#i mean ive already seen this race it was one of the first old ones i watched

[skitskatdacat63]

Seb's 2009 icon is so perfect 😭

[thatonecode]

when los campesinos! said “And when the third world war comes it will not be fought on race, we will line up here in two rows, betrayers versus betrayed” and ���I assembled former ghosts at a seance. Said I missed ‘em you only have to say it once. What i truly fear, maybe selfishly, when i finally rest someone will summon me” and “We tread it carefully, we feel around in kid gloves. What death will leave behind, death will leave behind love. We will flower again i have surely seen it, we will flower again” and “Two wrists, two wrist watches. Tick-tick-tocking, second hand slightly out of time. A constant subtle reminder, one of us will be gone before bells of the other chime.” and “And I feel like I'm the host of a terrible game show and the guests on today's quiz are celebrities. Wont respond to any clues theyre just cracking jokes for views, but the answers to these questions mean everything.” and “I ask before I go, for you to drop a match down my throat, and smoke the bastard out, or burn him to a crisp. Cause i'm already carrion, been eaten from inside for too long” and “There was more life in the weeds than in the few hundred seats, in rows from transcept to chancel to nave. And when their anger had paused i turned and answered their calls with youre just audience I’m the applause” and “We burnt all the skin from the palms of my hands, with an old zippo lighter and deodorant can. I went to the palmist and asked her to read, no heart line no sun line no life line no need” and “If you were given the option of dying painlessly in peace at 45, but with a lover at your side, after a full and happy life. Is this something that would interest you? Would this interest you at all?” and “In a note I read: “if you should go blind and deaf I’ll cleanse and I’ll cook for you daily, I will take a dry ballpoint pen and trace on your chest all of the conversations that we now have in bed” i dont mean to be selfish, but i think i’d sooner just be dead" and “But if this changed your life did you have one before?” and “We learn over time, that tolerance is more appealing in theory than in practice. I identify my star sign by asking which is least compatible with yours” and “I cannot emphasize enough that my body, is a badly designed poorly put together vessel harbouring these diminishing so called vital organs, i hope my heart goes first I HOPE MY HEART GOES FIRST” and “On your request I compiled a list of my top five resolutions for this year (1!) I declined, cause Ive decided that I (2!) do not believe in the new year anymore (3!) and you must confess that at times like these hopefulness is tantamount hopelessness (4!) and i accept that its time for a change but not in places (5!) like this (5!) with people (5!) like these (5!)” and “And no more conversations about which breakfast club character you'd be. I’d be the one that dies. (no one dies) Well then what’s the point?” and “Doe eyes, you’re kidding yourself” and-

[lunatic-fandom-space]

okay, im in the third section of the book now, I forget what its called but I just read the fifth chapter of it. They always switch back and forth between Lestat and all the vampires who havent been killed by Akasha either because Lestat loves them or because theyre just that old and powerful, and so far Ive been enjoying Lestats chapters a lot because theyre really interesting and also because I was right, their dynamic is hot and ive been enjoying the vampire gangs' chapters less because theyre very lore-y but if youve been following these posts Im sure youve already guessed that

But what you probably didnt guess is that Im not gonna complain about those chapters, Im gonna complain about the Lestat chapter where he and Akasha discuss her plans of eradicating 90% of the male population in the name of ending war, rape and all of the bad stuff that men currently play a big part in perpetuating. Its just. so annoying

Like, Akasha's plan is so obviously so stupid and Lestat wants to convince her not to do it but her he keeps being like "ah I cant refute her because shes making such good points" NO you cant refute her because youre somehow even stupider!!

Literally the only good argument he makes is "what if women sort themselves into feminine and masculine like men sometimes do when there arent enough women around" and Akasha is just like "so what? theyre still women, theyre not capable of doing genuine harm" which is stupid because yes they are??? have you seen the way racist white women treat non-white women?? you spent so much time in your little hole astralprojecting and bodyhopping, specifically into the bodies of people who were suffering and you didnt once witness the life of a woman whos a racial minority?? And you spent all these thousands of years watching the world and pondering this great design and you never realized that the reason women as a collective are these gentler, more docile creatures that are less capable of war and violence and rape is that men force them to be that way, and that if they were allowed to be free from this patriarchy, they would very quickly prove that they are capable of those things the same way men are?? I mean, Akasha is free from the patriarchy and shes literally committing violent genocide. like shes not even doing it in a GeNtLe and FeMiNiNe way wheres shes killing them all painlessly or whatever

And no, this isnt me trying to make some anti-feminist argument about why the patriarchy is good or about modern feminism going to far because its no longer about equality its about supremacy or whatever the fuck those stupid conservative guys always say. To address the latter point first, that is just not true, there may be "radical feminists" (heavy quotes here because those bioessentialist jokers are not feminists lmao) who do want that but theyre ultimately powerless to actually enact their revenge fantasies on the global sale they want in this day and age because theres not enough of them and the patriarchy disadvantages them too much, and also it doesnt really matter for this post because Im talking about fiction and Im talking about stuff thats completely out of the realm of possibility irl; Akasha is not real and its impossible for there to be someone like her in the real world.

To now address the first point, in our current society where the main "thing" that power does is enable certain people to mistreat others who lack power, the powerless will always suffer in fundamentally the same ways under the powerful, and it doesnt matter if the ones with power are men and the ones without it are women or the other way around; if there was only one gender and only one race and culture and no class inequality, other systems would form to allow some people to wield power over those that dont have it. And I dont think thats because humanity is collectively doomed to always hunger for oppression, I think humanity on the whole is kind enough not to want that, but there are always people who do want it for some reason, and some of them have the ambition to not only conceptualize themselves benefiting from wielding power over the powerless, but to shape society until they or their ancestors are able to do just that. And once that happens, once powerlessness is something that can be experienced by people, most of them are going to be too busy scrambling to gain power so that they might stop themselves, as individuals, from having to experience again to realize how wrong it all is!

Anyway. all of this to say, this is ultimately a book series about morally dubious characters and theres a good chance that Akasha's blatant hypocrisy and lack of faith in humanity and even her stupidity are there on purpose to make some thematic point, but idk man, Ive just gotten so worked up over this. I think its because, even though I try not to make any judgements on writers based on their fiction because I am a writer of fucked up fiction that doesnt meaningfully reflect anything about me so I know its stupid, I still end up doing exactly that, and its pretty easy to do that with most books Ive read for most of my life (YA books) too, so there hasnt really been any reason for me not to just do that, but obviously I cant do that with these ones, and even if I could, its not like that would make my reading this text any richer. Also, even though I hate this current wave of people loudly shouting that all media must teach good moral lessons, again, I cant help but instinctively view media through that lens as well and I usually dont make enough of an effort to supress that instinct, which is why stuff like this makes me so mad and so passionate

Whatever. its getting late and I need to calm down before I go to bed. Add "bad at feminism" to my list of reasons for why I want Akasha to be dead by the end of the book, right after "fucks with the worldbuilding and stakes in a way that doesnt jive w/ me"

[allofuswantgwinam]

Gwi nam x reader, lee suhyeok x reader

authors note: this was my first smut and the first writing ive moved from my old tumblr lol requests are still open ive just had a bad mental week, sorry they’re taking so long to the few that have requested stories💗

warnings: 18+, smut, degrading, unprotected sex, angst, jealousy, dirty talk *if i leave anything out let me know pls cause I would never want to accidentally upset or trigger anyone ❤️😢

i was pressed against the bathroom wall, gwi nams front pressing my back. his one arm was wrapped around my waist pulling me back into him while his other hand gripped my hair roughly. “where’s your bitch of a boyfriend, hmm?” he spoke harshly with his lips pressed against the shell of my ear “did he already become zombie food?” he snickered and grazed his teeth on my ear sending chills down my spine. his body was warm and i could feel his bulge pressed against me. it might be fucked up but i liked it. his dominance was turning me on but i really hoped suhyeok was ok. i care about him.

i knew who he was referring to. gwi nam of all people is the only person that knows my secret. “he’s not my boyfriend.” he’s just jealous because he hasn’t had the chance and lee suhyeok has. a few times actually. he’s my best friend but things happen and it hasn’t seemed to affect our friendship so I’m ok with it.

“i will fuck you better than him.”

i kinda thought to myself for a second… I’ve always been attracted to yoon gwi nam. i just couldn’t stand how he treated people, but the fact that there’s zombies running around eating everyone at my high school makes me think i should just see what the fuck could happen because the most unfathomable has already happened. i stayed silent because i didn’t really know what to say, but i was curious. “you’re not his girlfriend you’re just a slut.” he let go of my hair and slid his hands up my torso and grabbed my breasts roughly. “you’re gonna be a slut for me now, got that?” he squeezed my clothed nipples making me moan quietly.

“Y/N/N? what the fuck is going on? get off her!!” lee suhyeok ran and ripped gwi nam off me and i turned facing them. my heart was racing. suhyeok punched gwi nam in face and then kicked him to the ground.

“Stop!” i yelled running over to grab suhyeok and pull him away. “he wasn’t going to hurt me!” we had a weird relationship. gwi nam was my table mate in 2 classes and he always teased me but it wasn’t really hurtful… it was sexual. he would straightforwardly check me out or play with my hair and whisper dirty things he would do if we weren’t in a classroom so he could watch my face go red in embarrassment. I could never understand why he would never try to find me anywhere out of school but ive always been too afraid of the dangers i might face being involved with him to find out. gwi nam got up and wiped off his pants. “you’re not her boyfriend.” he stated blankly and looked at suhyeok.

suhyeok was standing with such confusion on his face. from me telling him to stop beating up gwi nam and him seeing what he saw when he walked in the bathroom. he didn’t know how to feel or what to feel. i was holding suhyeok’s arm to keep him from attacking gwi again. “what’s that even supposed to mean? you can’t just do whatever you want with people. i will fucking kill y-“

“she wanted it.” Gwi nam laughed menacingly and stepped towards suhyeok. “Y/N was moaning for me you just couldn’t hear it.” he smirked and stopped nose to nose with suhyeok. suhyeok was pissed. I’d never seen him look so angry. betrayal? maybe he feels betrayed that i would let someone else have me… i didn’t think it mattered to him. maybe it’s just cause it’s yoon gwi nam. they have a history and i wouldn’t say they quite fancy each other.

“stop, both of you” i groaned and stepped in between them pushing them away from each other. “this is stupid.”

“Y/N lets go” suhyeok said seriously while grabbing your hand and holding it tight. he was mad at you but still wanted to protect you and obviously get the hell away from gwi nam.

“no ones going anywhere.” gwi nam spoke up sternly. “so what’s gonna happen is you’re gonna share her with me… she’s gonna have to make a decision when we’re done.” I stood there starting to get a little nervous. that last part didn’t sound good.

“fuck you. we’re leaving.” Suhyeok said and pulled me towards the door with him.

“i’ll kill you.” gwi nam spat. “i’ll kill you and then there will be no decision. you’ll be dead and she’ll be mine.” he continued stopping suhyeok in his tracks.

i squeezed suhyeoks hand and whispered to him “it’s ok… Please just listen to him. i don’t want him to hurt you and…. it’s ok. i feel safe with you here.” i looked at him with pleading eyes. i didn’t know what i was doing. i just knew i had an arousal that needed to be fulfilled and two very attractive men in front of me. unfortunately one of them could be deadly.

suhyeok took a deep breathe and turned towards gwi nam “so what do you mean by share her?” he raised his eyebrows and continued to stand in front of me protectively.

gwi nam smirked and walked closer to us “we’ll take turns fucking her and she’ll have to decide who to leave with. it’d be nice to have a partner in crime as pretty as your little sex toy here.” he said while studying my body and biting his lip hungrily. “i might have issues sharing.”

suhyeok looked like he wanted to puke. i felt his body tense up in front of me. he knew this could end in a few different ways. death. me for whatever reason leaving with gwi nam instead of him which i know i would never do by my own will. or zombies come in here but that’s the least of anyone’s concerns right now. Suhyeok is in a rough situation and i feel like it’s my fault.

“ok.” i spoke up which of course pleased gwi nam.

“what!?” Suhyeok snapped while facing me with a pissed off look. “this is crazy… what the fuck?!” he paced the bathroom.

“face it. she’s just a slut, she doesn’t actually care about you. you’re just a fuck and she was gonna let me fuck her too until you rudely interrupted” he spat. suhyeok was just looking at me, with pure anger and confusion.

“are you really ok with this?? im not afraid to prove myself, but i don’t want you to be in a situation you’re not comfortable wit-“

“she was moaning, don’t forget abo-“ gwi nam cockily interrupted.

suhyeok shoved me forcefully against the bathroom sink and pressed his body against mine. “you think you can find better dick huh?” he whispered gruffly against my lips “I’ll fuckin show you” he grasped my face and kissed me aggressively. i melted. i don’t understand where this is coming from. he’s not vanilla but i think he’s hiding something from me and now he’s gonna take it out on me sexually which i am not complaining. his kisses are sending shivers down my spine and tingles in all the right places. i forget gwi nam is even there for a second.

“show me” i moaned in his mouth. suhyeok ripped my button up shirt open and reached around to unclapse my bra. “mine” he grumbled and sucked on my left nipple while pinching the other one.

“fuck” i moaned and gripped a hand in his hair. i looked over and looked into gwi nams eyes, almost taunting him. he watched, he was smirking at me. almost like he was watching and planning his enter. i reached down and palmed suhyeoks bulge making him moan, squeezing it and still looking in gwi nams eyes.

gwi nam started making his way towards us. “you get her warmed up, im gonna go find a weapon and maybe soemthing to block the door so we won’t die when i make her scream from fucking her so good” he said with a wide smirk while looking directly in my eyes and patted suhyeoks shoulder. “don’t try to leave shit heads. I’ll find you and kill you, i promise.”he threatened seriously while pointing at us and walked out the door to who knows where.

the vibe changed instantly. suhyeok stop teasing me and lifted his head back up to look at me. “is he telling the truth?” he spoke softly and gripped my hips. I sighed “… yes. i’m sorry.” i whispered and looked down. suhyeok gripped my chin in his fringers and looked me in my eyes “why??”

“he’s kinda hot..” i mumbled and shrugged making suhyeok scoff in annoyance. “it’s not like i would choose him. there’s fucking zombies out there ok? i didn’t even know if you were alive anymore!! i lost you so i ran in here and he just happened to be here and got me against the wall and i was gonna let him do it ok!?!! you’re not my boyfriend what the fuck does it matter to you?!” i said fed up. “you only treat me like a hook up and friend so why would i think of you when someone else is touching me.” i think i hit a nerve because as soon as that left my lips he spun me to face the mirror and yanked my skirt down.

“you have no idea the way you make me feel.” he growled and spread my legs open more. he looked at me in my eyes the mirror. he slid tow fingers up and down my slit feeling my wetness. “i don’t like that I might not have been the one that made you this wet” he muttered softly against my ear and shove the two fingers in my pussy. “i don’t like that I’ve been too much of a pussy to ask you you out and now I’m gonna have to share you with that fucker gwi nam or he kills us” he growled again and pumped his fingers in and out of me quickly.

“p-please, i promise never again” i whimpered out through my moans. he smacked my ass so hard im sure he left a hand print, i squeaked and stood up my on my tip toes because of the pleasure. i whined when he removed his fingers to undo his belt and drop his pants. he wrapped my long hair in his fist and yanked my head back exposing my neck. he kissed up my neck to my ear and slowly slid inside me. “you’re mine. no matter what happens when he gets back. you’re mine and you’re leaving with me.” he thrusted all the way inside me and groaned. I watched him in the mirror and bit my lip. he was so fucking sexy right now, i was so aroused and so thrown off guard by everything happening. not only was i about to get destroyed by the two sexiest men I’ve ever seen, but one of them just confessed their feelings to me. i just hope he knows i would choose him over anyone any day… especially this sexy asshole gwi that i feel shame for wanting to make me cry from torture and pleasure.

“yes, i promise” i moaned desperately and gripped the edge of the sink so hard i thought my knuckles would pop out. he was drilling into me so hard my head was spinning. he gripped my hair tighter and nibbled on my ear. “say my name.” he spat in my ear speeding up his thrusts.

“suhyeok.” I whispered out pathetically. it felt so good i couldn’t do anything but moan. he moved his free hand to reach around and rub my clit. “say it louder.” he he groaned in my ear and rubbed my clit vigorously. “suhyeok!! FUCK!” i screamed as tears filled my eyes from the pleasure.

“it’s my turn.” i barely heard gwi nams voice over the sound of suhyeok fucking the shit out of me in possession. possession i didn’t even know existed til now. gwi nam seemed irritated about what he walked into. he wanted me to be screaming for him. just him. “only fucking useful thing i found was this knife.” he said dropping it to the floor and stalking towards us. “but im more worried about something else right now.” he growled

suhyeok slowed his pace frustratedly. i watched his face in the mirror, his jaw was clenched but he seemed to have an ‘aha moment’ and he gave me a small smirk that made me tingle in excitement and curiosity. “just go with it, I’m not mad anymore.” he said quietly only for me to hear. he glanced over at the towel on the sink and went to pick it up. he laid it on the ground. “all fours. now.” Suhyeok demanded and i obliged immediately. i sank to the floor and got on my hands and knees with a smirk. even through the nerves i had never been more turned on in my life. i spread my legs and pressed my chest against the floor so my back was arched and my pussy was in full view.

i heard a deep growl and felt a rough bite on my ass. “i’m gonna fuck you so hard.” gwi nam promised once again while i heard his clothes coming off. “you’re gonna be begging for me to stop” he laughed tauntingly. Suhyeok walked over and got on his knees by my head. he grabbed my hair jerking my head up and the tip of his length poked at my lips. “open.” he demanded looking in my eyes, I obeyed and he slowly slid his dick in my mouth. he looked so good. his eyes half opened in pleasure, head tilted back and lips parted softly moaning while enjoying fucking my throat. “HHMmm” i moaned as i felt gwi nam forcefully thrust into me giving me no time to get used to him.

“where the fuck are you going Y/N?” he chuckled and grab my hips to keep me from running. he was bigger than suhyeok, i can’t lie. “fucking take it.” he grumbled and started thrusting deep and powerfully. “you like being treated like a fucking whore huh?? choking on dick and taking dick at the same time??” he moaned and scratched his nails down my back leaving marks. suhyeok stopped thrusting and held my head still and made me deep throat him. spit was dripping down my jaw and tears falling down my face.

“fuuuck, you’re so good” suhyeok moaned and looked at me in awe. “you look so pretty like that. with my dick down your throat.” he praised you while wiping tears away with his free hand. he slowly slid out of my throat to give me some air to which i was gasping for through my moans and the powerful thrusts from gwi nam. “so fucking beautiful.” he stroked his dick and admired my disheveled face.

“you’re so fucking wet.” gwi nam moaned and smacked my ass. he was continuously hitting my spot, making me scream out in pleasure. “you’re so fucking greedy.” he growled and huffed continuing to fuck me into oblivion while the person whose in love with me watched. “keeping such a good pussy away from me. you didn’t tell me huh?? Why??” He smacked my ass again but harder this time.

“i-i don’t… mm FUCK… i-“ i couldn’t even speak. he’s such an asshole but damn did he fuck me good. i feel guilty. suhyeok is just watching me and i can see the anger in his eyes. he knows he can’t stop it or we’ll die. i closed my eyes because if i kept looking at him i wouldn’t be able to enjoy this one time event. “spit it out slut” gwi nam demanded and grabbed my hair forcefully tanking my head back and pressing his lips against my ear and slowing down his thrusts.

“i - I’m sorry!” i cried out. “p-please don’t stop.” i moaned and begged without thinking of suhyeok. it was too late to care and i needed to cum so bad. my selfishness overpowered my guilt. but it’s not my fault suhyeok waited til the damn apocalypse to confess his feelings. i just need to forget it and enjoy the moment. gwi nam switched his pace back to no remorse and i screamed his name. i reached for suhyeok so that i could pleasure him again but he was gone. i was too lost in pleasure to worry about where he went. i started to throw my ass back on gwi, meeting his thrusts and he let out a deep and long moan.

“I’m in fucking charge.” He gripped my hips to keep them still and pounded into me over and over, i could feel myself reaching the explosive release i was dying for. “fucking cum bitch.” he growled and dipped his head to bite and suck on my neck, I’m sure to leave a mark. i felt such an overwhelming pleasure i hadn’t ever before. before i even knew it felt like electricity running through my veins and i couldn’t control my moans. i squirted on gwi nams dick and i felt him release inside me at the same time. i knew that wasn’t good but I’d worry about that consequence later. “FUCK.” he grunted loudly “such a good little bitch” he moaned and smirked looking down at the mess i made all over his lower half. he slowed his thrusts watching his dick go in and out of me slowly and listening to the wet sound that was caused from him taking me with no mercy. “i bet that fuck head never made you squirt” he boasted and pulled me back into him roughly so he was back inside me. “i want to make you do that again” he said nonchalantly.

“in your fucking dreams” i heard suhyeok say out of nowhere. “What the fuc-?” gwi nam barely got a word out before i heard a thud and another thud as i felt gwi nam slide out of me making me shiver.

“come on. let’s get the fuck out of here.”Suhyeok threw my clothes at me.

“where’d you go?” i said tiredly

“since I’m the one with morals here, i went and found something to knock his ass out with so we could get the fuck away from the that psycho.” he said frustratedly “so come on” he said while helping me put my skirt back on as i buttoned what was left of the buttons on my shirt. “next time he’s dead and you won’t stop me.” he spoke seriously and grabbed my chin so he could look directly in my eyes. “he’s an asshole. i might fuck you like a slut but i will love you like a Queen.” he stated and kissed me sweetly. “now let’s get the fuck away from here before that psycho wakes up.”

i don’t know what’s stranger. the flesh eating zombies or the fact that i just got fucked by my school bully and best friend with benefits and it made him confess his feelings for me and almost kill someone. i didn’t know what would happen or where we were going, but i knew i had made my decision. i i just hoped gwi nam would never find us again.

[kashimos-hajime]

the colour yellow | jjk

summary: “You once said love manifests the most twisted curses. I never thought of it that way before, but I’m starting to think you’re right.”

WARNINGS: ANGST!! hanahaki disease but not an au, HOSPITALS, DEATH, DESCRIPTIONS OF DISEASE, UNHEALTHY WEIGHT LOSS, pining, unrequited love, complicated feelings, its just sad. there are some light-hearted moments, and happier/softer aspects in the ending but it is generally sad in the ‘what could have been’ department pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, past geto suguru x fem!reader, mentions of satosugu word count: 29.9k lmao

a/n: i just needed to get the hanahaki out of my system. it did not work. i took liberties w the timeline because idc about actual jjk canon in this fic thanks. 

playlist for this fic

crossposted on ao3 x

Your Innate Technique always gave you a green thumb. Meaning, similarly enough to Yaga, you could plant cursed energy into objects.

Where it deviated, Satoru knows, is the type of object. Plants—trees, leaves, flowers. 

Ironic, he thinks numbly as he walks through the hospital. Shoko had told him that at this point it was palliative care until you died—nothing else would work. Cursed energy only fed your sickness, and even her technique could not heal the damage fast enough. Stupid. Idiotic. Cruel.

Cruel. That was the word.

He hadn’t seen it himself but from how his old friend had described it, it could only be cruel. 

His footsteps tap along the linoleum floors, urgent, but not too fast. A part of him dreads what he will see—his mind swirls with the possibilities, and of guilt.

Why didn’t he just come sooner? Why did he think it was okay to wait, to dismiss Itadori when he said you’d been checked in for your coughing fits?

“She’s strong. She’ll be fine,” he had said. Itadori’s small frown. “A little feather in her throat isn’t going to knock her down.”

Why? Why? Why? Why did he say that?

Because it had to be serious to put you in the hospital. For fuck’s sake, you were still that teenage girl who stood outside his dorm window in the middle of a thunderstorm to bring Fushiguro a birthday present before you left for a curse expedition a thousand years ago, and the woman who welcomed him into your home unprompted on December 24th, your cheeks dry, lips pressed in a brave smile.

You had held him tight enough he could not see the blood, scrubbed him in a bathtub, ran your fingers through his hair until the sweat and grime was gone. You took care of him because he knows the belief that no one should be left behind to suffer alone has been engrained in you since the day he’s met you.

He should’ve known. A girl abandoned for being cursed had turned into woman with a saviour complex who’d barely even think about telling him you were dying. 

Dying, of all things, from a disease no one knows how to cure. And you’re a sorcerer.

He could’ve laughed. The irony is enough to make him smile.

Your room’s in a tiny corner of the hospital, down the hall from a nurse’s station, and as he walks through, he can see the grey sunlight streaming through the window, glaring against his glasses. He lifts them to rub the heel of his hand into his eye.

He doesn’t want you to worry when you see him, and mostly, he needs to stall. His heart is in knots in his chest, and he spots a chair beside the door with your name in the plastic slate, so he sits down. His knees feel gummy and he leans forward, the visitor’s pass clipped to the front of his shirt hanging. 

Satoru tugs the glasses off his face, fits his palm over his brow and squeezes his eyes shut. It’s chilling in this dead end, and he swallows tightly. Everything tastes so dry as he looks up and shoves his hand underneath the sanitizer dispenser, rubbing it all over his hands just so he has something to do.

After a few minutes, he gets up and sets a hand on the knob. 

It can’t be as bad as he’s imagining. At most, you’re a bit sick, but you’ll still be spritely, warm in the lips and with arms outstretched and, “Satoru, finally!”

He opens the door. 

You’re sitting hunched over in bed. Silhouette outlined by the white-grey sunlight from outside your hospital room, you’re trembling as you hold onto a receptacle. An IV is hooked to your arm, a hospital gown is barely hiding anything, and it feels immoral to even look so Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he pauses by the doorframe and closes his eyes for a moment as your gaze flashes to him. 

He feels it, to be honest. The heat of your stare until it is wrenched away by a violent cough you instinctually muffle by your palm, blood splattering over your hand, soft, velveteen purple petals falling from your lips and into the receptacle in your lap. 

You’re supposed to have a green thumb.

Vines bend to your will if you command it, you can summon forth thorns to impale your opponents, send thick creeping ivy to barricade a doorway. It doesn’t matter if there is no greenery in your immediate area. At the sweep of your hand, the ground could rumble with the sound of trees twisting their gnarled roots into feet to march at your command.

Just as long as they’re within range and you’ve touched them in the past few hours, they’re yours.

So, why can’t you stop this?

Plants are supposed to listen to you, right? As he stares at your shaking body on the bed, curved over the plastic tub, thick globs of bloodied spit drip from your lips and soaked purple blossom petals entwine with your life essence. His heart plummets to his chest. You retch, spit, choke, and every sound stabs him in the chest as he takes a weak step forward, hand stretched out limply.

Your name flutters, barely leaves his lips before you’re looking at him again, a bit of a mortifying image but nonetheless.

Even so, you smile, despite the blood painting your face, the exhaustion morphing your body. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks, and your hands shake around the receptacle. You look battered, bruised along the arms where the needles keeping you filled with antibiotics, medicine you need, had punctured you.

And still, you’re beaming at him. He thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Hi, Satoru.”

His hand falls. Eyes wide, he cannot take another step. You wipe at your lips, tossing the tissue into the trash before pushing the plastic receptacle onto the table and swinging your legs off the bed.

“Don’t—“ he croaks but you don’t listen, sliding your feet into slippers and grabbing your IV stand to take a step towards him. Your knees nearly give in but you stick out a hand before he can rush to catch you. Then, you’re pushing yourself up and walking over to him. It’s more of a shuffle, but Gojo finds he can’t care as you land on his chest, hands pressing into his back.

You’re a bit cold in his arms, and he wraps himself around you, trying to rub the heat back into your skin as you shudder, but your heart is still racing as it always does around him, and you…

You’re the type of person who can shift how the air feels and looks to his Six Eyes with your smile or your tears or your frown, and in that moment, the air bleeds yellow with your joy. It’s so bright in his soul that it makes his heart skip as you shift on your feet against him, hands sliding down so your arms can circle his waist and haul him closer. 

“Gojo Satoru turning off his infinity for little ole me,” you murmur, voice raspy, as he closes his eyes, cradling your head. Without another word, he sinks into you. “Talk about the world ending.”

Why didn’t you just call him? Why did you let him stay away for so long? He doesn’t want to ask why it’s happening, or how. He already knows you’ll just lie. But he wants to know if you think so lowly of him that you thought you didn’t matter to him.

After Suguru…

How could you think that? He’s screaming inside his mind as he touches your back, feels the faint protruding ridges along your skin when he pushes down. It makes your spine a bit more pronounced along the knobs, your shoulder blades a bit bumpy, but otherwise, it’s almost normal. One wouldn’t even be able to tell without touching you and actively searching for it. How could you think I don’t care?

This isn’t the work of a cursed spirit, that much he knows. It seems much more seductive, sneaking yet unhurried in its nature. This is agony in effigy. There’s something rotten inside you, but he can’t tell what it is. The energy is everywhere.

You pull back to look up at him with a soft smile, then tap his nose and tell him to join you before turning around and climbing back into bed with energy that betrays your earlier fits. You grab your robe that you’ve left on your bed before getting up again and walking around, shrugging the fabric back onto your shoulders.

He sits down in a visitor’s chair that is still cold.

“It comes and goes,” you explain first with your new, croaky voice, stretching your arms above your head and rubbing your neck. It doesn’t look painful, but you clear your throat a lot to see if it helps. So far, nothing. “So, it’s just like a really bad coughing fit, to be honest.”

“How long has it been going on?” Your hip cracks and you let out a relieved sigh. Satoru arches an eyebrow as you animatedly stretch your face. “What are you doing, silly?”

“It got worse a few weeks ago, enough that Nanami insisted I check myself in around two weeks ago?” you say, after counting on your fingers. Satoru’s heart plummets. “But it’s levelled out since I’ve been moved here and off-campus. And I’m stretching. When I get back out there, I have to remember how to emote.” You flash him a bedazzling grin and a bit of the weight lifts off his shoulders as you swallow down another cough. This time, it’s successful and you only let out a short, raspy breath before shaking it out.

You aren’t even doing that bad. 

The blood, the flowers, that must’ve been just a bad bout, but otherwise, you seem quite normal.

That’s what he tells himself, and he believes it.

With relief, he stretches out his legs, leaning his head back on his hands. Your room’s pretty nice—much nicer than an average hospital room. Plants on the windowsills, some get-well-soon cards and a desk in the corner filled books that you look like you haven’t even begun to read, some paintings hanging off the walls. 

You wave a hand to grab his attention again.

“Don’t look,” you chastise, tying the robe around your waist. “Some of these are works in progress.”

“So Itadori and Shoko were just exaggerating,” he assumes. You look up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “If you’re attempting to paint, I know all that’s happened is that you’ve lost your mind.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, they made it out as if you were dying. If it’s just a lung issue, they could probably just fix it and we can get back to exorcising curses and making fun of Fushiguro’s teen angst,” he says, crossing his legs at the ankles. You step over them to go to the window and examine your plants, and he eyes you in his peripheral, watching you inspect one of the leaves before looking next at some blooming flowers. You don’t answer, and the grey light makes you look melancholy until you shrug.

“The doctors say I need to rest, save my strength and all that,” you finally say vaguely. “And don’t make fun of Fushiguro.”

“I’d never do that.”

You tilt your head and arch an eyebrow skeptically before flicking his forehead with a sharp donk. “I’m not above slapping the shit out of you.” He opens his mouth to argue and you hold up a finger, shutting him up. “And you can’t hit back as revenge. Ill hospital patient rights.”

“You can’t take the moral stand. Vengeance has no gender bias,” he exclaims, sitting up but you merely smirk, leaning over and shoving your face into his space before turning your head to present your cheek. His eyes widen as you poke your own face tauntingly.

“Do it, then.”

Gawking for a moment, Satoru stares but you only wink and he pushes you away lightly. You stumble a bit and he jumps to his feet to catch you but you manage to right yourself up, shooting him a foul glare. He glares back in response.

“Well, obviously, I wasn’t going to actually slap you,” he says, indignant.

“So you pushed me instead? Gojo, in your words, you are the strongest. You never know how to control the strength you push out.”

“Yes, I do!”

“One time, you patted Megumi on the back and you sent him into the pavement.”

“He was nine.”

“It still happened!” you cry, although an impish smile is already curling at your lips and it isn’t long before it spreads to Satoru, warm bright yellow and enough that it absolves any of the remaining pain in his body as you straighten up, holding onto your IV stand for support. The metal rattles a bit as the wheels roll. Your feet brush the ground. You lift your head up wretchedly.

It’s almost like that weakness sobers you.

The expression that overtakes you frightens Satoru to fucking death. 

His face feels like it numbs, staring at the darkness that seeps the light away. You stare at the metal pole your fingers are wrapped so tightly around, and then you look at the bag hanging there, clear and round and soft to your touch as you straighten up.

“Satoru,” you say softly.

“Yeah?” His voice is so quiet he’s not sure he even speaks. He can’t remember the last time you had looked so dispassionate at anything in his life. Even death had left its mark—black frowns, long streaks underneath your eyes.

Your apathy is dark purple, an endless void colour. 

“When I die, make sure Shoko’s the one who cuts me open to find out what’s wrong with me.”

Something prickles at his fingertips. He touches your shoulder and half-thinks his fingers will go right through you.

“You’re not going to die,” he insists firmly. “It’s just a bad cough.” You look up at him and blink. Then you touch your lips and shudder down another cough.

“We all die.”

“It’s not your time, yet.” His fingers dig into your shoulder. You don’t even wince even though you’re clenching his jaw but he can’t find it in himself to loosen his hold. It feels like the Jaws of Death. A crocodile’s bite.

So much for not being able to control his own power.

“It’s just a bad cough.” He ignores everything Shoko had said. Sometimes she’s wrong—sometimes, it’s not even that bad. He’d just seen it, hadn’t he? You were stretching, jumping onto your bed, acting like nothing was wrong.

Palliative care? As if you needed it—

You blink, then, and look at him. Stare at him as if you’d never said those words, and he had never reached out. 

You jerk your shoulder out of his grip. It stings more than it should.

“Right. But I’m just saying. You know how you always say I’ve got a few screws loose. It just makes sense someone will wanna crack me open to see what was going on up there and I want it to be her.” 

You smile, and the yellow cancels out the purple. 

Colour theory. 

But Satoru doesn’t smile back.

“What about the flowers?” he asks after a while. You’ve climbed back onto bed and he’s sat back down. You’re blowing into a spirometer, and every time, without fail, the ball shoots up to the top, clattering against the plastic. He watches, hoping that the next time, it’ll do the same thing again.

You stop and look at him. “What about them?”

“Is it some optical illusion? Why are they in your throat?”

“That’s a harder nut to crack,” you muse. “I don’t really know. It’s like when you’ve got food in your esophagus and you’re trying to cough it up so it doesn’t feel stuck anymore except it keeps building up. That only started a few days ago, though, so maybe, someone drugged me or something.” He doesn’t laugh and you frown. “Not funny?”

He shakes his head. “It’s freaky.”

.

He sits on the bench on campus. 

He’s cancelled classes because he didn’t come up with a standard lesson plan and his students are glad to have a Monday afternoon off, even if they’d never say it to his face. In truth, he’d spent the whole weekend at the hospital until he reeked of antiseptic and pollen. 

You coughed up five petals, and without fail, a nurse would come in hourly intervals to collect them. Shoko came once, to check up on you and to collect the samples. If she was surprised Satoru was sitting in the corner on his phone, she didn’t voice it.

“She’s not even doing that bad,” he says to the air, more accusatory than anything. The woman standing by him doesn’t answer and sits down beside him uninvited. Turning to look at her, his eyes narrow behind his blindfold. “You said she needed palliative care until she died. The doctor said she could leave tonight.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive concepts,” she informs, not looking at him. Shoko looks a bit out of place in the warm colours of the garden. Half a corpse herself. Waif-like. “The doctor’s letting her relax in the comfort of her own home before she dies. That’s all.”

“She’s not going to die.”

She snorts. “Denial isn’t a good colour on you.” The words could’ve been delivered colder. Satoru is grateful that they weren’t. 

Shoko rests her hands on her knees, tilts her head up, and sighs. Her long hair is like warm chocolate in the sunlight, spilling down her arched back from the knot she tied. “If you have any idea on how to fix this, I’m listening with both ears.”

“I don’t even know what it is,” he says. “Coughing and flowers? I’ve never heard of a sickness like that before.”

“Nanami pointed out that it could be a curse someone placed on her. I don’t know why, but it’d be an explanation.” Satoru spreads his legs, plants an elbow on his knee and leans forward to look at the ants travelling along the cobblestone before his shoe. “It manifested on some negative emotion lingering inside her and it’s growing every day, but she won’t budge.” Shoko sighs. Her purple eye bags look worse in the sunlight, but he would never tell her that. “Maybe you’d have a better chance digging into her. With Geto gone, there’s no one else to ask, is there?”

“What about you? What happened to girls and their little secrets?” he jokes, trying to ignore the ache that begins to bloom in his chest. Shoko eyes him wryly.

“I have suspicions, but there are some things girls don’t ask other girls,” she retorts. “It’s never been my business anyway. My job is to treat her, and I’ve given her options. It’s up to her to take them. Grief is a birthing ground for curses, and if she’s letting them feed on her freely, you know what fate is waiting for her.”

With that, she gets up and leaves as quickly as she arrived. Satoru swallows the smell of flowers and feels sick.

.

Monday night, Satoru pulls up his laptop and looks through, searching up words he can string together in a coherent sense to get the answers he wants. As rare as it probably is, some research wouldn’t hurt, would it? Some curses had a trademark affliction—maybe this one does, too.

So he searches up flower coughing to see if there has ever been a record of strange deaths that have made the news. If not, he’ll go to the jujutsu databases, but for now, maybe some publicity could put some answers to this question.

He is surprised when one of the first results is flower coughing disease. 

When he hits enter, the white screen blasts into blue irises with numerous results all repeating the same two words.

HANAHAKI DISEASE

And Satoru reads, and reads, and reads. He reads two weeks to three months, he reads unrequited love, and removal, and disappearance of romantic feelings and capacity for romantic love.

He reads fictional disease and wonders how much of it really is fictional. 

His phone pings with a text, and he grabs at it, tilts it just enough to get a glimpse of the screen. It’s from you, and he hasn’t read a text from you in so long he almost doesn’t recognize who it’s from except he does because… who else could it be?

[Greenbean] 11:02 PM

hey!!! guess whos finally fucking free oh my god

ugh out of the hospital and forgot how actual air smelled like lol bitch im so hungry i could eat a zoo

Letting his phone clatter, he sighs and rubs his face roughy, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before snapping his laptop shut and getting up. His phone buzzes again and he reaches for it blindly, the screen lighting up as he goes to bed.

[Greenbean] 11:03 PM

we should get smth to eat!! i wanna go to that new ramen place in ikebukoro

[Satoru] 11:03 PM

fine but you good???? who picked you up from the hospital? still insulted you didnt let me tbh

also what did the doctor say???

[Greenbean] 11:04 PM

bc ur a menace who doesnt know how to drive 

he said itd get worse before itd get better so still gotta go for checkups but yeah dont worry and nanami came bc he didnt trust me not to try and walk home lol but he did buy me dinner

wasnt enough though!!!

…

[Greenbean] 11:06 PM

ok but fr does he think im insane

clearly id flash some skin and hitch a ride duh

…

[Greenbean] 11:10 PM

youre just gonna leave me on read? yikes

[Satoru] 11:12 PM

i was getting ready to sleep silly

and yeah ill come pick you up on saturday for lunch?

[Greenbean] 11:15 PM

sorry making instant noodles rn but yeah that sounds fine

wait youre sleeping so early lmfao

[Satoru] 11:16 PM

im old :/

  [Greenbean] 11:18 PM

u sure are

(image sent)

look!!! my babies are still alive!!! idk how but miracles do exist im tellin ya

[Satoru] 11:24 PM

inumaki, maki, and fushiguro broke into ur home to water them but dont tell them i told u

[Greenbean] 11:24 PM

wtf

[Satoru] 11:25 PM

yeah idk when but i think u teaching inumaki how to pick locks has opened up too many possibilities but also its really funny thanks

now go to sleep u need to rest

[Greenbean] 11:28 PM

whos gonna make me lol youre not my dad

[Satoru] 11:29 PM

lol 

remember how i can teleport 

lol so cool

[Greenbean] 11:30 PM

dude

wtf

fine 

goodnight hoe </3

[Satoru] 11:31 PM

goodnight knock off poison ivy <3

.

“You’ve looked better,” Shoko says. Satoru raises his head wearily as he pushes off the wall. Shoko’s holding a cup of coffee, her lab coat fresh on her shoulders and eye bags looking more printed on rather than natural swelling. Satoru can’t help but feel the same exhaustion. “Definitely looked worse. What do you want? It’s early.”

“Have you ever heard of Hanahaki disease?” he asks. She shakes her head, and he pulls up the page on his phone and hands it to her. She takes it from him and her eyes scan the screen as he continues, “It’s this fictional disease, something that stems from unrequited love, and I think it could be related to whatever she’s experiencing.”

“I thought you were set on willing her to survive,” she replies dryly, shooting him a quick look and adjusting the coffee in her hand. “But this is definitely one of your stranger theories.”

Satoru ignores that last part. “It’d make sense. With her Cursed Technique, maybe it manifested in a way that links to it.”

She pushes into the office, setting the coffee on her desk and sitting down. Satoru sits down on the exam table closest and leans forward eagerly as she continues to read the page, scrolling down occasionally before scrolling back up and sighing. “This is a stretch. The timeline doesn’t match up to what this is saying.”

“This is a curse. It doesn’t have to follow fiction.” His body feels sore, janky even, everywhere. He barely got a wink of sleep last night and he knows he’s paying for it, now. “Hell knows life rarely does, anyway. But the symptoms matches too well, doesn’t it? The flowers—you’ve done scans, haven’t you?”

She deliberates his words carefully as she looks to the file cabinet and pulls out a binder. Satoru catches a flash of your name on the spine before she moves her coffee and his phone out of the way to flip it open.

“The scans we’ve taken have only just begun to show small growths in her trachea,” she allows, “and we don’t fully understand how cursed energy affects our bodies, so I suppose it could be something like Hanahaki, if the negative energy stemming from December 24th was what brought this on or if these symptoms started when we were still students, but she’s been experiencing shortness of breath a few months before Christmas.” Satoru’s lungs squeeze the last of the air out of them at that, and a cold sweat drops down his spine as she hands his phone back to him. “It only started getting worse Suguru’s death, which meant there had to have been a trigger before that.”

In the back of his head, he hears your voice, light and yellow, saying a few weeks. It got worse a few weeks ago. 

“Worse?”

“The first petal fell some time after Christmas. It’s been a slow, but steady progression since then. Sometimes, it’s two or three. When it’s not a good day, there can be as many as seven to ten.” Shoko switches on the lamp on the corner of her desk and adjusting the direction of the white light before flipping the page. “But if we can find the original trigger and alleviate that pressure it’s putting on her, we could buy her more time.”

“So it’s been nearly six months since the first petal,” he says. Shoko nods. Satoru is grateful for the blindfold—she can’t see how blank everything looks on his face. “It said sometimes, the disease can last for eighteen months.”

“As you said, this isn’t a fairytale.” She half-spins on her chair to face him and leans back into it, crossing one leg over the other and jiggling her knee. “I saw that one of the solutions is excise the growths at the cost of the attachment. That was one of the options I gave her when the growths first appeared. She said she wanted more time before she could decide.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and likes to push her damned limits. And if this is truly the basis of the curse”—she gestures to Satoru’s phone. Her expression flickers—“those flowers are feeding off cursed energy. Cutting them out would remove those negative emotions, but at a cost of something else. Maybe whatever feelings she has regarding the trigger.”

Satoru looks down at his phone. It feels heavier than a thousand cinderblocks in his clammy hands. His fingers are numb as his screen dims and finally locks itself. Pressing the button, it illuminates again to reveal a picture of a cactus you gave him for his birthday years ago, blooming with delicate purple petals. 

His heart rends. That cactus is long dead now.

“But, Suguru’s dead.” 

“That’s why I asked you to ask her,” Shoko mutters. 

Turning to her binder again, she picks up a pen and clicks it, lowering it to the paper before pausing, and Satoru looks up as she stares at whatever words are printed into the page distantly. A strange affliction is on her face, almost tormented, and Satoru is not-so-kindly reminded that before Suguru and Satoru, Shoko was your best friend first. 

“Tell her how idiotic she’s being,” she enforces quietly. “The longer it lives, the more permanent damage is inflicted. With the unpredictable nature of curses, that won’t take long and by then, it’ll be too late to consider removing it.”

.

Saturday comes too fast, yet not fast enough. By the end of the week, Satoru is all but finished with teaching, and is waiting outside your apartment, leaning against the car as he scrolls through his phone. He’s done a bit more research on this Hanahaki disease, but even the word makes him shiver with the implications. 

“Satoru!” Turning, he catches you loping easily towards him. You’re dressed in billowy, wide-legged dark mint green pants and a pretty white top that makes you look more nymph than human, with a canvas tote bag hanging off your shoulder. You flash him a smile as you fiddle with the fabric tie at the waistband of your pants nervously. “Hi.”

“Hey. Hope you don’t mind I brought Ijichi along for the ride since someone claims I can’t drive.”

“You don’t have your license, sir,” Ijichi says wearily as you bend over to wave through the window. "It would be illegal for you to be on the road in any capacity—oh, hello, ma’am. It’s nice to see you doing so well.”

“Thanks, Ijichi. I think I’m doing better after getting out of there,” you say as Satoru opens the car door for you and he smirks, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses. You straighten up, looking at him before poking his chest and it’s almost just like the good ole days as you break out into a grin that crinkles your entire face. “What’s with you being a gentleman? It better not be because I was in the hospital.”

“Of course not,” he admonishes. “I wouldn’t dare dream of being polite to you of all people.” Still, he sidesteps and sweeps his arm, gesturing for you to climb in first which you do, exhaling a bit shakily as you settle in and slide over. By the time he’s settled in beside you, you have a fist over your lips and you’re clearing your throat testily.

A worm of unease wriggles into his stomach as he clips in his seatbelt, pulling the lapels of his unbuttoned green shirt free from the strap. Legs spreading, he lets his hands fold in his lap as Ijichi begins to drive them to their destination. You’ve lowered your hand by now, looking out the window, and it’s not bright enough that Satoru can read your expression on the glass.

It’s clear you don’t want to talk about it, but still, that nagging feeling bites at him as he rolls the divider up between the backseat and the front—a mock of privacy.

“The place we’re going to gives me the same vibe as that family-owned restaurant we went to when we were students. The one in Kagurazaka,” you say after a while, turning back to look at him. You’re wearing a bracelet that jangles when you move your hand to adjust the seatbelt across your chest. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Have you been?”

“One time, before I checked in,” you tell him, smiling still. “It was really good. The perfect last meal.” Satoru does well enough to hide his frown at your choice of words as you meet his eyes. “You know, you can ask. I’m not fragile.”

“I don’t have anything to ask,” he lies. “I’m just glad you’re out of the hospital.”

“Me, too. I’ve missed so much and it drove me insane. Yaga-sensei insists that I don’t work until I’m sure I’m feeling better,” you add. “But to be honest, there’s nothing much that can be done to make me feel better.”

“I see. So you’re still coughing up flowers?”

“Petals,” you correct, “and a bit. Don’t worry. It’ll get better soon.” You wave a hand and turn to look out the window and Satoru’s appetite all but vanishes. He doesn’t know why you’re so intent on lying to him about the severity of your condition, but as your knee jiggles relentlessly the whole car ride with unbridled excitement, he wonders if you’re even aware of how sick you could be. 

His Six Eyes scan your body for signs of a curse. Normally, those plagued have their little burdens hanging off their shoulders, prying their head open, biting into an arm or leg, but he finds yours lives inside your chest, just barely hidden by the yellow light brimming from your body as you reach forward to lower the divider and talk to Ijichi.

They reach Ikebukuro before they’re dropped off after Satoru insists on walking the rest of the way.

“Give us some privacy, Ijichi! We both know you’ll just eavesdrop for the juicy details,” he exclaims loudly, leading to the man to blush furiously, stuttering that he’d do no such thing, and earning Satoru a smack on the back of his head, knocking his sunglasses askew.

“Thanks for the ride, Ijichi,” you say warmly as if you hadn’t slapped a concussion into Satoru. The Assistant Director dips his head. “See you later!” With that, he drives off and the two sorcerers are left in the busy street. Satoru looks around curiously, but you tug him along up the main road of the district and immediately turn right into one of the smaller streets. A few cyclists race past, as well as cars, but the traffic seems relatively slow despite it being the weekend. There are people walking along the white lines separating the lanes, chatting merrily as you lead him to the restaurant.

“I forgot how actual sunlight felt,” you sigh, stretching your arms high above your head as if to touch the wind breezing through. Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes. Satoru waits for you to begin to cough, and you hold it in, throat tensing a bit. 

He looks away, and pretends he doesn’t hear your sharp exhale, the soft cough you try to muffle with your hand. Instead, he looks at their surroundings, traces the green roads, watches a man park his bicycle and take the plastic bags out of the basket before rushing into a store. The air smells faintly of smoke, and Satoru waves in front of his face to see if it’ll help dispel the scent, but it’s so engrained with the hint of meat, honey, sweets, and flowers, that he can’t.

“I saw Suguru here once,” you tell him suddenly. He blinks, head snapping to you, and you’re already regarding him with a faint smile, eyes a bit dimmer. The warm yellow energy has faded to a burnt orange as you look ahead. “A year or two after he left. It’s why I moved closer a few years ago. I guess I had this weird hope that I’d see him again, but I never really did.” A faint grin graces your lips again, as if you’re not even aware you’re smiling. Fondness overtakes you. “I think about him a lot these days.”

“Me, too.”

“Of course,” you chuckle a bit, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I’m being insensitive.” 

“No, you’re not. He meant a lot to you, too. I don’t own him, or his memory.”

“I know, but he was still your best friend.” Unbidden, a voice in Satoru’s voice finishes it for you. My one and only. 

“Did you guys talk about anything?”

“Not really anything important,” you say, shrugging, but by the way your eyes shift in the light, glimmer differently, he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s none of his business, but a part of him hungers for new parts of Suguru and it’s powerful enough to take control of his tongue.

“Nothing’s not important. He was a wanted criminal.”

“I think we both know somehow that part never mattered to us.” You look at him, and run a thumb under the strap of your bag. “To any of us. But…” You tilt your head to him and your smile grows tender. “…since you asked, we talked about us. He told me about what he wanted, the kind of world he was determined to create. He paid for my dinner, kissed me goodnight like it was normal, and then he was gone. Never saw him again until last December.”

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. 

He remembers that day ten years ago in Shinjuku. The coldness in which Suguru had looked at him. He can’t imagine that same poison directed at you. He couldn’t even imagine Suguru looking at him like that in the first place until he did.

“Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?”

“I used to have nightmares about it,” you continue distantly. “Because I could’ve left with him, but I didn’t. And I could’ve killed him, but I didn’t do that either.”

“If you want to kill me, kill me. There’s meaning in that, too.”

Satoru’s chest tightens. His heart feels rotten to the core. “I didn’t, either, until I did.” You smile a bit more, at the irony. “Would you? Have gone with him, that is.”

“I didn’t, so what’s the point in debating it?” you ask before shrugging thoughtlessly and answering anyway. “I think tackling curses at the source is important. I just didn’t like the way he was doing it. If I thought I could somehow change his mind, just a bit, on his methods, maybe, but by then, he was too far gone.” 

Your eyes, chips of glinting sunstone, mellow as a cyclist trills at them with a bell to get out of the way. You step out of the way, away from Satoru for a moment, before returning to him, and when the back of his hand brushes yours, he’s startled at how cold your skin is. 

Satoru is quiet as he absorbs all of this. He doesn’t really know what to say, and you don’t prod him for a reaction as they turn the corner again. 

“It’s just over there,” you say, pointing to a small restaurant, people milling by the door. There’s a sign hanging over the door, off-white with black kanji painted on and your arm falls. “There’s a line. Huh.”

“We can wait,” Satoru says when they stop at the edge of the crowd. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay. I’ll go put our names in then come back.” You disappear into the crowd for a moment before resurfacing and joining his side again, something in your hand. “It should be, like, fifteen minutes. I said the bar was okay.”

“That’s fine.” Shoving his sunglasses up into his hair, he cracks his knuckles and migrates to the wall. You follow, and he slouches against the concrete pillar. You adjust the tote bag against your body and lean against the other side just around the corner. Their elbows brush, and you tilt your head to look at him, smiling. Your face has caught the sun perfectly, and Satoru can’t help but smile back.

He wonders how to bring up this Hanahaki disease theory. You look so perfect, so happy in this moment where their eyes meet, that he can’t bring it up. Maybe it’s selfish, but it feels like it’s been so long since the two of them even managed to see each other for more than an hour. With how overworked jujutsu sorcerers are, it’s hard to recall the last time they both had downtime at the same time that wasn’t spent catching up on sleep.

You look away, shoulders shaking, as if that’s enough to hide your coughing, and he thinks, Later. There’ll be time for that later.

“Here’s the menu,” you tell him once you’ve calmed down, extending your hand. He takes the paper, unfolding it as you cross your arms and tilt your head back on the concrete. Reading down the list, he keeps an eye on you out of the corner of his vision, and your fingers play at your lips as you swallow. Reaching into your bag, you twist the cap of a water bottle and chug half of it down.

“Do you have any medicine? For your coughing?” he asks casually. You hit your chest with a firm fist, clearing your throat and looking at him in surprise. The water bottle returns to your bag.

“Oh, uh, no. It doesn’t work. Just gotta keep hydrated and avoid any possible triggers,” you inform. You turn up the street as you speak, crossing your legs at the ankles and sinking against the concrete. 

“And what are those triggers?”

“And you say Ijichi is the one digging for gossip,” you snort with short, choked huff. Satoru rolls his eyes, but keeps looking at the menu. “Don’t worry about it. I’m avoiding them.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“If I wanted your dry wit, I would’ve gone to the original.”

“I don’t copy off Shoko. I take bits of everyone’s personality and twist it to make it my own.”

You shake your head. “Whatever you say.”

Your name is called a few minutes later and the pair push off the concrete pillar, heading through the crowd and into the small restaurant. It’s not too dimly lit, a bunch of natural light from the street streaming in through the open windows, and the air is rich with the smells of the kitchen as they sit down at the bar.

It’s not long before they’ve ordered, and Satoru has gone through his first bowl and is well into pouring his second into what remains of his broth before he remembers to even check up on how you’re doing. You’d been right—he loves this place. The atmosphere isn’t overly loud, but the mumbling of nearby patrons is enough to make him feel like he isn’t quite alone. It’s sheltered away from the world, and although he’s used to girls staring, no one has gone up to him which is giving him time to his own thoughts and food. Everyone here seems to mind their business—everyone likes to stay in their own bubble. 

Here, he isn’t the strongest, or quite so special. It honestly feels kind of nice.

You’re sipping on your broth, tilting the spoon towards your mouth and your lips are pulled into the warmest smile he’s seen since they were kids. The light’s hitting you just perfect again, more cool than warm, but it’s got you on the cheekbone, illuminated your lips. Satoru wonders if you know how to manipulate light, or if that’s just your natural blessing as you tilt your head towards him, eyes squinting from your own joy.

For a moment, another image flashes in his head. Him along the end of their group of four—you and Shoko, Suguru and Satoru. It’s almost poetry how much of a glimpse he can see in your smile. You would always be laughing, and Suguru’s cheeks would always be red, and Shoko would charm the guy over the counter to hand over a bottle of shochu. Satoru would tease his stupid best friend, and pay for their meal because “I’m friends with a bunch of goddamn freeloaders.”

But that moment ends as quickly as it came, and it’s so fucking heartbreaking that Satoru never thought their last meal together would be their last meal together. He would’ve cherished it more—done anything to make them stay in that ramen shop in Kagurazaka.

“Do you like it here?” you ask. 

He blinks. You’re studying him behind that smile of yours. Watching. Always watching. “It reminds me of when we were kids,” he replies. When he realizes that didn’t answer the question, he adds, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

You grin, delighted. “If I knew how stupid you’d look sucking up these noodles, I would’ve brought my camera like when we were students. I still have it, you know.”

“Next time, then.”

“Yeah, next time.”

Satoru pays. He insists despite your protests, and snatches the bill from you anyway, swiping his card as quickly as he can. 

After, they walk slowly around the district, looking at the other restaurants and stores for desserts or souvenirs to bring back, and it makes him so nostalgic, his heart wilts a bit in his chest. 

He is saying something about buying some soymilk for Megumi when you stop suddenly, deviating to the side of the road to cough. It grows so intense so quickly that your eyes widen as if you’re surprised, too, and you place a palm flat against your chest as he comes to your side. You wave him back, and he frowns, running a hand down your back as you finally manage to dislodge the petals in your throat and spit them into your palm.

Satoru sighs, staring at the cursed things. The energy emitted from the petals are raw, potent, and his nose wrinkles at the stench that comes from powerful curses as he softly asks, “Do you know what Hanahaki is?”

“Flower vomiting?” you whisper through your raw vocal cords. You shake your head, slamming your sternum with a tight fist and flinging the drenched petals to the ground with a wet slap. “Itadori… said something about it, once. Never really paid attention, I—”

Satoru squeezes the back of your neck gently. “Whatever this curse is, it could be something like that.“

“You don’t want to open that can of worms, Gojo, of what is causing this.” Straightening up, your eyes widen and your cheeks puff up as you choke down another bout. Wobbly, you spit out, “It’s under control. I swear.”

“Are you sure?” His fingers brush your chin to turn your face towards him so he can look at it more clearly, and the instant their eyes meet, you lurch over, slapping his hand away and succumbing to the wracking. Hands shooting out to grab your elbows, Satoru barely eases you to the ground as your legs give in.

You collapse to your knees, hard. A hand is slapped over your mouth but your whole body shakes with the seizing of your lungs. Eyes widening, your cheeks puff up as Satoru grabs your shoulders, falling to his knees beside you.

“Hey! Hey, breathe!” His fingers dig into your shoulders and your nostrils flare, trying to follow his instructions. Bloodshot eyes and blueing lips, your inhales are shaking and incomplete, gasps for air that do not take in any oxygen before you’re kneeling over, hand falling from your lips. Blood splattered over your palm, you let out a low noise of pain. Satoru’s hand glides down your spine, rubbing in soothing circles as red spit falls to the pavement in thick globs. 

People all around stop to stare, eyes masked with concern, but he can’t care less at that moment despite the burning scrutiny. He shoves a hand into his pocket, speed-dialling one of the top numbers of his list.

“Ijichi, I need you to take us to the hospital, now!” Letting his phone drop with a clatter, he scoops you close but you slam your bloody hand against his chest, pushing him away. You throw yourself away, hands twisted tight in the fabric of your white shirt and Satoru looks down at the red handprint on his tee before blinking. “What are you doing? We need to get—“

“I’m—I’m fine!” Your voice, broken, is drenched with ice as you continue to wheeze, grasping at your chest as if you could reach and tear out the growths with your own hand. “Gojo, I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not!” Grabbing his phone, he hears a loud car horn, and looks up to see Ijichi leaning out of the driver’s seat, waving his arm frantically. Without another thought, he scoops you up and runs out into the street, ignoring the tires screeching, the cars horns blaring at him and the angry shouts as he jumps into the car and slam the door shut. 

Ijichi sets off at a drive, no directions needed. Satoru is sure he’s breaking as many laws as he can as he pushes you back against the seat to buckle you in. Blood dribbles down your lips in bubbles as a thick, gurgling sound begins to grow in your throat and he wipes at your chin with his sleeve, clicking the buckle into place just as you pitch forward. He jerks back just in time as you retch, and, slowly, torturously, you gag out three petals, one after another. Your fingers claw at your own throat, panicking and desperate as you struggle to breathe.

The petals fall in wet pools between your feet, landing on the carpet, and he spares them not even a glance before forcing your head between your knees. You’re still hyperventilating and as Satoru sweeps a hand down your back and up to your neck, his fingers come into contact with something sticky. 

Sweat. It drenches through your shirt so suddenly that Satoru reels at the wet marks spreading through your shirt, making the fabric translucent. Your heart is racing, tripping over itself. When you finally stop coughing, you breathe in harsh pants as he keeps your head between your knees.

Your fingers lace at the back of your head and he grabs them firmly, reassuring that he’s still beside you. 

.

“She’s stable,” Shoko announces to the waiting Satoru and six students. The latter came when their teacher had told them of what happened, and Itadori still clings to Fushiguro’s arm by an iron hand, fingers clawlike into his friend’s bicep. Kugisaki chews on her thumbnail, a bit paler than usual and there are crescent indents along her forearm where she had dug her nails in. Maki’s hand rests on her shoulder. Inumaki’s on the phone with Panda, and he turns the screen around so he can see the Strongest Sorcerer who does not feel quite so strong.

Satoru’s assurances that you would be fine had done nothing but send them into a quiet that scared even him. 

“Is she okay? When can she get out?” the kids demand suddenly.

“We’re waiting for the updates on her scans from the doctors, but she’ll need to stay here under observation.”

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Guess that means she gets a few more days off while the rest of us are working our asses off,” he teases. Maki shoots him a glare and his eyes close in a way he hopes arranges his expression in one of joy as he shrugs helplessly. “Well, that means I have another girl I have to spoil.”

“Aren’t you too busy with the four already blowing up your phone?” Kugisaki mutters sourly. Satoru pretends not to hear. His phone has been silent without your texts, and it’s cold and heavy in his pocket.

“Can we see her?” Fushiguro asks. Shoko nods, but holds up a hand and the kids skid to a stop.

“She’s resting. I’m unsure if you know, but certain topics of conversation or trains of thought can lead to more attacks, so stick to talking about your curriculum. Topics you think are safe.” The woman shifts on her feet, a wisp of brown hair swaying in front of her eye. “It’s unavoidable, but use your judgement.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The students walk off down to the dead-end hallway, and Satoru turns to Shoko who has her arms crossed over her chest. She steps up, scanning him like he’s got contraband, and he raises his eyebrows innocently.

“What?”

“It’s getting worse. I hope you managed to get answers,” she says. At once, Satoru’s facade drops, and a sober sensation overtakes his face.

“No, I didn’t. She’s heard of the disease, at least. We talked about Suguru, but it wasn’t like it was under lock and key.” The brunette shakes her head at his words, gesturing for him to sit down beside her. Doing so, he leans back into the uncomfortable chair as she crosses a leg over the other. “She said she thinks about him a lot.”

“She still loves him,” Shoko says bluntly. “She gets that far-off look when she talks about him. You two should trade secrets some time.” A shake of her head, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I healed what damage I could, but I can tell those growths inside are expanding. The attack only seems to have agitated and prompted them to take root.”

“How…” It’s hard to formulate the question. Luckily, Shoko knows him well enough.

“Without seeing the scans, I won’t know. Based on her last ones, I thought at least four months. Now?” Her lips press into a thin line. “She’ll be lucky if she gets two.” Shoko’s eyes flicker down Satoru’s front, and her lips press into a wry line. “And change you shirt. You look like a murder suspect.”

Glancing down, he looks at your dried bloody hand print, stark against white, and he gets up abruptly. Shoko doesn’t stop him.

He walks down to the dead-end hall. He can hear Itadori through your open door cracking jokes, Kugisaki relaying every detail of her shopping trips, and you’re wheezing your laughter despite Maki scolding you to save your strength. Satoru stops just outside your door, out of sight, and rests his head against the frame, content to just listen.

“Tuna mayo.”

“Is that right?” you ask Inumaki. “Lay it on me.” 

You sound exhausted, beaten to the bone, but still, when Fushiguro says something too quiet for him to make out, you still have the strength to tease him for worrying.

.

The night is warm, and he sets the last plant back into its place on your window sill before cracking the window a bit at your request. He’s busied himself making this place as homely as possible as quickly as possible, and in the process, had walked in on you staring at your own scans on the lightscreen mounted on your wall.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you say over your shoulder. He joins you by your side to stare at the scans. Granted, Satoru didn’t cheat his way through medschool like others have, so he doesn’t understand much, but he can tell what is and what isn’t supposed to be there. The floral-like growths situated right where the main bronchi meet the trachea, for one.

The roots spreading across your chest like cracks in concrete, for another.

“The doctors want to monitor this,” you explain, pointing at the roots, “to see whether or not it’ll grow around my lungs or continue outward, around the ribs and spine. If it’s the former, I’ll slowly suffocate and die. If it’s the latter, I’ll slowly suffocate, become paralyzed, and die.” You smile grimly. “Not quite a win-win.”

“Exactly the opposite.” He inspects the growths and through the blue-white-black imaging, he spots the tiny stems emerging from the main growth, sprouting into your lungs. He guesses, with time, those will grow into flowers of equal size before sprouting more shoots.

He wonders…

As if sensing his hesitance, you scratch your collarbone and look at the scans with a new glint.

“The doctors say if I avoid another attack like today, I’ll probably have two months, three if I’m blessed, but because of how big the growths have gotten already and its volatile nature, it’ll be impossible, so we’re looking at a month. Maybe a month-and-a-half?” You smile at him, throat bobbing. “Guess it’s good to have a number,” you add shakily, a short puff coming at the end of each breath as you struggle to fight the cough. “Being a sorcerer, too much uncertainty, I think.”

“You should tell Nanami that. Maybe this time, it’ll convince him to stay away,” he retorts, turning away from the scans. They’re burning his eyes and he doesn’t want to look at the real thing for much longer. You turn with him, walking back towards bed and climbing in. “Are you sure you don’t want the operation? Shoko could do it so fast you wouldn’t feel a thing.”

“No, not yet. There are some complications that’ll definitely occur and I don’t want that to happen.”

“But it would save your life,” he argues. “What risks are frightening enough that you’d even consider not having it?” Your gaze flickers as you take another wheezing breath. The strength seems sapped from your limbs—you’re a scarecrow hanging off its pole as you swallow tightly. Satoru leans against your window sill and crosses his arms over his chest so you can’t see the frustrated fists he wants to make. “If this is about Suguru…”

Resolutely: “It isn’t.”

“You’re going to die if you keep going down this road. I don’t understand why you’re hesitating.” In the back of his mind, klaxons begin to scream.

“Satoru, some things are just beyond logical reason.” He jerks his gaze away, pushing his glasses up his nose pointedly. You sigh. “I know it’s hard, but this is my choice. I just want you to be here so you know it’s okay.” 

Your hand stretches out. Blue eyes flash to your outstretched fingers and he takes it before he can stop himself. Your fingers curl over his palm, tugging him closer and he lets you, sneakers dragging over the tile until he’s sliding into the chair by your bed. It squeaks against the tile.

“Please don’t be angry with me.” That’s all. That’s all I ask.

A hard, heavy sigh, this time from his end. He tightens his hold on you as you sit there, smiling hopefully. His heart thunders in his chest. “I’m not angry.”

You perk up a bit, and his index finger unfurls to rub your wrist. It feels colder than normal. “Promise?”

He wishes he could lie half as well as you. Either way, he tries his hardest: “Promise.”

By the time it’s quarter past nine, you’re already getting ready to sleep. You have enough pillows to surround your entire body, and he fluffs them up, helps you arrange them until you’re sighing against the white sheets, burrowing in with a sedated smile on your face.

Satoru sits down again on his visitor’s chair and you watch him lazily through the dim orange light stemming from behind your bed.

“You don’t have to stay here and watch me, creep,” you mumble, turning your face away to stare at the ceiling. You cough dryly, but it subsides moments later. Your voice is nothing but a croak as you let out a tired groan, and Satoru smiles to himself, cheek to his fist. 

“I feel robbed of our afternoon together. Making up for it now.”

You look at him again incredulously. “We’re not even doing anything.”

“I don’t know when you were told that every second of us being together had to be us doing something,” he huffs. “I like being in here. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s too much. You’re annoying me.” Even so, your voice turns fond as you roll onto your side, away from him to settle in to sleep and Satoru’s warm gaze lands on your shoulder gently rising and falling as you slowly drift off. 

He already knows you’re gone by the time he’s standing up and gathering his jacket. Walking around the bed, he glances at the bathroom to check the light’s off and catches a glimpse of his shirt. A coil wraps around his gut at the muddy red handprint pressed into the fabric and he turns away to look at you instead.

Your face is in perfect peace, half-buried into a pillow you’re hugging into your chest, and he only soaks in those features. His hand twitches, and his infinity wavers as he raises his hand as if to touch you. Your eyelids flutter and he freezes, fearing he might’ve woken you up, but you only mumble incoherently and turn into your pillow.

Satoru watches on silently just as a breeze sweeps into the room and he looks up where the window he had cracked open. The breeze takes hold of the plants, uplifts them until they sway like a tender dance. 

His chest begins to hurt. The smell of the antiseptic is starting to sting, so he moves his hand to the light switch instead. Flicking it off, he turns to leave.

.

Every time Satoru walks down to the end of the hallway, a different memory will play in his head until he’s playing a movie over and over every single day. Of the first time he met you, although that one is blurry. Your sixteenth birthday when the four of them had piled into your dorm room to drink themselves stupid.

One-and-a-half weeks go by before he realizes that he only replays the moments where you feature. Like his brain is preparing him, reminding him. For what, he doesn’t know. 

He can’t come every day—considering the low number of sorcerers has been taken down by one more, it means besides teaching, he still has to work for the Higher Ups as well as his own personal agenda—but when he does make it, he always makes sure that he soaks in every second. Even the horrible parts. Maybe, especially the horrible parts.

You have scans taken every other day to monitor your progress, so when he arrives at an empty room, he isn’t surprised. It’s when there’s movement in the bathroom that sends his nerves prickling until he catches a slab of golden hair and reading glasses flashing in the sunlight.

“Nanami,” he greets.

“Good afternoon.” His jacket’s off and his sleeves are rolled up. With a quick sweep of the room, Satoru notes that the windows are cracked open and the aforementioned jacket is folded over a chair sat in a square of sunlight.

“Do we need to be so formal?” he complains, bypassing the bathroom and searching for another chair. The one Nanami’s taken by the plants is still warm and Satoru isn’t keen on the idea of sweating so soon. During his search, he stops by the windowsill and his eyebrows rise curiously at the new plants and trash bin pressed up right underneath. “What’s happening here?”

“We were planting new seeds when she had to be taken for her scans. She insisted I finish potting the plants.” Noting the empty terracotta, Satoru bends over and prods at the moist dirt. “I have to go soon, though. I had hoped it wouldn’t take as long as it did and she would be back by now.”

“They started taking MRI scans when the branches continued to grow outward rather than inward,” Satoru informs. “It takes around forty-five minutes, on top of the CT scans they’re taking, too. That’s if she doesn’t start coughing in the middle of it.” 

“I’m guessing she does.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his nose, wiping at his hands free of the last of whatever dirt might’ve been clinging to his hands.

“Yup.”

“I see.” Satoru looks at the plants again. The blond man across the room throws the towel into the dirty clothes basket.“Has she… spoken to you of what to do with her effects?”

Gaze hardening, he doesn’t move at the question. Of course, he’s thought about it, but those bouts of weakness have never been longer than a few minutes. There’s no use in wasting time on a reality that won’t come until it does.

Hopefully, it never does.

“I’m so sick of everyone talking like she’s signed a death sentence,” Satoru murmurs, turning around to look at the blond man at the door to the washroom. “She still has time. Not a lot. It’s not convenient, but it should be enough.”

“She’s already considered the benefits of taking the surgery, and yet she actively decides to postpone it. You know she’s stalling,” comes the steady reply.

“And what about you?” Satoru asks. His words are biting, icy, but Nanami seems unfazed as he begins to loop the tie around his neck. “Would you do it?” Blue eyes meet a stoic face, and the coldness seeps into Satoru’s body. Nanami sighs.

A part of Satoru wonders why he even bothered asking. He already knows the answer—

“No.” Eyebrows shoot up. His mouth drops open and a strangled noise escapes his throat. Nanami merely continues on, quiet as death. “Perhaps it’s because I’m willing to accept my death, but, to be honest, I don’t know how to let any part of Haibara go. I’ve accepted it, but he’s still in my heart and my head.” Lips parting, Satoru takes a step forward as Nanami slants his body away, continuing to fold the fabric into a tie. He looks statuesque, unmovable, and something tightens in Satoru’s throat at the stone-like mask taking over his face. “I’m unwilling to do anything to taint that memory.”

Wordlessly, the blond walks over to Satoru to take his jacket from the chair, rolling down his sleeves and slapping his watch back onto his wrist. Standing less than two feet apart, the two men finally meet eyes.

“Gojo,” Nanami murmurs. “I can’t say I understand your burden, but I am by your side. I do not always agree with your choices, but I still respect them. As your kouhai and as your colleague.” His lips pull in a facsimile of a wry smile and there’s an understanding Satoru doesn’t understand haunting his handsome face. “However, she is your friend before mine. I think your opinion matters much more than mine. Don’t abuse that power.”

Satoru’s eyes nearly reflect in the lenses of Nanami’s glasses. He wishes his friend would take the damn pair off. 

In truth, the reason he’s so irritated is because he knows. If he insists enough, begs enough, there will always be a chance that he can convince you. That you will give in, not because you are selfless, but maybe because you’re too selfish to let him stay mad at you.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object, and sometimes, the force wins.

But he’d promised, hadn’t he? To not be angry with the choices you’ve made?

“Jeez, it’s somber in here. Who died?” you tease as Shoko pushes the wheelchair in after you. Both men look away from each other. You’re still walking steadily, but an IV is hooked into your chest now, and it’s so obvious you’ve lost unhealthy weight that looking at you is hard sometimes. Satoru does, anyway. 

Noting Nanami, you straighten up. Surprised, but pleased: “You’re still here.”

“I was just leaving,” he says. You frown, but don’t protest. A jujutsu sorcerer’s work is never finished until one stops breathing. “I finished planting the seeds you asked me to, and watered them.”

“Thank you.” He dips his head to you, then to Shoko, before departing, and you watch him go for a moment before your eyes land on Satoru and you smile. The air around you shifts immediately to a vibrant yellow. 

“You’re early, Satoru.” You head towards the bed as Shoko parks the wheelchair by the door. “It took way longer than I thought.”

“That’s because you threw up pistils today,” Shoko replies dryly. Satoru straightens up and looks at Shoko more carefully. Placid lookimg—usual for his mortician friend in the jujutsu world—but there’s a blanching in her knuckles that isn’t usual. “The CT wasn’t good. You know that.”

“Well, it’s still more time than I could’ve asked for, you know.” Shoko shakes her head, and meets his eyes before leaving the room, presumably to talk to your doctors. “Party pooper.”

“First day knowing Shoko?”

You laugh sarcastically, adjusting the hospital gown on your body before climbing into bed slowly, as if your joints ache. Satoru’s feet shift on the tile when he realizes his body moves to help and he freezes. You’re breathing audibly by the time you settle in and you meet his eyes, wondering if he’s noticed.

Of course he has, he wants to tell you. He notices everything about you.

Then, you sigh, and the yellow energy around you flickers into something darker, something grey, something that reminds him of summer thunderstorms.

“The roots have reached the edge of my rib cage and are encroaching on my stomach now,” you inform bluntly. “I probably won’t be able to keep food down in the next couple of days so they’re going to up the ante on this thing.” You gesture to the catheter by your clavicle. “So that’s not really fun. And, they want to start taking scans every single day because the growth is increasing exponentially. The doctors think something triggered the flowers to begin blooming in earnest. Like spring has come to my body, and I’m having the worst fucking time of my life.”

Despite your admission, your smile only falters in that it no longer reaches your eyes. Satoru shoves his hands in his pockets because he doesn’t know what else to do.

The word Hanahaki still burns, whispers coyly in his ear. It teases the tip of his tongue as he watches you look to your windowsill where your new plants are and get up, walking over to inspect your friend’s work.

He wonders if he can bring it up again. If he can insist that there’s a way to save you—

But Nanami’s words linger, too, and he bites his tongue until he tastes iron. 

“Oh, look.” He blinks at your voice, turning to look. Your fingers sink into one of the pots and before he can ask, blue energy flares up around your hand and into the soil and a shoot breaks through the dirt, unfurling as it grows higher and higher into the air.

“What is it?” Petals are beginning to form, the shade of a warm, gentle red that fades in shade as it reaches the stem. Satoru comes up next to you as the first flower blooms and his eyebrows rise. “Tulips. Huh.”

“I used to love them,” you tell him, picking it off and extending it to him. Eyebrows furrowing in surprise, he takes it as you sink your fingers deeper into the soil, sending more cursed energy into the seeds. More stems to replace the one you had picked continue to grow and you pull your hand out, wiping at your fingers with a towel.

Satoru tilts the flower towards his nose, taking a whiff.

“Used to?” he repeats, and you nod.

“Trees and flowers have their own language.” Your eyes do not meet his as you watch the plant continue to grow. Your muscles go slack, and your fingers touch the petals, mind not quite aware of how you’re moving. “Red tulips mean eternal love, and fame.”

Blinking, he looks down at his own bloom. 

Suguru. He hears you say his name, even in the silence, and remembers years ago, walking through Tokyo. A neighbourhood he doesn’t remember, his best friend looking at the florist’s shop and immediately perking up to head inside and buy a bouquet after something had caught his eye.

“For a girl,” he had admitted sheepishly. 

“Only one?” Satoru asked, horrified. “You can’t settle down! We’re meant for so many more women than just one!”

A sharp nudge to the ribs. Raucous laughter. “Shut up!”

Quietly, Satoru’s fingers tighten around the stalk as you tilt your head to the sun, inspecting something he won’t understand. He doesn’t have a green thumb, and although you say you aren’t the smartest, he’s seen you grow the college’s gardens in a way that has amplified the beauty already lingering on the grounds. You had dismissed it as a little side project, but seeing you water your plants dutifully, spread feed and root out weeds, makes him wonder if you know how to put half-efforts into anything.

When you garden, you never take the easy route. You labour for the satisfaction, and pour sweat and tears into the soil.

When you love, you love with all of yourself and more. 

It’s what makes whatever he wants impossible.

Because he is the same, and they will never change.

When Satoru goes home, he places the tulip in a vase and the cursed energy prickles at his fingertips.

.

You get worse and worse with every visit. 

Each day brings him another raw wound, salt on blood. You slowly grow more and more ragged, even though you stay in the hospital, confined to your room. 

There are days Satoru walks into your room to you hunched over the toilet, spitting blood and flowers into the bowl and vomiting all you ate the night or day or hour before and he already knows what he has to do. A cold, damp rag to your forehead, a crouching stance beside you as your grip on the toilet seat becomes rigid like steel.

Other days, you’re still asleep because the night before, you’d been hacking up half a lung and half a bouquet. Sometimes, you’re curled around a plastic receptacle already full of your half-attempts to dislodge the pressure building in your chest. 

Or, you’re crying into your hands, breath coming in rapid bursts as you try to force your head between your knees to stop the world from spinning and Satoru holds you when you beg him to, and stands in the corner of the room when you push him away.

Afterwards, you always grab onto his sleeves, his arms, and sink against him, shivering. For hours after, he’ll curl around you on your hospital bed, no matter how much his body cramps, until you insist you’re fine.

“It’s a little like touching death,” you told him once, voice raw and fatigued. “When it’s a pretty bad day, and I think I’m going to die alone, it happens, so all I have to do is not think about it.”

There’s a flawed logic there, but Satoru was too busy pressing his nose into your hair and feeling the warmth of your body to reply any more than, “I’ll be there. I promise.”

Two weeks pass (fourteen sets of scans, a different pair hanging from the lightscreen every day tell him that) and Satoru watches as the branches spread through your body, past the reaches of your ribs, and the flowers have spread to your lungs so quickly he’s sure the time for you to decide is running out. 

You’re near-passed out against him on the bathroom floor one evening, and although it’s not closet-sized, it doens’t make the arrangement any less awkward. He’s up against the bathtub, legs sprawled all around you as he holds you in his arms. On the edge of the tub, there is a bar of bodysoap and a bottle of lotion he recognizes as the same one Shoko used to buy when they still had time. Your sink counter is filled with your toothbrush and cup, handsoap and a microfibre towel hanging off the edge smeared with lipstick, foundation, and black streaks of who knows what.

Shoko must have spent the night while he was out hunting a curse in Sendai. Good. He doesn’t like the nights when you’re alone and he can’t be there.

His fingers brush over your shoulder blade, and he travels over something rigid cloaked by your skin. Your eyes are closed, and you’re nearly asleep as you curl deeper against him. Looking down at you, he presses curious fingers into your shoulder blade only for you to let out a soft groan.

“Did that hurt?”

“No. It just feels like you pressed down on a big sore muscle,” you mumble slowly. He trails his fingers over, feels the bumps of the roots curling around your bones before following it towards your spine. It disappears the closer it reaches the trail of knobs that go down your back, and he moves back to your shoulder again. “Doesn’t hurt, though.”

“Does anything?”

“Mostly my stomach,” you tell him. “I’m so hungry all the time, but I can’t eat.” He glances at the IV stand, the only other witness to the events in this bathroom. It leads down through your gown and past your clavicle. Monitored every day in case the growths dislodge it, it’s one of the only things keeping you alive. “And my throat. It feels like I’ve scratched it out until it’s bleeding.”

He tilts his head. His lips barely brush your sweaty scalp despite how cold you feel in his arms “No surgery?”

You shake your head, what remains of your strength slowly coming back. “They say the flowers and roots have taken up sixty-five percent of my chest cavity. It’s not only inhibiting my lungs, but my heart and stomach, too, so it’d be kind of hard to get rid of it all. Not impossible, but it’s really risky. That, on top of the already-present consequences—”

“So let’s say we start with the lungs,” he cuts off, trying to not sound too desperate but these past few weeks have worn him down to the bone. Although he thinks he’s managed to hide it from his students, Shoko has offered multiple times to prescribe him sleeping pills just so he can shut his mind down.

He said no every time.

Your legs draw up and he squeezes your shoulder carefully, looking down. “Are you ready to get up?”

You nod. “I think so.” He wipes at your lips with the rag he left on the counter and you roll your eyes as he makes sure no blood is left on your face before throwing it back up and carefully adjusting you against him.

“Do you want my help?”

“My answer does not matter to you,” you shoot back teasingly and he lets you pull away from him before reaching up with one hand to push yourself up. Your arm wobbles, your feet kicking back underneath you and slowly finding theirselves on the floor. Satoru withdraws, ducking underneath and back up so he can stand, hands floating around your body as you draw the IV stand towards yourself and grab on. When he’s sure your knees might give in, he grabs your elbow, but you shake your head. “I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you breathe, raising your head to look at him. Your lips curl in a soft smile, and you clasp his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t even do anything this time,” he says.

“Not everyone stays for the pathetic girl on the floor of the bathroom floor,” you quip. Turning around, you begin to head back to bed and he trails behind you carefully.

“If the girl’s you, then I think exceptions can be made.”

“Hospital bonus.”

“It adds that you’re in the hospital, too,” he agrees. “My morals are just.”

“Isn’t that a relief?” 

It is. It is a relief that you still have the strength to joke with him. 

You climb back into bed. Satoru returns to the bathroom to make sure the bathroom is flushed and it’s clean before returning and perching on the edge of your bed. Pulling out his phone, he shuffles his shoes off and tucks his legs to his chest, leaning against the foot of your bed and scrolling through his messages.

Not much to miss, to be honest. 

“There’s supposed to be a lunar eclipse on the morning of the 28th,” you say suddenly. Satoru looks up. You’re leaning back on the mountain of pillows, exhaling and inhaling measuredly in a way he now knows is your way of fighting off another bout. Squinting against the orange glow of the sunset, there’s a longing in your gaze. “I want to see it. Outside and everything.”

“You’re not supposed to leave the hospital.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Oh, we’re abiding by rules, now?”

“If it keeps you around, yes, we are.”

“When did my best friend turn into such a party pooper?” Looking at him, an impish glint lives in your eyes. He balks.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I’m not fun.”

“Then… take me to see the eclipse.”

“No. There’s nothing to even see.”

“I want to see the moon disappear, Gojo,” you declare. “And if you won’t take me, I will definitely sneak out.” 

It paints a pretty pathetic picture, and he can’t help but arch his eyebrows at your determination. The air purifier drones on. The nurse turned it on after dinner, he guesses, and he has the strange urge to kick it as you fix him with a fierce stare. 

“You probably won’t be able to walk by then,” he says.

“That won’t stop me.” He knows it won’t. The corner of his lips pulls into a slight smile as you continue, “I just want to go outside one last time. Is that really too much to ask?” Your words are tinged with a fine dusting of humour, and he shakes his head.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Big word for you, Satoru.”

“I still mean it.”

“And I learned that from you.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine,” he caves. Your face lights up, and he sets down his phone, legs unfolding to brush the floor as he leans over to flick your forehead. Your eyes squeeze shut at the contact and you slap his arm away sluggishly before he soothes the smarting spot over with a smear of his thumb. “I’ll come by, and we’ll sneak out.”

You beam and he slips his feet back into his shoes and pockets his phone so he can focus his attention on you. 

When visiting hours end, the nurses offer to set up the cot for him like they always do. You pretend not to look at him out of the corner of his eye, awaiting his answer behind your laptop screen, and he spares you a quick glance before saying yes.

“She likes you,” you tell him after one particular nurse with dyed purple hair who always wears a fishtail bids them goodnight. Satoru fluffs up his pillow ceremoniously, having shed his jacket and taken off his jeans to hide underneath the blankets. The fabric is cold against his bare chest, and he pulls his glasses off, sets them on the stand right behind him.

The black frame holding up his mattress rattles a bit as he punches his pillow one last time and lies down. He turns on his side and looks at you. You’re turned on your side, too, and your brow is furrowed as you fight the sleepiness.

“Is that so?” he asks carefully. “What do you think about it?”

“I think if you wanted someone with a hectic schedule, you could pick someone else,” you say vaguely.

He raises an eyebrow. “Does she have a bad attitude or something?”

“I dunno.” There’s a subtle fire igniting in your words. You look a bit more awake, and your eyes are shifting the air into a smouldering red. He squints up. Your face is shadowed, but you’re still silhouetted by the orange light behind your bed as your shoulders rise and fall greatly in staggering, weighty breaths. “She wouldn’t understand. I guess.”

He hums. “So I should find someone who understands me but can’t be there for me? Sounds like the set up to every tragic love story ever.”

You laugh, and it’s the saddest sound in the world.

.

Friday, July 27th arrives in clouds.

Satoru scouted a spot before where they can watch the eclipse. He settles on one of the highest buildings on campus with a balcony where they can sit against the railing and watch the moon disappear. You can’t eat, but he still buys your favourite food from all over Japan, travelling to different prefectures in hopes that they still have your favourite dessert or drink that you mentioned once—he even gets you a new polaroid camera. He doesn’t know exactly how well the eclipse will show up on it, but, memories, right?

Maki makes a dry remark about how much he’s running around lately, probably to make amends to a girl he’s scorned. Satoru deflects and says he’s actually trying to impress one this time.

It’s been a five days since his promise to bring you. You lost your ability to walk steadily two days ago and to speak effortlessly only yesterday. The roots have extended through your body, pushing the muscle of your back and shoulders, and it’s made even moving painful, so he intends to carry you everywhere he can, holding your IV bags if he needs to. 

The doctors say eighty-five percent of your chest is now occupied with foreign growth. Satoru wishes they’d just tell it how it is—you’ll probably be dead by next week.

He arrives at the hospital and walks the path he’s walked so often over the past few weeks that he is sure he could do it with his eyes closed. The nurse’s station, and there’ll be the purple-haired one and the one with a double helix piercing on call at this time. Then, twenty-five steps to the end of the hall where the window often lets a lot of natural light in. Today, it’s grey and not much, but it’s enough to cast his shadow long and blurry.

He stops in front of your door to sanitize his hands when he hears voices within and hesitates.

Your door is closed, which means you don’t want people to interrupt, and he moves away from the rectangular window, back pressing against the tiny slab of wall between the frame and the corner of the hallway. Glasses slipping down his nose, he tries not to listen but he can’t help of himself.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you say weakly. You sound awful. Satoru wonders if he’s missed one of your panic attacks and curses himself. “If I don’t sound sure, it’s because I’m dying… and sounding like a fragile piece of shit… comes with the territory.” Your words are coarse, and a harsh anger grates his ears as you cough violently, a terrible retching sound ending with a splat following right after. 

“I wasn’t doubting you,” Nanami replies calmly. “But this could be done in so many other ways.”

“Look, Nanami. I’m not… brave enough to say any of it. Now, sit down. Your standing… it’s making me nervous… Thank you.” Satoru’s legs feel numb as he sinks down to the floor, tilting his head just enough to listen clearer through the sliver underneath the door. Resting his elbows on his knees, he runs a hand through shaggy white hair. It feels dry and lifeless. 

He can’t remember the last time he took a shower that was longer than ten minutes and more than ice-cold bordering on just beginning to warm.

“Take care of him for me,” you croak and his fingers tighten against his scalp. Nanami doesn’t answer, and you let out a sound that can only be described as pure agony as another bout grasps you tightly. You’re wheezing by the end of it, gasping painfully for air, and the monitors start beeping rapidly, a dinging that echoes in his head as Nanami’s low voice soothes you, tells you gently to calm down. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Breathe with me,” Nanami orders, and everything falls silent. Satoru stares at his lap. His head is beginning to pulse with the monitors when the beeping finally starts to fade. “Good. No sense to waste your strength.” 

Wobbly, spitting: “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” A pause. “It’s not your fault.”

You laugh, as if Nanami’s cracked a funny joke, and it’s gut-wrenching. “Remember how… we can curse each other? Ourselves? True curses.”

Faintly amused, immeasurably strained: “I thought it was still a hypothesis regarding those who don’t have the correct bloodline and the ability to curse through their own will.”

“No…Not a hypothesis. Real, Nanami. Real. No one knows how cursed energy affects us. Not really. Since, in my opinion, it’s entirely based on how we process things… it’s so difficult to say but when you know someone…” You break off to clear your throat. “The curse of adulthood… some of us got that too early… but we can survive that and even if it’s not a curse by… definition, we still feel it, right?” 

Satoru clasps his hands together just so he doesn’t rip the door open at the hinges.

“Right.”

“And… knowledge… can be a curse. Even if we can’t see it.” A ragged breath. Then, another laugh too loud for the grey light outside, too bright, a spark before it fizzles into, again, pained choking. “Nanami, remember last year… the job out in Yama… Yamaguchi?”

“Yes.”

“And we came back… Okkotsu was beginning his first year at the college… what I—what I told you?”

“…Yes.” A beat passes. A chair shifts on the linoleum floor and Nanami clears his throat. “I see.”

“I don’t want him to be so alone. I know I was never the strongest or the smartest or the most talented but I liked to think he let me in because I was there. Not because I understood. Maybe… Maybe because I didn’t. Nanami, please… he always try to stay so far away from the people he thinks he can’t love. Tell him… tell him—“

You break off and Nanami assures you with a steadfastness Satoru has counted on so many times before: “I will.” 

“…thank you.”

Eyes shutting tight, Satoru rests his brow against the heel of his hand. His head is aching, and a hard fist grabs his chest, squeezes his heart until it feels like it’ll burst. So this is how you’re really feeling. When you’re not smiling, this is what you are. Angry at the world, and heartbroken.

So terribly heartbroken.

And you couldn’t trust him with it? Because you thought he couldn’t handle it? 

He can take it. It’ll be okay because he’s the strongest. He has to be. 

I’m the strongest. I should be okay. I’m the strongest.

I’m the Strongest.

The headache gets worse so he gets up from that corner in the dead-end hallway, all the while three words replay in his head like a goddamn gramophone.

Nanami doesn’t come out of the room for a while. When he does, Satoru walks down the hall with takeout and a smile plastered on his face as if he had heard nothing at all.

.

At just past one-thirty AM, Satoru sits up from his cot and rubs at his eyes. After dinner, the both of them had forced themselves to go to sleep in order to have enough energy for their little late night excursion. He glances at you, a slumbering shape on the bed, and gets up, slowly sliding on the lights. They burn a dim orange, glowing on your face, and your eyebrows furrow as he touches your cheek.

“What?” you mumble, vexed, and he smiles.

“Are you ready?” he asks. A backpack is situated at the end of his bedframe and he reaches for it, unzipping it carefully as you crack your eyes open. “We’re going to go see the eclipse, remember?” Pulling out clothes he robbed from your room in the staff facility from when you used to work full time, he grabs your shoulder and shakes you gently. The gnarled roots under your skin feel strange against his fingers as you groan weakly. “Do you want five more minutes, Sleeping Beauty?”

You don’t answer, burying your face into your pillow and he shakes his head to himself. It’s going to be all right, he thinks. I planned for this setback.

Slipping into a dark long-sleeve, he parts the black-out curtains to let light come in. He checks his reflection in the bathroom mirror before running a hand through his hair and washing his hands with a cold stream of water. By the time he leaves the bathroom, you’re sitting up already, heel of your hand rubbing against your brow as you groan. In your other hand in your lap, there’s a splash of blood and a lone petal, and he rushes to your side instantly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even hear—“

“It came out easy,” you assure as he grabs a tissue to pick it off your hand and throw it into the receptacle at the table just beyond the foot of your bed. Wiping at your mouth roughly, he hears your complaints and your hand shoves against his shoulder to tell him to quit it. “Ah, I can do it myself!”

“Shh! Do you want every nurse storming in here while we conduct our super secret getaway?” he whispers, and your eyes fix on his. Dark circles mark your face like bruises, but that light is still the same—glimmering, bright, like twin suns and just as warm. Making sure your hands are clean, he wipes the invisible streaks of blood just to be sure before grabbing your clothes and setting them at the end of the bed.

You glance around the place sluggishly, at the paintings you never got to finish, and the books you haven’t finished reading, before settling on him. “What are we going to do about the… about the machines? And my IV…” 

“Oh, trust me. I may have bribed a nurse or two,” he confesses and you send him a scandalized look. He shrugs. “What? You told me a woman liked me and I couldn’t help but turn on my natural charm.”

“You’re awful,” you say without meaning it and he smiles as he moves your bed into a sitting position. You cough lightly, but sit up straighter as he carefully unhooks the huge bag and pump from your stand and gently slides it into the pocket in the backpack, resisting the urge to squish the pouch a bit. Strapping the pump in, he makes sure it’s secure as you peer around him to catch what he’s doing. “Is this… safe for me, you—you know, medically-speaking?”

“Nope.” He adjusts the tubing to avoid any kinks. “But, Purple gave me this backpack and she will come as soon as we come back to make sure you aren’t dying. And, if anything goes wrong, I promised her I’d come back as soon as possible.”

“Promised her?” you echo “I see. So that’s what Purple… was doing before my afternoon nap. I thought you guys traded suspicious looks.”

“Yeah. I’m pulling big strings. Now, c’mon, silly. Let’s get you dressed.”

You roll your eyes with a whistling breath. “Watch the tube… and c’mere, then, Gojo.”

He grabs the jacket first and does exactly as you order. Wrapping it around you, he helps you thread your arms through before zipping you up carefully as your shoulders begin to shake. Bending over, you reach blindly for the receptacle at the end of the bed and he hands it over to you.

A wad of saliva mixed with blood slips between your lips and you let out a low noise before forcing yourself to cough harshly again and again. Satoru watches. No matter how many times he sees you rip your throat up just to breathe with a bit less pressure in your chest, it doesn’t get any easier.

You manage to get up a whole magenta blossom. It blooms from your mouth like something out of a horror movie and lands in the receptacle before he’s wiping your mouth.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

They continue on.

Coat, next, zipped up, and a scarf, then he’s scooping up your legs to help you twist on the mattress until your feet are dangling off the edge. He weaves your legs through the sweat pants, careful not to let his gaze avert from his task even as the hospital gown trails up your legs. You shiver at the exposed skin and gooseflesh pimples your thighs as you lift up your hips to help with the effort. He pulls the hospital gown free from the waistband and lets it fall over the hem so you’re completely covered before falling back.

In a crouch, he pats your knees and makes the mistake of looking up only to find your eyes already on him, searching, nearly mystified. Satoru’s throat tightens. The faint light streaming from the window catches half of your face, as if half-divine. There’s a curiosity there, lingering, and the way you look at him makes him freeze in his spot.

Is this how Suguru saw you a thousand times before, a thousand lifetimes ago? Is this what he felt? 

Did he see the way your pupils dilate, the flare of your nostrils as you exhaled so quietly that it felt like a feather against his lips despite the distance between them? Did he see galaxies in your irises, home in the softness of your stare? Is that why he kissed you the last time he saw you? To memorialize their love for himself, to remember what it looked like when you loved him?  

Did he feel like he could fight dragons, crush demons, rip their world apart at the seams and rebuild it again with bloodied nails if it meant you would never cry again? Is that part of why he did it? So you would never be lonely again? 

Because if so, Satoru understands. 

Because if so, Satoru would do the same.

Because he always saw you as just pretty, because you had always been just his friend, and then his best friend’s girlfriend, and then his best friend, so there were always lines drawn in salt, scuffed and distorted over the years, but…

But in the light, tired and lost in his gaze, you’re nearly ethereal. The only reason he knows you’re not a goddess is because he’s still touching your knees, and your breath quivers, as if you’re just as disconnected from the world as he is in this moment.

Lips pressing together, he looks away, and the moment’s gone. 

He glances at the clock. 

How long has it been since he moved? It feels like hours.

Twenty-seven seconds.

Twenty-seven seconds of temptation, and then Satoru turned away. 

He slants to grab a pair of thick woolly socks to give himself something to do. You’re still watching him, head tilted down just so, and he carefully takes hold of your ankle.

He focuses on the little things: the iciness of your skin, the way you pick at the fabric of your sweatpants absently as you watch him work, the way you shiver a bit when he touches you.

He rubs heat back into the arch of your foot as you reach into your jacket slowly to carefully remove the nodes monitoring your vitals. You seem stiff to the bone, and your fingers are rigid with anticipated pain as you peel off the stickers. In the back of his mind, he remembers the days that feel like yesterday when you weren’t hooked up to so many machines to assure both you and him that you’re still alive.

Removing the cap for the oximeter from your finger, you shake yourself out a bit, clearing your throat. He slides one sock on, and then the other.

“How’re you feeling?” he finally utters.

It takes you a moment to answer. “Bottom half feels tingly. Usual these days. My body feels like a big giant bruise,” you inform quietly. Your voice is nothing more than a rasp. “Very warm and toasty, though… Thank you.”

“Just gotta get the shoes on and then we’ll teleport there.”

“Okay.” He helps you slip your feet in, something straight out of Cinderella, and then he stands up to take your hands. Your fingers slip into his palms, and he holds you so tightly as you slide off the bed. The instant your feet hit the floor, your grip intensifies and your head snaps down to the floor. You find your footing after a moment, and he lets go to crack open your window. Moving your plants aside, he climbs out to glance around. 

The air is crisp and cold, but not too bad for him. Even so, he’ll probably slip on a hoodie before they leave and he ducks back in to your room to do so, tugging it down his waist before grabbing the backpack.

“Arms through,” he instructs, slipping the backpack onto your shoulders. Guiding you closer, he helps you shuffle as close as possible towards him before turning around and bending over. “Alright, climb on. We’re going.” 

Your arms touch his shoulders, his hands shoot out behind him, and you fall.

Fingers hooking on your thighs, he boosts you up and your arms wrap around him, your own fingers wrapped so tightly around his collar that it nearly chokes him. Haphazardly stepping through the windows, his fingers sink into the fabric of your sweats. Your breath is warm against the shell of his ear, and he can feel your heart pulsing against his back as he turns to look at you. 

He smiles. “How’s it feel?”

“I’m still not sure if you’re going to let me die.” You press your face closer to his head and your arms tighten. “But the wind feels so good. So, so good.”

“That’d be too undignified,” he teases, and then he jumps. Time seems to slow as it always does when he’s about to teleport. He imagines the staff facility on the campus, quiet as a cemetery at this time of night, and his heart lurches forward. For a moment, his senses leave him all at once. He can’t taste or feel or see anything for a fraction of a second, then it comes to him in blinding speed. His hearing, as always, is first, then his eyes, smell and then touch and smell.

His foot lands on stone, as if he’s just finished a small skip, and he grins as he sweeps the courtyard. No one, as planned. The building’s to his immediate right, and he climbs the steps, using your knee to nudge the door open.

“That was fun,” you comment. “Convenient, too. Blink of an eye, and you’re somewhere else.”

“You can’t even begin to imagine how many lines I’ve skipped because of it,” he comments. The lights are all off, and he heads for the kitchen immediately to grab all the food he’s bought. Setting you down on the kitchen counter, he takes out another canvas bag and stuffs all of the food in.

Daifuku with of all kinds of fillings in the fridge, fresh dorayaki, canned coffee and aloe drinks, sweet soymilk and other wagashi they used to feast on when they were younger. Mostly because Satoru would buy enough to feed a kingdom so he always had something on hand for his overactive brain. You watch him with wide eyes as he moves around with such purpose one could think he was preparing to fight an army, but as soon as he finishes, he flashes you a smile.

“I think you’re going to like where we’re going a lot, silly.”

“Didn’t have to buy stuff,” you mutter, fingers playing with the tube leading into your backpack for a moment.

“You haven’t eaten in weeks. I thought maybe we could at least try. Maybe not now, but at the end of the night, before we go back. Just in case.”

“I can’t eat, though.”

“Don’t know until I stuff it down your throat,” he replies cheerily, and you smile at him so brightly it’s almost like you aren’t sick. Then, that smile turns into a cough, a fist in front of your lips, and your expression is frozen into one of exasperation before it flickers into strained. He sets down his bag, already knowing what comes next.

You make a hacking sound, deep in your throat, and he shifts you closer to the sink so you can lean over and throw up. Gagging, it comes in red and clear torrents, the cursed energy spilling out of your body nearly making it incinerating to even touch you as you clutch the edge of the sink basin. 

You fall to your elbows, and Satoru eases you off the counter so he can hold you up instead of the cramping body contortion you sink into. Cupping the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his thumb sweeps soothingly over your root-invested spine, tossing the ends of the scarf over your shoulder and out of the way.

Settling a hand on your hip, he presses you against the countertop so you don’t fall, and hopes your legs can hold you up long enough for him to reach for the hand towel. You spit just as he manages to grab it, snapping back into position and peering over your shoulder to inspect how much you’ve coughed up. You shudder and a tortured moan wrenches out of your throat as you sink, forehead against the cool metal.

You’re scorching to touch, but he tightens his hold on you anyway, setting the towel aside for just a moment. Carefully, he pulls you back up and you let out an drained whine, but he shushes you quietly, turning you around and guiding your head over his shoulder so you don’t stare at the rot any longer.

Satoru knows you would, even if you pretend like you aren’t plagued with morbid, self-destructive curiosity.

Looking into the sink, he counts a few petals and three whole flowers, and you’re quivering against him as he wraps his arm around you. 

“Alright, lean back for me,” he whispers into your ear, and you obey. His arm around you crooks so he supports your head, the other grabbing the towel again. Exhaustion seems to have sluiced through you, and your eyes are nearly unfocused as he dabs at your mouth carefully. His blue eyes focus on the gentle curve of your lips, and your cheeks puff up before you swallow tightly and let out a shaking breath.

“You’re really close,” you mumble in that exhale. He tilts your chin to the light to make sure he hasn’t missed a spot, and your eyelids flutter as the corners of his lips quirk up. His Six Eyes pick up a muted yellow emanating from you, and it’s so warm against his skin that he can’t help but relish in the feeling. “You smell nice.”

“Good. I took a shower before I came today. Well, yesterday,” he amends softly. “Alright, let’s go before you hack up your other lung.”

“Funny.” Nonetheless, he scoops you back up onto his back and he rinses down the sink as you rest your head against his. He feels you breathing steadily, much easier now than before. Red swirls down the drains, and he watches the magenta petals slowly reveal their true colours. There’s a flash of white in the center of each one, and he wonders silently what flower it is and what it means.

Maybe he’ll find out some day.

When the kitchen’s back to the state they entered, he grabs the bag of food and holds onto your legs tightly as your arms around his neck shift and pull him closer. 

This time, when he teleports, it’s not as jarring. Walking around the balcony, he makes sure no one’s in the area before checking that the door to the roof is locked and heading back out into the night air, towards where they can see the moon clearest.

“Hey, open your eyes,” he whispers over his ear, and your head shifts.

“Hm? Oh!” He feels you wriggle, but he doesn’t let you go as he walks closer to the spot he’s set up. Near the railing, a blanket surrounded by pillows is laid out surrounded by a few space heaters. The moon is hanging perfectly in front of them, and the light illuminates the forests in silver as a gentle wind whistles through. Tranquil, the only sound is his footsteps on wood as you manage to pull your legs free with a harsh twist of your torso. Your hand slaps against the railing and he whirls around to hold you up but you grit your teeth. “I can do it.”

Breathing in deeply, you pull yourself past him using mostly your arms. Your feet drag as if they’re not really attached to a living body but you still move steady onward, and he walks ahead to turn on the heaters and set the food down as far away as he can so it doesn’t spoil too quickly.

“Satoru,” you breathe as if for the first time,” it’s so fucking beautiful up here.” Looking up, his heartstrings twinge. Your face is bathed almost entirely in silver, and it drapes down your body like silk, illuminating the cord of your throat he can see above the scarf, the strength of your hands. A smile brighter than even the most blinding sun rays comes across your face and he finds that the moon pales in comparison as your knees begin to give.

Reaching forward, he helps you sink down slowly, and then sit down, legs hanging off the edge and then you’re leaning to rest your elbows on the middle bar of the wooden railing. You can’t stop staring at the moon, and Satoru can’t stop staring at you as he opens the box of daifuku and pops one into his mouth. 

“The eclipse should be starting in a few minutes,” he says, checking his watch. 2:10. Four minutes to go. You finally tear your eyes away from the moon to look at him.

“I forgot…” you muse. “I forgot how bright… the moon was.”  

He settles in beside you and offers a canned coffee, but you shake your head. He cracks it open for himself. 

“We’re about to watch the moon change,” he notes. “But I read that it’ll last six hours.”

“Really?” Excited, you look up at the moon again. The lunar rays outline your already-pronounced eye bags but it also makes you look more beatific. “That’s just proof… our time here on Earth is so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It really makes you—makes you think how much we really matter. Which doesn’t seem like a lot, compared to things like a… fucking lunar eclipse.”

The moon’s opinion doesn’t matter more than mine, he thinks. “Well, while we’re waiting for your next epiphany to hit you,” he says instead, “you never answered my question.”

You smile, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“What if we removed the flowers bit by bit, rather than all at once?” he asks. Your gaze snaps to him, but he only regards you honestly. “That gives you a fighting chance.” Your eyes widen imperceptibly, and he grabs another mochi ball and takes a bite.

“The roots and flowers are too entangled in my chest to be removed safely. It’s either they remove my lungs completely, or not at all, and finding a… match for one lung is hard enough, much less two perfect lungs…” You trail off and shrug. “Well, that’d take forever… and I wouldn’t get much… longer, anyway. I’m a sorcerer. I always knew… I was going to die, so why not die on my own t-terms?”

He frowns. “Why not try?”

“Give me your phone.”

He does so, and watches you type in a query you must’ve typed before with how quick your lethargic fingers fly over the screen before you’re shoving it back towards him and leaning forward on the railing, chin to your forearms. You don’t even look at him, as if you don’t want to watch him crumble.

He reads: The first year after the transplant is the most critical period wrought with surgical complications, chances of rejection, and infection… Although there are some reports of some people living for 20 years post-transplant, many people do not make it past 10 years and only half make it past 5…

His stomach curdles. “Five years is better than nothing.”

“Five years worrying when my lungs are going to… kick it,” you correct. “Besides, my ribs are mangled by the roots. And my heart. My stomach. My spine. I’m undernourished, exhausted, and everything in here”—you gesture slowly around your abdomen—“is doing overtime. My body’s too weak to handle any kind of surgery that wouldn’t heal me… immediately.” 

Your eyes find his, and it’s as if lightning strikes through him like a spear—piercing cold and electrifying. You’re beginning to blue in the lips like you’re freezing to death, but he’s sweating under the blast of the heaters. 

Pulling off his hoodie, he drapes it around your shoulders. You don’t react anymore than: “Sucks, but that’s how it is.”

A few more minutes pass by in silence. Their knees knock into one another, and Satoru can’t stop looking at you as you breathe in the home you left months ago, head lifted to the inky universe.

“You know I can tell when you’re—when you’re angry with me,” you utter, not looking at him. “No matter how much you smile at me, you’re still too passive aggressive to cover it up.”

The words spill out of his mouth as you lower your gaze to him. “I’m sorry.” No sense in lying. 

“That’s okay.” You smile for a moment, like he hasn’t said something worth ruining a night over, but when you look up at the stars, it fades. Wistful, you cock your head at the moon that hasn’t gone away just yet and lower your chin to your arms again. “It’s not really something that was… fair of me to ask anyway.” 

.

Just as the moon turns yellow, he remembers something. Bending back to root through your backpack, he excuses himself. You frown. “What are you—“

“I got a camera for this occasion,” he announces, withdrawing the camera and a plastic bag, leaning back to snap a quick picture of you. You squint at the flash, mouth opened in an incredulous smile and face half-turned away, before the photo rolls out. “Like the one you used to carry around.”

“Some memories to hold on to, huh.” You reach for the camera and your fingers wrap around it, aiming it right at him. A flash and two peace signs later, another image joins the one of you Satoru slides into the plastic zip bag. “Hold on. I want to take another one.”

“We should do one of both of us.”

“Ugh, fine… I don’t look good at all, though.“

“Too late.” He snatches the camera from you and sticks out his hand, dragging an arm around your shoulders and you lean into him, temple against his cheek as he snaps another photo, and then another of him making a stupid face. Another of you mid-laugh. You’re wheezing for air as he keeps grabbing the polaroids as fast as he can with the arm that’s around your shoulder, leading to a bunch of jostling that has you in stitches at his frantic panic whenever the new photo chugs out of the slit.

When he’s had his fill of making you laugh, Satoru leaves you alone to look at the moon. He can’t stop grinning stupidly with every photo and while you watch the moon slowly descent into the earth’s shadow, he shuffles through the photos he just took of them together, trying to brand them to memory.

The way he looks at you in these photos makes him believe in something. In something that could’ve been there if they had more time, and he could convince you to open your heart up to a new possibility.

.

Another hour passes. The moon hangs a strange transition between black and blood red and a paler peach orange. A glimmering yellow dot sparkles below it, and he wonders if that’s Mars.

The forests seem almost hauntingly quiet, and no one has spoken in the darkness. You regard the moon, so enraptured, and more photos have joined the zip bag, but they’re mostly of you. He’s managed to sneak them in by turning off the flash and upping the brightness settings so it’d still be visible, and he hopes you never realize that he’s got them. 

Satoru has never been interested in astronomy, but the stars in your eyes are changing his mind.

He’s dug his hand into the bag of dorayaki already. He remembers it’s supposed to be for you, too, but his hands are too empty without the camera, his brain going a mile a minute and the air absolutely quiet with nothing. 

Twenty minutes ago, you asked him to help you take off your coat so you can pull on his hoodie, and haven’t moved since zipping yourself back up. The air smells only of canned coffee and the stinging wind carrying the scent of cedar. Feet swinging, he drapes his arms over the railing and looks up at the red moon.

It is pretty. Magnificent, and ominous, almost. The night is so much darker without the moon. Sheesh, colder, too. I wonder if you’re feeling okay. Maybe I should check, but you don’t seem to be shaking. Worst comes to worst, I could up the level on the space heaters…

“I don’t think I ever got to hear his last words,” you muse quietly, voice cracking, rousing him from his monologue. His head swings to you. Your eyes are barely open as you rest your cheek against your forearm, and you don’t look at Satoru despite your head turned towards him. Instead, he can watch the pieces of you fall apart without your scrutiny. “I used to think… that I didn’t care.”

“Do you want me to tell you?” he asks slowly as you continue to stare blankly over his ear. Your chest stutters in its inhale and the exhale is just as shaky as you smile a bit to yourself. He takes that as answer, and as he speaks, he sees Suguru’s smile—bright against the darkness of the alleyway, and a reminder of a simpler time. Satoru’s heart quickens from the memory “‘At least curse me a little at the very end.’”

You’re quiet for a moment, as if soaking that in. Then, you draw yourself up and sigh. “That sounds like him.”

You say it fighting off a laugh, even though it wracks your body with such intense pain you can barely breathe. You begin to wheeze not even a second in, and still, your face is cracked into an agonizing smile as you blink, tears slipping down your cheeks. Your eyes squeeze shut and your body goes stiff as you cough, hands flying over your lips. Your shoulders shake so uncontrollably it’s like an earthquake in your body, but Satoru cannot find it in him to calm you down as you hunch over yourself.

It comes in its own course, until you’re nothing but a gasping body, crying into bloodied palms cupping purple flowers, and the low sobs that spill and stutter out of your throat makes Satoru wish he never told you.

“‘At least curse me a little at the very end,’” you repeat to yourself, voice raw and iron-like, and your eyes finally rise to meet his. Nothing but hollow purple pierces through him once more. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds like him.” 

An apology bubbles at his lips, but you continue before he can even begin. Your hands fall to to your laps, and you look at the decaying flowers, thumbs stroking the petals. “I could never make him truly happy… could I? Just like he said… nothing would’ve been good enough for him while we lived in this kind of world. No matter how many times I sat by him while he swallowed… swallowed those curses, held his hand, held him, I would have never been… enough to make him laugh from his heart.” Your tears cast dark shadows. “I held him, Satoru, with all my might… and I still felt him slip away between my fingers.”

That’s how Satoru learns you were there that day, December 24th, not a snowflake in sight. Just a few metres away, you stood for only a moment before you walked away from the man you loved so he could die without any regret, at the cost of your own guilt eating you alive.

No one speaks after that. Satoru cleans your hands slowly, carefully, giving attention to each finger, before swiping your lips, and then he wipes your tears away but you’re not crying anymore.

You just look up at the moon emptily and he scoots closer in hopes to keep your returning trembling at bay.

“Ten years is a very… long time to love someone.” You break the silence. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Fifteen, thirty minutes? He looks at you, and your lips press into a thin smile. He lifts his arm so you can scoot up close next to him. Your eyes never leave his face, regarding him with new clarity. “I just… realized.”

“Ten years is a very long time for anything,” he replies quietly, their faces very close. Their noses brush, and a warmth spreads through his cheeks as he presses the tip of your nose against his. You don’t pull away. Instead, you almost lean closer. Your nose is cold against his hot face, and he rubs it slowly with his own, trying to send heat back into your skin.

“A very long time to… wait.” Your eyes flutter shut, and your breath is warm over his lips as you slowly tilt your head so their foreheads meet. His hand squeezes your waist. You smell like the hospital, but there’s still the fragrance of the fresh-cut grass and herbs clinging to your skin as he moves his head just to the side so his nose presses into your frozen cheek. Your arm moves as if dragging through honey until it’s wrapped around his neck, palm flat against his shoulder, just as their brows press against one another. 

Something ignites inside his chest, incinerating the rot that seems to grow inside his own chest—it’s his dread, he realizes a moment later. An ugly knot of dread for what’s to come, the guilt, the cold grief that’s just out of reach. 

It’ll unfurl soon, he knows, but for now, he welcomes the relief you bring him.

In this moment, you are his, and he is yours, and that is all that matters.

His eyes close. His cheeks are burning hotter than the heaters surrounding them, and he feels a smile pulling at his lips as your fingers curl against the back of his neck.

“When will people… stop waiting?” you ask him, hushed like a secret.

Eyes opening, he answers you in the same soft voice, “Probably when they die.”

Your eyes crack open once more and he catches a sliver between your heavy lids. You’re so close he sees every detail of your irises, the pores of your eye bags, the way memories flicker through your pupils like fish in a river.

Your exhausted smile grows more genuine—something inside you seems to rear its bright little head, but it’s sad, and he realizes, then, what you must’ve been thinking. Words fumble at his mouth, but he doesn’t let anything slip as you lift your face away to rest your head against his shoulder.

.

You’re dozing against him. Satoru is staring up at the moon in your stead. It’s nearly fully that famous shade of dark blood red, but not quite. He can’t hear anything except the buzz of the space heaters and your breathing. His arm is still wrapped tight around you, holding you flush against him. He’s wished he’d done it so many times before that now, he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

You’re dying. Even as you rest against him, he feels it. The weakness in your body, the way you’ve turned ghost-like. The strength of your Cursed Energy has become more prominent now that you don’t have the energy to channel it properly, and it’s centred so strongly in your chest that he can feel it poking curiously at him, leaving little marks, a souvenir for when you’re gone.

His fingers dig into your side. You let out a noise, head shifting, and he rips his gaze away away from the sky as your hand falls away from where it had rested around his neck into his lap.

“Satoru?” you whisper brokenly, and he nods, smiling. He pulls you closer, but their bodies are so pressed against each other that it only serves to make you huff a bit.

“Hey. You’re still with us, don’t worry,”

“Not worried,” you mumble, lifting your head with difficulty. “Just glad you’re here.” You tilt your face to the moon. “It’s still… red, huh…” You shake, your hand at the hem of his shirt twisting tightly. He reaches to squeeze your arm and hopes it’ll be enough now. “Pretty.” Throat dry, he does not answer. His white hair falls into his eyes as you look up at him, and he decays at the vulnerability in your gaze. “Aren’t you glad… that we saw the eclipse?”

Jaw clenching, he nods and tries his best to smile. Your hand lets go of his shirt and you shuffle up close enough that your other arm sneaks around his waist. Touching his chin with trembling fingers, your eyes glitter in the darkness of his shadow.

“I’m going to miss this. The moon, stars, how… fucking short… ’n’ beautiful life is,” you finally whisper, throat tight. “Makes shit worth living for. Maybe… won’t miss it… the most… but, top three.”

“Top three?” he echoes. “Top three sounds pretty good to me.”

“And, y’know what, Satoru?” you continue in the same low, husky tone, as if you’re about to change his world one more time.

He drops to the lowest, quietest voice he can manage and moves his head closer. Their noses nearly bump into each other again, and you smile as he quirks an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’re… going to miss me… more.” 

Your hand on his waist travels up his shoulder and he feels the last of your strength in your muscles as you pull him towards you. Letting you, his arms wrap around your waist as your other arm shoots around his neck, clinging on so hard that he’s sure his spine might break. 

Flattening his palms against your uneven back, he closes his eyes and slides a hand to cradle your head close.

“And promise… me something,” you breathe into his ear. Your lips brush the shell of his ear, and a shiver shoots down his spine.

“Anything.”

“When I kick it,” you whisper, “take my body, and bury me… yourself.”

Throat swelling shut, Satoru’s glad you can’t see the way the blood drains from his face as he nods and holds you tighter. “I will.”

.

“One more photo for the road?” he asks. You lift your head from his chest, and he looks as you reach to sweep his lips with cold, trembling fingers. He smiles, his hand on your thigh squeezing meaningfully even though you can barely feel it now. Your arms are bundled between your chest and his, and he hauls your legs on his thighs more securely up his lap, arm tightening around your torso.

“Satoru,” you murmur, tilting your head to him. His eyes never move from yours as he picks up the camera, and your hand falls from his lips. “I’m glad… that it was you.”

He snaps the shot and the only sound that fills the silence is the camera chugging out the polaroid. Your eyes are dark, murky and unfocused, and he feels your stammering inhale in his very lungs as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I’m happy it was you, too,” he whispers. You search his gaze for only a moment, and then turn your head to the moon once more. 

Lowering the camera to the floor, he sneaks his other arm around you and rests his chin atop of your head, eyes sliding shut.

.

Nanami, Yaga, and Ijichi approach, dress shoes tapping against linoleum floors. Satoru and Shoko say nothing to them as they join in watching through the glass doors.

Satoru doesn’t like the room they’ve moved you to. It’s too full of machines, too open to passersby who could just look in if the curtains aren’t drawn, and even then…

It smells too clinical here. Too full of artificial light. The ICU is a mechanical sort of silence than the quiet peace of the dead-end hallway. There is no warmth, no books, no paintings. Your plants have been removed, and Nanami has taken all of them into his apartment except the red tulips which rest on the dinner table in Satoru’s kitchen.

You stopped being able to breathe on your own only a day after the eclipse. That was two days ago, and the ventilator is doing nothing more than prolonging your agony. Soon, the growths will block your lungs entirely, suffocating you from the inside out. 

The doctors have stopped taking scans.

“It’s only a matter of time, now,” Shoko had said. “Her directive says we let her go as soon as she can’t come back.” Quieter: “Her pulse ox has been dropping. It won’t be long.”

Ijichi’s face is stony. Satoru doesn’t know why he focuses on him out of everyone. Leaning against the nurse’s station, he stares blankly at the Assistant Director’s. Maybe because he thought he’d be a wreck. Out of all of them, Ijichi’s the most emotional, but his lips are set firm from where he stands between Nanami and their principal.

Maybe Satoru’s just looking for permission to fall apart, but that’d be stupid. 

I’m the strongest. I’ll be fine.

“I’m going to go in,” he announces. No one protests. Nanami sits down and crosses one leg over the other, fingers steepled and eyes indecipherable. Shoko sits beside him. There’s the faint scent of smoke clinging to her lab coat. 

Ijichi dips his head, but doesn’t sit and Yaga excuses himself to talk to the nurse about your condition.

Satoru sanitizes his hands, approaches the door, and pulls it open before stepping in and sliding it shut behind him. 

Click. Hiss. 

The sound of the ventilator is the only thing that occupies the room. That and the monitors. It’s very dark, despite it being the middle of the day. Mostly because you can’t open your eyes wide enough to withstand the sun anymore, so Satoru had asked the nurses to bring the same blackout curtains from your room here. The lights are dimmed until it’s only an orange glow right behind your bed. 

Click. Hiss.

Sitting down, he doesn’t take hold of your hand just in case you’re sleeping. The intubation tube rests on a pile of towels on your chest, and it takes a long time before your eyes open and your head tilts just enough to look. Your hand twists on top of the covers until your palm is tilted open.

He slips fingers in, takes hold. The feel of your skin making everything worse. You’re colder than you should be—it’s sweltering in this room, enough that Satoru is already beginning to sweat even through his short-sleeve—and your fingers just barely twitch against the back of his hand, tracing strange shapes.

You blink, tapping his knuckle, and he frowns.

“What’s up?” Withdrawing, he feels your nail scrape against his flesh and he looks down. Curiously, he takes your hand and places it on top of his so your fingers can touch the lines of his palm. “Are you spelling something out?” he asks, amused, glancing up again.

Another blink, slower this time.

He leans forward on his elbow to touch your cheek before resting his cheek against his fist.

“Alright, give it your best shot.” 

Your eyelids flutter, lips trembling in a weak smile. Your index finger begins to trace shapes, kanji, into his palm. Your chest rises and fall slowly, pumped full of air by a machine hooked to your lungs, forcing breath into you as your writing grows sloppy by the passing second but you still persist.

ANGRY?

“Angry?” he repeats, and you blink slowly again, fingers insistent on grabbing his palm. Folding his fingers over yours, he arches his eyebrows. “If I was angry at a terminally ill patient, that’d make me the asshole here.” Your eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows rearranging in what he recognizes as your laugh in silence. More seriously, his hold on you tightens and he lifts his head to brush his fingers over your brow. You tilt your head more to him, gaze murky warm. “How’re you feeling?”

It takes a while, but he feels your hand shuffle back to trace your answer on his hand.

BETTER

“Better. Yeah?”

Another lethargic blink. Yes.

“It’s because of me, right? I knew it. I knew it. We should tell Shoko—I’m the newest medical innovation in town,” he proclaims, and his smile begs to slip off his face but he only forces it back on, shoves it into place. Your eyebrows move again, like you’re struggling to hold back your laugh. Your eyes slip shut and do not open again. 

Your face goes lax a moment later, and your fingers loosen a bit, but he doesn’t let go. He just wants to touch your face and trace the lines into his memory. 

Satoru stretches his thumb along the swell of your bottom lip while carefully avoiding the tube. He runs his knuckles down your cheek. His fingers brush your pulse point along your neck, and he feels the slow, weak beat.

Click. Hiss.

He thinks you’re asleep for a while, until your finger drags over the flesh of his palm and he looks down, hand lifting from your face. 

“Hey, I’m still here,” he whispers, and your face turns towards him slightly, the tube in your mouth shuffling. He reaches forward, cupping your face and holding you still. “Hey. Don’t move. Your lungs are weaker than the rest of you and I’m not about to watch you die.” Something grabs onto the front of his shirt near his stomach and he looks down to see your fingers hooking on the cotton of his tee, twisting it weakly. “Oh, sorry.”

He draws back and slips his palm back into yours. Your index finger taps against the heel of his hand before your nail drags deliberately. One stroke. Then another, and another. Gojo wishes your eyes were open, because then he would be able to determine what the rest of the sentence could spell out before you’re done, but he’s patient. 

HERE

“Here?” You tap on his hand. Yes. “What’s here?”

YOU AND ME

“You and me,” he repeats thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get that. At least… now you can see Suguru again, right?” Your hand goes still and he looks at your face, reaching to touch your cheek again. You’re placid—doll-like, eyes shut, living dead. “I’m a bit jealous of that, but you should rest easy. It’s been a hard few months, hasn’t it?”

Another weak twitch of your finger on his hand.

“No matter what happens, don’t think I’m angry at you, or the choices you’ve made,” he continues. “As long as you let me stay here, I won’t waste a single second of it, okay?” Tap. He squeezes your hand so tightly your eyebrows twitch, even as you slip away from him. “For all your saying that you’re weaker than me, I never thought that. Not really.” Satoru raises your hand to his lips and he closes his eyes. “Being the strongest is pretty lonely. Used to be so fucking cocky about it, huh. Thought no one could touch me or the people I cared about because everyone would be too scared.”

Your fingers curl against his palm and he lowers his head to press your knuckles against his brow.

“I was wrong. I’d give anything to have you both back, but I can’t, and I hate it. You’re supposed to be with me at the top. I don’t want to be alone again.” His eyes are burning from the strain of keeping them open, but he refuses to miss a second of you being alive when the time is trickling like sand in an hourglass. He feels it like a heavy stare on his back, wondering if this next breath will be the last one before your brain finally decides to shut down. Your organs have been shutting down for nearly weeks now. He knows it’s out of pure selfishness that they’re dragging precious moments into agonizing hours. 

He knows you’re exhausted. 

Resting his chin on your fingers, he swallows. “I don’t know how to let you go. I wished I’d come sooner. I was careless. I know that. We could’ve had more time…”

Your fingers squeeze his as tight as you can before letting go. Somehow, he hears your voice in his ear. Something about being grateful for the time they did have.

“You were right, silly.” He chuckles to himself, bitter, anguished, and lowers your hand back to the bed, not letting go yet. “Ten years is a long time to wait. I let you down, but I’ll make sure you go easy. I promise.”

Satoru lays his head down on his forearm and he swears he catches your lips pull into the faintest smile. He stays there for hours, watching your face, stretching up to touch your unmoving face. The only sound is his steady breaths, the beep of your monitors and the click-hiss of your ventilator. 

It’s 1:04 PM when he falls asleep to the sleepy circles you trace into his wrist

It’s 6:22 PM when only one of them wakes up.

.

At 11:00 AM the next morning, during one of the hourly tests, they declare you brain-dead. With the announcement of your directive being honoured by your chosen proxy, Satoru himself, classes are cancelled and they are scheduled to take you off life support at six.

Ijichi brings them lunch and dinner. Satoru doesn’t eat. Only sits by your side, leaned back into the chair and looking at you while he still can until the clock ticks and ticks and ticks towards doomsday. The kids come to say final goodbyes while he watches on. Inumaki, as always, brings Panda through his phone, and Satoru wishes there could’ve been some way to sneak Panda into a high-class hospital just so their last moments together aren’t cheapened by a screen.

Shoko enters five minutes before it’s time, hand finding his shoulder and he looks up just long enough to catch her blank stare resting on your face.

She doesn’t say anything, only moves to the other side of the bed and sits down in the other chair.

The doctor pumps you full of sedation drugs, so you won’t feel any of the pain, unhooks the machines, and extubates you, explaining all the while what he’s doing just to fill the silence. As he pulls the tube from your throat, something in Satoru turns icy when a purple petal is plastered to the side of the plastic, but the doctor does not acknowledge it any more than murmuring that he will give them privacy.

Your rattling breaths echo in his ears as he watches the numbers slowly drop, but even your inhales fade to nothing more than soft, slight wheezes. The tape has left a strange mark around your mouth, and you’re unmoving otherwise. Shoko gently reaches and touches the eye bags that are, for once, worse than hers before shaking her head and pulling back. Everyone else waits outside.

Hours pass by in torturous years. 

Satoru wears the same stony expression the whole while, finally surrendering into his desire to hold your hand. 

His heart hardens. He goes completely still. Shoko talks but he can’t really hear anything except the slow beeps of your monitor once you pass certain thresholds. 

There are nurses waiting outside. They’ve grown used to the company, he thinks. He thinks one or two are crying. Soon enough, they’ll come in to turn off the machines tracking your vitals so the sounds don’t drive them crazy, banging in home that you’re dead, dead, dead.

After a while, Satoru realizes you aren’t quite breathing, although your chest moves. Sometimes, there’s a gasping sound, like someone surprised the breath out of you and you’re inhaling sharply to replace it, and he imagines your fingers twitching against his hand one last time.

It’s very slow. Much slower than he imagined it to be. Maybe you’re still fighting. Maybe you don’t want to go.

Satoru can’t imagine why. Where you’re going, there’s no pain, or exhaustion, or blood. Where you’re going, Suguru waits.

He leans against his hand, elbow on the slight incline of your bed. Letting go of your hand, he touches your face, feels the soft puff of your breath, the curve of your jaw. You’ve lost so much weight from the sickness you barely look like yourself, but you’re still you. The cursed energy is still yours. His Six Eyes sees it. His soul feels it.

It tangles with his own where he touches you, and a wave of exhaustion washes over him. 

He wants to sleep, let time pass, and wake up to you dead.

It seems a much better alternative to watching you slip away, but he’s always been selfish when it came to personal affairs.

.

You die two hours later.

Shoko closes her eyes and leans back into her chair as the nurse comes in to turn off the droning monitor. Her face is dry and she takes long, measured breaths as if trying to temper something swirling inside her. Satoru’s hard heart cracks as he squeezes your hand to see if you’ll wake up. It doesn’t quite sink in, even though he can hear someone crying outside, and when your limp hand doesn’t react at all, he shakes his head and gets up, pulling his sunglasses off the collar of his shirt and sliding them back onto his face.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and rakes his face over your body, your face.

He’s seen a dozen dead bodies before, maybe more. You look just like he did on December 24th. At peace, younger. Like you’re glad the suffering is over, and Satoru turns his face away sharply and leaves the room. He doesn’t know what to say and he’s not sure if his voice is still here. 

Everything feels dry and dull and grey.

“Sensei,” Itadori whispers wetly, reaching out a hand, making him stop. The students are all sitting in a small area, but they stand upon seeing him leave the room, and he gives them a plastic smile that makes all of them flinch. Maki is scowling furiously at the ground as Inumaki takes hold of her bicep but she flings the hand off and stalks away, hiding her red face.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells them as Kugisaki runs after Maki. He watches the two go before turning his attention back on the students. “The important thing is that she didn’t suffer. Arrangements will be made, but there won’t be any rush, alright?” The words feel lacking, but he still manages to smile. “It’s been a long day. Go home. Rest, shower, eat. Let’s remember that she doesn’t want us to be here, slumping around looking like idiots. She wants you to all to take care of yourselves.” He arches his eyebrows insistently at his students, but they don’t seem to hear him.

They’re only looking through the glass doors at your coolling corpse, at Shoko who stands, and speaks to the doctor when he comes back in.

Fushiguro is the only one really looking at him, and the teenager has a silent question in his stare. 

Satoru shakes his head, and Megumi nods.

“Classes are cancelled for the rest of the week,” Yaga adds. “Ijichi will drive you all back to the college in thirty minutes. Make sure you tell the girls.” He directs this to Inumaki, who nods.

“Salmon.”

Later, Megumi finds him smoking a cigarette leaning against Shoko’s car. Satoru’s never liked the taste of the stuff so he doesn’t really know why he’s smoking other than the fact he doesn’t know what to do. 

Up is down, left is right, and you’re dead. 

Nothing seems right, but Megumi gives him a good excuse to stop. Flinging the cig to the ground, he stomps out the ember and re-arranges his expression into that shielded smile of his, but it feels a bit weaker. Sharp, janky, wrong.

“Why haven’t you gone home yet? Ijichi should’ve taken you all back by now,” Satoru says wearily as Fushiguro stops before him, hands shoved in his pockets.

“I stayed behind to look for you,” informs Megumi. He looks a bit fractured, but the boy’s never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Satoru makes a mental note to dig into his psyche at a later date, and stretches an arm out to wrangle the boy into a hug against his side.

For all of his complaints and mumbles and scowls, Megumi’s body still relaxes a bit against his, and even though he doesn’t hug him back, when he tells him, “You should go home and get some sleep, too. These past few months haven’t been easy on you, either,” Satoru feels a part of his old self raise its bloody head. 

Glancing down at a head of spiky hair, he knocks his knuckles into his student’s skull. “Have you been keeping an eye on me?”

Megumi crosses his arms, glares over Satoru’s elbow, but even his voice is quieter. “You need to take care of yourself.”

Satoru smiles again. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “But you’re not worried about me, are you, Fushiguro?”

Megumi ducks his head and doesn’t answer any more than, “Someone has to pick up the slack, now.”

.

“Thanks, Ijichi,” Satoru says with a huff, digging the shovel into the ground and stepping on the metal edge. “Not every day you help me carry a dead body and dig a grave, huh.”

“No, sir,” Ijichi replies. He sounds a bit hoarse and tired as he wipes at his brow.

It’s been two days since you’ve died. The college grounds feels a lot less lively. He took a walk in the gardens yesterday, and saw Yaga planting new flowers. He had strode past and ignored the tears on his sensei’s face, and absently wonders now why he hasn’t cried yet as he grabs the shovel and yanks it out of the dirt, tossing it to Ijichi.

It feels kind of stupid, but despite how eviscerated everything inside him feels, he just can’t.

Either way, he’ll deal with it when it becomes a problem.

Satoru wipes at his brow, too, with a heavy sigh, and heads to where a cloth-covered shape is resting on the ground. Your corpse is light in his arms as he bridal carries you to the hole he’s just dug into the grass. It looks suspicious as hell, but it’d probably be even worse if he’d been walking around with a dead body over his shoulder, stitched back together after an autopsy by your best friend. 

Good thing they’re only in the forests outside the college campus. There won’t be any civilians for miles.

“You can go,” he says over his shoulder, setting you down by the hole they’ve dug. He takes in a deep breath to calm himself and Ijichi’s footsteps hesitate before beginning and fading away moments later. Falling to his knees, Satoru begins to carefully unfold the cloth just enough that he can see your face and chest. 

He squints behind his blindfold at the ripples of energy still seeping from the stitches along your chest. Sinking his hands into the lush, cold grass, he twists the blades with rigid fingers at the stench of rot coming from the curse before he draws back.

Hands on his lap, he stares at your face. You look frozen in time, eyes closed, skin clean, and there’s that unnatural stillness about you that only comes with the dead. It’s strange. He probably couldn’t have imagined someone so vivacious could be so motionless if he hadn’t seen it first with Suguru.

He had asked not to hear the results of your autopsy. Not now, maybe not ever. It’d be fresh lemon juice in a weeping wound. All he knows is that the curse clings to your corpse, and Shoko could only remove the growths that were no longer being fed for examination.

“Weird that this is where we’ve found ourselves,” he begins humourlessly. “With how we were living, Suguru always said I’d die first. Doing something stupid, being too cocky.” He slides a hand into his pocket and withdraws something he’d snipped this morning from the last plant you had grown with your Technique. A red tulip with a short stem that’s a bit crushed, and beginning to decay, but… everything can’t be perfect.

“I never thought I’d outlive you.”

Reaching forward, he places the tulip gently on your chest, takes your cold arms that are just beginning to loosen up again from rigor mortis, and folds your hands over the stem.

“Eternal love, and fame,” he repeats to himself. The energy nearly swallows up the tulip, but as it radiates from your chest, flickers in the slight breeze, Satoru sees flashes of red and green, much brighter than everything else around him, and knows that it won’t be consumed. Sitting down, he hugs his legs to his chest and stares at your dead body blankly, chin on his knees.

He had had a plan. He was going to just… put the flower there, exorcise the curse inside you, and bury you so you could finally rest. He wouldn’t hesitate because this is something you entrusted him to do.

But this is the first time in months he hasn’t had a cloud hanging over his head, and his body feels so much ligher without the burden of your disease hanging off his shoulders, that he can’t help but relish in it. Speak to you without worrying about saying the wrong thing, of people overhearing. He’s finally… free. 

It feels fucking awful.

“You were right, by the way.” His voice is dull, resonating deep in his chest. There is no August sun breaking through the trees above, only from behind him, and the golden beams touch your chin, down your throat and chest. It sets the red of the tulip on fire. “I miss you. And I wish I could’ve said so many things, but we ran out of time.” A faint smile. “No matter what you think, Suguru loved you. It’s why he came to see you one last time. I knew him better than I knew myself, and I know he was happiest knowing you were at his side.” Closing his eyes, the ache in his heart swells as he utters out, “So was I.”

Burying his his face in his forearms, a cup inside him seems to tip over and everything feels too hot for him to breathe in. Ripping his blindfold off and tossing it away from him blindly, his eyes snap open wide as he tries to breathe. His ribs constrict his lungs, and he presses his eyes into his arms, hands shaking as he sinks his nails into his biceps. 

Harsh pants puff against his face as he tries to reign in his shuddering, but he can’t. The knot in his heart twists until he thinks he might die, and distantly, he hears soft footsteps so faint he’s not sure if he imagines it. Gritting his teeth, he stifles the bruising feeling welling up in his throat.

Gentle hands brush down his shoulders soothingly, sending a wave of nausea through his body, and he jerks away.

“Damn it, Ijichi, leave me alone!” Wrenching his head up, his eyes widen at the figure crouched in front of him.

Arms falling lax to the grass and his knees widening, his jaw drops as a thumb teases his parted lips. You step between his legs and crouch down, limber and strong. You look healthy again, bright eyes and full cheeks, young like spring, and when you smile, it fills him utterly with light. In your hands is his blindfold, and you ruffle his hair, tilting your head curiously.

“I’m not Ijichi, but… do you really want me to go so soon?” you ask as he rakes his gaze up and down your body. There is still a purple shell encasing your legs, but as you shift your weight on your feet, it falls like fragile eggshells to the ground and sinks into the dirt, disappearing for good. Peering around you, his eyes widen when he sees shards of a purple shell in shatters all over your corpse.

He’d only seen this once before, eight months ago, with a certain student of his and the cursed spirit of the girl he loved and who loved him.

Face burning, his gaze snaps back to you as you poke his cheek and continue to grin. Leaning back on his hands, he tries to stop the intense shattering of his walls by clenching his jaw, but the shudders overtake his body, his chest, his throat until he’s letting out an ugly sound and blinking hard as if that’ll hide it away from you. Something devastatingly warm immediately shoots down his cheeks. Covering his mouth with the crook of his elbow, he turns his face away but your warm hands cradle him carefully, thumbs brushing underneath his eyes.

“Yuuta, you’re right. Rika isn’t cursing you.”

“No,” he whispers, arm falling. His fingers sink into his shoulder as if that would be enough to wake him from this nightmare. “No. I can’t—Did I—Did I kill you?” You squint studiously, not letting go of his face as he lifts the hand from his shoulder and reaches to touch you. It shakes, and he snaps it into a fist to stop it, looking at his fingers that have done so much harm—shed so much blood. “Did I do this to you?”

“You cursed Rika.”

You chuckle fondly, like he’s said something silly, and set a hand on his fist, pushing it down firmly. “You can’t control how other people react to your words, Satoru.” Your voice changes, and your eyebrows draw together in something bittersweet. “And you can’t change something you didn’t know. The chances of you cursing me and me cursing myself are irrelevant. It doesn’t change anything about where we are, now.”

Satoru watches you, lips parted, as you tie the blindfold around his neck. You feel so real, so close, and as you slide your hands down his shoulders, to his chest, he jerks his head down to stare at your shoes in the grass. 

So he did. 

“I see,” he murmurs.

That’s it, then.

“Satoru, please look at me,” you whisper, fingers stretching to his chin. With the gentlest of pressures, you prompt him up and he finds your face, your smile, where all colours begin and end. For a moment, the world seems to inhale all of its life back into its core—the leaves whistle, the sun is warm and golden, and he lifts his hand to touch you again, but you pull back before he can. 

“I can only thank you for being my friend. For staying with me until the very end.” You laugh quietly to yourself and lift your hand from his face. “I would make a joke about a curse, but I know it still hurts, so I’ll save it for when I see you on the other side, okay? When it heals a bit more.”

“It’s never going to hurt less,” he croaks. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know how much you mean to me.”

Your smile softens. Satoru tries to eternalize that expression forever. “I’m honoured, but, I hope it does heal. I don’t want you to learn how to carry so much pain around. I don’t want you to be numb.” You touch his cheek again, as if you’re trying to soak in as much of him as you can, too. 

“Do you have any last words?” he manages to ask raspily, and you chuckle, tilting your head and running your hand through his hair again. His eyes flutter shut at the scratch, the sensation of your nails against his scalp, and then there’s your hand at his jaw, holding him all together. He wants to hold you so badly he thinks his muscles might cramp into stone at the desire.

“What does it matter?” you ask curiously. “You already know how I feel. That will never change. And if you ever want to know what I think, or what I’d do, you can just ask Shoko and think about it yourself. You know me well enough to not need me nagging about it.”

“But, it won’t be enough.”

“It never will be,” you agree. “But isn’t it wonderful that we even got to know each other at all?” You lean forward, and his eyes flutter shut as you hold him to your chest. He can’t hear your heartbeat anymore, but your warmth is almost the same. The echo of your voice rumbles in his head as you speak, and maybe that is enough. “If you want my last words, you already have them.”

You draw him back, and give him one last smile. The air shifts golden yellow to his Six Eyes, for the last time. 

“Until we meet again, my Satoru.” 

You fade without giving him a chance to answer, taking all the colour with you. 

Staring at the empty air where you had been just a moment before with wide, burning blues, he whispers your name brokenly before burying his hands in the dirt, squeezing his eyes shut, and letting boiling tears scald his face red.

.

“If you want my last words, you already have them.”

Spinning the key ring on his finger, Satoru looks dully at the door knob he had just unlocked. There’s no one in the hall, and he debates whether or not he should turn around, but Shoko had insisted. There’d been something left for him in your old apartment, and according to her, it would be spoiled soon if he didn’t go.

“Oh, what the hell,” he mutters, catching the key in his palm and shoving it into his long coat. Tugging it tighter around himself, he twists the knob and pushes it open. He can’t remember the last time he was in here. Maybe five or six months ago, when they both had a day off that didn’t need to be spent at the college.

There aren’t any plants anymore. He supposes Nanami, Ijichi, maybe even Yaga have taken them. He swears he’s seen a few in the gardens lately, but who is he to say? Toeing off his shoes, he makes his way down the hall. 

 Everything is just as you left it, with clean counters and empty tables. The curtains are spread, letting in so much September sunlight. It hits random display pedestals of different sizes, all the surfaces big enough to fit a pot on. Your watering can sits by the sink. There are photos hanging on the walls, propped up on the desk, on your shelves, polaroids taped to the walls. 

Reminders that someone did live here. That there is a whole life unknown to strangers but evidence enough that whoever used to be here, they had people who would miss them.

Walking up to the counter, he drags his fingers along the surface, feeling the dust collect up to a square of pale light. A clean circle is all that’s left as a clue that there used to be something there, and his heart twists.

Who knew he could miss fucking plants of all things?

Sweeping his gaze around, he brushes off the dust on his jacket and hooks a thumb on his blindfold, sweeping the area with an eccentric eye. The TV is off, your bookshelves are in their usual untidy state, but even the reaching vines of the bean plant is gone from the highest shelf.

 “They really scooped this place dry,” he muses dryly to no one. He can still hear the music you’d play for late nights, the smell of dumpling soup. He walks down the hall and still remembers how many steps it takes to reach the bathroom that guests would use. 

He had hunched over that bath on December 25th, and let water soak through his hair as strong fingers worked the sweat from his scalp and skin.

Four more steps to the guest best room on the right, and another three to the end of the hall where a door leads to your room. It’s already open, and he steps in easily, tugging his blindfold all the way down off his face. Hair falling over his eyes, he sweeps it aside and surveys the room. The walls are still that pretty shade of cream, and your bed is made carefully, dark olive blankets resting atop your white sheets. He smiles to himself, despite the twang in his chest.

Walking deeper, he approaches the cabinet by your bathroom, and picks up the photo you have by your jewelry stand.

A smile curls his mouth. He remembers this one. First year, their first September. All four of them had gone together to Sapporo for the autumn festival. 

He sets the photo back down and looks into the bathroom. Your toiletries are all lined up, waiting for their next use, and he swallows as he raises his gaze up to the mirror. His blue eyes look a big too big on his face from the past month alone, and there are red-purple half moons printed onto his face that have only just started to fade. He swears it only looks worse because of how much pale light is streaming in from the windows, and he tugs at his collar uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

Turning around, he looks at the offenders for making him look so awful, and finds a medium-sized pot sitting on the window seat. It’s the only thing sitting on the flat, wooden surface, in partial shade and almost unfurling before his very eyes.

Satoru frowns, walking around your bed to inspect the plant. 

The flowers are a warm magenta colour, and his eyes widen at the flash of white he can see leading to the center of each bloom. Brushing a thumb over the petals, his jaw sets as he tilts his head to get a better look at the plant. So this is what was growing inside of you. Huh.

There’s another slip of white near the dirt, and his eyebrows furrow, fingers seeking the thing. It crinkles when he touches it, and his frown deepens as he manages to grasp it, pulling it free underneath the leaves and stems of the plants. Sitting down beside the pot, he dusts off the dirt clinging to the paper, and reads his name along the front in your print before flipping the envelope around. There’s something sticking out of it, a sloping shape that’s hard but not too big.

Curiosity peaked, he tears the envelope open carefully and peers inside. A binder clip is inside, holding something together, and he flips it upside down, letting everything fall. The letter slides out first, followed by whatever the binder clip is holding together and he squeezes his thighs together so it doesn’t fall to the floor.

Setting the letter aside, he picks the bundle up. 

Polaroids.

They’re polaroids of different sizes that have him smiling despite the heavy sorrow twisting his entire chest.

Various pictures of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you together, and he finds most of them are of him and you. Pictures of him hiding behind plants of various sizes, a picture of him drinking soju, because Suguru liked it the most and insisted he try, while leaning against Shoko who was knocking back a shot of tequila. There is a shot of Suguru, wet with mud and smiling like sunshine, while a drenched Satoru was in the background, flipping the camera off in the middle of a storm. 

More and more pictures, enough to spill out of his lap, and he picks up each one, desperate to remember when or where you took them.

And, sometimes, he can’t. Sometimes, they are just moments that he’s lost because he never thought they’d be important, and now moments he’d give anything to remember.

There are pictures of a fern he had named their first year, little annotations on the bottom of some others. Dates, but with no context otherwise. Names scribbled in black ink. 

You’re in a lot of them, your smile timeless, your joy infectious even through film.

Arms slung around Suguru, face smushed against his, artfully blurry perhaps on accident, and annotated with scrawl that read: I call this masterpiece “Dumb Sweethearts” by Gojo Satoru :)

A picture of him and Shoko and Suguru, of them in one of Tokyo’s night markets, you behind the camera, the lights flashing and warm and pink, making them all look like they’ve transported to some other kind of cyberpunk world. 

You and Shoko lounging in the gardens, having a tiny picnic at your insistence, and in Suguru’s handwriting in black: JUST GIRLS BEING PALS

Satoru stares at Suguru’s writing the longest, not even at his words, just the strokes of his pen. This is a new part of him Satoru thought had been destroyed, and he starves for it. It’s like his one and only lives and breathes in the ink, in those snapshots of him caught in eternal youth. When they’d been happy and unaware and not innocent, but cocky enough to think they could rule the world. 

It’s hungry, the way he goes through each photo, searching for another glimpse of you, of him, of them together, until Satoru is all out of moments to feed on, and still, he feels empty, flicking through the last few photos.

You in a pool, arms wrapped around Shoko and beaming like the sun.

A shot of Satoru and Suguru climbing trees shot from below, your eyes and skeptically raised eyebrows in frame, captioned big dumb monkeys

And the last one…

He holds it to the sunlight and his gaze softens.

A selfie of you kissing Suguru on the cheek. It’s mostly dark, but they were definitely in the bathroom, and the flash made Suguru’s outstretched arm look pale as a ghost, but even so, there’s no mistaking the happiness captured there. He was sticking out his tongue, winking, and red as a beet so he was either drunk or you had said something or both. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, nose squished against his cheek, eyes squeezed tight as he took the shot.

Turning it over, Satoru’s heart plummets into his chest. In Suguru’s clean, blocky writing:

THE GIRL IM GOING TO MARRY ONE DAY <3

And crossed out is your reply followed by a little note:

dummy doesnt have the nerve to propose SHHH!!!! ONE DAY C:

One day.

It sounds so much emptier now.

He lowers the photo back to his lap, and glances around him, at all these scattered moments captured forever. Gathering them up again, he relives them all over again, looking at each photo for longer to see if he’s missed anything, but mostly his stare lingers on your face, and on Suguru’s, and his own, too, because he can’t remember what it felt like back then, but he is sure it feels so much better than now.

The polaroids come together a neat stack and he is careful not to scratch any of them when he clips them together. The top photo is of you with your arms wrangled around Suguru and Satoru, your face split in a maniacal laugh, their mouths open in shock, eyes bulging in how you must’ve scared them witless. 

Shoko’s messy writing at the bottom, for it must’ve been her who had taken the photo: BREAKING NEWS: Japan’s Strongest Conquered by a Woman.

A smile cracks his weary face and he runs a thumb over their faces before sliding the photos back into the envelope for safe-keeping. 

Then, he grabs the letter. His name is written again on the first flap, and he reads it three times over before unfolding the paper, not quite ready but also not sure if he ever will be.

Immediately, a faint, herbal-like scent slashed with antiseptic flows from the page and his stomach curdles as your script pours down the page. 

Swallowing, Satoru shifts and leans against the wall, hiking a foot up onto the seat and holding your inked characters to the light. There’s a date inscribed at the top.

Thursday. 

The first Thursday after you had been released from the hospital. Your last Thursday before you were back in for good.

“Shit.”

He folds the letter again and tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

Does he want to read this? Does he really want to fucking read this? 

Taking a deep breath, he clears his throat and lowers his gaze to stare determinedly ahead of him. The purple flowers greet him warmly and he shakes the shiver out of his body before tightening his grip on your letter and unfolding it again, forcing his eyes on the page.

My Satoru,

I sent all the pictures I had of Shoko to her, and she has some of Suguru, too. Now that I’m gone, there’s no use if I keep them. Maybe you two could share some time, laugh it up over these old memories. I know she says she can’t stand you, but to be honest, who else is there that will remember us now? Who else is there to remember Suguru for more than his bloody hands and me as more than that girl too sick to do anything but die? 

Some legacy we said we’d leave, huh.

I don’t think I told you this, but with this disease catching up to me, it’s hard not to form hypotheses on why it’s happening or how. I have quite a few theories, and, unfortunately, none of them are pleasant or unriddled with angst. By now, you’ve probably figured out it’s a curse, and if you’re smart enough to ignore how much I’ll probably deny it, that it’s some love bullshit. If you didn’t know, now you do.

I know it’s weird. Suguru is dead. It shouldn’t be happening, right?

That’s what I thought, too

You once said love manifests the most twisted curses. I never thought of it that way before, but I’m starting to think you’re right. I don’t want to curse you by dying, but I can’t help but wonder if we can control who we curse. If I hadn’t heard you say that, would I still be here? Healthy? Okay? 

I don’t know. I can’t predict alternate timelines, because I got to live one life, and that’s more than most people get. But, because I know you, you want me to entertain you. I’m sighing as I write this.

Look, I know the pain would still be there. I know I still wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for what I did, even if it was what had to be done. I know I would still miss him. I know that I would still long for the day I didn’t feel guilty for loving someone else.

If you didn’t curse me, I cursed myself. It drives me crazy that this is how the die was cast, even now, even after months where I could’ve accepted this, but at least this physical manifestation almost makes me… calm. Like seeing what this life has done to me makes me brave enough to fight it. If anything at all, the curse brought me a greater understanding of how powerful our world is in comparison to people who… are normal. The people we have to protect.

I’m sorry. Reading this back, it sounds like I’m the one cursing you now; telling you all this knowledge that can only bring you more anguish. I promise, this isn’t what it is. I just want you to understand. You couldn’t have saved me, Satoru. I couldn’t have given you the absolution you wanted, and if that’s how it is, then I just hope that one day you can look back on this and it won’t hurt anymore.

It’s always been so complicated between us, after what happened to Suguru, and after what he did, even ten years ago. What we couldn’t stop and what we had to do that day. There was always a line that I thought I couldn’t cross, or a line you didn’t want to cross, and it was shaped a lot like him. I don’t know if it was just in my head, but there was something holding us back, and I was fine dancing around it because I saw how you felt about him and I understood. Your eyes always changed when you looked at him. When you spoke of him. Even after.

Always after.

Don’t think I’m angry. I’m not blind. I know how much you two meant to each other, and I could never be angry that Suguru is so cherished. Missed. It makes everything so much harder, so much more painful.

Look, in the end, I loved him, and you did, too. And if we both still do, that’s okay. He deserved love. 

I guess it just feels like a stab in the back that it wasn’t enough. 

But life isn’t a fairytale. None of it really matters. To be honest, I wouldn’t trade any of it for a second, and I hope you wouldn’t either. 

Maybe life isn’t supposed to be lived happily, but lived contently. And I did. I am satisfied with what I’ve done, even if I wanted to do so much more. 

I’m so grateful to have known you, to have had you by my side. I hope you can say the same. 

Don’t regret my death. Remember how much fun we had when we were stupid kids, and smile. Because I don’t want you to think your best years are behind you. I want you to be happy, even if I can’t be there to see it. I want you to be excited for your future, even if I can’t be in it.

I’ll always be watching over you, so smile for me every once in a while. Even if it seems like you’ll never feel anything again. One day, I promise you will, and it won’t feel so bad.

Yours forever and ever and ever,

(Name)

.

Throat crushed, he reads one line over and over the most. He’s memorized your letter heart, but he still carries it around with him, anyway.

“I know that I would still long for the day I didn’t feel guilty for loving someone else.”

Sometimes, he just wants to imagine your hand whispering over the page, the pen tapping against your chin, your face as you wrote, the sigh that you said you heaved. Because he’ll never hear you laugh again, see your smile. Your voice will never tease his ear, your fingers will never touch his face. There is no more laugh-wrinkles set in a face always perfectly hit by sunlight, and this is all he has left. His memory, and what you’ve left behind.

It makes him laugh how almost lovestruck stupid he’s being, but… he doubts anyone blames him. As long as he’s still doing his job, as long as he’s still the Strongest, what does it matter if he carries a dead woman’s letter in his pocket everywhere?

“Warm weather, even in the evenings. That’s a bit unusual,” Nanami observes, startling Satoru and he looks up at the blond who stops by him in the gardens. The man is wearing his grey suit, as always, and his watch glimmers in the fading gold light. “How are you?”

Satoru’s fingers tighten around the letter in his hands. As usual, the urge to crumple it up, throw it into the garbage to never see it again, has reared its head after his latest re-read, but he’ll stave it off. He always manages to.

“Fine,” he replies, glancing at the startling blood red and burnt orange leaves casually. Colours seem a bit brighter, and Satoru still squints a bit against them, despite the soft light of the sunset. He doesn’t know when his Six Eyes got so sensitive to that kind of stuff, but it almost feels good to be distracted by something so trivial as sensitive eyesight. “It is a bit warm for October.” 

Nanami hums. “How are your plants doing?”

“Mine are doing good,” he says, smiling. “The tulips have gone dormant, so nothing to worry about there. The one with purple flowers, though. It’s a tough one. It took me a while to figure out what it liked, but it didn’t go dormant or anything as long as I gave it enough water and paid attention to it.”

“That’s good.” Nanami adjusts his green lenses and sighs like he’s bracing himself for something difficult. “Gojo,” he begins, but Satoru merely folds your letter up and slides it into his breast pocket, holding up a hand.

“Whatever you’re going to say, Nanami, I don’t need to hear it.”

“Are you sure?” he asks skeptically, gaze following as Satoru stands, patting his jacket. Adjusting the lapel, he turns to his friend and when he grins, it feels like it reaches his eyes behind his sunglasses for the first time in two months.

“I’ve done this before, Nanami. I’ll be fine.” He waves it away. Nanami frowns. “I’m gonna get some dinner, though. Care to join? There’s a real good ramen place in Ikebukuro that you have to try.” The blond man observes him for a moment, before shaking his head, saying he had dinner already. “Suit yourself. Next time, I’m treating you, though.” 

Lips puckered in a whistle, Satoru turns around and begins to walk away. 

A breeze sweeps through the gardens, rustling the leaves in a discordant harmony, and sneaking into his jacket, sending a slight shiver up his spine as Nanami’s voice follows after him.

“The flower she left you is the sakurasou.” Satoru stops, hands in his pockets, but he doesn’t turn around as Nanami continues, “I wasn’t certain if if you knew.”

“Nope, I didn’t. Thanks for the info.” Lifting a hand, he barely looks over his shoulder before saluting with two fingers and smiling cheekily. It’s not as forced as it used to be. In fact, it comes quite easy as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. He knows what he has to find out now. “See ya later, Nanami.”

“Good evening,” he replies, and in a blink of an eye, Satoru is gone.

On the windowsill of his empty apartment, the sakurasou soaks in the last remnants of the day before wilting against two photos.

One of four students, arms entangled, and faces framed in eternal youth.

And another immortalizing what could’ve been longer than a few shaky months if someone had been just a bit braver.

a/n: satoru’s google search result: the meaning of sakurasou - desire and long-lasting love. 

and yes, there was an actual lunar eclipse on july 27th, 2018 (28th in japan time). it was very pretty. i researched a bit about both the lunar eclipse and the medical stuff, but excuse any inaccuracies! tis but a work of fiction <3 also, fun fact: the polaroid camera is supposed to be the instax mini 90 but ive never used it so excuse those inaccuracies as well SKNDALSDKN

ngl i did wanna write an alternative ending, but i can’t see this ending any other way. this is it. this is the canon, and we got a bit of happy feelies at the end as a treat. thank you for reading!

[formula-what]

Brocedes time line for a very patient anon

Lewis quotes in orange, Nico quotes in pink, everyone else is blue.

okay first some background knowledge:

Nico is rich as fuck. only child, born in Germany, brought up in Monaco. son of world champion Keke Rosberg

Lewis was born on a council estate in Stevenage and his dad had to work multiple jobs for him to start karting

Honestly I think the difference in their backgrounds is one of the things that pushed them together, they were both isolated from the rest of the kids, but I’m keeping this purely facts rather than speculation.

2000

They’re both 15 years old and are karting teammates for MBB (Mercedes Benz McLaren) in Formula A

Robert Kubica: “there was always competition. But they didn’t fight. It was friendly competition. There was always laughing afterwards.” // “they would even have races to eat pizza”

They often shared hotel rooms at the races which was a “scene of many wrestling matches between them”

Dino Chiesa (their karting boss) – “many times I was called by reception about some problem in the room. It might be noise, or they might have broken something. They would never sleep so they were always tired the next morning”

“they both liked ice cream so much, particularly vanilla. During the night they wanted to eat ice cream always, so I had to go out everywhere to find some and keep them happy”

Lewis would often persuade Nico to buy him sweets

They would have competitions over LITERALLY EVERYTHING

Lewis: “we always had great competition whether on the racetrack or computer games or playing football”

“probably the first bit of competition we had was when Nico used to ride a unicycle everywhere so I thought, ‘I’ve got to learn how to ride this unicycle. Ive got to be better than him.’ I spent all my time outside the go-kart learning to ride this unicycle”

Apparently it only took Lewis 2 hours to teach himself how to do it

In maybe 2013 ish (when they were still friends) Lewis reflected with– “I have never laughed so much than when we were racing together. Nico was kicking everyone’s butt at that time. We had so great races together and built a great relationship”

“we were just arriving and enjoying go-karts and eating pizzas every weekend, fighting all the time and just having fun, whereas now it’s all business.”

many times they would talk about what they would do when they got to f1, made plans hoping to be teammates and become world champions together.

“Nico would say ‘when I’m in formula one’ and for me it was always ‘if I ever get to formula one’. Because obviously Nico’s dad was a formula 1 driver- he knew he was going to make it.”

F1

Nico joined f1 in 2006 with williams, Lewis 2007 with McLaren. And man I WISH I knew what went down with this two when Lewis nearly one his rookie season (missing out by one point to mr fernando alonso) and then WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP in his SECOND SEASON (again by one point thank you mr alonso)

2008 Australia

Nicos gets his first podium, and ofc Lewis is there (he won it) and they are jumping around in the cool down room. Just, two kids who are literally living the one thing they have spent their whole lives dreaming about together. Lewis won the championship that year and oh wow I can only imagine their celebrations together.

2013

They’re teammates in Mercedes!!!

Nico: “every other day there are moments or things that pop up and I can smirk and thing, ‘that’s exactly the same as it was 15 years ago’”

2013 Malaysian Grand Prix gets an honourable mention. This is the race with red bulls good old multi 21 but merc also had their own team orders, stopping nico from fighting for his first merc podium, but Lewis disagreed with it so it didn’t really spark that much tension between them- more the team.

2014

the start of the turbo-hybrid era so y’all know this was good in terms of performance.

2014 Bahrain Grand Prix

They were both fighting for the win and had a collision which prompted a “mock fight” in parc ferme after the race (which I really hope there’s a video of).

Turns out, Nico won because he had used engine modes banned by Mercedes to get a power advantage in the closing laps. which kinda pissed Lewis off

2014 Spanish Grand Prix

Lewis’ fourth win in a row and took lead in the championship. They were fighting till literally the last second and Lewis crossed the line 0.6 seconds ahead of Nico, who says he could have passed him with one more lap.

Lewis defended using the same banned engine modes that Nico had used in Bahrain. Yeah.

2014 Monaco Grand Prix

This is IT. This is peak petty bitch. This is the one people still cry about.

It’s the end of Q3, both of them are out on a lap, Nico ahead of lewis. Nico’s already on provisional pole but Lewis is pretty close.

And then,, Nico just,, parks his car?? He says he made a mistake but the guy doesn’t even crash he straight up just,, rolls to a stop into a slip road. So the yellow flags come out forcing Lewis to abort a lap that was in the makings of pole.

The stewards say it was a-okay but Lewis was convinced it was intentional (and let’s be honest, yeah it probably was) and he even claimed that merc’s data proved it. (low key surprised he didn’t just tweet out the telemetry but I guess he got a stern telling off from mclaren last time)

But *this* is when Lewis tells the world that they aren’t friends anymore. An iconic interview.

Nico then wins the race too, ending Lewis’s four win streak and putting Nico in the lead of the championship.

2014 Hungarian Grand Prix

Lewis has an engine failure in quali meaning he starts from the pit lane, but he does good to make his way up the pack but THEN there’s a safety car which puts him ahead of Nico but on a different strategy.

Nico asks if Lewis can let him past as he needs to pit again before the end of the race, which will give him the place back anyways. Lewis straight up refuses, he’s on a role here. He started from last, and Nico started from pole, why should he slow down to let his title rival through.

Mercedes strongly suggest that his blocking fucked up Nicos race but Niki Lauda is on Lewis’ side so he doesn’t get punished (We stan a supportive father figure) even though he did blatantly refuse to be a team player.

And guys, this is the last race before the summer break so you know Nico was left seething for four weeks.

2014 Belgian Grand Prix

Second lap, Nico attempts a clumsy move and there’s contact, giving Hamilton a puncture and knocking him out of the race.

There’s a lot of controversy but basically it turns out he crashed with him intentionally, not backing out of the corner to “prove a point”. Nico ended up finishing second but was punished by the team, forced to apologise, and even booed on the podium.

2014 Abu Dhabi

For some reason it ran for double points?? The first time in History??? But idk???

Lewis had a perfect start and went on to win it and take the title, Nico had a problem and was told to retire the car but he kept going anyway and finished 14th. Nico went into the cool down room to congratulate Lewis on the championship win, which. cute.

Lewis claimed his second championship. Which not only was huge because of the inter team rivalry, but also because of the large gap between his first win. This guy had lost out on winning the championship in his ROOKIE season by ONE POINT, and then WON it in his SECOND season, and then there was like a FIVE YEAR gap before he won it again.

2015

Damnnn this car was fiiiinneeeeeee.

They do more laps in testing than any other car AND do it on a single power unit. And then. Australia. They take a one-two THIRTY FOUR seconds ahead of the third place Ferrari.

2015 Chinese Grand Prix

Nico is second in a one-two but claims that Lewis kept backing him up into Seb, trying to compromise his race (and help out his boyfriend).

Lewis gave zero shits: "It's not my job to look after Nico's race, it's my job to manage the car and bring the car home as healthy and as fast as possible. That's what I did."

2015 U.S. Grand Prix

If Lewis wins here he could also claim the title with three races to spare (you have to remember back then the title fight often went up to the last race so this was pretty cool)

Lewis very aggressively forced Rosberg wide at Turn 1 to claim the lead, and then there was some sexy fighting between the Mercs and Redbull all race. Nico led in the closing stages but made a mistake, running deep into a corner and letting Lewis past with only a handful of laps to go.

Nico finished P2 and had not only lost the race but the championship title. Nico was fuming, saying Lewis’ move at the start was “one step too far”.

This is the infamous cap throw in the cool down room. Lewis throws Nico his P2 hat, Nico straight up yeets it back at him. I tear up just thinking about it. They grow up so fast.

2016

Nico had came so close to winning and I guess this was just, the last straw. All or nothing. This year he literally gave it everything he had. Lewis and him stopped speaking, Nico gave up literally the rest of his life and even stopped sleeping in the same bed as his wife and taking care of his kids, instead spending every moment trying to get into Lewis’ head. Honestly, I think he might be the only one that could beat Lewis. Just because he knew him *so well*. He literally threw away like 16 years of friendship. But also it’s like, he had to be world champion. He *had to*. His dad was champion and his whole life he’s been preparing to win it too. Tough luck that he raced in the same era as Mr. Best Driver The Sport Has Ever Seen.

Nico won the last few races of 2015, and the first four races of 2016. Lewis had a couple car problems and Nico had a good lead on him in the championship.

2016 Spanish Grand Prix

Gentlemen. A short view back to the past. Nico had made a switch error on the formation lap causing the car to go into the wrong engine mode. So he was running a lot slower than Lewis, who was fighting to claim back the lead.

Nico closed the door to keep him back, and Lewis lost control on the grass, and spins into Nico and taking them both out of the race in the first lap. This is probably one of the most iconic crashes. I’m pretty sure there’s a clip of this somewhere in black and white with the titanic music over the top.

Niki Lauda blamed this one on Lewis (I guess even a supportive dad has to be critical sometimes) "Lewis is too aggressive. It is stupid, we could've won this race".

2016 Austrian Grand Prix

Nico had been struggling with a brake issue all race but was still on the way to win it. But in the last lap Lewis had caught him up and gone in for the overtake.

Typical Nico not taking any shit, refusing to be the guy that backs out and they collide. Lewis took the win and a damaged Nico dropped to fourth. From first. In the last lap.

Both of them blamed each other and tired dad team boss Toto Wolff threatened team orders in future races.

The stewards blamed Nico for the incident, issuing him two penalty points for failing to allow "racing room" and causing a collision.

2016 Abu Dhabi

In the final laps of the race, Lewis ignored team-orders from his race engineer and the technical director.

He deliberately slowed and backed Nico into the pack hoping they overtake him, and there would be enough of a points difference to win the title.

Nico finished second and won the title by five points.

And then,,, Nico announced a surprise retirement during the FIA prize giving ceremony.

Lewis’ response:

"This is the first time he's won in 18 years, hence why it was not a surprise that he decided to stop.” (We stan a petty king)

“But he's also got a family to focus on and probably wants to have more children. Formula One takes up so much of your time."

“In terms of missing the rivalry, of course because we started karting when we were 13 and we would always talk about being champions. When I joined this team, Nico was there, which was something we spoke about when we were kids. So it's going to be very, very strange, and, for sure, it will be sad to not have him in the team next year."

And now they are kind of on speaking terms but not really, they are both pretty private but I think they are at the ‘awkward small talk when we run into each other at the supermarket’ stage of the break up.

[hard--mode]

Here's the notes for everything that would happen up until the end of the story.... as far as I had it figured out. You'll notice things are a lot less fleshed out the later things go. That's a big reason why this never got finished. the longer I tried to keep the thing running, the more I realized I never had any idea what I wanted to actually DO with this story which made it pretty hard for me to keep up. it's hard to write a story you're trying to take seriously if all you really have are jokes, it turns out.

I haven't reread any of this or edited it at all so who knows what kind of notes I might have written in between things haha

P: so as i was saying about undyne-

C: who’s undyne?

Everyone freezes. Chara just walked right up to papyrus without being noticed. Paps freaks out for a sec before he pulls sans into a huddle. Chara frowns and tries to peek around.

~Montage of papyrus’s excitement and harder puzzles, death montage

~Junior jumble: its sudoku now

Chara’s doing puzzles and sees flowey spying. They shout him over

C: HEY! still following me, loser? Don’t you have anything better to do? (but they smile)

F: somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t get killed too much out here

Flowey pops up closer to them

C: nah, I’m fine! I’ve got that reset power!

F: not for long considering how much you use it (mumbles. Rolls eyes??) (some depiction of chara dying a lot in the bg)

C: by the way…. In the ruins you were telling me to use it… care to tell me more about it since you seem to know so much?

F: I-... uh… well you already know the most of it. It just resets you back to your last SAVE point like nothing happened. Only beings with a powerful SOUL can use it, so monsters with their weak souls can’t.

Chara stops their puzzle work and sits to even the heights: Can flowers?

F: what the heck are you-... oh, no no no. I’m different.

C: so you have the power too.

F: No! I mean-, i used to before you came around. Yeah.

C: so you’ve done resets. (urging him on)

F: yep.

Chara waits a while: ...thats all you have to say?

F: yep

Travel scenes from here on out depict chara and flowey together

Gauntlet:

Flowey remarks that he doesn't remember a save point being before it. Chara goes along and gets paps’ bit. He does to activate it

C: wait this isn't for real right? U can't be srs!!!

P: yeah I am, this is hard mode!

Just show chara repeatedly spawning at the save and running back in with flowey watching them

Then cut to the end chara on the other side of it panting and exhausted, papyrus shocked but also beaming

P: wow you did it!! I'm so proud of u human! I didn’t think you would actually be able to get through it--- I mean- drat! Foiled again! I'll get u one of these times!

Papyrus runs off and Chara watches him with a look of wonder in their eyes.

F: don’t get too excited. his pride is cheap, he’s proud of everyone and every thing

Chara grumbles and marches forward: whatever. I don’t hear you saying you’re proud of me, so why do I have to listen to what you have to say

F: You know, you’re gonna have to fight him soon. Didn’t sans say so? What are you going to do then, die over and over until you give up or are you going to try to murder him just like you did with Toriel? :)

C: I am not! I’m gonna talk him out of it and go right past him like everyone else. Who knows! Maybe he won’t even fight me because he’s that cool. Even if he does, he’s probably a wimp anyways.

F: I wouldn’t be so sure! I bet you don’t stand a chance.

C: shut up! Quit following me if you’re gonna be this useless.

Paps fight

As papyrus carries their body to the shed to rest. Opens on their vision returning and they see their hands hanging toward the ground.

C: why didn’t you kill me? You’re stronger than everyone else, you could easily do it. Why dont you finish me off so everyone can leave or whatever it is you need me to do? Why did you hold back?

P: OH! YOU’RE AWAKE!

C: you held back…

P: OF COURSE i DID! I COULD NEVER KILL YOU, YOU’RE MY-- I HOPE I’M NOT BEING TOO FORWARD, BUT I LIKE TO THINK OF YOU AS MY FRIEND! AND EVEN THOUGH WE DO NEED YOUR SOUL, YOU DESERVE A FIGHTING CHANCE TO DO… WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE TRYING TO DO.

Chara is too shocked and confused by the sentiment: I don’t… I don’t understand?

P: WHAT’S SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT A FRIEND NOT KILLING YOU? HUMANS ARE SO STRANGE ...OH! I SEE NOW! THE REASON WHY YOU CARRY YOUR KNIFE LIKE THAT. IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE MORE AFRAID OF US MONSTERS THAN WE COULD EVER BE OF YOU!

He sets them down in the shed on the dog bed.

P: I’M SORRY, HUMAN! I WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU MORE WARNING IF I HAD KNOWN HOW YOU FELT.

C: then… does that mean you’re going to let me go?

P: ABSOLUTELY NOT! I ALREADY CALLED UNDYNE TO MEET ME SO SHE CAN TAKE YOU! AND YOU NEED TO REST NOW AFTER ALL THAT!

C: !! I-I don’t know who Undyne is, but I can’t do that. I’m in a hurry to get out of here.

P: HMM… IF YOU’RE IN A HURRY THEN… NO, NO YOU CAN’T! WE NEED YOUR SOUL, I CAN’T JUST LET YOU LEAVE. UNDYNE’S REALLY COOL TOO, YOU’LL LIKE HER!

C: No, I have to go.

P: AGH, WELL… I SUPPOSE IF YOU CAN GET PAST ME BEFORE I CAN CATCH YOU, THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO. BUT I WON’T GO EASY ON YOU!

Cut to chara walking toward waterfall, papyrus calling after them to come back and hang out sometime. They keep walking and mutter to themself: Sorry, but I’ll get out of here before that ever happens.

WATERFALL

They see monster kid and side eye sans as they charge in, hurriedly.

Chara keeps flowey around and asks him to read the words for him. FLowey says it’s not important at all to anything they’re doing. It’s just monster history junk that means nothing if chara’s trying to leave. Chara’s like shut up cmon help me out maybe there's clues. FLowey reads some history stuff in waterfall treating it like shit they already know

F: why do you care about all this garbage anyway?

C: I dunno, I guess it just sounds familiar. Like a story I heard a long time ago.

Chara stops suddenly and checks their phone. Flowey asks what’s up

C: i thought it rang… you didn’t hear-

The phone starts ringing. Papyrus is cheerfully on the other end and they walk and talk.

He tells them about how he heard so many horrible things about humans and the surface but chara was much nicer than he ever expected. Chara asks where he heard that and he says a flower told him. Chara covers the receiver and looks around for flowey, suspicions of him raised.

Montage w monster kid and umbrella

Chara falls from undyne’s spear attack and wakes up in the trash with flowey over them.

F: hey, wake up. I can tell you’re not dead so hurry up and get moving.

Chara’s kind of bummed: she killed me four times back there. And it wasn’t even a fight. I couldn’t talk her down or… i couldn’t even talk to her, I could barely see her.

F: what, are you giving up or something? You know she can kill you as much as she wants and you aren’t gonna die.

C: I know that! I know this is just like a game where you can keep on going but… it hurts. And it’s exhausting.

F: what will you do then? Sit here in this trash and do nothing?

C: *sigh* no. I’m just feeling down in the dumps.

They smile and get up.

As they’re walking out, they hear a click and someone to tell them to “hold it”

Mad dummys behind them and she just has a gun. Pointed directly at chara. She starts on her thing about the cousin and then blook saves the day.

Chara meets up with blook again. They go to where the snail races used to be. It’s all busted and unused

C: what’s this supposed to be…?

B: oh…. this used to be a snail farm…. And this was a race course…. For snails…. But a long time ago people started to call the races “insensitive” so we had to close them…. Sorry you can’t have any fun racing snails…

C: why was it insensitive…?

B: ...i’d… rather not talk about it………..

Timeskip

C: hey flowey! What’s up with this place and snails?

F:...i wouldnt know.

montage

After waterfall where undyne says how many souls they have

C: flowey… if they have 6 human souls, that means 6 others fell down and died here, so…

F: what?

C: i just- i mean you were the first one i met-

F: no, no, no, ive never killed anyone. You’re the only human i’ve seen since i woke up

Chara relaxes: ok. So you dont know anything about them.

F: no. i heard some things from toriel, not much. It’s too late to try asking her, but she’s seen all of them. She was there at the beginning even.

C: the beginning?

F: you know…. When humans started falling down here and monsters started killing them.

Chara goes silent in thought: wait… how… long has this been going on? How old is toriel?

F: dunno

Chara after having a rough time: it’s hard, but no matter what happens i can just keep trying. I’ll make it out of this! You believe in me right, flowey?

F: no i think you should give up.

Page/chapter ends there. Next is chara going up to fight undyne.

Open on a riff on the “long ago” cutscene that chara cuts off by saying they already know this story

Undyne screams SHUT UP!!! I’m doing my HEROIC MONOLOGUE!! Whatever, I bet you haven’t heard the part about the King and Queen’s human child who died of illness and their other son who was killed by the humans when he tried to return their body to the surface?!

C: No I think I heard that one too? Why are you telling me all this anyways??

U: because this is an UNSKIPPABLE CUTSCENE!! NYAAAGGGHHHH!!!!!

Chara’s getting their ass beat and on low hp: I’ll die in a hit or two. But that’s fine because I’ll just start this over. I’ll start from… where was the last save point…

A vision of them with flowey. Their eyes go red and the flashback cuts in between shots of them running from undyne

F: I think you should give up

Ch: what… give up?? I thought you were on my side with all the telling me to keep going and-and the hanging out with me?!

F: as if you had any other choice but to keep going! We both know you don’t.

C: so you’ve just been following this whole time waiting for me to give up and die, huh?! Why, are you trying to steal my soul just like everybody else?!?

F: it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you’re going to die! And die and die and die! You can reset as much as you want, it won’t change that! So what if I am waiting for you to give up? You’re the last thing keeping monsters trapped down here. If you give up, you’ll give everyone what they want!

C: I thought you wanted to help me?! I thought you were my friend!

F: I would never be friends with a human! You’re all nothing but killing machines!

C: I haven’t killed anyone!

F: You killed Toriel! No number of resets can change what you did! You’re a horrible, disgusting human just like all the others and everyone would be happier if you were dead!

Flowey could say something about dying down here is better than their inevitable death on the surface. Their death would at least be worth something. Mean something

Chara escapes the fight, undyne collapses, and they walk away. they tell themselves they won’t give up. They don’t need help, especially not from that dumb flower. They’ll live to spite him and everyone else who tries to kill them

Chara goes in and meets alphys and overall is p meh abt it bc bad mood. Alphys helping them through the underground makes them talk to themselves about how they dont need flowey, they can do this themself. Friends are no good.

hotland is as normal. probably figure out some indication of things not right. make the game seem broken bc they arent supposed to get so far like this

Chara meets with sans at mtt resort for food reluctantly. Lets him say his piece. After he’s done threatening to kill them chara says to his face that they really don’t like him.

Need some hubbub about them having to kill asgore to get out. Theyll be like yeah I know that (somehow)... oh but I need a plan… how will i come up with a plan..

Flowey finally appears to chara again just before they get to new home and tries to talk them out of leaving. Disparaging the surface and telling them they could live happily down here. Chara says no, it’s too hard because people are constantly hunting them down and being the last soul, no ones going to stop that. He says that he’s sorry for the way he was before

Chara smiles back, and then looks away: What you said before… about.. My inevitable death on the surface…

F: that was… don’t worry about that.

C: are you afraid of it?

F: well- yeah, it’s a dangerous place. Everyone knows that.

C: I’ve died a lot more times down here than I ever did up there.

A beat

C: you go back and forth a lot between talking about how I should stay down here because it’s better… but also if I die down here… everyone gets to go free… to the horrible, awful surface.

F: uh,, did I say all that…? I may have contradicted myself a little… I guess… in the end I just wanted an excuse for you to stay around. I really don’t want you to die.

C: so you did see me as a friend after all?

F: well…you reminded me of someone who was my friend. I wish we could have been friends.

C: Do you think… If I reset back to the beginning and did this again, if I said the right things… we could have been?

F: No… You could be as nice to me or as mean to me as you want. No matter how many times you reset, some things never change.

C: ...Did you ever… have to reset because you killed someone?

F: ……….once… and then I never reset ever again. The power to reset… makes you do bad things. It’s wrong. I had to stop because i knew… I’d make someone really upset if I kept messing around.

C: well, in that case… I guess I’ll just have to get the rest of the way out of here without any resets!

Flowey smiles: I dunno, keep one or two under your belt. You’re a pretty big klutz.

C: Thanks for helping me out of here, flowey. Even if you just did it because you were begged.

Can you imagine a more paranoid flowey who is less interested in attacking you and regaining the reset ability, but is pleased af that you have the reset ability because that means you can't die, and instead he spends the entire game trying to convince you that humanity is hopeless. That there is nothing on the surface world returning to. That it's safer, down here.

he's part of the reason why things are so much harder

he's the one that starts the rumors about the dangers of teh surface world

there's a definite sense of paranoia all across the board

When they approach new home, flowey appears one last time and grabs chara by the hand, telling them not to go. They can live in the underground, they’ve made a lot of friends here. Chara says that they have to go, they’ll find a way to get out without killing asgore. Flowey says that he tried to stop them, this is as far as he’ll go. This is goodbye. They bid their farewells and chara goes along, but flowey secretly follows them, much less detectable than ever before. It’s revealed when he’s hiding with the flowers.

Chara walks up to new home, regarding it as a vaguely familiar sight. They walk down the many halls knowing exactly where to go. The monsters speak as they go through the motions. They find a cookbook in the kitchen with a page for snail pie missing. Chara mumbles about already knowing the story and that they should all shut up. They walk more quickly to stay ahead of them. Then one mentions the snail pie and chara stops dead in their tracks. No that’s not how it happened- they stop, and take back off.

They are stopped by sans in the judgement hall, glaring at him.

S: well I had a whole speech to give ya, but you look like you’re in a hurry. You’re a weird kid, but you’re fine. The king’s up ahead.

OTHER alternative: chara realizes something’s wrong and runs back to get everyone, probably threatening to kill asgore to convince them to come quickly. Sans is avoided due to the mob approaching behind them “I heard the word that you’re on your way to kill the king.” c: are you here to stop me? “Nah. But you’d better have a good plan to back yourself up, kid. King’s up ahead”

They run up to asgore, no nonsense. Some time is taken to progress things. As they leave the throne room, flowey watches from the flowers, chara looks back to confirm he’s there.

Asgore draws up the souls, the fight is about to engage, before he can smash “MERCY” chara yells: ASRIEL. Get the souls.

Everything stops. Flowey is behind them, stunned and confused. Chara turns and asks him what he’s waiting for. Hurry up and take the souls before everyone else gets here. Nearly every last monster is coming, if he can become godlike and absorb them, it will be enough strength to break the barrier.

Flowey is confused, how do they know that? Chara tells him he did it before. Doesn’t he remember? Doesn’t he remember them?

Either flowey does it and something happens, or flowey waits too long and chaos erupts which gets them killed, and then chara and flowey have to meet up and workshop.

Final fight:

He probably says some shit about frisk and how he cant lose frisk again, chara must insist that theyre not frisk. When they say their name is chara, he hesitates for only a moment. Finally, when chara’s pinned and about to seriously die…

C: you remember it now too, don’t you? It took me a while, I couldn’t remember a thing until i started hearing your name around. You’re an all powerful god now, you should be able to remember it all better than me

A: shut up.

C: would frisk want us to fight like this?! Would frisk want you to kill your own sibling?!

A: c-.... You’re… you’re really chara?

He lets them go

They reach the conclusion that frisk messed with everything and put them here with no memories so they could do something frisk could never do. Frisk thinks they deserve to live, no matter how much the two may disagree. They have to play along. Asriel is a god and can use his powers to break the barrier and bring EVERYONE back to life so they can live together happily.

go to final fight and everyones already there, things are very confused, flowey takes the souls and things glitch out (screen phases between bosses) and chara realizes this isnt how things are supposed to be, tells asriel theyre sorry for their baggage but he doesnt understand bc he isnt theirs, and then they gotta find frisk somehow

OR... they realize things in the speech and don't go to fight asgore bc theyre finding flowey... they feign fighting asgore and then suddenly tell flowey to take the souls("Asriel! get the souls!" and thats the first time they call him by name)...? i like that a bit better. they start going on about crazy shit that makes roided out flowey kind of lose it at them which leads to them apologizing to their own asriel but then realizing they need to find frisk

but HOW do they find frisk

The end shows chara asriel and frisk hugging eachother, all alive and well. Then the two are “processing…” and remember that oh, theyve done some dark messed up stuff.

[ad1thi]

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P1)

i feel like a lot of really good stevetony fics get swept under the rug because this is such a big fandom and sometimes people miss out on quality content?? so this is a rec list of some of the stevetony fics i feel like everybody should have read/ be reading

Edit (31.12.2020): this got very long (i had almost 50 fics on my list, so ive decided to split this list into two parts. part 2 will be out soon!!)

Edit (20.02.2021): part 2 is out now!!

//

picture me in the trees: @ifmywishescametrue

Tony and Steve were childhood friends that almost became more, but Tony moved and they lost their chance. Thirteen years later, a chance meeting brings Tony back into Steve's life.

Free: @iwanttopizzamanyou

"Steve reads, and the words dance in front of his eyes, because while this used to be his dream, what he wanted, all he can think about is how this Hell will soon become his full time life."

Steve discovers fame, with fans waiting for him in the lobby and girls passing him their numbers after the shows. It used to be what he wanted, he supposes. Except his future managers keep asking more and more from him, and he's not sure his old life will survive. Tony is ready to help, and compromise, but Steve maybe isn't anymore.

making it work: @/ironarm 

“Just tell him you don’t want to see him anymore,” Clint replies, finishing the end of his burger and starting to crumple up the wrapper, “It’s not like you love him or anything.”

“Clint, if I thought I could get rid of him about a week ago, I would have. But for some fucked up reason, I can’t lie to him. It’s like, I see those baby blue eyes, and bam. Whatever barrier that I built up from childhood trauma is gone.”

Clint chokes on the last piece of his burger, almost resisting the urge to smack Tony on the side of his head.

Tony was a fucking idiot.

Boys Like Us: @naferty

The video had been a mistake. One of the biggest mistakes he had ever done in his life, and considering Tony Stark had done a bunch of shit in his younger years, and even older years, that was saying something.

It was just that none of those things were as embarrassing as that video.

He blamed Clint for everything

Stained Fingertips: @thesoundofnat

“I don’t really believe in magic,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I’m almost certain you’re a goddamn wizard, Steve Rogers.”

Steve would remember those words for the rest of his life.

(Or, Steve is maybe slightly obsessed with drawing Tony. Not that Tony minds.)

Inhale, Ex-Sail: @summerpipedream

"Rich pirates decked out in top-of-the-line black market gear,” grumbled Tony, ”why don’t I have the budget to make those again?’

Rhodey inched back so that he and Tony were back-to-back. “We’re apparently law abiding citizens now, which means having to pay taxes.”

Tony scowled. “Urg, right. Remind me why I wanted to do that again?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “What was it you called him last time? Your sweet tart? Your apple pie in the sky? The wind beneath your wings? Hopefully he’ll fly here fast enough so we don’t get killed. Or worse, mugged.”

Tony Stark Bingo K1 - AU: Steampunk

As Constant As A Star: @atsadi

The Swan Princess AU

As young children, Prince Anthony and Princess Natasha of neighboring Midgardian kingdoms are betrothed, and spend their summers together every year until they are wed. Tony adores his headstrong friend Nat: it’s her scowly little companion Steve he’s not thrilled about at first. But soon Steve goes from being a thorn in Tony’s side to being his dearest friend – and much, much more than that. Despite Steve feeling the same way about Tony, the pair still dance around each other for years as Steve struggles to accept his feelings for another man: especially one already betrothed to another. Not to mention that Tony is a prince, and Steve is nothing but a squire.

But before they can make peace, Tony is kidnapped and dragged into the beginnings of another conflict in the nearby magical kingdom of Asgard – he really hates magic. With his potential usefulness diminishing by the day, Tony races to escape even as Steve, Natasha, and their friends race to find him and bring him home.

And—just to make matters worse—Tony has been trapped by a powerful spell and turned into a swan, of all creatures. He really, really hates magic.

Always Yours: @hollyjollyhope

Getting kidnapped is normal for them, at this point. But there's nothing normal about this.

And suddenly, Tony has a choice to make.

Oxeye Daisy (patience): @s-horne

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

Steve startled at the voice from behind him and turned around to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway. He stared straight at Tony for a long moment. The room was quiet, time stretching out in a thick and uncomfortable silence as neither man dare to move nor opened his mouth to speak first.

White Clover (a promise): @s-horne

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Tony lifted his head as he tried to focus on Steve’s voice. When he managed to open his eyes and blink a bit of the blurriness away, he was rewarded with a gentle smile being shone down at him.

“There you are,” Steve said. “Was worried I was going to have to talk to myself.”

Though his tone was light, Tony knew what he meant. It was no secret that Tony was physically weaker and a hell of a lot more human than Steve was and was therefore struggling more with the lack of regular nourishment that came with being held hostage.

“Course not,” Tony said back, voice hoarse but plastering a smile on his face all the same. His head was pounding and his eyes couldn't stay open. “Would I ever do that to you? You’d never get a sensible answer.”

Acta non verba: @firebrands

unapologetic fluff about two idiots who can barely keep it together with how hard they're crushing on each other

or:

tony has to help steve with math + a halloween party = a good time for everyone, eventually

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

Adjacent, Against, Upon: @firebrands

A political AU!

Steve Rogers is running as the Mayor of somewhere, America. Tony Stark, his campaign manager, deals with a candidate who isn’t interested in lying, and just wants to do good by these citizens, god damn it.

song of unrest: @omg-just-peachy

How was Steve supposed to reconcile all of this? The way he looked so different but still felt so much the same? It made Steve’s head spin. He knows he shouldn’t care so much, that he is what he is, but he just wants to know.

Paint The Town Blue: @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

Camelot: @weethreequarter

For one shining moment, there was Camelot.

In 2019, Karen Page meets Captain Steve Rogers to conduct an exclusive interview on his late husband, President Tony Stark.

In 2007, Steve meets Senator Tony Stark and falls in love.

he thinks he’s lancelot (but he’s more of a sir lamorak): @theotherwasdeath

Tony knows firsthand that violence isn’t funny. So why oh why does he think that the scene playing out in front of him, Steve and Victor Von Doom in a knock-out, drag-down fist fight, is absolutely hilarious?

wildflowers: @tinytonysnark

“So,” Steve begins, clapping his hands together, “the city of SHIELD is in debt. The big ups have sent for financial advisors, all the way from DC! They’re gonna take a look at the city’s spending and make some cuts.”

He squints at the camera against the morning sun shining through the courtyard, “I’m not that worried. Everyone here in the parks department is an important member of the team and absolutely needed.”

The camera swings towards the office where from the large glass window, Natasha can be seen picking up the ringing phone before immediately slamming it back down onto the receiver.

[A Parks and Rec AU]

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

[animeyanderelover]

could you wrote prompt 17 with paku? im sorry ive just been stalking ur page 😭

Don’t feel sorry for this darling. I’m not angry with you.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, manipulation, Pakunoda reading the reader’s mind, mentions of kidnapping

Prompt 17: “You’ve been such a good girl lately. If you continue to behave so well I might just reward you. Would you like that?”

What had you gotten yourself into? How had this even happened? When had your lovely girlfriend became a criminal and part of the famous Phantom Troupe? As it appears she had been part of the troupe since a long time. How had you even found that out? Let’s just say...you managed to appear at the wrong time at the wrong place and had witnessed Paku talking to some rather shady looking persons. A girl with pink hair who looked like she hadn’t smiled very often in her life and a man who had looked creepy as fuck if someone ignored the fact how tiny he was. You had been too far away to hear what they had been saying, but you knew that it hadn’t been anything good and had tried to sneak away when the man suddenly appeared right in front of you, giving you nearly a heart attack. Just from looking at him you had known that the gap between your and his strength was enormous. He had looked at you with a look in his eyes that had scared the living shit out of you and had asked you with his hoarse and broken voice who you were and what you were doing here. You hadn’t been able to answer him, paralyzed with fear. He had asked you once again and had told you if you wouldn’t answer him he would kill you. That had been the last straw for you and you had fallen unconscious right then and there, expecting to never wake up again.

But you had woken up again. In a room with which you were very familiar. It was Pakunoda’s bedroom. She had been sitting right next to you, waiting for you to wake up again. As soon as you had sat up she had been quick to hug you and telling you that she had been worried when exactly you would wake up, but you had interrupted her and demanded from her to know who the hell these people had been. Paku had tried to tell you something about that they were old friends from her. You would have believed her if it wouldn’t have been for the fact that the small guy had threatened to kill you and had meant it so you hadn’t believed her. You weren’t the smartest one, but you weren’t dumb either and it had been obvious to you that these people had been some sort of criminals so why had Pakunoda be with them? Was she involved? You bombarded her with these kind of questions, not giving her time to lie even more to you. You had felt betrayed. But she still had insisted that these people weren’t bad and that you had just misunderstood something. That’s when you had snapped and had angrily told her that you didn’t plan on staying with a liar so you just stood up and had left her house, yelling that if you really meant something to her that she wouldn’t lie to you so boldly.

And you had gotten answers to your questions because the very same day she had kidnapped you and had told you the truth. Now you wished you would have just accepted her lies back then. You had felt nothing, but terror when she had told you that she was a member of the Phantom Troupe and that the two guys you had seen her with recently were members as well. Hearing that you had nearly been killed by a troupe member had sent you into pure anxiety and you had suddenly realized in what a situation you had gotten yourself into. You had asked her shaking what would happen to you now that you knew who she really was. She had answered you honestly that she had talked with her boss about this and he had told her that as long as she would make sure that you wouldn’t tell anyone he wouldn’t see you as a threat. When you had asked her what would happen if you would tell someone she hadn’t answered you and had just told you that you shouldn’t think about that, but her undertone had told you exactly what would await you if you would tell anyone. Death.

After that day Pakunoda hadn’t let you out of the house again, wanting to ensure that you wouldn’t get the chance to tell anyone about her or the troupe. When we’re already talking about the troupe, she had introduced you to them after some time, wanting you to meet her friends. This day must have been the most terrifying and interesting day in your life because who gets the chance to see all of the Phantom Troupe members without being killed immediately. Probably only a few. You had clinged to Paku for dear life during this time, not willing to leave her side, especially when you had seen the guy again who had wanted to kill you, Feitan. But you did meet some guys who were more pleasant to be with and if you could choose you would say that your “favs” were Uvogin, Nobunaga, Shizuku and Kortopi. And if you could choose the ones who were your least favorite then it would be without a doubt Feitan and it seemed like that feeling was mutual judging from the way he glared at you. But then again he seemed to always be not in a good mood and you doubted that he had ever laughed or smiled in his life.

You were conflicted about how to feel about Pakunoda now. You still loved her, but locking you up in her house was a bit much to take and you hadn’t even talked about her punishments yet. She had a lot of patience with you and you were sure if you would have been kidnapped by another troupe member you would have gotten in serious trouble for your behavior. But Pakunoda wasn’t them and so you were still healthy and good taken care of. But even the most patient person had a limit and you guess you had gotten a bit too comfortable with her. That had been a mistake because you had found out only after she had locked you up in your room and had taken everything you could have used to pass your time that she possessed the ability to read someone’s mind, meaning you were literally naked for her and had no way to hide your thoughts. You had tried to use her softness for you against her and had planned to escape her, but all she had needed was to swing an arm around your shoulder and ask you if you wouldn’t try anything. You had answered with a no and at first you had been confused when she had suddenly tensed up and looked at you with a disappointed and sad expression. Only after she had thrown you into the room she had told you about her ability and that’s when you had understood that you were doomed. There was no way for you to even think about a way to escape when all that was needed was a touch and a simple question for her to know what you were thinking. It was truly unfair. The worst was that you had been stuck in this goddamn room for at least two weeks and you hadn’t anything to use for some entertainment. No books, no TV, nothing! The only thing you could do was sleeping, wandering around the room or staring at the ceiling.

Currently you did the last one, staring at the ceiling and thinking about your life decisions, asking yourself what you could have done differently to not get into this situation. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the door lock being unlocked. You turned your attention towards the door when Pakunoda walked in for her daily checkup. She walked quietly to your bed, sitting down next to you. “How are you?” “Boring.”, you answered her straight away. She chuckled a bit before pulling your head against her chest. You knew what was coming now. “Do you plan anything special?” Here we go again with the questioning. “No Paku. I don’t plan anything.” You didn’t lie. What was the use anyways? Paku knew this as well because you could see a small smile on her face. “That’s good to know.” Your situation was really helpless because as soon as even the idea of a way to escape would come into your mind she would know. She didn’t let go of you and you just assumed that she wanted to spend a bit more time with her. Not like you didn’t like it, her breasts were...soft and comfortable to lay on.

“You’ve been such a good girl lately. If you continue to behave so well I might just reward you. Would you like that?” You tensed up when she said this. Was this a way to test you? Was this a trick? Since she was still in contact with you she read your thoughts and a sigh escaped her lips. “You still don’t trust me?”, she asked with a hint of disappointment in her voice. “You gave me some reasons to not trust you. By the way, you don’t trust me either. It seems like our relationship is lacking the most important thing that it’s supposed to base on. Trust.”, you replied, bitterness audible in your voice. “I really want to trust you, but you just make it a bit hard.”, Paku said. You looked up. “I trusted you once, but you broke that trust when kidnapping me and telling me that you’re a criminal who kills people. But I guess you have your reasons too that I can’t understand since I’m not you and don’t know what you went through in the past. So it’s not my right to judge you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m upset. And I upset you too so I guess we’re both guilty.” You meant those words and you could tell by the way she tensed up that she was surprised by this. “(y/n).” You hummed and gave her a confused look. “Yes?” “I meant it when I said that I want to reward you. Tell me what you want?”

Wait?! What?! Your thoughts started to race and you felt excited at the thought that you would have something to entertain you with. But what did you want? A book? A CD? A movie? Something to play with? “Only one thing.”, Paku reminded you when noticing your racing thoughts. You tried to calm your train of thoughts down to start thinking clearly. “A new CD?”, you asked her hesitantly. She nodded in approval. “Alright. A new CD.” You felt relief flowing through you. To be honest, if you would have spent a week longer in here without anything to do you were sure that you would have gone berserk at one point. A human can only hold on that long when they have nothing to do.Both of you spent a few minutes longer in this position, your head against her chest and her just holding you close. You were almost sad when she let go and made her way out again, but at least you would have very soon some music to listen to. “(y/n)?” You hummed confused and looked at her. Paku was standing in the door frame and her head turned around to look you directly into your eyes. “Is something wrong?”, you asked her irritated. “You said that our relationship is lacking trust.” “Yes?”, you answered her unsure.

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to build that trust up again?” This question caught you off guard. Your eyes widened surprised. Why was she asking this? And why wasn’t she just asking you whilst having some physical contact with you? Like this she could make sure that you wouldn’t lie to her. For a moment you played with the thought of giving her an answer that would please her and probably lead to you getting sooner out of this room. But then you realized that this was exactly why this relationship had never worked. It was right that she had lied to you, but were you any better when you tried to use her love for you to your advantage? No, you weren’t. So you decided to give her your honest opinion. “I’m not sure. Our situation is very...complicated at the moment. But I guess if both of us try to change that there might change something. But I’m not 100% convinced.” Paku didn’t say anything and you assumed that she was thinking about your answer. Before she closed and locked the door up again she said:”I appreciate your honesty.” You sat stunned there, staring at the door before you realized why she hadn’t tried to read your mind whilst asking this question. She had wanted to be able to trust you without needing to read your mind. That told you something else as well. She was ready to try to trust you again. The question right now was would you give it a try as well and try to work this out with her?

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Randvi x female reader 💋

• Warnings: mild adult content (fantasies).

a sapphire for your heart, part III

On the very first day of your arrival, you travelled on horseback all the way to Cent. There, one of Reda’s eyes was waiting to offer you a tent to sleep in and a complete refill of your rations. Dover Cliffs called to you, especially at night, when the moon's pallid glow reflected off those abrupt, chalky shores. Somewhere within those narrow crevices in the mountain, a deep energy pulsed with life; a tear of mother nature, hidden and forgotten among piles and piles of sand and pebbles. You followed that silent lull, and by sunrise, you exited those pristine canyons with a bag full of colorful gems.

Several days after your find, you returned to Ravensthorpe to meet Reda again. You’ve been so focused on your treasure-digging tasks that you’ve forgotten all about the residents of that growing little village. However, the closer you rode to Randvi, the more she crossed your mind. You nearly stopped several times when you heard a voice similar to hers calling in Norwegian. And when you’d catch a glimpse of a woman’s beautiful auburn hair, your gaze would naturally follow. Of course, it wasn’t her; but oh… how much you secretly wished it was.

As you spotted the longhouse in the distance, your heart begun to race and flutter all at once. In the back of your mind, you’ve always thought of her; but now, without any tasks to distract you from your fantasies, you were suddenly overwhelmed by a deep, burning desire to be in her presence again.

Gods, if only she knew…

“Hello again. Back so soon?”

Reda called from beneath the large sage tree, where he’d gathered all the village children to tell them stories. You smiled as you dismounted your horse.

“Soon? With a map so well-drawn, I’d be embarrassed to take a moment longer.”

By evening, everyone was gathered in the longhouse for supper. Cheers and traditional music echoed off those tall wooden walls, creating a pleasant atmosphere to enjoy a drink with close friends and family. You were ravenous from your long trip back, and yet you took your time to savor your meal as you told stories of your travels. The children were flocking around your table, and some adults eventually turned to watch you whilst the music played a little softer.

“A dragon?! You really saw a real, talking, flaming dragon?”

A little boy asked, and you had to bite back laughter. Your story did have a grain of truth, but perhaps not as fantastic as their wild imagination made it to be. You wiped your mouth with a handkerchief and continued.

“It was asleep when I got there. Petrified. Yet his scales shimmered like little drops of gold, and his wings were made of millions of precious stones. All of them were red, like poppies.”

“Oh, oh! I know! They’re called rubies!” A small girl exclaimed as she shifted on her seat with vivid excitement. You confirmed with a nod as you smiled at her warmly, but then, your gaze seemed to naturally find that familiar figure which never left you mind.

Randvi was there, leaning against a pillar with her strong arms crossed over her chest. While she was a small distance away, she seemed to have been listening to your tales with great interest, her dazzling eyes affixed on you. You couldn’t look away. The sight of her was something to behold; a rough kind of beauty you’ve never seen before, a warrior enveloped in sensual feminine charms. There was a hint of a smile on her rosy lips, and her gaze softened the more you peered into her beckoning eyes. She motioned with her head for you to follow her into the map room, and without question, you did.

The creaking floor boards disheveled your nerves, like little ripples on the surface of a very still lake. Heat rushed to your cheeks as Randvi suddenly turned to face you, leaning back against the large table. A particular kind of charm lingered about her – a deep, sultry energy. It was her beautiful blue eyes, the way she looked at you, silently inviting.

“I interrupted you, I’m sorry.” She spoke and you quickly shook your head. It was fine. For her, anything was fine.

“I recently came across something that might interest you. It belonged to a group of raiders which attempted an attack on Ravensthorpe, and of course, greatly failed.” And she reached across the table to produce a neatly folded map, carefully opening it. You stood still, silent and in awe, finding it more and more difficult to focus on anything but her.

Were you bewitched? Was this fate mercilessly tossing you into a bottomless pit of beautiful despair? You couldn’t quite tell why you were feeling so weak all of a sudden. She was indeed enthralling, but it was more than her ravishing appearance which pulled you in. She was full of secrets. Hidden beneath that strong, stoic shield, there were raw emotions and passions waiting to be discovered. And they called for you, just like mother nature’s precious treasures called to be unearthed.

“Come here, have a better look.” Randvi motioned for you gently, and you followed like a moth to a flame. By Gods, you must’ve been a hopeless cause.

“Ah, I see.” You took in a sharp breath as you scanned the new map quickly. For you, those symbols and roads were easy to read and interpret, like second nature. You could already picture the real landscape, the ruins, the earth which hid those treasures well. That energy vibrating from beneath stone and soil, waiting to be found.

“If you help us find it, we will fairly spread it in half.” The beautiful warrior murmured quietly, and when her arm draped over your narrow shoulders to pull you in, you thought your legs would crumble. Her hand was heavy, her grip strong as she cupped your arm; yet she was careful not to hurt, gentle like a dove. She whispered details of the treasures only for you to hear, mindful of the many people still indulging in the plentiful dinner. You nodded, absorbing each word that rolled so gracefully off her lips as you followed the trail of her finger on the map. Surely, her intention was not to stir you up like this, but the closeness was overwhelming, suffocating, making you burn all over.

You slowly shifted away from beneath her large, strong arm, and dared to find her gaze in the glowing light of the ceiling. Her beautiful, thick eyebrows rose and she appeared surprised that you pulled away. Whether it was just your naïve mind giving false meaning to a woman’s innocent acts, you couldn’t tell, but if what you saw in Randvi was true, then your feelings were reciprocated. Quickly, you nodded.

“I accept. In two days we can start our journey.” You spoke with newfound confidence, pulling yourself together.

***

The warmth of that beautiful Norse goddess’s touch left a deep, burning imprint on your shoulder.

Albeit it was harshly storming and the winds were crisp, you felt hot and sleep refused to pull you in the land of dreams. The bedding was heavy, tangling in your limbs as you shifted from side to side restlessly. Each time your tired eyelids fell closed, you saw the image of her;  handsome cheekbones glowing, a piercing pair of eyes shimmering like Larimar and Azurite, and lips like dew dripping off wild rose petals.

Your chest heaved with a deep sigh as you slowly relaxed your body. There was a smouldering feeling between your legs, pulsing, making you shift and press your knees together. The thought of Randvi aroused you, filled your mind with unholy thoughts. You suddenly craved her rough grip, imagining how good those powerful viking hands would feel on your breasts, on your throat, and on your hips… How skillfully that beautiful mouth of hers would stir your desires as it would dance across your lips…

Thunder struck by your window, abruptly pulling you from your dirty fantasies, and you sat up. Rain came in heavy waves, drenching the little village. It called to you, like many of mother nature’s wonderful things did, and so you left your hut to sit beneath that heavy pour, trusting those cold drops to chase the devil out of you. And you spun, with arms outstretched, welcoming that freezing sensation which enveloped your body. As you slowly danced in the rain, thoroughly running your hands through your long hair, you briefly noticed light in the longhouse. It must’ve been the hearth which burned continuously – a never-dying flame of warmth and soothing, homely comfort. Curiosity pushed you towards that enormous structure, unarmed and barefoot as you were, and with your night dress heavily dripping with rainwater.

The cold was beginning to settle in your bones, and so, as you reached the warm entrance to the longhouse, you stood beneath its majestic threshold to bask in that golden light. The scent of fire and old wood lingered in the air pleasantly. As you guessed, no one was around at that ungodly hour of the night – but you heard it again… that deep, heart wrenching, muffled sob.

It was her; Randvi.

However, instead of weeping over ‘Eivor', she was faintly calling her husband’s name in between soft cries and suffocated breaths. That feeble voice impaled your heart, twisting and turning in your chest as if her pain was your own. Oh, how much you wished to break those walls down and wrap her in your arms, to kiss the anguish off her heated cheeks and never see a single tear of suffering in those precious azure gems. But as you heard heavy steps echo into the map chamber, you rushed back to your hut, terrified of being caught.

-          To be continued…

*part IV.

[nahoyaglock]

📃 AS I AM CHAPTER 3 — Discovery

SUMMARY — You knew Kageyama Tobio since you both were in diapers, being close family 'friends'. You always wanted to befriend the quiet kid but no matter your efforts, he would never crack. When you transfer schools and meet Kageyama again, what will happen to your relationship?

PAIRING — family friend!kageyama x y/n

GENRE — fluff/crack/angst

WARNINGS — kags being a bigger meanie

WORD COUNT — 2.6k

FIND THE MASTERLIST HERE

It has been about more than two weeks since your first day at Karasuno, already creating good bonds with Hinata, Nishinoya, Yamaguchi, and even Tsukishima. You were pretty close to all of them, spending alot of time together at lunch or after school, and even during the weekend. They wanted you to feel welcome, after all, you even had a little text group chat.

(Sent October 10th at 11:15 am)

Y/N: [Good morning yall, and happy birthday noya!]

Shoyo: [HAPPY BIRTHDAY NOYA!]

Tadashi: [goodmorning and happy bday!]

Tsukki: [morning, happy birthday]

Noya: [GOOD MORNING, AND THANKS GUYS!]

You smiled down at your phone before shutting it off. Since it was Noyas birthday, your mom let him and your friends come over, it also being a Saturday. You planned to have a sleepover with your new friends, Kageyama, and Tanaka of course. You had finished cleaning your living room, and despite it being small, it was big enough to fit a bunch of enthusiastic dorks, and Tsukishima.

You had begun cooking lunch, making sandwiches for you and Hinata, who was already on his way to your house. "Good morning honey," your mom spoke softly, rubbing her eyes as she walked past you to the coffee maker. "Good morning mom, Hinatas on his way here already," you smile and finish the sandwiches, putting them on a plate and walking to the living room.

"Okay, I have work today so ill be out for a little bit, tell Nishinoya I said happy birthday and Kageyama I said hello," she chuckled as she started the machine. You nodded and heard the doorbell ring, causing you to sit up and smile in excitement, placing the play down on the couch. "Thats Shoyo!"

You hop to the front door and immediately unlock the door, greeting the orange haired male with a smile that was matching his. "Hey y/n!" He greets and you let him in, closing the door behind himself. "Hi Shoyo, I made lunch," you say and lead him to the living room. "Wow, your house is really cute," he giggles and sets his bags and blanket in the corner next to the couch.

"Im glad you think so, I think Tanaka is arriving next, but i could be wrong," you say and plot down on the couch, hinata following your movements. "When is Kageyama coming?" He asks and rests his head on your shoulder, head tilted so he can look at you, but you just shrug. "He hasn't answered me since I sent him the invite yesterday," you say before handing him the plate and taking your sandwich.

"What? He answered me this morning," Hinata said and pulled his phone out of his pocket, going to his text messages with Kageyama. "Yeah, he texted me this morning, asked if i was coming to the sleepover," he said and you sae him typing on his screen. You felt hurt, Kageyama always answered you, whether it was one word, or even one letter, he always answered.

"Ah, he might've forgotten, i wont hold it against him," you smiled and decided to shake it off, it was Noyas birthday and you were ready to have fun. You and Hinata watched a bit of Netflix and ate a bit more than just the sandwhiches you made. It had been about more than an hour since the next person appeared, hearing the doorbell ring as you were in the middle of showing Hinata baby pictures of you and Kageyama.

"Ah, I bet its Tsukishima and Tadashi! Or just Tadashi!" Hinata shouts, jumping up, you following after him with a big goofy smile on your face as you both run to the door. "Its definitely Tanaka! Im calling it!" You laugh, barely able to keep up with the small male as he opens the door. As you looked at the male at the door, you and Hinata both shouted at the same time.

"Tadashi!"

"Tanaka!"

"K-kageyama?" You questioned and Hinata sighed, walking back to your room, sulking. "Its just Kageyama," he complaimed and Kageyama glared at him. "Whats that supposed to mean dumbass!" You let him in and close the door behind him as he kicks off his shoes. "Kags, you didnt bring any bags? Like, more than one?" You ask and walk to your room, seeing him hesitate to say respond.

"I'm not staying over. I just wanted to wish Nishinoya a happy birthday, i thought more people would be here by now," he nonchalantly responds, almost irritating you. "Well, you could've answered my text with a yes or no, or tell me that," you say and turn to face him, kicking his ankle softly. "Sorry," he muttered.

You entered your room with Kageyama and saw Hinata checking out your wall of pictures, filled with pictures of you and kageyama as children, you and your mom, and your friends from Nekoma. "Hey, is that Kenma?" He asked, turning his head to look at you and Kageyama with a curious face.

"Oh, yeah it is," you answer and walk over to the spot next to hinata. "Ah, Inuoka! Lev!" He exclaims with a excited expression, carefully scanning the pictures. "Is this the Nekoma volleyball club?" He asked, looking up at you with admiration as you confirm that it is.

"Thats so cool! You know Kuroo?!" He said, looking at another photo, one dear to your heart. It was the last time you saw them, you had a sleepover at Kuroos house, all the boys attending. You were wrapped in Kuroo and Inuokas arms, the 2nd years sitting on the couch in the back with the rest of the members asleep, or running around.

"Yeah, he acts like my brother sometimes. This was from our last sleepover before i came here," you state and he puts it back in his place when he hears the doorbell. "Okay, this time its DEFINITELY Tanaka!" You slap Hinatas arm and you two, once again, race to the front door. "Its gotta be Tadashi!" He once again opens the door to be met with Tanaka, causing you to shout in glory, hinata groaning.

"Uh, hello to you too," he laughs and steps over Hinata who dramatically fell to his knees. "Sorry, we were betting on who would arrive next," you laughed as he put his stuff next to Hinatas and saw Kageyama come out of your room. "Hey Tanaka," he greeted and you all sat on the couch, continuing the movie you and Hinata had started. After about 30 minutes more, there was a knock on the door.

"Thats definently Tsukishima," You say and Hinata nods as you stand up to open the door, greeting the tall blonde, noticing Tadashi and Noya behind him. "Hey Tsukki, Tadashi, and happy birthday Noya!" You greet, patting Tsukishimas arm and hugging the last two. "Everyones here, so lets get started, hmm?"

As everyone gets their stuff situated, you head to your room to get your phone and order some take out and remind your mom to get a cake before heading back out to your friends. "Noya, you ca– Noya?" You giggled softly, seeing him wrapped in a giant fluffy blanket, and he smiles. "Yes?"

"Ah, I was gonna say you can choose a movie, unless you wanna do anything else before the food arrives," you bounce before taking a seat between Tsukishima and Hinata. "Movie please, i dont want to even know what hes thinking right now," Tsukishima said, his expression was serious. You elbow him with a chuckle that follows, "its his birthday, cut him some slack."

You all decided to play a few games with an old movie playing as background noise. Truth or dare, would you rather, never have I ever, and some board games, Tsukishima winning monopoly. He was currently boasting to Kageyama with a smug look on his face as the doorbell rang.

"Food!" You shouted and jumped up to answer the door, quickly paying for the food and closing the door before bringing it to the small coffee table in your living room. "Also my mom should be home in a few minutes so call down with all the cursing Tanaka," you laughed and opened the food boxes before grabbing some plates and utensils for them to serve themselves.

You guys ate and finally put on a movie, moving the coffee table to you, Noya, Tanaka, Tadashi, and Hinata could all huddle up on the floor infront of the tv, leaving Tsukishima and Kageyama on the couch. "Hey, im home honey. Hi boys," your mom called, a big bag in hands as she slipped off her shoes. "Hi y/ns mom!" Noya called and she brought the cake over to you.

"Happy birthday Noya, and hello Kageyama, its been a while since ive seen you, you're so big," your mom patted his shoulder and he nodded. "Hello Mrs. y/l/n," he spoke politely as Tsukishima quietly laughed at him. "Behave okay? Im heading to bed. Oh, and Kageyama, your mother invited us over tomorrow so i can take you home tomorrow, " she flashed a warm smile and your face lit up as you sat up from the cuddle pile.

"I haven't been to your house in years," you exclaim and placed a hand on Kageyamas knee, giggling. He shifted a bit, causing your hand to fall and he hummed, "because Tokyo is far." You roll your eyes and lay down back between Nishinoya and Hinata. "And im not sleeping over, my moms coming in 10 minutes to pick me up."

"Ah, well either way, ill see you tomorrow Tobio," your mom waved and left to her room. It was silent as you guys kept your eyes glued to the screen. Eventually Kageyama left, so Tsukishima joined the cuddle pile until you guys got tired. Hinata and Tadashi took the couch, Tanaka and Nishinoya draped over each other near the couch, Tsukishima laying next to you on the blanket that covered the itchy carpet.

You sat up, on your phone after your friends from Nekoma decided to blow up your phone.

"You still awake?" You jumped at the voice, thinking everyone was asleep, and you turned to the voice to see the salty blonde slipping on his glasses. "Yeah, my friends texted me," you whispered before turning off your phone, the room being engulfed by darkness and you took your spot next to Tsukishima. "So you and Kageyama?" He propped his head up on his hand as he looked at you.

"Yeah, he's weird. He hasn't been talking to me that much the past few weeks." You rest your head on the pillow and pull the blanket up over you. Tsukishima hums lightly before fixing his pillow, "is he always like this? He doesnt seem that way around the team."

"I guess? Hes always been dry and stand offish since we were children, but to other people he was different." You felt tired, and Tsukishima could sense it. "Rest, worry your head tomorrow." He pats your head before taking his glasses back off and lays down, you smile. "Thanks Tsukki."

"Dont call me that."

—

Once it became morning, Tanaka and Nishinoya were the firsts to leave, followed by Tadashi. You had just come out of the shower, finding Hinata folding his blankets and cleaning up the living room, and Tsukishima talking to your mom in the kitchen as he helped wash dishes. "Good morning mom," you yawned and grabbed a key from one of the drawers. "Im gonna stop by the store, wanna come with Tsukki? Hinata?"

Tsukishima looked at your mom and she nodded, telling him it was okay and that she'd finish the dishes on her own. You left the house with the two males, taking the short walk to the store. "You're going to Kageyamas right?" Hinata asked, bouncing to keep warm in the cold air. You nod and swing the keys around your finger, "yeah, in a few hours, oh! Let me text him."

(Sent October 11th at 1:17 pm)

Y/N: [Morning Tobio!]

[I'll see you in a few hours!]

As you waited for his answer, Tsukishima spoke up. "Not to.. seem like im putting you on the spot but.. doesn't he ignore you?" He kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze forward and Hinata gasped, "Tsukki that sounds mean!" He smacked his arm, causing the taller to look down at him. "I'm just saying that its not the best way to treat someone," he rolls his eyes and Hinata scoffs. "As if you can talk."

You sigh and laugh, placing a hand on both the males arms, "calm down you two, geez." They relax in your touch and Tsukishima continues. "Seriously tho, he could be just, y'know.. being a bitch," he he spoke, putting an emphasis on bitch. "Or he could be hiding something!" Hinata gasps and you laugh at them. "Yeah yeah, but its whatever really, this is how ive always seen Tobio, it'd be weird if he was any different. Though id like it alot if he DID be a little less dry."

You remembered the talk you and Tsukishkma had before, he always brought up Kageyama and your relationship with him. Soon you started to think the same was he did. Was Kageyama really just being mean? Isnt that just how he always is? Why does he act different around others? Was it you, or was it him?

—

You kicked off your shoes as you stepped into the warm house with a bright smile, "hello Mrs. Kageyama!" You greeted as she pulled you into a hug. "Hello y/n, my you've grown! Tobio is in his room, can you take him his plate? This one is your" She said and handed you two plates. You smiled and nodded your head like a gibby child and she patted your back as you made youe way to Kageyamas room. You kicked on the door because your arms were occupied.

You heard a bed creak and a few seconds after, the door opened and was almost closed back in your face if it weren't for him catching a glimpse at the plates. "Come in," he mumbled and let you in. You walked over to his bed and put his plate down on his bed and sat on the end as he closed the door. "Wow, your room has changed alot," you smile and look around the room at his posters and pictures on the walls.

"Mhm," he plopped back down on his bed and went on his phone. You noticed this and furrowed your brows, taking a bite of your food. "You know, for someone on their phone alot, you sure do ignore my texts alot," you mainly joked, but you guessed that he didnt catch on when his expression changed and he mumbled an apology. Was that guilt on his face?

You decided to stay silent and just scroll through social media and eat your food. After a few minutes of just silence, Kageyama finished his plate and got up to take it upstairs. "Hey Kags," you called before he left and you held your plate out to him, "can you take this for me?"

"You barely ate any thing," he said and you shook the plate a little bit, causing him to grab it, scared it would fall. "I'll bring you a meatbun," he murmured and left the room. You smiled slightly at the mention of meatbuns, and stood up to stretch your legs.

You grabbed a napkin from Kageyamas bedside dresser and wiped any food off of your mouth. He had a small trash bin in the corner of his room, so you went to throw away your napkin, looking at his posters and pictures on the wall. When you opened the bin, there was a large stack of pictures atop all of the trash.

All being pictures that had you and him in them.

© tomura-heart — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, or copying is not allowed. you may translate with my permission and correct crediting. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Ocean Eyes - Part 1

Summary: Your past with Chris catches up with you.

A/N: Can’t say more than that or it gives stuff away! 😂 Taglist is open, if 

you want to be added let me know 💕

After a long day working at the local coffee shop the last thing i wanted to do was go to a club! But it was Sadie's leaving party so i had to make an appearance or id never hear the end of it.

It had actually been a really fun night, my first night out in what felt like years and after a few drinks i let myself enjoy it. I even had a couple of guys offer to buy me a drink! Just after midnight i caught a taxi home and left the younger girls to carry on with their partying..... how they did it i don't know! Most of them had had far too much to drink already and no intention of stopping any time soon. God i miss the days where i could do that!

When i finally got home i dropped my bag and my jacket next to the front door, went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and headed up to bed. I managed to throw on an oversized t-shirt before crashing face first into bed, the make up removal would have to wait til the morning i was too exhausted to care.

I woke up to my cell phone blaring loudly in my ear, i patted around for it keeping my eyes closed already feeling the hangover! I mumbled a 'hello' then heard the soft chuckle of my mom.

"Had a good night did you?"

"Mmm it was okay, i'm so not used to drinking anymore Ma. How do people do this every weekend?" I moaned as i slowly opened one eye then the other.

"I remember when you'd be out every weekend, you even ended up in Vegas that one weekend...."

"I remember believe me!" I said as i finally sat up grabbing the bottle of water from the bedside cabinet draining half of it.

"I was just wondering what time you were coming over?.... you said 10am but its almost lunch time"

"What??!! are you serious?.... shit. Okay let me go get a cup of coffee and take a quick shower and i'll be there"

"Okay sweetheart, no rush"

"Everything's okay?"

"Yeah yeah all good. I'll see you soon"

"Okay, bye mom".

I had just finished my coffee and was heading upstairs for a shower when the doorbell rang. I was going to ignore it but then whoever it was started knocking.

"Jesus.... give me a second" i muttered marching to the front door, i opened the door just a crack hiding behind the door due to my lack of pants! When i looked through the gap i gasped.... the last person i ever expected to see was stood on my doorstep.

"Chris...."

"Hey" he smiled nervously "sorry for just showing up like this but i didn't have your number. I tried calling the one i had for you but it was out of service"

"Yeah i had to change it a few years back..... wh...what are you doing here Chris?"

"Can we talk inside?.... i don't really wanna do this through a crack in your door" he laughed a little but it was more of a nervous laugh.

"Erm, sure can you give me a couple minutes to go put some pants on?... i was just about to get in the shower"

"Sure"

I nodded and closed the door before quickly rushing upstairs and grabbing my jean shorts from the chair where i had discarded them yesterday. I was just about to leave my room when i passed the mirror and caught a glimpse of my reflection "fuck!" I quickly grabbed a makeup remover wipe and cleaned my face of smudged mascara and run a brush through my hair.... it was no good,  the hair could not be saved! I quickly tied it up in a messy bun not minding the loose bits that fell out, it would have to do!

The living room was a mess so i closed the door leaving just the kitchen visible. Then i rushed over to let Chris in before he thought id run off and forgotten about him. He followed me through to the kitchen and took a seat at the table while i made us both a coffee.

"How you been? Its been a while since ive seen you" he asked softly.

"I guess it has been.... erm i'm good" i shrugged casually keeping my attention on the mugs as i made the coffee.

"Im glad. Seemed like you disappeared off the face of the planet, you just left. No one heard from you...."

"It was for the best, fresh start and all that"

"Im sorry for how we... how i left things"

I shrugged shaking my head

"you really don't have to apologise Chris, you made a choice...."

"A stupid choice..... i was young and very stupid...."

"Whats done is done, theres no point rehashing it... its been almost 7 years i'm over it" i scoffed picking up the mugs and joining him at the table.

"You are?"

"Of course!"

"Thats great" he nodded avoiding eye contact.

"Okay so spill it.... i don't mean to sound rude but i've got somewhere i need to be soon and i'm already running late....."

"Still cant handle your drink huh?" He finally looked at me smirking.

"Apparently not.... how'd you know?"

"Ive seen you hungover enough to know the signs, the hair and the face full of smudged makeup...."

"you saw that huh?"

"Yeah" he chuckled looking me over.

"So....."

"Right... i um....i need you to sign this" He said reaching inside his jacket and pulling out some papers.

"Sign what?..... what could you possibly need me to sign?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he pushed the papers across the table to me. I leaned forward to get a better look and the first thing my eyes landed on... "Petition For Divorce".

I felt my heart start to race as i looked up at Chris..... "what is this? I signed these 7 years ago Chris!"

"I know. I never filed them"

"What?! you mean we're still married?!"

"Yeah"

"Why? You told me you'd take care of it all...."

"And i was gonna, but i couldn't bring myself to do it"

"Jesus christ Chris!"

"Im sorry Y/N" he started to say but I shook my head as i got up to get a pen, when i sat back down and signed them without hesitation Chris made this noise, like i had offended him by signing the divorce papers without an argument.

"What?"

"Nothing, its just you signed them pretty quickly...."

"Chris, i signed these 7 years ago when i loved you.. why wouldn't i sign them again? There's no reason not to..... what we had has been over for years"

"I just thought maybe somewhere down the line we'd work things out"

"I didn't. Any thoughts of us working out ended when you broke up with me because your career was taking off and you liked the attention from all the girls"

"I was an idiot i know, i was just a kid...."

"Bullshit! If you were old enough to get married....you were old enough to know what you were doing".

He looked down shaking his head again, he actually looked ashamed of how he had acted. Maybe he had grown up.

My phone started ringing and i saw my mom's name flashing on the front.

"Hey mom..... oh god, yeah okay.... i'll be there in like 15 minutes i promise" i hung up after saying goodbye to her.

"Im sorry, but i've got to go. You got what you wanted" i shrugged pointing at the papers on the table, he folded them neatly and tucked them back inside his jacket.

"Thank you"

"Can i ask you something?"

"Anything"

"Why now? You didn't bother for 7 years"

"Ive been seeing someone..... its getting kinda serious now...."

"Right, i get it. Your ready for a new wife...." i shook my head suddenly feeling very sad about my past life with Chris "i didn't even get the chance to be your wife.... not really. That ain't worth shit" i pointed towards his jacket where i knew the papers were.

"Its not like that Y/N i swear, i just.... i want the option to be there if the time comes"

"Well i hope it works out better for you this time. Look i have to go......"

"Right okay, sorry. I'll get out of your way" he got up quickly and followed me through the kitchen and to the front door.

"It was good to see you, make sure you file those this time" i said as he walked towards his car.

"You got it, it was great seeing you too" he smiled before getting in his car and driving off.

"Hey Ma!" I called walking into my mom's house.

"Your late" she called from the sofa, i made my way to her and dropped down next to her.

"I know im sorry, you'll never guess who just turned up at my house??!"

"Who?"

"He who shall not be named!" I said quietly, my mom's eyes widened as she gasped "you mean...."

"Yep!" I nodded "turns out we've been married the last 7 years! He never filed.... he came by to ask me to sign them again"

"That boy has some nerve showing up here...."

"Yep"

"Did you sign them?"

"Of course i did"

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that" i shrugged "like i told him, i already thought it was done and over with, i haven't seen him in 7 years.... why wouldn't i sign them"

"Sweetheart....." my mom started to say something but was interrupted by the excited yell of 'MOM!" right before a small body crashed into mine.

"Hey buddy" i laughed hugging my baby close "have you been behaving for nana?"

"Yep, i'm always good" he rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around me "i missed you mom"

"I saw you yesterday baby" i chuckled running my hand through his brown hair before kissing the top of his head.

"I still missed you"

"Awww ain't you cute! I missed you too".

"Hey! I thought you liked staying with me? We had so much fun" my mom said trying to act offended but smiled when Mason started laughing.

"We had fun Nana, but i missed my mom" he looked up at me with his big blue eyes and i felt my heart swell with love for my baby boy.... well he wasn't a baby anymore, it was hard to believe he'd be turning 6 in a few days.... how time flies.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit

[generallybarzy]

smile like sunshine iv

Tuesday: ~ 7.9k I’M SO SORRY

previous chapters: i // ii // iii

an: I HAD WRITERS BLOCK BUT THEN IT ALL HIT ME AT ONCE. I thought it was gonna be a short filler chapter but.... 7.9k words later here we are... I realized that I probably should’ve given mc a real name and stuff because it’s so specific about certain details, but it’s too late to change that, so we’ll all have to deal with it unfortunately. Also, from here on out there is a warning for nsfw thoughts! Anyway, enjoy! @thirteenisles!!

summary: Much, much different from yesterday, today is the yearly fishing trip, so you and Mat are- unfortunately- apart for a good part of the day. Mat and your father come to a silent agreement and you look for a distraction in an old flame to keep you from falling more in love with your friend. Mat doesn’t like sharing this place in your mind with anyone else...

It’s the summer of ‘19, eleven years after you first met Mat, and things are bound to be a little different this time around. 

You woke up the next day with a smile on your face, giddy and excited before you even opened your eyes. You had fallen asleep happy and tired and full of warmth the night before, cuddled up against Mat’s side as he drove back to the beach house. He only woke you with soft whispers when it was time to undress for bed; you woke up in his arms realizing he had carried you all the way from the car to your room. So, your mind raced with images of Mat- his smile, his laughter, his eyes, his body- it was all overwhelming enough to stir up passionate dreams about him. Dreams about his skin against yours, weightless in the water, his big hands on you, his body hovering over top of yours, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he moved on top of you... 

Rolling over in bed and trying to control yourself, you opened your phone and went into your gallery, into the folder of all your pictures of Mat from yesterday that you would continue to fill throughout the week. 

And though you’d only been apart from him for the eight hours of sleep, you needed to see him in person.

Mat was in the room across the hall, drifting in and out of sleep with a smile on his face as he thought back to yesterday. He reached over to the bedside table so he could scroll through his own phone. You had asked him yesterday to take a picture of you for your Instagram, posing for him and smiling with the ocean in the background, and he couldn’t look away from them. You looked so good yesterday in that little bikini, all spread out on the paddleboard and soaking up the sunlight, and, as much as he wanted to keep his head out of the gutters around you, there was just something about you. If only you knew the effect you had on him.

“Kids, get up! We’ve got a lot planned for today!” 

He jumped, hearing your mother’s voice in the hall outside your rooms, and sat up a little bit more in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He had to admit, this trip would be a little bit more fun if your family wasn’t here as well; if every day could be like yesterday. But hoping to be alone with you for every second of the day was a fantasy, and he knew it. He was still technically intruding on your family vacation.

There was a knock at his door, and for a horrible moment, he thought it was one of your parents before your voice sounded from the other side. “Mat? It’s me.” 

“Yeah, come in.” If only he was ready for what he was about to see. Yeah, he saw you in a bikini yesterday, but this was just as good… You walked into his room in a little tank top and booty shorts, what you had slept in, your messy hair thrown up in a bun. He didn’t want to stare too much, but were you braless? Yeah, you definitely were. He shuffled around under the sheets, making sure you wouldn’t be able to see what you were doing to him. He was lucky you knocked first, or who knows what he could’ve been doing?

Seeing Mat lying in bed was… a sight. His dark hair was haloing around his head on the pillow, he was tangled in the white sheets, and half of his upper chest and arms were exposed and already looking beautifully tanned. “You’ll never guess what today is.”

Mat ran a hand through his hair and let out a puff of air. “Your birthday’s tomorrow, so I have no idea.” 

“It’s the family fishing trip! Remember that?”

Oh, he remembers it. He remembers going out onto the water in a rented boat with his dad and yours, watching in amazement at the huge fish they caught in the ocean. He remembers playing with you on the little dock, daring you to jump from it and into the ocean. Of course, your parents always stopped you from doing that. “No way, you still do that?” 

“Yup, it’s tradition.”

“The same place every year?” 

“Same place.” 

“Maybe this year you won’t be too afraid to jump off the dock.” He smirked, and it was a sight that flooded heat all the way through your body.

“Shut up, Mat! I wasn’t afraid to, my parents just never let me!” He laughed at that, sitting up and letting the sheets fall off his bare chest. “And you know that, too! You just love to get on my nerves.” Oh, that was only one of many things he’d love to do to you.  

“Maybe. But you brought me on this trip anyway.”  

“Don’t make me regret that, Maty.” You swatted his bare leg away from you as he stretched out in bed, and he couldn’t help but smile at the touch. “Get up, we gotta get ready for today. I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna be pretty fun.” And when you turned and left, Mat had to bite his lip to hold back any reaction to the way your legs looked in those shorts. He tossed his head back to his pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

Yeah, today was gonna be fun.

Back when you and Mat first met, your parents and his immediately got along. He had begged and begged his parents to talk to yours and let him go along on the family fishing trip, mostly because you had cried to him and told him you didn’t want to be alone. Of course, they had to go meet your parents first and come along, but when they finally agreed that Mat could come along, you were over the moon. 

 Since you reconnected almost a year ago, Mat had told his parents about you. He called them the day after you approached him in the bar, when he went out to lunch with you to talk, the moment he knew he was going to try and befriend you again. He was excited when he called them, asking in a frenzy if they still remembered that girl he hung out with the summer of 2008. Of course, they remembered her, they had told him, she was the first crush he ever had. "Oh, your first girlfriend!" his mom had exclaimed. "Mom!" Flustered, Mat shook off those words. No, you were nothing more than friends. 

That’s what he had thought, anyway, up until a few months ago. 

Now, after being alone with you yesterday, he knew: this was much more than friendship.

The place your dad went to go fishing every year was a cute empty spot of beach, with deep water and a small dock where you and your siblings and friends always used to play. Where you used to play with Mat, that summer, when he dared you to jump in but you were too scared. Where you continued to come back to years after until Mat was just a fading memory and your parents urged you to meet new friends. And where, years later, you had your first kiss, with some random boy you met three days before and who you thought was cute.  

“This is where it all began.” You spread your arms wide in a flourish, presenting the dock to Mat when you arrived. He glanced around- yes, this was where it all began. 

“It definitely looks a lot smaller than when we were kids.” 

“Yeah, probably because we grew up.” 

“Aww, if we grew up does that mean I can’t push you in anymore?” 

“Don’t even think about it, Barzal.” Before Mat had the chance to even try to push you in, you were cut off by the sound of an approaching boat out on the water. “Bet, Mat. Wanna push me into the water in front of my dad? I dare you.” He smiled and held up his hands in surrender. Usually, your dad took your brother along with him, but this year it seemed he had other plans. 

“You like to fish, Mathew?”

“Uh,” he glanced at you for help, obviously not yet sure how to talk to your dad. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty good at fishing.”

“Great! Hop on. We’ll have some one-on-one time.”

“Okay, cool.” The moment he turned away, Mat whispered to you: “He’s going to throw me off the boat.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Mat. He doesn’t hate you. You’ll probably just talk about fish or sports.” 

“But don’t you want me here with you?”

“I’ll be fine alone for a bit.”

Mat couldn’t lie- he wasn’t the happiest at how this day was gonna pan out. He wanted one-on-one time with you, not your dad. They had already had that talk at the motel when he ever so kindly told him not to make a move on his daughter, so he wasn’t sure what else could happen. But if this is what he had to go through to get on your dad’s good side, he was gonna try his hardest. So here he sat, kinda awkwardly, next to him, a fishing rod in his hands. 

“So, Mathew, You were gone with (Y/N) yesterday...”

“Uhh, yeah.” 

“What’d the two of you do?” 

He was at a loss for words. What could he say?  “Oh, just uhh, took a drive down to another beach, had lunch.”

“Hmm. But you didn’t try anything?” 

“No, no nothing!”

“I hope not. Otherwise, we’d really have a problem.” Mat couldn’t find a way to respond to that. As much as he wanted to make a move, he knew here wasn’t the ideal place to do it. No, he’d wait until he wasn’t sharing a roof with your father. “Mathew, I still remember what you said at the motel.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Of course, he did. “But you understand where I’m coming from, don’t you?” 

“I- I‘m not sure.”

“You seem like an… okay, guy. A good friend to her. But I’ve seen plenty of guys who seemed okay and ended up breaking her heart. I won’t let that happen again.” Mat wanted to tell him that it wasn’t up to him to decide who his daughter could date, but he knew that that might be the dumbest possible thing to say, so he held his tongue. “I know what young, professional athletes are like. While I respect the sport, you’re not the type of guy I want my daughter with.” He didn’t like the idea that you’d had your heart broken before. He never wanted to do that to you, and your father just had a way of making him doubt himself. 

“I understand.” Mat’s eyes drifted to where you stood down on the sand, barely able to make out your form from this distance, as he wondered what you were doing. 

You were collecting shells, walking side by side with your sister, and catching up with a little bit of girl talk. 

“Sooo, this Mat guy?” 

“Yeah?” You couldn’t help the smile that was pulling onto your face at just the sound of his name. “What about him?”

“Well, he’s an NHL player, first of all.” 

“He’s a lot more than that.” And he was. It may sound strange to others, but he meant everything to you. Ever since that summer where he had been your refuge, he’d been the one you thought about to calm down. He’d been your happy memory. He’d been the dream you could only hope you never forgot. And he became so much more in the past few months. It was a little weird at first when your roommate teased you about your “summer romance” with this boy you didn’t even know, but suddenly you didn’t want to deny it. Maybe this time around, you would come back with an even better story than before. 

“Yeah. He’s also pretty hot.”

“Trust me, I know.” You weren’t shallow, but yeah, the cherry on top was how attractive he just happened to be.

“What are you two? Friends? Maybe moooore?”

“No, no, no, just friends.” Your answer was quick- almost too quick- as if you were trying to cover something up. A silence fell between you and you realized just how in denial you sounded. “But he just means a lot to me, ya know? You heard the story about how we met, right? Mom’s obsessed with telling it.”

“Yeah, of course. If you ask me, kinda sounds like looooove.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Seriously, if this were a movie, I’d watch the shit out of it. Imagine the ratings a plot like that would get! It’s like a teen summer romance but... wholesome and cute! I’m sure everyone has a childhood friend they became separated from. Imagine reading this summary: A boy and girl meet and become best friends only to be separated after one summer of romance-” 

“Ew, don’t say romance! We were like, ten.”

“-After a summer of almost-romance where they were obviously in love even if their little brains couldn’t comprehend it. They reconnect years later, only to realize what they felt all those years ago was much more than friendship.” 

You laughed, but couldn’t help imagining how that story would end. What was your sister, a psychic? “Okay, that’s not quite how it goes, but can we just… stop talking about him? It’s weird.” For the last few months, there had been a weird feeling in your chest whenever you discussed your relationship with Mat. Okay, maybe- just maybe- you had a little crush. A tiny crush. Nothing that meant anything, nothing that wouldn’t be easy to get over. It sucked to have a crush on one of your best friends, to have a crush on the boy you brought along on this trip to use as a distraction from everything else. 

You glanced out to where you could barely see Mat’s figure on the boat with your father. His features were indistinguishable, but you could see the outline of his body and the dark swoop of hair on his head standing out against the blue sky. It wasn’t like Mat was interested in you at all, he was an NHL player, a star at that. He probably had countless girl’s numbers lined up in his contacts that he could date at any given moment, there’s no way he’d settle for a childhood friend he’d only known for a year. Just because he came on this trip with you and promised to be your distraction, didn’t mean he liked you like that. No, if anything, he was here for nostalgia- for looking back on that summer when you were carefree children- not because he had any type of romantic feelings for you. Not because he loved you. Yet, despite this, you couldn’t seem to control yourself around him.

You desperately needed a distraction from Mat, or else you’d end up doing something you couldn’t come back from. 

You dropped your gaze to the sand to look for any pretty, unbroken shells hiding among the piles beneath your feet. The tide had come in high earlier this morning, leaving behind a mess of little shards of broken shells and rocks. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d find one that was whole. 

“Ooh, look at this one!” Your sister held up a pretty shell, still in one piece, colored all the shades of a sunset. 

“Oh, man that’s pretty! I wish I could’ve found one that nice.”

“Don’t look too hard. It was right in front of you the whole time.”

You walked silently, pondering over her words, and searching for something better when a third voice spoke up from a little distance in front of you.  

“No way, (Y/N)?”

It was a voice you’d never thought you’d hear again, but when you looked up towards it, you realized this trip might just get a lot more interesting. Your sister nudged you and made her exit, knowing exactly who this was and wanting to give you alone time with him. 

Maybe this was exactly what you needed to take your mind off of Mat.

Back in 2008, when you were only ten years old, you thought the world of Mat. You thought he was the coolest person you knew, at the beach or at home. He was your closest friend, but for some reason, neither of your young brains realized that you should get each other’s parent’s phone numbers or addresses so you could keep in touch. You left the beach that year with nothing on your mind but Mat, and your parent’s loved to tease you to this day that he was the only person you talked about for months. When next summer rolled around, you were pouty and angry that he was nowhere to be found. And that continued for years to come. 

Slowly, over the years you went on family vacations in that same house, you began, with your parent’s urging, to try and push your memories of Mat to the back of your mind and make new friends with the local kids your age. And slowly, you began to forget about Mat. Or, that’s how you thought it would happen. Sure, there were times you went without thinking of him for a while, but something would always end up reminding you of him. But you pushed it aside. He’s long gone, you’d told yourself, no point in dwelling on the past. None of your new friends could compare to the fun Mat had been, but they were great friends, and now you were young teenagers having fun, getting into trouble together, and experiencing all your firsts together.

This guy- Kyle- was one of those firsts. 

The summer you turned seventeen, there was a new guy among your beachy friend-group. He was your age, and he could already drive, and that made his curly, blonde, surfer boy look even more attractive to all the girls who knew him. As much as you hated to admit today, you weren’t an exception. Yeah, you thought he was cute. No, there wasn’t much about him beyond that, as shallow as it was, but at least he had seemed to care about you that night when he walked you away from the other teens, partying and drinking and walked you out to the dock and kissed you under the stars. He had said all the right things that night, and a few nights later, and later, and later.

You went that whole summer thinking that the two of you were together, but apparently, you’d missed the memo that he was seeing other girls, too. He’d promised he didn’t mean to hurt you but learning that it wasn’t the two of you, learning that he was with other girls too and the whole summer had been a lie made your self-esteem plummet. It hurt like hell, being your first heartbreak, and it was the worst possible way to end a beach trip tradition. 

But he wasn’t a bad guy, not really. He was a young, stupid, teenage boy, right? And he said he didn’t mean to hurt you. No reason to hate him. 

Now, almost exactly four years since you met him, he walked next to you down the beach as you combed for shells, a quietness settling over you. It wasn't a comfortable silence like with Mat, but something uneasy, something tense and awkward. Why was he here? Was it appropriate to just… walk up to your ex and start chatting like old friends? Maybe he was just trying to be civil, courteous- if that’s what this was, you… hesitantly respected that. It probably took as much courage as when you approached Mat for the first time- both times. But, if he was looking for something more…

“So, you been dating at all?”

“Sure I have. I mean, it’s been...almost four years?” Truthfully, you’ve barely been dating. Nothing serious, at least. But you knew it would sound so sad if he was the last “serious” relationship you had. 

“You disappeared after what happened between us. For four years. I thought maybe you couldn’t face me afterward or something.”

“No.” You bit your tongue, not really wanting to bring up old bad blood or reopen old scars. “Life just got in the way. After that year I had a job, then I was moving out, going to college. Just didn’t have time to come down anymore.”

“That sucks. We’ve all really missed you down here.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” He smiled, dropping an arm around your shoulder. You knew he didn’t mean it in a romantic way, it was such a thing he would do, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. “We’re actually having a party on Friday. Think you can make it?” Could you make it? It was going to be the night before you had to leave, your last night on the beach, and as much as you wanted to do something alone with Mat, you knew it was inappropriate to cling on him as if he was something more than a friend. As if he was yours. But you needed to take a step back before you did something you couldn’t take back. 

Maybe this was the perfect distraction from Mat.

“I’ll be there.”

After their first discussion, Mat had fallen in and out of uncomfortable small talk with your father for what felt like hours. And now, as they got ready to head back to shore for a quick lunch, he could confirm that he was one hundred percent still not on his good side.  It seemed like no matter what he tried, your father didn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe it was best this way, indifference is better than hate, isn’t it?

“Shit...” 

“Huh?” Mat looked up when your father swore next to him. He was glaring up the shoreline as they approached the dock, out to where you were. And then he noticed, with a jolt to his heart, that you weren’t alone out there. Standing next to you in the sand was a generic-looking douchebag surfer dude. He was standing way, way too close to you for his comfort, with an arm thrown over your shoulders like you were old buddies. “Who’s that?” 

“It’s not really any of your business, is it?” He glanced over and, for a moment, Mat regretted asking anything, not wanting to stir up any drama. “But... seeing as you’re here as her friend, maybe you can talk some sense into her.” 

“About what?”

“It’s not my place to tell you about her private stuff but… that boy. Trouble.” He shook his head, preparing to dock the boat. “Mathew, I don’t dislike you. You mean a lot to (Y/N) as a friend, and I don’t want you to ruin that. If things didn’t work out between you two, she would be devastated. I’ve seen her heartbroken, but if it was because of you, it’d be so much worse. She could barely function without you after that summer, so if things ended completely between you two...”

Mat couldn’t help but smile when your father said he didn’t dislike him. That was a start, at least. But the thought of you having your heart broken was something he didn’t want to think about. The thought you being heartbroken because of him was something he didn’t want to think about. “I know.” And he did. He understood because he would feel the same way. If things went awkward and sour between the two of you, he would hate himself. He would be lost. Reconnecting after ten years and then losing you all together would hurt even more than if he’d never found you- if you were still only a fond memory he thought back to. If he lost you, he wouldn’t even know what to do. He needed you.

“But, that being said, you’re better than any other guy she’s cared about. Especially that boy. I respect that.” He stepped onto the dock and cast one look back at him. “Look out for her this week. As a friend.” 

“I will.” 

“Starting now.” He motioned down the beach where you stood with the boy, his arm around you, pulling you much too close to his body. 

It felt good to know that at least your father didn’t hate him. He respected him, even. It felt good to know that both men had the same ideas when it came to your safety and were able to come to a silent agreement. And if all they could bond over was their need to protect you, he could take that. Because you were all that mattered to him. 

He all but jogged down the beach to you, his heart throbbing at the sight of you smiling and laughing with someone other than him. His blood boiled. He hated that you were so familiar and comfortable with this guy, but he took comfort in the fact that your dad felt the same way, that at least they were on the same page about that. What could he be saying that was making you this happy? Who could he be who was stealing your attention away from him? That should be him, with his arm around you, making your eyes sparkle in laughter. What was this tightening feeling in his chest? 

Why was Mat so jealous of him?

“Who’s this?”

You looked up from where you were practically hanging on the blonde boy’s arm and met eyes with Mat. Your Mat, your best friend. The man you were trying to forget about. And you had forgotten about him for a few minutes, falling back into the memory of your summer romance at seventeen instead of thinking of Mat, with his pretty dark swoops of hair and high cheekbones, those shimmering hazel eyes and that dazzling smile… and the fact that he was shirtless and shining all pretty and golden in the sunlight. The way he made you laugh until there were tears in your eyes and your sides ached, the way he made your heart pound erratically when he hugged you and when he threw his arm over your shoulders.

And suddenly you realized your ex couldn’t compare to Mat at all, no matter how much you needed a distraction. 

“Mat, this is Kyle. Kyle, this is my friend, Mat.”

“Hey.” The other guy spoke up, and somehow, he sounded exactly like Mat expected him to sound. Like a fucking douchebag.

“Hey.” Mat couldn’t hide how unenthusiastic he was when he greeted the man, and you noticed. It was awkward, you were sandwiched between two shirtless men, one your ex- who you were trying to use as a distraction- and one your best friend- who you were hopelessly crushing on and needed a distraction from- and all three of you waited and waited until Mat finally spoke up. “So, how do you know each other?”

“We, uhh, we dated when we were younger.” 

“Oh?” Mat wasn’t a fan of the way his heart ached when those words left your lips. Of course, you had other boyfriends, you were stunning, borderline perfect. Everyone must want you. You’re not mine, you’re not mine, I know. “You did?”

“Yeah, actually…” Kyle tossed his curly hair out of his face and had Mat rolling his eyes. “We met down here a few years ago. And that dock over there?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the dock, pulling you against him. “First kiss.” Mat’s muscles tensed, his jaw went tight and his fists closed- he hated the idea that this dock was anyone else’s special place with you. Okay, maybe it was a bit selfish, but he thought this was just a little secret between the two of you, and then this guy had to show up and ruin it? “Best first kiss a girl could get, huh?” He looked at you with a cheeky, smirk...

...But it wasn’t as cute as Mat’s.

“Yeah, it was good.” 

Mat knew it was stupid and unrealistic of him to think he’d always had you all to himself. You’d only known each other for that one summer, and had been separated for ten years, so of course, you eventually found someone other than him. But he couldn’t deny how much it pained his heart to know that somebody else had been closer to you than he had. To know that someone else had taken his place. To know that you weren’t even his to begin with. This guy had held you, kissed you, taken Mat off of your mind, and Mat hated how it felt to know that. “Cool, cool. Well, I think it’s time to head back for lunch, (y/n).”

“Ah, shit, really?” he pulled you tight against him in a quick side hug and kissed the top of your head. Part of you wished, for a moment, that he was Mat instead. “See ya. Remember, Friday!”

“Yep, Friday!” 

Mat couldn’t help but roll his eyes again, watching him leave. He came on this trip with you and you were ditching him for your ex? Shit, it was so tough being just your friend. “What’s Friday?” His voice came out more strained and forced than he wanted it to.

“A party with my old friends.”

“You’re going?”

“Yeah, they’re my friends, so why not?” Mat couldn’t help but feel a little bit betrayed, but he knew this was your vacation, and you were kind enough to invite him along, so he couldn’t tell you what you could and couldn’t do. Just friends, just friends, just friends, he told himself. 

“Well, I still get you to myself tomorrow, right? For your birthday?” 

“Of course you do. Why, are you planning something?”

“Duh, what else is a best friend for?” He pulled you against him to walk down the beach and you smiled at the familiar scent of him, the familiar warmth of his body. Being in his arms was so much better than being in Kyle’s arms. He shrugged, sucking up his pride to tease you about your ex-boyfriend. “Sooo... you and surfer dude, huh? Didn’t know you were into that type.” He laughed again, nudging you with his elbow and smirking. 

His smirk was a lot cuter than your ex’s. 

“Shut up!” You laughed at the teasing lilt in his voice. There was your Mat, happy and smiling. His heart lit up again. Yeah, he could make you laugh so much better than anyone else could. He would always take pride in that. “I know, I know, it’s embarrassing, but listen! We were only seventeen, he could drive already…”

“Ooh, sexy.”

“Mat!” 

“I’m serious, the ability to drive is pretty hot, right?”

You laughed, “Mat! I get it, I get it, it was a dumb summer fling, okay? There actually isn’t much more to him personality-wise. He’s not better than you.” 

“Of course he’s not.” As cocky as Mat played it off, he was really thankful. Thankful you still preferred him over your ex-boyfriend. Thankful he still held a special place in your head, in your heart, even, that no one else ever would. “I mean, have you seen me?”

“I have.” Your eyes skimmed the length of his body. You’d seen him, alright. “You wanna hit the waves before lunch?” You traced your fingers down his arm and grabbed his big hand in yours.

“How could I say no?”

So, with his hand in yours, you ran to the water, shedding the sheer cover-up you’d been wearing over your swimsuit and shrieking when the waves splashed up against you. As usual, Mat dared you to follow him out further than you would’ve like to have gone. The gleam in his eyes was something you weren’t unfamiliar with, the same gleam he got when he was beating you at a game or when you dared him to do something. He wasn’t one to back down until he won, and that was rubbing off on you. His confidence was rubbing off on you. Something about him made you feel so brave. 

“I’m guessing you’re not gonna tell me what we’re doing tomorrow?

“Of course not. It’s a surprise. What type of friend would I be if I gave away the surprise?” He dodged the water you splashed towards him and half hopped, half swam backward in the water. You had wadded out to an area that was deep enough for neither of you to be able to stand very well, and as much as you hated being out here, you felt safe as long as Mat was next to you. He splashed you back in retaliation only to be immediately hit from behind by a wave, laughing the whole time he went down at the shriek you let out when he got your hair wet. 

You laughed as he went under. “That’s what you get, Barzal!” After a few seconds without seeing him resurface, you started to worry, your breath caught in your throat. Should he have been up by now? Did he get the breath knocked out of him and couldn’t come up? Did he get pulled out further? “Mat? Mat, hey, where’d you go, buddy?” Your breath was shallow, your mind fuzzy, and your heartbeat quickened as you took a few strides forward, turning and glancing over the rippling surface of the water, trying to find any sign of him, any movement, any trace of his dark hair, but there was nothing. 

Not until a pair of arms underwater grabbed your waist from behind and lifted you. 

“Gotcha.”

He was still laughing, still teasing you, thinking he had just played a funny trick on you and you hadn’t been in the middle of freaking out and panicking that your best friend had probably drowned. 

“Shit, Mat. Oh my god.” You turned in his arms and pulled yourself against him, cheeks warming up at the feeling of his wet, bare skin against yours, his muscles taut, and his skin slick beneath your fingertips. He’s okay, he’s safe, he’s alive. You brought your hands up around his shoulders, pushing black strands of wet hair out of his eyes as he continued to laugh. You smacked his shoulder, suddenly angry that he would even joke about drowning. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. “You’re a dick! That wasn’t funny!”

Mat must have noticed the way your nails were digging into the flesh of his biceps, holding him for dear life with an urgent look in your eyes because he stopped laughing almost immediately when he noticed your concern. “Hey, hey.” His voice dropped to the gentle, reassuring tone that always made you emotional. The voice he broke out when you got hurt and he was there as a friend to pick up the pieces. The same voice he’d used all those years ago when you started crying over a crab he had thrown at you. “Look, I’m fine.”

“But I didn’t know that two seconds ago!”

“I’m sorry. I was just messing around. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know. I’m just glad you’re alive.” You took deep breaths, your head dropping to rest on his wet shoulder, your face pressed against the crook of his neck. It took you a few moments to understand how intimate this was: you were wrapped up together under the water, still in his arms with your feet listed off the sandy floor, pressed chest to chest with your arms wrapped over his shoulders. What you had intended to be a friendly hug became so much more when you were wet and weightless and almost bare, pressed against each other. You sighed and pulled back from him, dropping down to your feet but keeping your hands on his shoulders so stay still. He was your anchor out here. “You know, you don’t have to go pretending to drown just because you’re jealous of my ex and want my attention back.”

“What?” he scoffed, trying to play it off cool. Okay, maybe it was true that he was looking for a little bit of your attention, but he’d never admit that. Friends don’t get jealous of their friend’s ex-boyfriends. “I’m not jealous.” 

“Really? You didn’t seem like your friendly self when you were talking to him. And your eyes look pretty green right now, so I’d say that’s probably because of the green monster.” You teased, poking at his face.

“He’s your ex, do you want me to treat him like a friend?”

“Well, he was also my friend, so you don’t need to be so hostile towards him. But I get it. It’s okay to be jealous. I get jealous of your friends, sometimes.”

“You do? Why?”

“They’ve gotten to spend more time with you than I did. They probably mean a lot more. You have friends you’ve known for years, and I’m not one of them. We only knew each other that summer and then this past year. I wish we would’ve been friends longer.” 

“You don’t have to be jealous of them, though. I actually feel like we’ve known each other since then. I thought back to you a lot, wondering what you were up to...”

“Probably thinking of you.” You smiled, your heart swelling at the thought that between growing up and getting into the NHL, Mat still thought of you every now and then. “I feel so lucky to have found you” You closed your mouth, letting your words settle in the air between the two of you. “You don’t have to be jealous either. Kyle wasn’t that great. Not cooler than our time together.”

“No?” He added a chuckle to try and lighten the mood. “I thought he was the cool kid who could drive?”

“No.” You dropped your gaze to the ocean, turning away from Mat. “We may have had a little… romance thing, but he cheated on me.” Mat’s eyes went soft, his eyebrows furrowing up at the idea of you having your heart broken like that. He knew much too well what it felt like to be lied to and cheated on, so to imagine you suffering through that without him there to help pick up the pieces for you was too much. “Well, no,” You shook your head. “I guess he didn’t really cheat. Only kinda. It was just a summer fling to him, but I thought it was something more. I was just dumb and naive I guess.”

“Hey,” His hands lifted to your shoulders momentarily, turning you to look up at him. “That’s really shitty anyway. He hurt you.” 

“Yeah. He did. And you'd never hurt me.” Your fingers, much without your permission, glided down the lengths of his wet arms to cover his hands with yours. “See? You don’t need to be jealous. You’re so much cooler. You mean more to me than he ever did. Nothing- no one- can ever top that summer. No one can ever top how much you mean to me. You're my friend.” 

You both sat in uncomfortable silence, mutually hating that sentence. There was no way you were just friends. This wasn’t platonic at all.  Friends didn’t cuddle each other in motel rooms; friends didn’t hold each other underwater; friends didn’t daydream about making out with each other; friends didn’t get jealous of their friend’s exes; friends didn’t have hot, wet dreams about each other almost every night; friends didn’t nearly kiss every single day. So were you really just friends?

"Yeah." As much as Mat hated being "the friend", he was going to try his hardest to live up to that if that's what you wanted from him. And even if that’s all he’d ever be, he would learn to accept it. It was better than not having you at all. "I might even be your best friend ever, right?" 

"We'll see about that. You've got a lot of competition." He laughed with you. Oh, if only you know how much he didn't want to be your friend. If only he knew how much you wanted him to kiss you. 

 “Well, was that enough serious talk for today?”

“Yeah,” You huffed a sigh, brushing off the thoughts in your head. “I think it was.”

Your gaze dropped from those pretty hazel eyes, shimmering golden and green in the sunlight, across the immaculate structure of his cheekbones and jaw, right to his pretty pink lips. If only you could know what it felt like to have them against yours- would they be soft or rough?- to have his hot tongue in your mouth, his hands grabbing your waist, touching you all over, pulling you onto his lap. What you wouldn’t give to feel his mouth making it’s way down your body, leaving wet kisses and sucking on tender skin, leaving marks on your throat, your hips, the insides of your thighs. To feel his nose rub against you as his tongue dipped, lapped, caressed…

Mat watched you, the look in your eyes, all the walls about your past broken down, and at that very moment, he knew something. He would be your friend as long as you needed, he would be there for you to pick up the pieces and listen to your problems, he’d keep you safe, he’d do what a best friend should do. But, fuck. Fuck, he loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you, and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it to himself.  This was so bad. 

He broke apart from you, removing his hands from where they’d been resting on your shoulders under your own soft hands, taking a few strides back in the water, and trying to regain some platonic boundaries between the two of you. That was all you were, right? Friends.

“Woah, where are you running off too, Mat?” Your laugh rang in his ear, pretty and perfect, and you.

“I-” He gestured back to the shore. “I think lunch is ready onshore. I’m kinda hungry.”

“Alright.” You pressed your hand into his and his heart leaped at the simple affection. It’s not like you hadn’t held hands before, but this time it felt… different. “Let’s head back then, Maty.”

Damn it, you have me wrapped around your finger, babe.

The day passed much too quickly for either of your taste and before you knew it the sun was dipping low in the sky, signaling the end of your long day. You wanted to spend the rest of time here in the sun, your feet digging into the sandy bottom of the ocean with the waves splashing around you; you wanted to spend the rest of time wrapped up in each other’s arms, caught up in each other’s eyes, frozen in time as you held on for dear life in your own little bubble separate from the rest of the world; daydreaming about kissing and fingers running through each other’s hair. You wanted to spend the rest of time dreaming of holding each other without worrying that the other didn’t feel the same. 

But it wasn’t quite over yet.

You were sitting alone on the dock, working away at braiding the bracelet you were finishing up for Mat when you heard footsteps behind you and looked up to find him, his hair sun-dried and fluffy in the breeze and a fresh drink in his hand. “Wow, that’s really coming along, huh?” His voice was a blanket of familiarity washing over you. You would never get tired of hearing it.

“Yeah, it is.” You smiled up at him. “When you want something hard enough, you really gotta work for it.” You reached up to grab his empty hand, wrapping the bracelet around his wrist to see how much more you had to get done. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a few moments longer than they should have, and you both noticed the delicate change in atmosphere before you pulled away completely.

“You mind if I join you here?”

“Anytime, Mat.”

So he sat down next to you, watching the colors fade from the sky and dipping his toes in the water with you and closing his eyes in pure bliss. You were both warm and smelled of saltwater and sunscreen, your breath tasting of the lemonade you had had after dinner, and whatever alcoholic drink Mat was currently sipping on; your cheeks and nose were still slightly rosy from the sun, faces hurting from smiling and laughing too much with him. If this wasn’t the perfect recreation of your first family trip with him all those years ago, you weren’t sure what was. 

Everything was soft and quiet until Mat spoke up from next to you. “You know, sunsets on the east coast aren’t that cool.”

“Ouch!” You mocked offense, bringing a hand to your heart. ”Wow, I invite you on this vacation with me and all you can do is insult it? I’ll rethink ever bringing you back.” He threw his head back in a cackle- the one you loved so much.

“No, I just mean… it’s cooler seeing the sunset over the ocean, don’t you think?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know, don’t really wanna inflate your ego any more.”

He chuckled a bit more, always a welcomed sound in your ears. “Guess I gotta take you out west then, try to convince you.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I’ll take you to Vancouver with me when I go home. We can head to the beach from there. My mom would love to meet you.” 

“You told your parents about me?”

“Of course. I told them all about you after we caught up. They remember you, they even still have pictures of us somewhere. They’d love you.” 

There was something about that moment... He was shirtless, the sun was going down behind him and casting a pretty halo around his head, his eyes held yours intensely, with unanswered questions. You tried to ignore the way his skin glistened in the light, the way his thick thighs were spreading out deliciously as he sat, the way you were sitting so close to him that the outside of your bare thigh was touching his, the way you were leaning back on your hands with your pinky loosely tangled with his. There was something about that moment, talking about his family and how much they’d love to meet you, how there are still pictures floating around of you and Mat as children, of the one summer that changed everything for you. There was something about that moment that almost had you leaning in.  

“Kids, we’re heading home!”

You turned away from him quickly, scooting your leg away and pulling your hand from his. Maybe hearing your mother’s voice was what pulled you back into reality. You couldn’t kiss him. Not now.

“Yeah, yeah!!” You pulled yourself up off the dock, extending a hand to help Mat up, and smiling when his big palm touched yours, warm and soft. “We’re coming!” 

This wasn’t how you wanted the day to end, but maybe it was for the best.

You could break the boundaries of friendship, push the limits to your relationship with Mat, stick your toe in and test the waters, but was it worth it? Maybe you should just try to avoid your feelings for him. Maybe it would be best to suffer in silence for the rest of your life. Shove those feelings down inside of you and swallow your words only to spend your nights dreaming of how it would feel to sleep next to him, to roll over into his arms. Maybe it was best to love him from afar. Rather that than ruin what was an amazing friendship. 

Right?

[empty-dream]

So I read 86 LN vol 1

S1 anime covers the entire Vol 1 except for the latter's epilogue, so full anime spoiler here.

And as of this writing, I'm still on Vol 2 so the things I mention here are solely those that happen in Vol 1. Idk if a thing happens in the latter volume, gotta dodge spoiler so I don't browse about it.

There was an interview with a person inside the anime industry that basically said "The point of an anime adaptation is not to be an exact replica of the original material, but to shine as its own medium for a story." I forgot who it was and I can't find the interview anywhere for the life of me, but that statement opened my eyes. I agree with it, that's why I can appreciate the differences between LN/manga and anime, especially if they turn out good and/or interesting.

And that's exactly what happens in 86. I'll start with this: I watched the anime first, and after I read the Vol1 novel, I actually like the anime more. Because there are a lot of meaningful original scenes in it

And because the Vol1 novel turns out exactly what I fear when I first watched the anime: that I won't care much about the squadron aside from the main 5. (Look, the anime promotional materials mostly only have Lena and those 5 only. As shocked as I was in the anime, I did have an idea where the story would go from those alone). The rest are barely mentioned. Not even the girls are named in the novel, even though they do talk and Lecca is even prominent in anime.

For example, the second half of the first episode, the one that shows Spearhead squadron's daily life right before Lena contacts them, is anime original scenes. Kujo already dies the moment the novel starts focusing on the squadron. Simply put, a lot of the squadron members that aren't the main 5 or Kaie get a *lot* more focus in the anime, like Daiya, Haruto (For characters who appear on the introduction page, their novel screen time is less than I'd expect), Kujo and Lecca. While the other members often appear in the background and actually behave like equal members instead of glue-them-on figurines.

(Idk if those other members are named and/or designed in the light novel before the anime is a thing or when the anime becomes a thing.)

The anime also adds relevant information in the Raiden's talk with Lena in EP7, like Kaie receiving racial abuse from 86 (in fact in both versions, she is the first one to get highlighted about this) and Haruto also having prominent Giadian Empire blood like Anju and Shin. These weren't in the novel.

I might be just nitpicking here because I love Kaie and Haruto, but see, this scene is amazing on its own. This is where Raiden and the squad reveal the weight of their motivation all along, that they *each* have different backgrounds and different kinds of sufferings, yet they are all sentenced to die, and they all choose to fight because they know no side is saintly but some things are still worth fighting for.

The prominent characters' deaths (besides Kaie's) are often mentioned with only one or two dry lines. I expected at least Daiya's to be detailed more, but it's just that so matter-of-fact-ly. Well I came from the anime, so I guess it's normal if I expected something as heartbreaking.

I broke down HARD at the last half of EP10 and that is nowhere in the Vol 1 novel. (Having Hands Up to the Sky playing in the background is also an advantage for being an anime. Fuck that song, I now play it 24/7 in despair)

Having a lot of original anime scenes really complement the story's nature. That there are two different sides of life here, it's not just Lena's or 86's only. And those couldn't have intertwined if not for their willingness to listen and communicate.

I know I mentioned this some days ago but really, I can't get over how many of the merch are Lena (and Annette) being cute doing cute stuff while the story itself is actually depressing. Merch staffs know the market lol.

- Novel side -

That said, the novel does have an advantage that the anime/visual media doesn't: Internal explorations and explanations.

It's obvious from the get-go, but Asato confirms that the inspiration of Republic of San Magnolia and its racial discrimination and genocide is taken from Nazi Germany in WW2. The Republic who favors the white/silver haired-eyed Alba drives Colorata out of the 85 sectors, overtakes their properties, and forcibly sends the now-called-86 to either fight their war and die, or work on the wall and die.

The life inside the Republic is also elaborated on. Class always exists, even inside one race only. The center of the republic is for the elites, Lena and Annette's families included. The farther a sector is from the center, the lower the education and economy there is. Most of the military come from these areas, which explains why Lena herself is in difficult situation. Since no one in the military is either capable or willing to bring change.

It's *insane* how easily the Republic could create such vile lies, and how easily the majority of the citizens go along with it.

Gotta admit, Asato does a good job at foreshadowing the fate of the 86, the truth that we can only see after Ep7 of anime. It is mentioned that supposedly, 86 soldiers will be welcomed back once their 5-years term is up. Lena once wonders about it, but ultimately she buys it thinking that surely they must have come back to another sector. She only realizes it's utter bullshit after Annette points out how, 9 years later, they have never seen even one Colorata inside the Republic when they should have seen at least some. This also shows that Lena has never ventured to the other sectors to find out more, probably due to work or maybe she's still a sheltered noblewoman in the end.

And the mentality of the majority of Alba is shown differently. Whereas the anime uses the academy classroom to show how deeply rooted the racism against 86 is, the novel uses Lena's mother who a) more or less does the same as the classroom, and b) presses Lena to get married and preserve their pure noble bloodline. This, when the nobility doesn't actually mean anything anymore. This version shows not only Alba's racism but also Lena's strained family life.

There is a scene of an Alba high school valedictorian who, during his graduating speech, says “My friends died fighting the Legion.” I’m not sure this will make it to the anime, and it’s just a minor scene in the novel, but the weight of that scene is heavy.

The science of Para-Raid is explained, which has something to do with tapping the collective consciousness of humanity and connecting it to one another. A bit far-etched but I guess that works, science fiction and all. But I like the part where despite (or maybe because?) of connecting via hearing only, the other senses are faintly receptive as well. For example, one can sense that the other side is biting their lips in frustration, something like that. Of course, actual real life things like sensing the hidden bitterness or elation in a talking partner's words are present, this being a story where listening matters.

The novel elaborates on Raiden's stay with the Alba old woman. He calls her Old Hag, but it's clear he greatly respects her. The part where she screams and curses in the middle of the road at the Republic soldiers who take Raiden and the other children away stays in Raiden's mind forever, and so it does to me. Ngl it is quite a chilling scene.

Same with the story of the previous Laughing Fox, Theo's Alba commander. It turns out, the entirety of Theo's first squadron didn't like him at all and bet on how fast he'd tuck tail and run back to the Republic. When he faced his death the way Theo explained, he sent a message to Theo revealing he knew about it and knew his place to not ask for acknowledgment or forgiveness. This made Theo regret why he didn't try to talk more with his commander and he keeps thinking about it forever. Now it makes even more sense why Theo, blunt as he is, is willing to listen to Lena and when he snaps, he wonders if his late commander would do the same.

What actually happens in Kurena's backstory is also touched upon. While in the anime some viewers could think "Man, I get where you're coming from but chill out." The novel graphically shows her parents being toyed on by the Alba soldiers while her sister protected her, the two could only watch, and then the same sister got sent to the battlefield to die. Now at that, anyone would think "Man, no wonder she can't chill out. Not with all that trauma."

I also like the addition that Lena can sense Kurena is the one who dislikes her the most.

The novel describes greatly that it isn't just Alba and Non-Alba. Essentially speaking, Non-Alba is called Colorata, and they consist of different race groups as well. Just as Alba is associated with the color silver/white, the other race have their associated colors as well. Asato assigns races to the named members in Vol1 and what their distinguished color features are. This also explains why Anju is exiled despite looking like an Alba.

It's a question that I pondered on when I first saw Shin's armor plates, and that I pondered harder on when Chise died: What happens if there is no armor plate to carve its processor's name's on? So it turns out Shin would substitute it with anything; piece of wood or some random piece of metal. For Chise's case, Raiden, Chise's leader, suggested using the wing of Chise's in-progress airplane model. Which did my heart so bad because I'm strangely fond of Chise and finding out that in his spare time in his limited lifespan, he was working on an airplane model made me sob.

I'm not particularly into mecha, and could care less about how it moves. But Asato did a good job describing the fight between a glorified suicide car and a line of brand-new solid A-grade tanks. Special mention to I-IV because wow the concept arts for all the mechas are so cool, even though I don't really understand. (Asato even said to I-IV "Go draw a tank so horrible it's stupid for the Juggernaut" and I-IV came up with the current Juggernaut)

You know how the Republic greeting is "Glory to San Magnolia and the five-colored flag"? I won't disclose who says this in what situation, but there is someone of Colorata saying "If you hate colors so much, you should have just colored your flag white" AND OOOH THE BURN SO HOT HOT HOT

Tl;dr: Bottom line is, I personally enjoy Vol 1 because I already watched the anime and got attached to it. If I were to read the vol 1 first, most likely I wouldn't fall this hard for the series. Hell, maybe I wouldn't even pick it up in the first place because I knew it'd be depressing. But this is not to say that the LN is bad. It’s very good, it just does not really touch the lives of other soldiers whereas that’s the very thing that I love from the anime.

[grantyort]

Prelude IV: Relight

Post-Surgery: DAY ONE

[Sean sits in the hospital bed, legs crossed, staring into space when he hears a familiar voice.]

Joey: Sean, Sean Diaz? Well damn. I never thought I’d see your sorry ass again!

Sean: Geez Joey. Is that how you talk to all your patients?

Joey: Just the ones I like.

[Sean chuckles]

Joey: C’mere big man.

[Joey gives Sean a big bear hug]

Sean: How’ve you been Joey?

Joey: Can’t complain. These days, they got me up in hospice care. You’re probably the first person I’ve seen today that didn’t need their bedpans changed.

Sean: Sounds terrible.

Joey: It’s all not all bad. Lot of these folks have stories that you wouldn’t believe. One of my patients has lived through five wars and two depressions, tells me I’m a credit to my race.

Sean: Yeesh.

Joey: (shrugs) She means well. It’s almost flattering compared to some of the stuff I’ve heard. Been on this job almost ten years now, some people still treat me like I have no idea what I’m doing.  

Sean: That sucks Joey.

Joey: Yeah... Anyway, you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself. From what I heard, this procedure cost a small fortune. You must have friends in high places.

Sean: Yeah, something like that.

Joey: And no guard at the door this time. I assume everything got cleared up with the police? Not planning to make a break for it again are ya?

Sean: Nah, no daring escapes this time.

Joey: Good. I don’t think I’d survive another blow to the head.

Sean: Listen Joey I’m really sorry-

Joey: (laughs) Relax Sean! I’m just messing with you! It’s ancient history as far as I’m concerned. Say, did you ever end up finding that brother of yours?

Sean: Yeah. He’s actually coming to visit me tomorrow.

Joey: Can’t wait to meet him!

Sean: Famous last words.

Joey: So… what you been up to these days?

Sean: Mostly just cramming for the SATs, drawing, listening to music. Normal teenage shit.

Joey: That’s good to hear. I was worried about you man. You went AWOL after the hospital. I got police and Feds breathing down my neck for weeks. Then a month later, I hear about a couple of kids trying the border to Mexico on the news.

Sean: Sorry I never reached out. I just didn’t want to get you more involved than you already were-

Joey: You made the right call. They questioned me for hours. My apartment was filled with G-men, my girlfriend was freaked. I honestly thought she was going to dump my ass.

Sean: I’m really sorry Joey.

Joey: Don’t sweat it Sean, it was for a good cause. Besides, everything worked out in the end.

Sean: Yeah I noticed, how long have you been-

Joey: Almost a year now. We’re expecting our first baby in the summer.

Sean: Congratulations dude!

Joey: Thanks, but honestly, I’m kinda nervous, don’t think I’m ready to be a father.

Sean: You’ll be a great dad, Joey. You’re awesome at taking care of people.

Joey: You’re damn right. Speaking of which, we should probably take a look at that eye of yours.

[Joey takes off the bandage and gives Sean’s eye a thorough examination]

Joey: Well it looks a helluva lot better than the last time I saw it.

Sean: That’s good to hear. I wasn’t sure it would work.

Joey: Well it’s too early to say if your vision will fully recover. But at the very least you won’t have to walk around with a patch anymore.

Sean: Good. It’s hard enough finding a prom date let alone one that’s willing to go with a pirate.

Joey: Still with the pirate jokes huh? Hopefully, you’ll have to write some new material after this.

[Joey applies a new bandage on Sean’s eye]

Joey: And you’re all set. Now as much as I love our talks, I gotta make my rounds. Buzz me if you need me.

Sean: Later Joey.

Joey: See ya tomorrow Sean.

 [Joey leaves the room. Sean turns to look out the window. The door shoots open, and a small figure comes bursting in.]

Daniel: Sean! 

[He jumps onto the bed and into Sean’s arms]

Stephen: (out-of-breath) Sorry, I tried to stop him, but he outran me.

Sean: You okay Stephen?

Stephen: I am… just need a minute to catch my breath. The old ticker ain’t what it used to be- I need to sit down.

Daniel: Take it easy grandpa.

Sean: What are you doing here, enano? I wasn’t expecting you guys until tomorrow.

Daniel: I made grandpa book an earlier flight. I just couldn’t wait! 

[he hugs Sean again]

Sean: Haha easy. I just had surgery, remember?

Daniel: Oh right, s-sorry.

[There’s a brief flash, followed by a shutter click]

Sean: What’re you doing, gramps?

Stephen: Oh nothing, just commemorating the moment. Thanks to your brother, I finally got the hang of this newfangled smartphone camera.

Daniel (whispering): He had it stuck on selfie mode for days. Anyway, did it go? Is your eye…

Sean: I mean… it’s not 100% yet but I can sort of see again.

Daniel: T-that’s awesome! Can I see it?

Sean: Dude last time I showed you my eye, you almost cried. Besides, the doctors say I still need to keep the bandage on for a bit, while it heals.

Daniel: Right. That makes sense. Oooh this room looks cool. Do they have Netflix or a Playbox?

Sean: It’s a hospital, dude.

Daniel: Lame.

Sean: So catch me up. Did I miss anything interesting at home?

Daniel: Nah… Chris is still on that fishing trip with his dad so there’s no one to hang out with. Oh I almost forgot. He made you this card. Isn’t it awesome?

[Daniel gives Sean a hand-drawn “get-well-soon” card from Chris]

Sean: Yeah. It’s pretty cool. We can have Claire put it up when we get back.

Daniel: Grandma’s still in that feud with the lady from church.

Sean: Which one was that again?

Daniel: Agnes, the one who gives off major Lisbeth-vibes. She says grandma stole her casserole recipe for the church bake-sale. Lying bitch.

Stephen: Language!

Sean: Maybe one of us should try to smooth things over before it gets nasty.

Stephen: Hell hath no fury… lemme tell ya. I’ve been married to your grandmother long enough to know once that woman sets her mind on something… there’s no stopping her. Best to just let things run their course.

Sean: Claire can get a little… passionate sometimes. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen her lose her temper for real.

Stephen: There’s a fire in that woman. It’s part of the reason I married her. Just pray she never turns it on you. I hope I’ll never live to see that day, god willing.

[Sean notices Daniel circling the hospital bed, pressing his hand on various parts of the mattress]

Sean: (laughs) What are you doing, enano?

Daniel: Just trying to figure which side of the bed I want to sleep on tonight.

Sean: Dude. There’s no way this bed’s gonna fit both of us.

Daniel: The one in Mom’s trailer was way smaller!

Sean: Yeah well… you were a lot smaller back then.

Stephen: They have a nice area for visitors down the hall.

Daniel: But I want to stay with Sean!

Sean: I guess I could ask Joey to bring in a couch or something.

Daniel: Who’s Joey?

Sean: The nurse who took care of me after the accident. I told you about him, remember?

Daniel: Oh right! I can’t wait to meet him!

 DAY TWO

Joey: How are we doing today? Any headaches, dizziness, socket pain?

Sean: Nah it’s all good. Still getting used to having depth perception again. It’s kinda weird.

Joey: You’ll get used to it. Anything else to report?

Sean: Nothing major. I’ve just been having some really weird dreams.

Joey: We have a psychiatrist on-site if you need a professional to talk to.

Sean: Nah it’s alright, probably just the drugs messing with my brain.

Joey: Well your vitals look good. We’ll go over some basic tests. You know the drill.

(Sean covers his right eye and tries to read the chart. Joey then shines a light and asks him to follow along. Finally, he asks Sean to put the cap back on the pen.)

Joey: You passed with flying colors. The doctor will be in for a final exam tomorrow and then we can discharge you.

Sean: (sarcastically) Too bad, I was ready to become the first Mexican pirate to attend college. So much for being a trailblazer.

Joey: Good to see you haven’t lost that snarky-ass sense of humor.

Joey: Anyway, I’m taking my lunch now. Want me to get you anything from the cafeteria? Wait… don’t tell me. Chocolate pecan?

Sean: You know it.

Joey: I met your brother in the hall. Cute kid.

Sean: (deadpans) Give it a few days. Then see if you get a “second opinion.”

Joey: He does seem a little… “energetic”. But that’s normal for kids his age.

Sean: Yeah one minute I’m his favorite person in the world. The next, he’s off doing God knows what, and doesn’t want me “bossing him around”. You know how it is.

Joey: Can’t say I do. Grew up in a house with three older sisters. Guess I must have been the annoying one. Daniel’s lucky to have you looking out for him. Must be tough sometimes.

Sean: Oh you have no idea.

[Joey claps Sean’s shoulder, he feels a jolt shooting up his spine, everything goes white] 

(Sean sees a door marked: “Miranda A. Connolly, Hospital Director”)

Connolly: You’ve been a valuable asset to this hospital. Stellar feedback from all of your patients and attendings.

Joey: I sense a “but” coming.

Connolly: But, given the dubious circumstances surrounding your transfer and your past involvement with the law. The Board thinks it might be better for one of the other nurses to take this spot.

Joey: Please. I’ve got a kid on the way. We just bought our first house. Can you at least consider bumping up my pay? I haven’t gotten a real raise since I started here. There are kids coming out of nursing school that make what I make!

Connolly: The hospital has limited resources as it is, and the State just slashed our funding again. I just can’t justify raising anyone’s salary right now.

Joey: I break my back for this hospital, work extra shifts, get to know the patients. You promised me at the annual review that I’d-

Connolly: That was before this new information came to light. I’m sorry Joseph, maybe next year.

[Sean snaps out of his trance]

Joey: Sean? Sean are you okay?

Sean: Sorry, Guess I spaced out. Must just be the medication.

Joey: I can have the doctor come by and adjust your dosage.

Sean: I’m fine Joey. I swear. Weren’t you about to take lunch?

Joey: Oh right. We’ll pick this up later.

[Joey leaves the room, looking slightly puzzled.]

Sean: (thinking) W-what what was that? A dream? But It felt so… real.

[Sean takes out his phone and enters the name of the hospital, He finds their website. Under the ‘About’ section he scrolls to the Executive team bio. There is a photo of the woman he saw in the vision followed by a small blurb]

“Miranda A. Connolly is the President and Chief Director of Mt. Cedar General Hospital. She was appointed back in 2016 as Associate Director and has since made ground-breaking changes to the field of medicine and medical care. Under her leadership, this hospital was able to expand greatly, hiring new diverse staff members and vastly improving quality of care for all its patients.”

Sean: (thinking) Holy shit… it’s real. Does that mean I…?

Daniel: Hey Sean! What you looking at?

Sean: Dude! Don’t sneak up on me like that!

Daniel: I wasn’t sneaking. I was practicing my stealth!

Sean: Yeah sure.

Daniel: Are you looking at the new Playbox Pro? My birthday is right around the corner you know.

Sean: Birthday? It’s still January!

Daniel: Never too early to start preparing.

Sean: (rolling eyes) Yeah cuz everything’s always about you.

Daniel: Oooh I bet you were watching those dirty videos again. I’m tellin’ grandpa!

Sean: Hey hands off my phone you little-

[Daniel tries to grab Sean’s phone. Sean wrests his hand away. There is another a jolt]

[Daniel stands in front of the vending machine, staring at the jumbo chock-o-crisp. He looks around to check that the coast is clear. Then he waves his hand causing the chock-o-crisp to fall off the rack and into the dispenser slot.He gleefully retrieves it and devours the candy bar in a matter of seconds]

Sean: Dude, I told you not to eat any more chock-o-crisps! Do you want another trip to the dentist?

Daniel: What are you talking about? I haven’t had one in weeks!

Sean: Yeah sure. So you didn’t pig out at the vending machine before coming in here?

Daniel: How did you-

Sean: Maybe I have magic powers or maybe… you’ve still got crumbs on your collar.

Daniel: Aw, damn it. Promise you won’t tell grandpa.

Sean: Oh so you can tell on me but I can’t tell on you?

Daniel: (smugly) Exactly.

Sean: C’mere ya little shit!

Daniel: Sean stop! Ha that tickles. Quit it!

(After their little bout, Daniel curls up next to Sean, resting his head on Sean’s lap. Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair absentmindedly)

Sean: You ever wish you were… you know “normal” again?

Daniel: You mean not have my powers? Nah. They’re a part of me now. Besides, being normal is overrated.

Sean: (chuckles) I guess it is. But do you ever get that feeling like you thought you wanted something for a really long time but when you finally get it, it nothing like you thought it’d be?

Daniel: Uhhh… you mean like how I begged grandma to get me a PlayBox Live Subscription, but then the exclusives turned out to be shit? And now I have to act like I love it?

Sean: Yeah something like that.

Daniel: (yawns) Meh I’ll just ask for a gaming PC for my birthday.

Sean: Dude you’re like the greediest ten year-old I know.

Daniel: How many ten year-olds do you know?

Sean: Uh… just you and Chris.

Daniel: So, you want me to be more like Chris?

Sean: Wouldn’t hurt.

Daniel: (imitating Chris) “Only the purest of hearts may wield the power of Captain Spirit!”

Sean: Guess that rules you out.

Daniel: (playfully) Shut up.

DAY THREE

Doctor: Okay Mr.Diaz. I want you to follow the light. Look to your right, up and to the right. Good, good, excellent pupil response.  Now look at the chart, cover your right eye and read this line.

Sean: Uh… A, O, E, P… T? Sorry I can’t really make out the last one.

Doctor: That’s okay, it takes time.

Doctor: Now this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I recommend that you wear a patch over your right eye. It’ll be temporary of course, just until you learn to see with your left eye again.

Sean: (laughs dryly) And here I thought my seafaring days were behind me.

Doctor: You know… pirate actually wore patches so their eyes could easily adjust to the darkness and see below deck- Sorry my son’s going through a pirate phase.

Sean: I know the feeling. My little brother’s been through every phase imaginable.

Doctor: Kids, you gotta treasure every moment. Because before you know it, they’ll be all grown up, ready to go off on their own. Look at me, rambling on. Anyway, I signed your discharged papers. They’ll schedule you for some outpatient care in the coming months.You’re almost ready to go. 

Sean: Sounds good.

Doctor: And you’re sure you don’t want to get do something about that nasty scar? A good-looking kid like you, it would be a shame to-

Sean: That’s okay, I think I’ll keep it… as a reminder.

Doctor: Alright but if you ever change your mind, I could refer you to a great plastic surgeon.

Sean: Thanks Doc, for everything.

Doctor: The pleasure’s all mine, Mr.Diaz. The groundwork we laid here could help hundreds of other patients in the future. We are making history. Your nurse should be along in a moment to help you get discharged.

[Sean sits in quiet contemplation. Reflecting on his dreams and new “vision”]

Sean (thinking): Be careful what you wish for... 

Joey: Looks like everything’s good to go. Remember to use your eye-drops-

Sean: Twice a day. Yeah Joey, I know.

Joey: Guess it’s goodbye again. Don’t be a stranger this time okay?

Sean: I won’t.

Joey: Here’s my number. Call me if ever need professional advice or just want to shoot the shit.

Sean: Thanks Joey. Let me know how everything goes with the baby.

Joey: Oh don’t you worry about that. Soon I’ll be blowing up your phone with pictures.

Sean: Haha can’t wait.

Joey: Now hospital policy says I gotta wheel your ass outta here. For liability reasons.

Sean: At least it’ll be a smoother exit than last time.

Joey: (laughs) Get in the chair smart-ass.

Beaver Creek, One Week Later

Sean: Okay, you ready?

Daniel: (takes deep breath) Alright. Show it to me.

Sean: So… how does it look?

Daniel: Looks… normal.

Sean: You almost sound disappointed. Were you expecting a bionic eye or something?

Daniel: No. I just… it looks good. I like the scar; makes you look extra tough.

Sean: You think so?

Daniel: Yeah… totally badass!

Sean: Thanks, enano.

Daniel: You need a new codename, like Scarred Wolf or Deadshot Diaz!

Sean: Let’s leave the nicknames up to Chris.

Daniel: Hey! I make up awesome names too!

Sean: Whatever you say,“Superwolf”

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

The Intern | Part Nine

Series Summary: You move to New York to focus on your art but end up working as an intern at Stark Enterprises

Chapter Summary: you go back to your old apartment for the first time since the night of the attack

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader, Peter Parker x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 2527

Warnings: brief panic attack

A/N: this story does not follow the same timeline as the movies. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :) if you want to be added to the taglist please drop me a message in my ask box

Part Eight | Masterlist

- - - - -

“and where do you think you're going at this time in the morning?” Tony asks sleepily wrapping his arm around you, making you jump as you're trying to quietly sneak out of his bed. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go get ready for training. I was trying not to wake you” you reply, getting up and gathering your clothes from his bedroom floor. 

It had been a couple of weeks since you first spent the night together and since then you’d been in each others beds more times than you care to mention. It wasn’t just about sex though, most nights you just cuddled and talked, or watched a movie until you fell asleep. You loved staying in Tony’s room. His bed was so much more luxurious than yours and his room had the best views. Plus, being on the top floor meant his room was further away from everyone else so you didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone, or bumping into anyone on your morning walk back to your own room. It wasn’t that you wanted your new relationship to be a secret, you just wanted to enjoy being with Tony without wondering what the others would think. 

“you know, you could just move your stuff up here. You stay in my room enough it makes sense to have your things here” Tony says watching you as you stop racing around to look at him and take a breath. “or not, you don't have to if you don't want to”

“no, its not that I don't want to it just..” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to Tony “if I move into your room then the others are going to know about us and they’ll have questions and I just.. I don't think I’m ready for that. You know? I like that for now we can have this just for ourselves.”

“I suppose the late night sneaking around is kind of exciting” Tony winks at you and you giggle.

“besides, it’s not like I’ve really got anything to move up here anyway. Most of my stuff is still at my apartment. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the clothes you found for me but it would be nice to have some of my own things back” 

“I understand” Tony nods “well how about we go this afternoon and you can grab whatever you want to get then?”

“sure yeah! That would be brilliant, thank you Tony!” You smile and give him a quick kiss, but he grabs you and kisses you deeper. You relax into it slightly before pulling away quickly “right I really need to get going or I’ll be late for training and Nat will kick my ass even more than she already does” you get up and head to the door.

“have fun! And hey I want my shirt back later!” He shouts after you.

“what? sorry cant hear you!” You call back as you run out the door still wearing his Black Sabbath shirt. It was oversized on you and you loved how comfy it was. But most of all you loved that it smelt of Tony and made you feel close to him. There was no way you were giving him this shirt back. 

— — — — 

As you step out the lift and head down the corridor to your room you're surprised when you turn a corner and bump into someone.

“Peter?! What are you doing here so early?” You ask, checking the time on your watch.

“Mr Stark asked me to pick up some stuff from his lab to take to the office today” he glances at Tony’s shirt on you and you fold your arms trying to subtly cover it. He looks back at your face. “why are you up?” He asks.

“oh uh, I have training with Natasha today and for some reason that girl doesn’t know what a lie in is” you laugh nervously “speaking of, I better get going. But we need a catch up soon please, I miss my best friend!”

“I miss you too.” He says as he starts walking off, but stops and turns around “by the way, don't tell Mr Stark but… that shirt looks better on you that it does on him” he flashes a cheeky smile and you gasp which makes him laugh before he turns and runs off leaving you stood in disbelief. 

So much for having a secret only you and Tony knew about. At least you knew you could trust Peter not to tell anyone else.

— — — —

“good morning Nat” you say cheerfully as you walk into the training room.

She turns to look at you suspiciously and you smile.

“who are you and what have you done with y/n?” She asks, turning back to carry on setting things up for your session.

“what do you mean?” You laugh with confusion.

“the y/n I’ve been training for the past few weeks normally drags herself in her like a sleepwalking zombie. What’s got you so happy today?” She looks at you again.

“nothing! I just, I’ve been… sleeping really well lately” you reply and Natasha just raises an eyebrow at you. 

Before you can say anything else you hear another voice enter the room.

“ugh Nat, remind me again why you insist on getting up so damn early!” Clint groans as he comes to stand next to you. “I don't know how you do this every day y/n”

You flash him a smile and look back at Natasha waiting for her to explain why Clint is here.

“stop complaining Barton, we’ve got a job to do! Go set up the targets” she responds. 

Clint smirks and sarcastically raises his hand to salute as he walks past Nat, causing her to roll her eyes and smirk. 

“since you’ve been doing so well lately with your training I thought its time we introduced some weapons into our sessions”

“weapons?!” You gasp, eyes wide. 

You had just about got used to fighting with your hands, but the thought of fighting with weapons made you extremely anxious. What if you lose control, like you did in your first training session, and seriously injure someone? 

“hey don't worry, this is a safe space” Nat reassures as she puts a hand on your shoulder, clearly she noticed the small hint of panic in your eyes. “that’s why Clint is here, he’s the best shooter I know. If anyone can teach you to hit a target, it’s him. Just don't tell him I said that or we’ll never hear the end of it” she smirks and you do your best to hide your anxiety with a smile as you both walk over to join Clint at the shooting range. He hands you a bow and a couple of arrows.

“lets get this over with so I can go back to bed” he says firing an arrow straight to the centre of the target.

— — — — 

After your training session had finished you have a quick shower, change into clean clothes for the day and decide to take a walk around the grounds of the compound. You don't know if it was training, or something else but you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling and you hoped a walk in the fresh air might help. You walk through the fields, taking good deep breaths as the breeze drifts through your hair and the bright sun warms your skin. You keep walking til you reach the edge of the small woods that you can see from your bedroom window. You find a nice spot and sit under a tall tree, leaning against the trunk. You look up at the sky, watching a couple of birds flying happily, almost looking like they’re dancing. For a moment you get lost in watching them, completely distracted, until you hear a twig snap behind you. You quickly stand up, turning to look into the woods. You stare through the trees trying to spot what caused the sound. You feel a hand on your shoulder and spin around.

“y/n! Ive been looking for you!” Tony looks at you with concern when he sees the shock on your face “are you okay?” 

“I heard…” you stop yourself from finishing the sentence. It was probably just an animal anyway, theres no need to worry Tony about it. “yeah I’m fine. It’s really beautiful out here” 

“yeah its nice. Happy is waiting in the car to drive us to your apartment now if you're ready?”

You had completely forgotten that you were supposed to be going to collect your things.

“oh yeah, of course. Let’s go” you say and you both walk back toward the compound, taking a small glance back towards the woods and you for a moment swear you see a figure move amongst the trees. 

— — — — 

You pull up outside the building you hadn’t seen in weeks, your apartment block. You're surprised to see Peter waiting outside for you. 

“the kid has been asking about you constantly so I thought he could come lend a hand. Is that okay?” Tony says. You smile and nod before getting out of the car. 

Tony walks straight up to the front door of the building and goes inside. You go straight to Peter and throw your arms around him. 

“I don't see you for weeks and then I see you twice in one day!” 

“at least you're not wearing his clothes this time” Peter jokes as he nudges you and you playfully hit him on the arm. You both laugh and Tony pokes his head out from the door.

“children please, we have a job to do” he says seriously before going back inside. 

You and Peter exchange a look.

“is he just grumpy because you’ve been keeping him awake all night” Peter winks as he walks to the building and you gasp. You didn’t expect him to say that. 

“Peter! I have no idea what you're talking about” you laugh as you follow him. 

You climb the stairs till you reach your front door where Tony is waiting for you. You unlock the door and turn the handle to open it but before you can step inside Tony puts his arm out to stop you. He steps in front of you, walking in carefully on the lookout. You guess he’s checking none of the Professor’s men are there waiting. 

As you step through your front door your heart sinks at the sight of your apartment. You haven’t been back since the night of the attack so the place is still a mess. Peter walks past you and follows Tony into your bedroom, not noticing you’ve frozen to the spot. You stand still looking around your living room at the dust and debris scattered. The sofa cushions shredded and thrown to the floor. The coffee table upside down, the picture frames broken. Then you spot your art work, the one of the beach, lying on the floor. The canvas ripped through the middle.

You feel your chest tightening as your eyes fill up. You try to breathe normally but it’s almost like you’ve forgotten how. Your thoughts spin too fast around your head. Memories of the night you were held down on the sofa as the masked intruders injected you flash through your mind. 

“okay I found your suitcase do you want to start packing…” Tony’s voice stops as he notices notices the way you're breathing, and the look of panic in your wide eyes. Then he notices that you're staring at the sofa and realises what’s happening. He quickly walks over and puts his arm around you, leading you into the bedroom.

“Mr Stark?” Peter begins talking but with a wave of Tony’s hand he swiftly leaves the room. Tony sits you down on the side of the bed and crouches down in front of you so he’s at eye level. He takes your shoulders in his hands and looks right into your face.

“y/n. I need you to breathe with me now okay? Can you do that for me?” 

In your mind you flashback to that night, when Tony found you hiding in your closet and said those same words to you. Another wave of panic hits you. 

“y/n. Please honey” 

His desperate words bring you back into the present and you try to focus on him. On his kind eyes which right now are full of concern. He takes a deep breathe and you copy him, shakily.

After what feels like forever you finally feel yourself being able to breathe again.

“how are you feeling?” He asks, searching your eyes.

“I don't know.” You answer honestly “I don't know what just happened to me”

“you just had a panic attack. Which is a perfectly natural response after what you’ve been through”

Tony stands up and sits on the bed next to you, taking your hand in both of his. 

“I shouldn't have brought you back here.” His finger rubs the back of your hand “I’m so sorry y/n”

“no, I wanted to come here. This isn’t your fault Tony. None of it. The Professor did this to me, not you.”

“I will find him” Tony says and you nod, bringing your hand to his cheek. 

“I know you will” you smile and kiss him. When the kiss ends you look into his eyes. “how did you know what to do just then? I felt like I was spiralling but you pulled me out of it”

Tony sighs, looking away from you for a moment. He takes a breath. 

“After the battle of New York, I struggled to carry on. I started having anxiety attacks. I couldn’t breathe. I know what they’re like. And while I don't have a magic cure for them, I learnt how to breathe through them”

“Tony.” You put your hand on his knee and give him a gentle affectionate squeeze “I had no idea”

Tony looks at you. 

“not many people know about it. I kept it secret. I’m Iron Man, people rely on me to be this strong super hero guy. If they knew what I was like beneath the suit, they wouldn’t feel safe anymore”

“That's not true, Tony. To feel the way you’ve felt and still go out there and do the things you’ve done to protect everyone.. that’s a true hero. I may be slightly biased but, I think you're incredible.”

Tony just continues to look at you, like he’s searching your eyes for something. 

“what?” You say smiling, slightly embarrassed. 

“I love you” 

His words take you by surprise. It feels like a thousand tiny butterflies are fluttering through your body. 

“I’m sorry..” he begins to backtrack, worried that he’s freaked you out “that was probably the wrong time to say those words-”

He stops talking when you grab his face and kiss him suddenly. 

“I love you too, Tony Stark.”

“I knew it!” You hear Peter shout as you both turn around to see him stood in the doorway grinning happily. 

“not a word kid” Tony warns “remember, I could easily make you disappear”

Part Ten

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