?”

“Married.”

“Are you serious?”

Nodding, he resumed eating.

My shoulders relaxed, thinking about Sam now instead of how insecure I was about my life.

* * * * *

I had been jealous of Samwell Tarly once. I had grown so used to being the only person at Westeros Prep that Jon could tolerate that seeing him and Sam become chummy in Chemistry made my heart beat a little more irregular. Sam had been in most of my classes since Sophomore year, but I didn't know much about him, just that his family was wealthy like everyone else, he was a straight-A student like I was, and he had no other friends, also like me. For a whole week I had convinced myself that Jon was replacing me with Sam, that he had realized I had a crush on him and felt it was time to get a friend who didn't think about kissing him all the time.

When Jon wasn't behind the basketball gym at lunch that Friday, I was sure that he was with Sam, but I didn't know where that would be. He had left me, and I needed to accept that. One would think that I'd be used to losing people, what with how many people I'd already lost, my father and oldest brother having died before my birth, my mother dying on the day of my birth, my other brother, Viserys, promising to take care of me and then doing the opposite until deciding I wasn't worth the trouble. This felt different, though. This was abandonment without explanation, without closure.

When the bell rang, I walked to Chemistry by myself, checking my phone once again to see if Jon had texted me with an explanation for his absence. Nothing. But then a hand landed on my shoulder and I stopped in my tracks, looking up and expecting to see Jon, but the boy beside me was taller, thinner, and his curls were blond and not black.

“Hey, Dany,” Loras Tyrell greeted me with his blue eyes shining brightly, like I wasn't just his math tutor. “You hear about the party at Dick's tomorrow night?”

“Like, Dick's Sporting Goods?”

Loras laughed one of his melodic laughs and smiled sweetly down at me. “You're funny, Dany. I always thought you were a cool girl. Everyone else at this school has there heads up their asses. No, I'm talking about Dick Tarly.”

“Tarly? Like, related to Sam Tarly?”

“Yeah, I guess. Look, I was wondering if you were planning on going, because if you are, I think it would be awesome if we went together.”

“Um. . .” My mouth had gone dry and I forgot all about the bell and that I had to be anywhere. “Okay?”

“Alright, sweet. So, I won't be able to pick you up or anything because I'm grounded from using the car and I've gotta hitch a ride with my sister. But, when you get there, find me, alright?”

“Sure.”

And without another word, Loras was off and I was standing in an empty hallway, mind struggling to process what had just happened. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I had just agreed to go on a date with one of the richest and most attractive students at Westeros Prep. I was late to Chemistry that Friday and my punishment was not being able to take the pop quiz Mr. Baratheon handed out before I got to my seat.

After the quiz, was a lab assignment. Sam had become Jon's lab partner after his last partner moved away during the break and I used that as a way to blame Mr. Baratheon for taking Jon away from me. If he hadn't banned us from associating in class, I could have been Jon's lab partner. Instead, I was Tyene Sand's, and not only did she outwardly despise me, she also had no problem letting me do all the work and then copying all of my answers. Watching how Jon seemed to get along so well with Sam at their lab table, I couldn't help but think about how many times I'd let Jon copy my homework. Had he just been using me for answers this whole time?

I would have my answer after the bell rang. I was usually one of the last out of the class because, unlike everyone else, I didn't start packing up until after class was over. Jon was waiting for me in the hall.

“Did you go to the basketball gym today?” he asked me. “My math teacher gave me detention. Forced me to scrape gum off desks during lunch. Why do people still put gum under their desks?”

“Oh.” My cheeks flushed. I felt like such a neurotic fool and then lied, saying “No, I actually had a tutoring session at lunch, so I guess it worked out perfectly.”

He chuckled and started walking with me in the direction of my next class, even though I was pretty sure his was in the opposite direction. “Well, at least we were both not having any fun.”

“You and Sam seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah. He's pretty cool. I mean, he's completely uncool, but I think that's kind of cool, you know?”

“Sam's really nice.” It was true. He was really nice. One of the only nice people at Westeros Prep, besides Jon.

“He told me about this party his brother is throwing. I guess their parents are out of town. Sam's pretty miffed about it all so I thought I'd go and keep him company. I asked if I could bring you along and he said that was fine. What do you say? Want to go have a miserable time with me at Sam's house tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

Jon turned to head to his own class, but I stopped him quickly with a confession. “Jon, wait. I actually told Loras Tyrell I would go to the party with him. Well, not really go with him, because we're going to meet there, but you know what I mean.”

“Loras Tyrell? Isn't he gay?”

“No.”

“I'm pretty sure he's gay, Daenerys.”

With a roll of my eyes, I replied “I've been tutoring him for months. I've known him for years. I think I would know if he was gay or not.”

“Maybe. But maybe you wouldn't, because he's definitely gay.”

“First you're pretty sure he's was gay and now he's definitely gay? Which is it, Jon? And why would he ask me on a date if he's gay?”

“I have no idea. But he's gay.”

“Whatever. Gay or not, I told him I'd go with him, so unfortunately, I'll be a little too busy hanging out with him to be miserable with you and your new friend.”

“Okay?” He looked positively perplexed. Hell, I was perplexed. I had no idea what was going on or how this argument happened. All I knew was that I liked Jon in a way that I had never liked anyone before and it was fucking with my mind. “If you would rather go to the party with Loras, then I think you should.”

I don't want to go to the party with Loras, is what I should have said, because it was the truth, but I suddenly didn't have the courage to speak truth. Instead, I replied “Good” and continued on to class, knowing I would be late to that one as well.

* * * * *

“I can't believe Sam is married,” I said, more to myself than to Jon. The weather and milkshake was finally cooling my body temperature and I was beginning to feel cold. I pulled my black cardigan from my purse and put it on. “I mean, I'm sure he's a great husband, but it's just so strange to think that there are people we went to school with who are now married.”

“They've got a kid too,” Jon added before plucking a pickle into his mouth. “Sam Jr. He's not Sam's biologically, but he met his wife while she was pregnant and the birth father is a real piece of shit that isn't around anymore. I don't know the whole story, though.”

“Wow.” I stared at my hands, clasped around the milkshake cup, thinking about babies and trying not to notice the sudden twist in my gut. “You said it didn't work out, living with him. Why not?”

He shrugged and if I remembered correctly, he wore an expression that would be best translated as I don't really want to talk about it. Eventually he replied “I do better on my own.”

“Yeah, I guess I do too. I have a roommate. She's really sweet, but I avoid her more often than I'd like to admit. She spends most of her time with her boyfriend anyway.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

I would have took the question in a more suggestive way, but when my eyes lifted to Jon, he was pulling another cigarette from his shirt pocket and sliding it into his mouth, his attention focused solely on lighting the thing. Once, six years ago, he had told me “No one wants to kiss someone who smokes. So I make the girls I'm not interested in think I smoke. It just saves everyone a lot of time.” Sitting there with him in front of the In-n-Out, however, I thought I wouldn't mind tasting the tobacco on his lips.

“No,” I answered. “Do you?”

“Nah. As for a girlfriend, though, I don't have one of those either.” He exhaled a plume of smoke and checked his phone. “I need to get back to work soon. You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“What's going on with you?”

My hands had gone numb from the cold of the milkshake cup, but I hardly noticed. “Just living my life. Same as you, I guess.”

Drumming his fingers on the table top just as he had done so on the trunk of that Mazda that one Christmas evening, Jon stayed silent for quite some time. I made no attempt to break that silence, but at the same time, I didn't feel put off by it. It was Jon. When he eventually stood, he didn't put an arm around me and bid me goodnight, but he did ask if we could talk again soon. I wasn't sure what the point was, but I wasn't about to say no.

“I have weekends off,” he said. “I can pick you up from work on Saturday.”

“Alright.”

With a short nod, Jon sucked on his cigarette and turned back toward the Marketplace.

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #jon x dany #jon x daenerys #got fanfiction #jonerys fanfiction #jonerys fic #mine #my fic #fic #a crack in everything #a crack in everything: chapter two

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doctortdesigns · 7 years ago

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Although I’ve been sewing quite steadily over the past few years, this was really the first year I’ve made a significant number of garments for myself in quite a while, and, as it turns out, this has made me re-fall in love with sewing again this year. When I was spending most of my sewing time making things for others, it did allow me to stretch my skills and try new things, but it also sort of burnt me out on sewing. I’m happy to say that I’m so much more excited about sewing now than I was a few years ago, which is a positive looking towards the next year. However, I’ll save my goals and plans for 2018 until tomorrow; today is a retrospective look at what I’ve accomplished in 2017.

By the Numbers

Looking at this year, I’ve made:

5 Tops

3 Pants

1 Jumpsuit

2 Skirts

7 Dress

4 Coats/Jackets

2 Sweaters/Cardigans

3 Skating Costumes (for me)

16 Skating Costumes (for others)

0 Other Athletic Gear

0 Costumes/Cosplay

0 Home Dec/Crafts

4 Refashion

Total Items Sewn = 46

Last year I made 81 items, but over half were home dec commissioned items, crafts, and small holiday gifts, and the majority of the rest were commissioned skating costumes. This year everything was much more involved garments, so I think I was actually more productive this year, even though the absolute number of items is quite far down. Certainly, the quality of what I’ve made has increased over the previous two years, so even if, in absolute terms the volume is down, I’m much happier with the items I’ve produced.

Here’s a graphical breakdown of what I’ve made by type, pattern company, and “success” of the item:

It’s mostly tops and dresses, but otherwise it’s a fairly evenly distributed breakdown. I’d like to sew more pants next year, and more tops, but otherwise I’m pretty happy with the variety of what I’ve sewn.

My output has been overwhelmingly BurdaStyle Magazine. I’m not surprised, Burda is my favorite. Aside from the magazine, the remainder of projects have been fairly well distributed among the other pattern companies, except Butterick, from which I haven’t made anything this year.

Clearly, this is where the major issue lies, in that I haven’t worn nearly half of my garments. Though this, in part, is because of the items made for the Sewing Bee and Wardrobe Sudoku contests, it is something I need to work on moving forward.

Skills Acquisitions

Typically I have some sort of goal or project I want to try to increase my skills each year. Interestingly, I didn’t focus much on improving any particular skills this year, but I’ve been watching more Craftsy classes, which has given me ideas and new techniques to try in my projects. In general I attribute my improved craftsmanship to general knowledge absorption and application. Having beautiful insides is something I’ve been wanting to achieve for a while now, and I think I’m working my way towards getting there. I definitely want to work on making neater pants innards (especially for unlined pants) next year, but on the whole I’m happy with the extra attention to detail I’ve put into my projects, and the results I’ve achieved by being more mindful about my finishing techniques.

Sewcializing

Although I have kept up with my pattern release blog posts over the past several years, this year it really felt as though I was able to reintegrated into the online sewing community. I never really left, but I hadn’t been as much of an active participant over the past few years. This year, though, I saw a large increase in my blog followers, had far more interactions with other sewists on social media and through blog comments, and got caught up on my other favorite sewing blogs. In terms of participating in the online community, my major venue was via Pattern Review contests. I entered the UFO Contest, the Wardrobe Sudoku Contest, the Sewing Bee, and the Stash Contest. And I won my first ever Pattern Review contest with the Second Round of the Sewing Bee!

I’m hoping to keep up my level of online participation next year. I’ve really enjoyed following various sewists on Instagram, and would love to participate in #BPSewvember next year, or perhaps Me Made May, or some other daily social media event. This year I attempted the #makenine on Instagram, but I’ve only managed to make 5 of the 9 garments I selected. Oh well, that’s what next year is for!

Even more excitingly, though, next year I’m going to a sewing convention! Well, really more of a costuming convention, but I expect it will be full of people who love to sew. It’s called Costume-Con 36, and it’s a traveling national convention. However, next year I’m lucky enough for it to be held in San Diego – close enough to minimize travel expenses and to justify going. I’m sure I’ll post more about it in the months leading up to the con; I’ve got to decide what I’m going to make and how much I can execute in the next few months.

Top 5 2017 Fails

Of course, not everything we sew can be the best thing ever, and I’ve definitely made a few things this year that don’t fall into the category of a “win.” While I’m fairly pleased with what I’ve made this year on the whole, there are a few pieces that just haven’t quite been my favorite makes.

(5) BurdaStyle 12-2017-111 Ruffle Sweater Top

In my review I mentioned that I might gift this to a friend, which I did end up doing as an early Hanukkah gift. I did wear it once, and it was super warm and comfortable, but, in the end, I just wasn’t in love with the ruffles. My friend saw a picture of it and was obsessed, and she’s been wearing it every time I’ve seen her since gifting it. Certainly it has found a better home than with me. She is so pleased that she has actually asked me to make her some more. She’s practically family, so of course I will when we get some fabric. So really this was a stylistic experiment that was a fail for me, but in the end it worked out and everyone is happy.

(4) BurdaStyle 06-2013-101A

This top was made for my Sudoku Wardrobe contest entry. The style is great, and the fabric is great, but the fit is way off. Careful positioning made it serviceable for the contest entry, but really I need to go down 1-2 sizes. I’ve lost even more weight than when this was photographed, so at this point it is quite a bit too large. I’d definitely remake this in the proper size and likely wear it to death, but, as for now, my old McCall’s 6078 is still holding up.

(3) BurdaStyle 02-2017-104C

Ok, so I need to preface this by saying I love the fit, the fabric, and the construction on these culottes. Really, my only trouble has been in styling them. I think I just do not have a great culotte body shape, even though I love the way they look in the magazines. I love everything else about these pants though, so I’m keeping them. I did wear them over the summer, simply because they are comfortable, but I’ve begun referring to them as my “Hobbit pants” because that’s how I feel whenever I wear them.

(2) BurdaStyle 02-2013-106

While this teal boucle jacket was supposed to be the centerpiece for my Wardrobe Sudoku contest, something about the cut of it just isn’t the most flattering. I keep trying to find ways to wear it or style it, yet I always take it off before leaving the house. I’m super happy with the construction, and the fabric is really pretty, but something about the shape isn’t working for me. I think, perhaps, it is the wide neckline, which doesn’t look quite right on my somewhat narrow shoulders. I haven’t given up on the idea of a boucle jacket, but I think this particular pattern isn’t going to be it.

(1) BurdaStyle 03-2013-114A

This dress was my entry for the UFO contest on Pattern Review. Although I was happy to finish it, in the end, the style really didn’t work for me. The fit wasn’t off really, but I never felt comfortable wearing it. The fit of the bodice was a bit weird, and the ruching, while pretty, makes me look incredibly boxy through the middle. The proportion of the waist seems odd as well. There was a reason it stayed as a UFO for so long. I still love this challis fabric though. Perhaps I’ll find a way to use it as a refashion if I don’t decide to just donate this dress. I can’t imagine myself actually wearing it, well, ever.

Top 5 2017 Favorites

Honorable Mention: Vogue 8940

I’m cheating a bit for my top five, but I’ve had a good year of sewing! Making this coat for my dad’s birthday gift was a great experience, and I think we are both really happy with how it turned out.

(5) Closet Case Nettie Dress

Closet Case new-to-me indie pattern company, but I’m really pleased with the results of the Nettie dress! I used it for my winning Sewing Bee gown, but I also made this very wearable practice garment during the Bee, and I love the shape and fit of this pattern.

(4) Sudoku Pants

Again this is sort of a cheat because BurdaStyle 10-2010-104 (left) and BurdaStyle 02-2014-129 (right) are completely different patterns. However, since I made them both for the Sudoku Contest, I’m going to milk it. I love both of these pants, from the fit to the style to the fabric. I’ve not had much occasion to wear either of them (the white is always a concern as far as getting dirty, and the corduroy has been far too warm for summer), but with holiday parties and cold weather approaching, I’m hoping to pull them out more this winter.

(3) Nationals Skating Costumes

Since I haven’t competed for the past few years, I haven’t had much cause to make new skating costumes for myself, but I really love the way these have turned out. They both had a podium moment as well, which was a wonderful way to return to competition after my injury and to cap off my skating season.

(2) Burda 6994

I made this dress to wear to a wedding, and it was so fun to make an evening gown! I love the simple style and bright color. I’ll definitely be looking for an excuse to wear this again in the future.

(1) Pattern Review Sewing Bee Entries

Another cheat, but if I’d had to choose these would have taken 4 of my 5 spots! I really loved the challenges this year, and I’m so excited with what I managed to create. While the Pink Floyd pencil skirt hasn’t really been a “wardrobe staple” I’m totally going to wear this when the appropriate event rolls around. The Round 2 Gown was a fun excuse to go nuts. I’ve not been the biggest fan of the sleeve trend, so I wasn’t mentally constrained by the idea of “wearability” and went wild. The reversible jacket is a complete 180 (yes, I said it), and definitely my most worn garment from the Bee. I love my Vogue jumpsuit, and my anteater jacket will be a sentimentally special piece, even if it isn’t what I’m grabbing on my way out the door each morning. The Bee was an adventure, but I loved every moment of it!

2017 Final Thoughts

2017 has been a strange year. Personally, I’ve had a good year of skating and sewing, and I’ve been able to find contentment and joy in my hobbies and private life. However, in some sort of weird karmic balance, this has resulted in the perpetual feeling that the world is burning down around me. This, of course, is only partially due to the fact that California has been ablaze since mid-September, and has much more to do with the current political climate. Finding the balance between being an informed citizen of the world and a depressed lump of flesh capable of little more than consuming carby goodness on the couch has been tough. Several recent developments don’t have me holding out much hope for improvement in 2018, but I think that just makes me more determined to do better and find what joy I can where I can and when I can. With that I’m happy to look forward to the new year, and with it new adventures, new learning opportunities, and new possibilities.

A Year of Sewing: 2017 #sewing #recap #howdoyoumeasureayear Although I've been sewing quite steadily over the past few years, this was really the first year I've made a significant number of garments for myself in quite a while, and, as it turns out, this has made me re-fall in love with sewing again this year.

#goals #life #sewing

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a-k-a-ruenis · 7 years ago

Text

Rain

Rating; General Audiences

Fandom; Aldnoah.Zero

Part 3/?

Story under the cut!

Alternatively, please click here to read it on my Ao3!

When Inaho finds the blond standing at the school gate completely soaked, he is alarmed. But then when he approaches Slaine slowly, and extends his umbrella, he finds that Slaine is perfectly fine, if only soaked. “Slaine, why are you standing out in the rain?” he asks, looking agitated now.

I thought you were..

“I'm waiting,” Slaine says easily, cocking his head in confusion at that new look on Inaho's features. “Her meeting should be finished soon.”

“You could have waited under the awning at the front entrance,” Inaho points out, glancing downward a bit when he sees Slaine adjust his bag.

The blond has a black shirt under his uniform, and it is sticking to him like glue.

He must've been waiting out here for at least an hour.. Inaho realises, sighing quietly. “Let me take you home.” He adjusts the umbrella again, so that it is covering both of them as they stand side-by-side now, shoulders somewhat touching. Only Inaho's shoes and the hems of his pants are drenched, thanks to the slowly rising water level and the puddles spread about.

“Ah, no, that isn't necessary,” Slaine says, shaking his head, “She'll be out soon.”

“I meant my home. You need to take a warm bath and get changed before you catch a cold.”

Slaine blinks at that, shock flickering across his features. “Are you serious?”

“You said, 'ask me next month',” Inaho points out innocently, “It's been a month.”

Groaning inwardly, Slaine's gaze flickers toward the school, where most of the windows are still lit and a few students are visible wandering the halls.

“You know her club meetings run long. And today, I heard they would be staying for a bit longer to assist some other clubs with their activities and cleaning up,” Inaho says softly, gesturing to the sidewalk in front of them, “Let me walk you home. I'll give you a change of clothes and then Yuki-nee can drive you home once she gets home. I won't ask you to stay any longer than that. Is that acceptable?”

Slaine sighs, and nods just once. “I didn't think the first time I'd actually go to your house would be during a storm.”

“Stay here. I'll go get you a towel,” Inaho says when they finally get inside, after he removes his shoes. He hangs the umbrella on a silver hook on the wall, a bucket already under it to catch the water, and sets his bag down on a small table before walking away.

It took a bit longer to get home than usual, no thanks to the puddles they had to avoid and the cars that would occasionally almost drench them when they sped past.

Slaine only nods at that and starts removing his socks and shoes; he has a Western styled apartment, but he does know most of the rules and etiquette regarding Japanese homes. Inaho might not show it, but he would probably be upset if he walked around the house tracking water everywhere. He takes the chance to look around, listening to the sound of rain outside and the quiet drops of his own hair dripping water onto the mat under his feet.

Inaho's home is.. surprisingly normal. Probably thanks to that sister of his, whom Inaho only speaks about in the best of terms. He has only met Yuki a few times, after school, and despite being overly energetic, she seems nice, Slaine supposes.

There are not very many pictures hanging or sitting around, and the few that are visible are of only scenery. No people. More than a few candles sit upon what tables Slaine can spot, all of different colour, and he assumes scent as well. Thankfully, they are not lit. Other than the candles, there does not seem to be much else littering the house. The floor is clean, spotless, even. It must have been cleaned recently.

Before Slaine can peer into the living room, Inaho returns, a large, white towel in hand as promised.

“Thank you,” Slaine murmurs, taking it and immediately starting to dry himself off.

“Thank you for removing your shoes,” Inaho says, seeming pleased. He watches quietly as Slaine dries himself off as best he can, and then gestures behind him, “The bathroom is straight down the hall, the last door on the left. If you call for me when you're done undressing, I'll put your clothes in the dryer, and bring you a new set.”

Slaine visibly tenses, frowning at that. “Erm..what about.. my erm, my undergarments? You can't..” His face goes red in a mixture of embarrassment and fluster, and he presses the towel to his cheek, as if attempting to cool it back down.

“I know I can't share those. I understand the health risks. I'll bring you yours as soon as they're done drying. They should dry faster than your actual clothing.”

Slaine nods somewhat, cheeks still red. “Thank you..” he mumbles, looking sort of relieved now, “I.. erm.. thank you..”

Inaho presses the buttons on the dryer, listening to it beep quietly as he adjusts the settings.

High temperature. Most dry.. half an hour.

He raises his head when he hears the water turn on, and turns the dryer on before walking away.

Slaine should be done by the time the clothes are done drying.

Hopefully.

When Inaho hears the water turn off, he sets his magazine down and gets up from the kitchen table, quietly making his way toward the bathroom. He had chosen some clothing that he assumed might fit the blond, and had folded it and left it on the floor beside the bathroom door. He picks them up and knocks at the door, “Slaine?”

“Ina-..”

They both freeze when Inaho opens the door a bit sooner than he should have.

Inaho's gaze immediately slips to Slaine's chest, the only thing out of place with his otherwise fine body. “Oh,” is all he can manage, the gasp slipping out with a shaky exhale.

Scars mar his skin, long scars that cannot in no way be possibly self-inflicted. His arms look fine, the scars only seeming to mar his..

“Oh,” Inaho breathes, gaze flickering to the mirror.

His back, too. Marred with long scars, pink and brown mixing with what should be only white. The pink scars look less agitated, and are shorter than the lighter brown ones that sink into Slaine's skin. They are also in greater number than the brown ones; there are more pink scars on his back than his chest. They do not look new, none of them, but that just means..

“Sl.. Slaine..?” Inaho asks, his voice coming out far softer than he had intended; he had meant to stay composed, stoic.

Slaine slowly starts to regain his composure and starts to shake his head, taking a clumsy step backward. “D.. don't,” he whispers, his own voice shaky, bottom lip trembling.

Inaho does not realise the clothes have slipped from his hand when he places it on the door frame, his attention focused on the blond. “Who did that..–” he starts to ask.

“Get out,” Slaine hisses, voice practically seething with disgust.

The emotion does not register.

“Slaine, who did that to..–”

“Get out! Get out, get out, get out!!” Slaine yells, shoving himself against the door.

It slams, loudly, and he hears Inaho stumble in the hallway on the other side, body hitting what he guesses is the wall.

He falls down himself seconds later, melting into a fetal position, towel too tight on his waist, too loose at his knees when he pulls them against his chest, head already starting to ache because it hit the door far too roughly.

I can't see..

Seconds later, he finds tears slipping from his eyes, too hot, too salty on his lips.

It stings.

“A-ah..” The exhale is shaky, weak, and –

Why?

Inaho sits on the floor, brown eyes wide as he clasps a hand to his head.

He realises that emotion from before had been 'self-loathing'.

Inaho is silent when Slaine finally comes out of the bathroom after a near hour, dressed in the clothing Inaho had dropped in the bathroom on accident: a large sweater and some baggy pants Calm had bought for him last year. Inaho is sitting in the living room on the floor, his back pressed against the sofa's side. He keeps his head down as Slaine approaches him, gazing pointedly at the magazine in his hands.

Slaine stops just a foot from the brunet.

“I want to go home.”

“My sister will..–”

“I want to go home now,” Slaine interrupts, voice forceful, laced with that same self-loathing from before.

Inaho raises his head, then.

And finds himself near speechless at the hurt, guilty expression on Slaine's features. Slaine's teal eyes are rimmed red and puffy and are still full of tears. Even his lips look irritated, bothered by the salty tears and Slaine's repeated failure to wear chapstick.

That expression doesn't suit him at all.

Standing up slowly, Inaho sets the magazine down on the sofa's arm and gazes at the blond, his own expression hard to read.

“I want to go home,” Slaine repeats for a third time, his voice shaky now, weak, “Please.”

Inaho stays quiet for just a moment more, realising that Slaine will not react violently if he does not push him. So.. rather than pushing him.. Shoulders dropping, Inaho relaxes his body, brown flickering between teal and the kitchen. “Instead of me walking you home right now..” he says, keeping his own tone low and as gentle as he can manage, “.. I will be completely silent and ask nothing if you just stay here until Yuki-nee gets home. And then she will take you home.”

Slaine visibly hesitates at the offer, gaze slipping to the floor.

Inaho's gaze slips too, but to Slaine's hands instead, which are balled up into tight fists. His nails are probably digging into his palm, another tactic to keep the tears in his eyes from slipping.

As he is right now, he won't calm down..

“I have a slice of cake in the fridge – chocolate cake, with whipped cream and chocolate frosting. And I have vanilla ice cream that you can add to it, if you'd like. You can eat that while we watch the science channel. Apparently, they're going to run some specials explaining how stars are born and such,” Inaho offers, voice still low and gentle. He gestures to the sofa, “I'll turn it on for you.”

He hears Slaine exhale shakily, and slowly raises his gaze to find tears slipping from the blond's eyes.

“Okay,” Slaine whispers, nodding just once, “Okay.”

And suddenly, 'okay' seems like the best word in the world.

“.. full term is 'pulsating radio star'. A pulsar is a star that emits electromagnetic radiation in the form of a beam, and is highly magnetized. Some of these stars have a wind that surrounds them; the wind is made up of charged particles, usually left over from supernovas..”

Inaho sits silently beside the blond, hugging a pillow loosely to his chest. He has barely moved, in an attempt to keep from startling Slaine or upsetting him, and has not uttered a word, as per his promise.

Slaine has calmed down considerably, having finished his cake a half an hour ago. Now, he is leaning somewhat against the brunet, looking exhausted. His teal eyes are only half-open, and he cannot pay proper attention to the TV.

The brunet allows his gaze to slip downward, and finds Slaine on the verge of falling asleep. Crying must be tiring.. he figures, glad that Slaine has finally managed to calm down.

“Pulsar stars are formed when a star's core is compressed during the event of a supernova, collapsing the star into a neutron star..”

“.. do you.. think they're.. they're pretty..?”

Slaine's soft, barely audible voice catches Inaho off guard; the brunet finds himself tensing up, though seemingly not enough to cause Slaine to pull away from him.

“The stars.. do you think.. that they're nice to.. to look at?” Slaine asks again, voice still soft, albeit a bit slurred and slow.

Inaho hesitates, wondering if Slaine wants him to answer, or if he is just asking rhetorically.

“I think.. they're beautiful.. They shine, and..”

It was rhetorical.

“.. they're.. really..”

Slaine's voice trails off, slurring as he eventually goes silent. His breathing slowly evens out, and his weight against Inaho's shoulder increases; he has fallen asleep.

The brunet waits for a few minutes before adjusting himself, not having realised Slaine is heavier than he looks; he gently places a pillow between them, and hopes that his left side will not fall asleep with Slaine's full weight now against him. His gaze flickers downward slightly, and he finds himself wondering if the puffiness and redness in Slaine's eyes will disappear tomorrow, if his swollen lips and cheeks will return to normal.

That expression really didn't suit him.

Shutting the door softly behind herself, Yuki immediately starts to remove her shoes and sets them down beside another two pairs resting on a towel –

Two pairs? Nao doesn't have two pairs, she realises after a second, gazing at the other pair of shoes. They look a bit newer, and given Inaho has not grown recently, he has not gotten another school pair himself in a year. A guest, then, she thinks, Nao must have a guest.. but he didn't say anything.. She slips on a pair of slippers, ears picking up the somewhat quiet sounds of the television. Walking toward it, Yuki finds Inaho sitting on the sofa, though in a different position than normal. He is off centre, and the pillow that usually sits near the armrest is gone. She approaches the sofa quietly, stopping once she sees that Slaine is lying down, using Inaho's side as a pillow. He has an orange blanket over him, and appears oddly at ease.

“I'm home,” she says after a moment, realising they did not hear her enter.

Slaine tenses up while Inaho raises his head.

“Welcome home,” Inaho says quietly, voice still as quiet as it had been before.

“I didn't know we had a guest,” Yuki says, smiling somewhat at the two. Inaho talks about Slaine often enough for her to gather that the blond is quiet, intelligent, and has a sweet tooth. Other than that, she knows he is a foreigner just by his looks, and that he is adept at Japanese; she heard him speaking once to Nina and Inko, and he seemed to have no issues keeping up.

Sitting up slowly, Slaine turns his head to look at her, and freezes up once more.

Yuki is wearing a police officer's uniform; gun, baton, badge, talkie and all. Her hair is hidden by her hat, which is covered in small water droplets, though her shirt and vest seem to be safe from water.

Inaho stays quiet, gaze flickering between the two. He looks surprised, he muses, setting the pillow Slaine had been using back into its normal position against the armrest, I guess I forgot to mention her occupation.

Slaine looks away after a moment, settling his eyes on the small table in front of the sofa.

“.. Yuki-nee,” Inaho finally says, “Will you drive Slaine home?”

“Sure,” Yuki agrees easily, “I'll get changed and we can go.”

“Your bag,” Inaho offers softly when Slaine approaches the entrance to his apartment building. He holds it out, having kept it beside him in the car, and watches as Slaine carefully takes it from him.

It has finally stopped raining; the faint sounds of water dripping from the apartment's awning keep it from being silent, as well as the calls of owls and chirps of crickets. The sky is still dark, however, muddied with dark clouds that seem heavy with more rain; the moon is hidden from view.

Slaine starts to dig though his bag, seemingly searching for something. He has not said a word since waking up a few hours ago; it seems that though he has calmed down since then, he is still in shock. Still, he has not yet gone inside, and has not asked Inaho to leave yet.

“.. I think they're beautiful,” Inaho murmurs after a minute, watching Slaine tense up as he pulls something out of the bag: a key.

“Wh.. what is?” Slaine asks, gripping the tiny silver thing probably a bit more than he should; the brunet's sudden comment startled him. He freezes upon Inaho only offering him a gentle, patient smile, his throat going dry. “What is?” he repeats, voice a bit uneven.

Inaho shakes his head slightly, refusing to elaborate.

Slaine's mind drifts to earlier, when he had been half-asleep. He had been asking Inaho about the stars.. right? His memory is foggy, but he thinks he must have been talking about them, since they were watching the science channel. The stars? he wonders, Is he talking about the stars? He pushes the thoughts away for now, stepping closer to the door. “About.. today..” he says, sounding unsure of himself, “What happened..–”

“Is my fault and it will never happen again,” Inaho whispers, causing the blond to gaze at him in surprise, teal eyes wide. “I should have knocked,” he admits, still calm, though his voice is laced with underlying guilt, “I won't ask. And you don't have to tell. I won't discuss the matter any further if you don't want to.” He pauses, brown eyes flickering between Slaine's bag and the apartment building. “I understand you have things you don't want to talk about. I will not say anything to anyone. But.. if you ever need someone to talk to, then..” He trails off, gesturing to the car.

You're welcome anytime.

Slaine exhales, and again it is shaky and weak, but this time, is full of relief. He smiles as best he can, eyes filling with tears. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Inaho only nods and politely waves. “Goodnight, Slaine.”

Slaine turns to the door and starts to pull it open, the key to his room still in hand.

“I think they're beautiful,” Inaho repeats, causing Slaine to turn and look at him. Once more, he has that patient, gentle smile on his lips. A rare smile. “And I'm not talking about the stars.”

#aldnoah.zero #az #kaizuka inaho #slaine troyard #fanfiction #ruenis' work

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builder051 · 7 years ago

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Hildur and Pierce part 1 (OC fic)

I’m working on a couple more installments to fully introduce these guys. Their character descriptions are a few posts back (with PICTURES!)

This is not emeto, but it’s totally set up to feel like it is. More about anxiety.

Hildur leans on the soap-streaked basin and sighs at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A stall bangs open behind her, and footsteps echo against the tiled floor and walls. Another sink in the long bank flips on, and Hildur hopes the person using it is too engrossed in their own thoughts to give her a look.

Her lips are white, tinged almost ice blue. Her skin is the color of milk. As she watches, Hildur’s hair, curling limply around her shoulders, shifts from tow-headed blonde to pure snow. It’s mortifying, and it ratchets up the throb between her light teal eyes and the tremor in her pale hands. Calm down, she berates herself.

Why did she think she could handle this? The commute to the university is hard enough, almost an hour on the hot, slow, exhaust-spewing bus. Then there’s the class she chose. Over a thousand dollars out of pocket to enroll in one semester of advanced painting where she can relax, have fun, and broaden her portfolio to strengthen her resume. Or not. Hildur hasn’t approached any of the goals in the first three of the sixteen scheduled classes. And now she’s in the bathroom, not participating in the fourth.

It’s not getting any better the longer she stands there. She needs to get out of the uncomfortably humid toilet, off campus, and get home where she can safely vanish. The problem, though, is that all her stuff, her coat, her messenger bag, her paints, her barely-started still life, is still in the classroom. And Hildur’s not sure she can make it down the hall without something horrible happening.

She has to, though, because she can’t keep doing this. The heavy bathroom door creaks open, and someone clanks into a stall. Hildur can’t still be here when that person finishes up. It’s weird. Invites questions, like are you ok? To which she’d love to answer why would I tell you?

Hildur takes two deep, measured breaths. Her heartrate slows by a couple of BPM, and her lips look closer to white than blue. She crosses her arms over her chest and squeezes her own shoulders, and a glint of pale straw gold infuses her hair. She looks marginally human. She can do this. She can hold herself here for a few minutes. She has to be strong enough for that.

Hildur wraps both sides of her open-front sweater across her chest and tucks her fingers into her armpits as she steps down the hall to the classroom. She lets her hair curtain over her eyes as she manages the door, holding the polished handle until it closes so it doesn’t slam. There are probably a few students staring, but Hildur doesn’t look. She trusts that her coloring is close to what it was when she left. No one should have reason to suspect anything’s up, except that maybe she’s sick.

Hildur’s easel and basic sketch of a painting are near the back of the room. She immediately descends on her station and starts putting everything within reach into her crumpled canvas messenger bag. It doesn’t matter if brushes aren’t clean, they can be dumped into a Ziploc bag and worked on later. Hildur pauses to screw the cap on a tube of ocher yellow, her fingertips trembling and shifting white to ivory in the same rhythm.

“Hildur?” The skinny grey-haired, soft-spoken instructor, Peabody, is standing on the other side of the rickety station.

“I have to go,” Hildur whispers, not meeting the teacher’s eyes. She imagines they’re concerned behind his dark-rimmed glasses.

“Is everything ok?” Not the exact phrasing, but there’s that question again.

“Hm.” The cap of the paint won’t line up with the threading.

“You’re not feeling well,” Peabody quietly asserts. It’s a reasonable assumption. She’s really not, and considering the way she bolted out of class… Why wouldn’t he think that?

Hildur stays quiet. The instructor’s hands are coming toward her, pulling the ocher yellow from her lax, sweaty grip and screwing the cap on. Light moves around Hildur’s eyes as her lashes flash through transparent to non-existent and finally back to neon blonde. Her breath hitches.

“Think you’re ok to get home?” Peabody hands her the closed tube of paint.

Hildur nods, still looking down. She dumps the ocher yellow into her bag along with the scarlet and cerulean and bag of soiled brushes.

“You can come in and work during any of my other painting classes.”

It can’t have been more than half a minute, but the conversation’s already gone on too long. Hildur picks up her bag, and she can see through her fingernails. The flesh beneath is the cloudy, not-quite opaque color of saltwater. She takes a deep breath. Swallows the impending rush of tears.

“Have a good night. Feel better,” Peabody says. Hildur’s already out the door.

By the time she reaches the bus stop, she realizes she left her coat back in the classroom. It’s nearing frigid outside, but the hood on her sweater will have to do. There’s no way she’ll turn back, especially now that she’s let loose enough to almost relax and ride out the panic attack. Hildur sits on the bench alone, looking down and watching the ends of her hair shift white-blonde to white to silver to gone to white to platinum.

Breathe.

You’re fine.

Stop worrying.

See, you’re fine.

When the bus huffs up to the sidewalk, Hildur tucks her hair into her hood and readies her public transit card. She mounts the vibrating steps and becomes acutely aware of someone sprinting up to the vehicle behind her. The soft gust of cold air and hitchy breathing makes Hildur bristle. The red of the plastic card in her hand is shining through her skin.

“Come on, you’re letting the heat out,” the bus driver complains.

Hildur rushes the last two steps and jams her transit pass into the fare machine at the driver’s shoulder. The touch-screen flashes for her to confirm she wants to use one of her pre-paid student fares.

Don’t think about it.

The machine doesn’t register when Hildur’s finger presses against the flashing yes. It’s not surprising, but annoying. And it unleashes the ridiculously unhelpful, inevitable stream of oh shit, come on, come on…

Deep breath. Swipe hand over opposite elbow. Adjust hood. Deep breath. Try again. Hildur presses the touch screen again. It still doesn’t take. She rests her finger over the designated area while she exhales, willing shell pink into her fingernail. Hildur closes her eyes. The machine finally beeps, and she removes her card and hurries to an empty seat as a clammy sweat of relief breaks out over her brow.

She sits nearer to the window and leaves her bag half in her lap and half in the aisle seat. The maneuver is meant to look careless, but it’s a deliberate move to keep the second seat empty at all costs. Hildur’s not a fan of close contact. Especially today.

As soon as the bus pulls away from the curb, she turns her head into the window, her forehead lightly resting on the glass though her thin bangs. Hildur feels both safe and exposed simultaneously. She’s covered herself as well as she can and hidden her face. Most people will be preoccupied with their commutes or books or mobile phones and not watching her. Except for the people who take advantage of public discomfort and watch how others behave in such tight confines. And then probably write books about them.

It’s over 10 stops to Hildur’s apartment. She reminds herself again that she has time. She’s fine. Breathe. Calm down. There’s almost time to take a nap.

And that’s what she pretends she’s doing, cuddled into the window, her breath fogging on the glass. A muted stream of poppy hip-hop music floats back from the front of the bus, sounding pepped up and seasonally inappropriate. Flo Rida or Pitbull, probably. Something distinctly coastal. A loose piece of Hildur’s hair starts to take on a sunkissed glow.

Then, all of the sudden, out of nowhere, Hildur’s phone starts ringing, and it’s loud. It’s a generic iPhone ringtone, but she knows it’s hers. Her bag is vibrating. Panic leaches into every cell of Hildur’s body. It’s embarrassing to have the whole bus’s attention centered on her, and it’s not like she can reach into her messenger bag and answer the thing. Hildur can tell without moving her head that she’s gone. She can’t see her nose or her eyelashes, and her face-framing curls are hidden from view. As surreptitiously as possible, she gathers the cuffs of her sweater over her hands so the ends of the sleeves don’t appear empty. And all the while, the phone keeps ringing.

It’s torture. Hildur can’t stop seeing it from everyone else’s point of view. From their perspective, she was sleeping. But then she was moving, shifting into the window to hide her invisible face and hands as soon as the phone rang. Most people dig out their phones and reject calls when they don’t want to talk. They must think her a jerk. Or maybe an idiot. There’s probably, oh, twenty minutes or so left in the ride home. Hildur puts on the mental countdown clock and wills herself into existence again.

She tries to remember the words to the only Flo Rida song she knows.

Blow my whistle baby, whistle baby, something something something?

You just put your lips together and you come real close.

Something whistle baby…

Here we go?

Then some kind of whistling sound that doesn’t actually sound like a person whistling. Maybe an instrument, like a flute. Or an electronic representation of one? Or maybe someone playing the flute, then the track electronically edited to remove breaths. Like a photograph retouched to get rid of a blemish or a stray hair.

Hildur doesn’t like the idea of editing. Maybe that’s why she’s an artist and not something else like a writer. If the spot of mold on a piece of fruit or a birthmark on a person’s face isn’t warranted for the canvas, she can just delete it before she even starts. Fill in that spot with a different color or texture that’s more aesthetically pleasing, and then show the subjects the best versions of themselves in the finished product. Assuming the subjects are not pieces of fruit.

But then, even better, is the method of just accepting things as they are. Giving in to the fact that there’s no autotune in drawing, no erasers when it comes to watercolor. Hildur and every artist she knows still struggles with it, but who doesn’t dream of handing the portrait subject an image, complete with every bad thing, every wrinkle and mole, and still show the subject the best of themselves? Hildur tries, every time. She just has trouble getting around the fact that if she did the same and painted the worst of herself, she’d have literally nothing to show.

She entwines her sweater-mitted hands in her lap and minutely shifts the fabric so she can see if she’s starting to materialize again. It’s a huge relief that she is, though the back of Hildur’s hands are the color of tissue paper with a beach-glass map of networking veins. Her hair starts to come back into her peripheral vision, light as the fur on an arctic fox. From an outsider’s perspective, she probably looks like an ancient dying vampire.

Not her best look for sure, but at least Hildur has a body as she stands up and trembles down the aisle when the bus shudders to a stop at the top of her block. Her hood’s still up, and enough people have entered and exited the vehicle since she got on that few of them are likely to discern a change in her complexion. The thought gives her the most miniscule glimmer of confidence, which turns back to anxiety as she wishes her hair would hold off flooding with tow-headed blondness until she gets off the damn bus.

From the corner it’s a two minute walk to her apartment. Once through the front door, Hildur dumps her bag, kicks off her shoes, and heads straight to the bedroom. She collapses face first into her pillows, relishing the fact that she lives alone and hating herself for everything that’s happened. She lets tears fall for a while and knows she’s flickering through shades of pale, but she’s soothed that no one will see. Which ensures she stays fully visible.

A couple of hours pass before Hildur’s cried herself a new kind of headache. She stumbles drunkenly away from her bed and out into living room. She has soiled paintbrushes in her bag, and they’ll be ruined if she leaves them much longer. Sandy blonde hair falls in front of her face as she rummages for the Ziploc. Hildur paws past sketchpads and paint tubes before she locates the brushes at the bottom of the canvas messenger bag, along with the other small, heavy objects like her wallet and phone.

She hasn’t so much as glanced at her phone since it rang on the bus earlier. She unlocks it and sets the voicemail to play, then tucks the device between her ear and shoulder as she takes the brushes into the bathroom and opens the cabinet to retrieve her cleaning supplies.

“Hi, Hildur, this is Pierce. Pierce Peabody, your painting instructor. I, um. I got your number from your student contact info. I hope this isn’t weird. But, um. Anyway. You, um, left your coat in class today, and I just wanted to let you know I have it, so you can get it next class. Or at a makeup class, if you want to come make up what you missed. And uh. I hope you’re ok. You, um, looked like you really didn’t feel good. And, um, I know you live pretty far from campus, so I hope you made it home ok. If you need anything, like, I don’t know, saltines or something. Or I could bring your coat. If you need it. Ok. I’m sorry, this is, just. Um. I hope you feel better. You can call me. If you want. Ok. Um. Ok bye.”

It’s completely unexpected. She doesn’t know what to make of it. Her heart is throbbing in her chest, and the next breath is shallower than the last. Hildur’s got about 10 years on the average college student, but Peabody’s still got to have at least 10 more on her. What’s he doing?

Hildur catches her own eye in the mirror as she arranges her brushes on a towel. She’s surprised she has a visible reflection at all, let alone one that’s still holding on to color. She’s paled, but her hair has faded to a flaxen glow and there’s a trace of warmth in her porcelain skin.

How odd that certain things add to and take away anxiety in the human body. Even in a body as extraordinary as hers.

#Hildur and Pierce #oc fic #ocs #sickfic #original fiction #original characters #my writing #anxiety #emeto #emetophilia

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