#i miss the summer breeze from the porch where thousands of people have stood and sat before me

[aetherbladedstick]

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[beautifulblhell]

An Ordinary Morning (Banana Fish Fanfic)

Pairing: Ash x Eiji

Summary: All Eiji wishes was to be with Ash and live an ordinary life together... Or was that too much to ask for?

Warning: Contains angst and spoilers for the end of the anime/manga.

A/N: I would like to thank KingSirahk, who helped me with so much more than just proofreading! Thank you!

The gentle aroma of miso soup drifted in the quiet morning air.

“Ash.”

Eiji poked his head around the door and saw no signs of response in the bed. Walking over, he gently shook the person buried under the duvet.

“Ash?”

Eiji grabbed the edge of the duvet and flung it into the air, before walking over to the window and opening the curtains. The bright summer sun greeted him, casting its warm rays onto the person curled on the bed.

“Wake up, Ash.”

The young man emitted a groan as the sunlight hit his face. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled, reaching his hand out to grab the duvet and proceeded to pull it over his head.

“That’s what you said ten minutes ago.” Eiji crossed his arms, trying to sound stern, yet he could not help but let a smile slip onto his face. “Breakfast is already ready, so hurry and get up. Otherwise you won’t be getting any food.”

Eiji returned to the kitchen. He was finishing spooning two bowls of rice when he felt a presence lean against him. Ash rested his chin on Eiji’s shoulder and sniffed. His breath tickled Eiji’s ear.

“Why’s there no meat?”

“I made salmon.”

Ash pulled a face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Salmon is good for you. Here,” He said as he hands Ash a plate topped with a piece of grilled fish and smiled wryly when he saw the skeptical frown directed at the fish. “Fine, I’ll make steak for lunch.” Hearing this, Ash’s expression immediately brightened and a small laugh escaped from Eiji’s lips. Seeing Eiji laughing at him, Ash pouted, a slight pink dusted his cheeks, and he poked at Eiji’s cheeks. “Don’t laugh, I’m still growing. It’s no wonder that you are so short if this is what you eat.”

It became a routine for them: Eiji making breakfast, waking Ash up, eating breakfast, then going for a stroll afterwards, if the weather permits. It was these short, precious, everyday moments that Eiji treasures so much, with nothing coming in between them.

Ash stood by the front porch, waiting for Eiji to finish locking the doors. In the summer air, Ash’s hair danced in the gentle breeze, shining all the more brightly in the morning light. When Eiji turned around, he reached for Eiji’s hand and naturally entwined their fingers together and gave Eiji a bright smile that made even the sun pale in comparison.

“Let’s go, Eiji.”

They walked along the beach, leaving behind a trail of footprints imprinted on the white crystal sands. Two pairs side by side. The sound of the waves gently breaking against the sand, washing ashore a thin line of white mist, before rolling calmly back into the sea. Seagulls flew overhead, crying out, their white wings spread against the cloudless blue sky, freedom etched to the tip of their wings.

They stopped right at the edge of the sea, feeling the waves softly washing over the tip of their toes before receding.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ash murmured. Eiji brought a hand up to his eyes and gazed at the ocean. He didn’t realise Ash was looking at him.

Endless blues of bright azure, deep sapphire, and rich aquamarine dance underneath the sun, causing thousands of white, glittering light across the surface to shimmer like jewels against the bright blue sky. This beauty could take one's breath away and yet in Eiji’s eyes, nothing could be compared to the beauty of the man standing next to him.

It was so peaceful standing here with the salty sea aroma enveloping all around them. The cool water washing all their worries away and the calming sound of waves hiding the noise of any human activities. It was as if they were in a world that only consisted of

themselves and the deep blue sea. Eiji closed his eyes and breathed in the ocean; tasting the salt on his tongue and feeling it seep into his lungs. Ash watched him with a tender look in his green eyes.

“The sea reminds me of Japan. When I went to my grandparents’ house in the summer, I could see the ocean from the window in my room.” A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he squinted at the water and the memory brought a smile upon his face.

Emerald eyes become troubled for a moment. “Do you miss Japan?”

Eiji shook his head. How could he feel homesick, when the person standing next to him embodies the very meaning of home?

It was bliss to be able to wake up every morning and hear the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore, and most importantly, with Ash by his side. If this could last for eternity...

Ash suddenly dropped Eiji’s hand.

“Sorry, I gotta go to the library.” His voice was cold, suddenly devoid of any emotion, his expression faraway.

...The library?

The sudden shift in topic jarred Eiji in his tracks.

Was there even a library around here?

A library...

Somehow, the word sets off a warning bell inside his brain and dread begins to spread in his chest as he hurriedly goes to grab Ash’s hand with a shout, “Wait!”

But Ash had already turned around, his back now facing Eiji, and walked forward, away from him. Panicking, Eiji tried to grab Ash’s hand, but missed, his fingers grasping nothing but the empty air.

Without realising, a deathly stillness had settled over. The waves stood still, the birds hung unmoving in the sky and the heat of the sun was gone, replaced by a cold chill. Then, the scene around them cracks like a mirror before shattering and falling away, revealing an expanse of darkness that surrounds them. It was impossible to tell which way was forward or which way was back. The only thing that Eiji could see was Ash, slowly getting smaller and smaller as he walked steadily further into the blackness.

“Ash, wait!” Eiji’s horrified cry echoed eerily in the gloom, as he hurriedly ran after Ash. But no matter how hard he ran, Ash kept on getting further and further away.

He shouldn’t have let go of the hand.

The darkness was suffocating, slithering into his lungs, choking him, until Eiji was gasping for breath. His legs started to cramp, his mind deprived of oxygen, but still, he pressed forward, forcing himself to work harder, faster. Keep running, keeping running.

Run.

Run!

RUN!

Out of nowhere a solitary snowflake fell. Then, another one descended, then another one, and another one, until it turned into a blizzard. The wind whipped mercilessly around him, causing the icy air to pierce like a thousand swords into his bones, freezing him from the inside out. With every breath the white clouded his vision, yet nevertheless his eyes never left the back in front of his eyes.

“ASH!”

His strangled yells were drowned out by the fierce, howling of the wind. But then, Ash paused and turned back towards Eiji with a small smile.

Hope spreads through Eiji, giving him a sudden burst of energy as he runs towards Ash. He was so close, Ash was just within his reach. Eiji extends his hand-

Ash’s mouth moved slightly but the wind swallowed his words.

In the next moment, another gust of strong gale blew around Ash, shrouding him in white. From within the darkness beneath the storm of ice, a skeletal hand extended. It curled its bony fingers around Ash’s shoulder, and with one, finally angry shriek of the wind, Ash was gone.

Within a blink of an eye, the storm had vanished as quickly as it came.

“Ash?”

His trembling voice dissipated into the void around him that had once again reappeared.

“Ash?” Only silence echoed back.

“Ash?” He called again, desperation seeping into his voice.

Eiji cried out, “Ash! Where are you?!”

The desperate hoarse voice screamed on, again and again. No, he must have not ran hard enough. Ash must be here somewhere. He HAD to be...

As he took a step forward, a crackling noise sounded below his foot.

He looked down and saw several sheets of paper, scrawled with familiar handwriting.

Because it was his writing.

Eiji’s chest becomes constricted as invisible chains appear out of nowhere, shackling him down and forcing him to watch as the scene unfolds in front of his eyes.

Small splashed of red slowly seeped inwards from the edge of the pages, dissolving the black ink until it became a darker, murky red.

Like blood.

Eiji wanted to turn his head away, to close his eyes, but his body won’t obey, frozen in terror.

The words slowly blurred as the red creeped inwards, until it finally reached the last untainted sentence in the middle. Eiji had just enough time to register the words in his brain before the red engulfed the black ink, curling around it.

The pieces of paper stained with a dark blood red stared at him accusingly. From the darkness, it felt like a thousand eyes were glaring at him, blaming him, with whispers chanting over and over again that it’s all his fault.

It’sallhisfaulit’sallhisfaultit’sallhisfaultIt’sallhisfaulit’sallhisfaultit’sallhisfault-

“AHHHHHHHH!!!”

He clutched his head between his hands and fell onto his knees, giving out a broken scream as if his soul had been ripped from his body. The pain in his heart took a physical form, threatening to tear him apart. He threw his head back and screamed towards the heavens that had abandoned Ash, towards the vicissitude of life, and most of all, towards himself, who shouldn’t have left Ash-

A blurry ceiling came into view.

At first, confusion clouded his brain. It took him a while before his disoriented mind could re-piece back reality. He blinked as the remnants of the tears rolled silently down his cheeks, leaving two damp trails, side by side.

The sound of people bustling in the busy street and traffic below sound muffled to his ears as if he was underwater; unconnected to reality.

He tightened the blanket around him and laid there; simply waiting for sleep to come.

It was morning, the sun in the grey sky had risen, but his sun was forever gone. Only in his dreams could he be with Ash again…

Before he drifted off, the words from the letter echoed inside his mind...

“ My soul is always with you.”

[imhereforbvcky]

Team Re-Building - Part 1

Summary: (Sam Wilson x reader, FalconCap humor/fluff) After the events of EndGame, the remaining Avengers head out on a mandatory team building exercise at your cattle ranch. The week turns out as unexpected for you as the idea was for them.

Prompt/Request: “Is that a horse?! Do I look like a cowboy to you?” For mine and @justsomebucky’s Cap² Challenge. I separated the prompt a little for flow, but I think I kept the spirit of it.

Warnings: None. Probably swearing. I’ve got a mouth and I can’t control it.

Word Count: 2061

A/N: This is just a little 2 part series. Part 2 is totally done. I’m planning to queue it to post in just 2 days! yay! 2 in 2 days, that’s easy to remember.

“Are you sure this is it?” Bucky muttered. His eyes followed the wrought iron banner propped between two enormous raw logs rising to form the arched entry. Dead center, the flying K brand stood dark and resolute against the bright afternoon sun.

“No,” Rhodes grumbled, “I haven’t seen a road sign for at least fifteen miles. Just dirt and tumbleweeds.”

The group held a collective breath when the modified jeep rattled over the cattle grate beneath the arch. The all-terrain vehicle had been waiting for them at the tiny regional airport when they’d landed. Now it made sense. The road went from grated dirt to a rugged two-wheel cut path over hill and stone.

Sam tried to convince himself it was all part of the experience, but frankly, the kinds of experiences he preferred usually involved a cold beer on his patio or a jog along a beach. The mountains were, admittedly, something to see. Jagged stone fingers clawed out of the hills, reaching unknowable heights into the unending blue sky. The photos on the brochure hadn’t done it justice.

Still, he just wished he wasn’t seeing them with clenched teeth and fists tight around the roll bar of the jeep as it hauled them all further and further from civilization.

“Why are we doing this, again, Sam?” Wanda asked, her arm darting out to his shoulder to brace against the jostling.

“Team building?”

“And there’s no ‘team building’ in New York?” Bucky complained, leaning past Wanda to glare at Sam.

“Couldn’t we have done a trust fall or something?” Rhodes agreed with a smirk on his lips at his own joke.

“How long��re you gonna hold that over my head?” Sam complained.

“'Til that face you make stops being funny.”

“Well, that’s exactly why we’re here.”

“I still don’t see why we had to be here,” Bucky insisted.

“Look, if any of you have figured out how to skip out on Maria Hill’s orders, you let me know the magic words and I’ll get us out of shit like this next time.”

Before too much longer the little caravan had made its way over the foothills and pulled up to a large cabin. It looked old, like the stones had been there as long as the mountains themselves, but the logs were freshly sealed and the chairs on the sprawling porch looked deep and inviting with soft leather cushions and bright red pillows.

“Hi there!” The voice that greeted them sounded like it was made there in those hills. It rolled gently and warmed like the sun on the breeze. “Welcome to Kestrel Point.”

“Thanks for accommodating our crew,” Sam stepped forward, offering his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

A laugh tumbled out. “I think we know who you are. All of you.” Your smiling eyes darted to the group behind him, still righting themselves after climbing down out of the jeep.

Sam wasn’t quite used to that yet. Sure, he’d been an Avenger for years now, had worn the armor of a hero. But after the Decimation… after the fight in upstate New York… after he picked up that shield… Being known had a different weight to it; sat just a little heavier on his shoulders.

“Right,” he shook his head and glanced back at what was left of the team, at those who’d survived, who hadn’t been left too worn to continue the fight. It was his team to lead now, his to rebuild and hold together.

You watched the struggle dance across his features and saw it echo in the furtive glances among the others. But you didn’t remark on it, nor did you hesitate. It was your job to help them find their rhythm and rebuild their strength, not to dwell on the present cracks in the armor.

Offering the same wide smile, you introduced yourself and a few of your staff before clapping your hands together, brows leaping with excitement. “Well let’s get started! My guys will take your bags to your rooms, and if y’all will follow me, we’ll get you matched up and get you started.”

When you turned toward the barn, nodding for them to follow, there was no argument. At least not that you saw. Mainly because you didn’t wait for one. That didn’t mean there weren’t protests. There was a flurry of wide-eyed glances exchanged from everyone but Clint.

For once, Clint felt right at home. He’d made a beeline for the stables and perched up on the split-rail fence with all the ease of familiarity. They might be thick western saddles here instead of the sleek black tack of his memory but the sound of twisting leather and long swooshing tails took him right back. With a distinct brand of nostalgia, he recalled rows of agile white Lipizzans, practically glowing under the circus tent lights. Visions of children gawking at larger-than-life Percherons filled his head and a slow grin eased over his face.

While your ranch hands tied the last of the horses in a row before him along the fence, ready and waiting, you lead the rest group inside. They weren’t quite ready.

“Is that a horse?!” Sam balked as he approached. It suddenly all clicked for him what Hill had been planning and he was not a fan. He liked the smirk on Barton’s face even less as watching him stroke a hand down the nose of a particularly antsy Quarter Horse. “No. I think there’s been a fundamental misunderstanding on our end.”

You laughed as he backed away. “Miss Hill warned us this was not the most uh… experienced group,” you tucked your worn leather utility gloves in your back pocket and gently slipped your fingers around his bicep, easing him forward. “You have nothing to worry about Mr. Wilson. We’ll take it slow.”

You were meant to be comforting him, but the moment he felt your contact and looked down at you with the softest, deepest umber gaze you’d even laid eyes on and it was your breath that caught in your chest. The words suddenly vanished on your tongue and it was all you could do to mimic the slow pull of his smile at your playful word choice.

“Do I look like a cowboy to you?” he asked, teeth flashing that smile.

You coughed on a laugh and looked at your feet. Boots. That’s right. They needed boots, that’s what you had been doing before. Before Sam Wilson and his damn smile.

“Not yet,” you agreed, shrugging one shoulder. “But we’ll take care of that.”

It took three full days to get everyone sufficiently steady on horseback. By the morning of day four, you’d decided it was sink or swim. The herd had nearly eaten through the winter pasture and before long the creek cutting across the valley would be swollen and racing with snowmelt. If you didn’t drive the cattle up to the newly sprouting summer lands soon, it would be too late.

A little instruction on the trail, couched softly in teasing and laughter might get the team where they needed to be skill-wise. If not, your own team flanked the Avengers, just in case. They might fight aliens and save half the galaxy, but they had never chased a scared new calf down a ravine.

Well, maybe Clint had.

He was, of course, a natural. Animals were his thing. Particularly large gentle ones whose affection could be bought with food. He’d spent his down time near the stables, figuring out what Apollo’s favorite snacks were and had stuffed his pockets with broken carrots.

The others… well they were lucky if they’d encountered a horse at a petting zoo before that week.

Bucky hadn’t seen a whole hell of a lot of cattle in Brooklyn between 1917 and 1943. And after that, war and survival had pretty much been his sole priorities until very recently.

Rhodes had no interest. He was a modern military man with his own Iron Man suit. Let’s face it; he had a better ride and more pressing matters anyway.

Wanda spent most of her life in a concrete cell. You weren’t sure if she had ever even seen a horse in person before climbing out of that jeep on your ranch. But she took to it pretty well. Those with a gentle demeanor usually did. You’d paired her with a sweet old mare that didn’t spook easily. Eventually the slow sureness of the horse seemed to have a calming effect for Wanda. She found herself enjoying her time away from so many people, away from their thoughts and fears. You could imagine her leasing out a ride now and again when she went home.

Bruce was… well half Bruce and half green and far too big to sit a horse. Didn’t stop him watching and teasing, though.

And Sam. Sam was maybe the most fun for you. He was all city, all soldier. Stiff but determined.

“I know you’re not laughing at me!” he hollered as you circled back and eased to a trot beside him. He looked so stiff and uncomfortable; you just couldn’t help but snicker. “Not again.”

“I’m sorry,” you managed, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, grin so wide it hurt. “Just… You’ve gotta relax.”

“There’s a thousand pound animal between my legs!”

“And you think clenching up is gonna keep him from throwin’ you?” you teased.

It didn’t help. Logic flew out the window when fear came knocking. Sam only glared in your general direction, too anxious to look away for long. But you saw him fighting back a smile.

“Alright, well I think Ranger’s been a smooth ride and it’s high time you return the favor,” you tried again, reaching over and untying the lead you’d left on Sam’s horse.

Sam glanced down at his steel grip on the pommel. “What do you mean?” he asked, eyeing Ranger as if there was some lever that would make this all easier.

“You’re ex-military, right? I assume you had to carry a person at some point in your training?”

“Para-rescue. Carried injured friendlies out all the time. How’s that supposed to help?”

“Was it easier if the payload was stiff as a board or if they moved with you?”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “I see your point.”

“It’s a ride not a beating. Treat it like a lady,” you joked, encouraging him to push again into a trot and offering advice as you continued alongside. “Move with him. ‘ll be easier on your ass and his back. Relax and let your hips roll.”

“Do you talk to all your clients like this, or am I just lucky?” He was smiling now, still looking down at his horse.

You, however, laughed beside him, relishing in his flirtatious nature. His easy smiles and quick wit had captured you early on. It had been a while since you’d enjoyed someone’s company this much. “You’re definitely somethin’.”

“That didn’t sound like a good thing.” He pouted, but with that little shine in his eyes, that extra roundness to his cheeks that betrayed the grin beneath. Like it was just waiting to erupt and brighten his whole face. The longer you spent near him, the greater the pang deep in your gut at the thought of what that full smile might look like. Would it be better than these secret hidden ones? Would it warm you head to toe? Ignite this heat that seemed to spark from something as small as a little grin?

You needed to breathe, get your head back on your shoulders. With a swift squeeze of your knees your horse notched forward.

The more Sam had talked with you, joked, and flirted, the less he had time to worry about his horse. He relaxed, consciously or not, he and his horse settled into a rhythm.

Satisfied with his ability and desperately needing the distance, you led the way out onto the soft green acres that sprawled beneath the rough granite peaks. Fresh spring leaves quivered in the breeze and blankets of snow still dominated most of the mountaintop.

You pushed ahead into a canter, resuming your duties checking in on the other guests – the other Avengers. But not before turning over your shoulder with a grin just for him, just for Captain goddamn America.

“I think I’m the lucky one this time.”

Part 2 >>

[its-not-a-thing]

To Fall and Rise

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13456434

Stiles was just getting off a grueling double shift at the student coffee shop, shrugging on his worn grey coat when he saw her walk in. The first thing he noticed was her eyes. They shone, similar to the way the waters in Tahiti sparkled at high noon. They looked like the night sky, hiding just as many secrets. She was gracefully drenched, water dripping from the bleak brown hair her delicate hands were wringing out. Her skin was almost translucent, in comparison to the heavy black sweater that hung from her body, showcasing ever curve of her petite figure under the weight of the water. Her cheeks were spotted with freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks which were curved up into a smile, laugh carried through the air like a bell ringing.

Lydia saw him too, he was taller than most people she’d seen in the past 24 years. There was something unique about his face, it was framed by big boxy black glasses which made his light brown eyes look smaller. His brown hair hung into his view and he was staring at her. Most people didn’t gawk at others this way, but she thought it was interesting. She couldn’t help but smile shyly at him.

He started walking out of the building, almost feeling the heat radiate off her body. The breeze from the doorway rustled her hair, attacking his face with the smell of pomegranates and orchids. He almost said something to her, but as he turned she was gone.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, the little glimpse of her he’d gotten was enough to cloud his thoughts for the weeks following that glorious moment. He sat in Digital Forensics Lecture, usually fascinated by the content, but distracted and turning quickly whenever he thought he saw her walk past the windows. She found herself thinking of him as well, walking around campus, she’d asked around about him but came up empty more often than not. She felt strange when she thought of him, like bubbles in her stomach, but she pushed it away.

           They were still on each other’s minds when they found themselves at some trashy party, he had been dragged by his friends and she decided it was a good idea to try and be as human as possible. Another quick turn from him was finally rewarded by her walking in. Her once dark hair, now appeared Strawberry Blonde in its dry glory, falling in perfect curls around her face and down her back. Her emerald eyes seemed florescent under the neon lights and her skin shone like a full moon in the darkness.

           He wasn’t going to let her slip away this time, he ruffled his spiked hair and downed his drink for liquid courage before walking up to her. She was alone again, and seemed surprised someone had walked up to her, he wouldn’t let himself miss out on the chance of knowing her. She was just surprised he had found her. She felt her stomach do weird things again, she wished she’d found him first.

           “Can I get you a drink?” his voice deeper than she’d imagined for someone with such a lanky build.

           “I don’t drink…” She said the words so quickly, almost out of instinct and almost winced at how standoffish it sounded to her. He thought her voice chimed like a melody to a favorite song he didn’t know he had.

           “How about water then? Or we could dance? I could get you some food?” The eagerness in his voice made her laugh softly, like bells ringing. It was endearing, she thought about the questions before answering slowly.

           “Water sounds appropriate. Dancing to this music seems difficult. Food is trivial.” He found the way she spoke intriguing, when she knew it should’ve put him off. Standing this close to her made his head whirl with the smell of her. She just watched him as he reached for her hand, weaving his way through the heavy crowd to find the kitchen he knew well. His hair bounced with his step that he somehow kept in rhythm with the music. His hand was rough and calloused against hers. This was the first time she’d touched someone. Her hand was smooth like glass and somehow warm like an early summer day in the Caribbean despite the chilly weather outside.

           They spoke well into the night, sitting on the edge of the porch just barely engulfed by the heat of the house but still isolated from the party. He gripped the water bottle he’d gotten her, still unopened. Their hands sought each other out, she loved the way he focused on her, and the way his thumb rested on the back of her hand. She was different, from the way she spoke to the way her skin seemed to glow with the pale moonlight.

           He tried asking for her phone number. She realized she never needed a phone before meeting him.

           “I’ll find you.”

He was restless waiting, the wet chill of winter seemed to melt into spring, making a couple weeks seem like months. Scott urged him to move past her, she didn’t feel real, not since he met her and yet every detail from his memory was so vivid, there was no way she wasn’t. She was having trouble finding him, every moment that passed made her ache that much stronger.

Another week passed before she found him. She was standing against the wall outside the coffee shop. She smiled, wider than she thought she could, and in that moment, he knew she had been waiting for him. He was greasy and sweaty from the steam and long work shift making cappuccinos, but she held his hand anyway. She led him through campus, no words exchanged. She often thought words didn’t capture feelings accurately.

He probably should’ve asked her for her phone number, or something so he could find again. He gripped her hand, almost waiting for her to disappear. When she didn’t, he followed her willingly, intoxicated by her smell.

“I never got your name.” His voice came out a whisper a few minutes after they’d started walking.

“That is a very human thing to ask.”

“Well, we are human.”

She didn’t correct him. “Lydia.” She answered simply, the word sounding angelic on her tongue. The moment she said it, he couldn’t imagine calling her anything else. It was a key into a lock to some mystery he didn’t know he was solving.

“I’m Stiles.”

“I know.” A confident smile so evident in her voice, that he couldn’t doubt her statement.

They ended up laying on the old sledding hill on the south side of campus, the grass damp and too tall, a useless barrier from the chilly air around them. Next to her, he felt warm, despite the blue cold creeping onto his fingers and lips. She felt complete again with him by her side.

They didn’t speak this time, just watching the sky turn every shade imaginable, as if they’d picked the best seat in the house, until it became a deep blue that reminded him of her, and her of home.

“That’s Kira.” She pointed up at the bright star near the moon. She wasn’t holding back with him, so she might as well be honest. “She fixes broken dream and wills, she was the one who pushed Tesla until he created the lightbulb. That’s Derek, He and his two siblings have been around forever. Sometimes they like to flicker and dim until they’re almost invisible just to mess with the humans. That’s Malia, she likes to help people think of dreams, then accomplish them. Her best work is unfortunately Hitler and World War II, it got a little out of hand. We still hold that over her head. She should have known better. And that is Allison, my best friend. She likes helping people accomplish ordinary dreams. I do not know how she does it. I miss her most.”

Stiles furrowed his brow, the words coming out of her mouth were strange, but she wasn’t like any other girl. She made his life brighter like the moon brightened up the sky. She thought maybe she’d said too much until he spoke:

“Which one are you?”

“I’m right here, silly.”

He walked her home around 2am. She spent all night talking about her friends, the stars, like it was the most natural thing in the world. To her it was. They stood outside the green doors to her house, wordlessly admiring each other. He was trying to figure out what emotion was twinkling in her eyes and she was trying to understand the shape of his face, the way his jaw was cut, the hollow of his cheekbones or the way his deep caramel eyes changed color at night.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against her cheek for just a second, her smooth skin almost too warm, made him crave more. She couldn’t understand why her stomach tightened, or the wave of nausea that came over her. She stepped back and into the house, closing the door. He felt like he did something wrong, but couldn’t bring himself to regret what seemed to be the best moment of his existence, so he hoped. Lydia knew nothing ever lasted, it blazed fast and disintegrated into nothingness. She’d seen it happen a million times over the last three thousand years and it was made her lose hope.

She avoided him for 10 days, he was starting to think that he had misinterpreted their last encounter until he found her at his door that Tuesday night, holding a stack of movies and a liter bottle of water. She tried to stay away, but the reminder of his eyes sparking just for her, his cool lips on her cheek and their silent conversations lured him back for more. She ignored the twist her stomach did when he smiled at her. She figured if she was stuck here, she might as well enjoy it.

           They sat on his uncomfortable futon, shifting, trying to find an easy spot next to each other for an hour until she eventually nuzzled herself under his arm, against his chest, the back of her head fitting perfectly into the curve of his shoulder. She felt warm against his chest, their skins tingled where his hand fell naturally to her waist. Two movies and a bathroom break for him later, she spoke, almost startling him after the prolonged silence. She was curious about him.

           “Tell me about your family.”

Stiles stumbled to answer “My dad’s a Police officer – well I guess he’s the sheriff actually, and my mom, she um… she passed away a couple years ago. He’s married to Melissa. She’s my best friend, Scott’s Mom and She owns a craft store. Scott goes to school here too. My younger brother, well half-brother- is six and wants to be an astronaut. My parents are both only child’s, so that’s about it. I never knew any of my grandparents, except my grandmother on my mom’s side, who taught me how to knit. She lived in a home now. I can’t remember the last time I saw her.” She watched him speak, envying all these people who’d known Stiles his whole life. She wished she had, the years on earth spent without him felt wasted now. “Your turn.”

           “I don’t have a family.” She picked up his hand from her waist and ran her index finger along the skin of his wrist and forearm. He thought she was trying to find something wrong with it, but she was just trying to distract herself from the conversation she’d initiated.

“Everyone has a family…”

“Not where I’m from.” Stiles could tell there was no more asking her about it, she linked their fingers together and rested her head back on his shoulder, continuing to watch the movie unfold in front of them.

That was the first time they spent the night together. He remembers waking up to the soft sounds of her breath tickling the hairs on his neck, the morning light sneaking through the blinds reflected onto her skin. He laid on the uncomfortable futon, but she was using him as a mattress, curled into him. She remembers waking up to a shifting mass under her, she was startled but quickly moved off him when he muttered about having to use the restroom.

           This quickly became routine for them, always in his room, but now in his lofted bed. She’d crawl into his bed around midnight every night, after spending hours on his futon watching movies, often waiting for him to finish his forensics homework into all hours of the night. He would jump into the small bed, pressing her into him while she buried herself further into the blankets and him. There would be whispers of hopes and dreams between them, Stiles told her he had hopes of becoming a detective, she would giggle into his neck, loving the sound of his confiding voice.

It was a Wednesday when she’d asked him to stay at her house for the first time. They had been sleeping in the same bed for a month now, the winter since faded into a cool spring. She had embraced them, so she wanted him to feel welcome where she felt most comfortable.

           He was shocked, considering he’d only been to her house to drop her off and that ended terribly. He was excited and terrified about what was being those old green doors.

           On the outside, her home seemed like a typical small house on the edge of campus. When he walked inside, her smell engulfed him, making him as dizzy as the first time he’d smelt it. The living room consisted of one large sofa facing a medium sized television with at least 300 movies stacked around it. He knew she loved movies, but he didn’t quite grasp the extent of her obsession until this moment. The center room also extended into a small kitchen, seeming unused, but she skipped over this entirely heading to her bedroom. She assumed he would follow and he did.

           The walls of her bedroom were painted the color of her eyes, with white paint splattered across it resembling the milky way. The bed took up half the small room, sheets messy atop it, which surprised him considering she hadn’t spent the night here in a while. The wall across from the bed had her desk propped against it and was covered in drawings in what could only be graphite pen. Some consisted of angels, closeups of different kinds of wings and people Stiles could only imagine were her friends because of the nostalgia the pictures brought. Then there were drawings of utterly mundane objects drawn in dark light and devastating images. For Lydia, this might as well have been showing Stiles her healing soul.

           “I didn’t know you draw.”

           He approached the wall of drawings in front of him, making them unwillingly let go of each other’s hands. She watched him, weary of his reactions. He saw her desk scattered with drawings of him, from all angles and distances. He picked one up and frowned; he’d never thought of himself as beautiful until this moment. Was this how she saw him? His fingers grazed the lines of his face on the page and he couldn’t control the smile sprouting from within him.

           “I can never get it right. I was hoping I could draw you.”

           “Why would you want to draw me? I’m so ordinary and you’re- “

           “Let me draw you.”

           He obliged willingly. She was his soft spot, and he was pretty sure he’d do anything she asked. She felt the happiness rise in her chest as she guided him into the position she wanted. His breath hitched as she ran her fingers through it to get it to stick up like she loved. He studied her face like he did on most nights, but he’d never seen her brow furrow in concentration like this. He couldn’t help but smile a little, which earned him a scowl from her for moving.

           When she was finished, Stiles felt like he was looking into a black and white mirror, and yet the beautiful creature on the page couldn’t be him. He looked up at her to say something, but every thought he’d ever had was wiped from his mind when he saw how she looked at him. He was her whole world. Lydia knew that now.

           The way her eyes shined mischievously should’ve scared, not excited him. She kissed him this time, settling onto his lap. Despite his shock, he gave into her quickly. Since the night she’d run away from him, he had hesitated making any moves, but now he was giving into himself and her. He kissed her the way he wanted to for so long. She gave into him: she knew everything always ended in pain and suffering, but she didn’t care because she had him. Everything had led her to him.

Stiles woke up a smile on his face as his mind quickly reminded him of the night before. He tried to pull her into him, only to find his arms without her. He looked around the empty room before pulling on his boxers and walking into the main area. Lydia was humming to herself, facing away from him, wearing nothing but a worn tank top and her underwear. He started walking towards her when he noticed it.

           She had two scars running down her shoulder blades, each about two inches thick, curving slightly before disappearing under her tank top. The skin of the scar was splotchy and fresh, like it was only a few months old. He walked up to her and gently grazed his fingers on one of them, the skin felt different than the rest of her had: rough, prickly, almost like something had been ripped from her body. She instantly flinched away from his fingers, a hiss coming out of her perfect mouth at the pain he had caused her, turning to him.

           “What is that?”

           It was more of a demand than a question, but she pulled him into a kiss to avoid talking about it. She’d hoped she could evade this conversation altogether. She gripped his back, holding him to her before his hands rested on her waist. How hadn’t he noticed the scars before?

           “You’re not going to kiss your way out of this.”

           She ignored him, turning back to the burnt scrambled eggs she was making for him. It took him a few seconds to realize the food was for him. He’d never seen her eat, and she’d mentioned a few times how trivial and human food was. Lydia handed a plate of food to him which he ate, despite the singed taste. She often reminded him to eat, especially when he went hours without it until his stomach would groan in protest sending her into a laughing fit.

           He tried to figure out a way to bring up the scars again, he wanted to know about her, about them. It seemed like he told her everything and she skirted around topics of where she was from and where she grew up by saying vague things like “growing up is an abstract concept” and “everywhere”. He couldn’t tell if it was more endearing or infuriating.

           She knew if she told him the truth, everything would change, yet she knew he knew she was different. Lydia wasn’t a normal human because she wasn’t exactly human. She wanted to put it off longer, the confusion and sadness stirred up her insides. She didn’t want to hurt him, the idea brought her more pain.

           “What are the scars, Lydia?” they both hated the audible ice in his voice, so she decided to be honest with him. She couldn’t lie to him.

           “They are from where my wings used to be.”

           “I’m being serious Lyds. Just tell me the truth.”

           “That is the truth, Stiles. I am an angel whose wings were taken and these scars are a painful reminder of my wrong doings.”

           He tried not to chuckle, it seemed ridiculous what she was saying and yet he knew she was telling the truth. He’d never really lied to him before. But an angel? He’d thought about it but never literally. She just watched as he stared at her quietly, obviously too much going on in his mind. If he left, it would just confirm every thought she’d had about the human world that sent her here.

           “Why are you here now?”

           She couldn’t look at him. “When an Angel has lost their purpose, or done something wrong, they lose their wings. Banished to Earth to live life amongst humans and never aging.”

           “That doesn’t answer my question.” He secretly hoped she didn’t do anything wrong, but his mind went to the worst. Was she a Satan Sympathizer? Did she hurt a human?

           “You see, I am what can only be described in mortal words as a…Star Angel. Our purpose in eternity is to help souls manifest their dreams, and aid their divine higher selves in experiencing and accomplishing these dreams. We also assist in discerning a soul dream from a goal that might take you off your path or be a distraction. The reason I am here now…” Her voice shook. “…is because I believe souls are too easily swayed; there is no helping the bad ones. When souls achieve their goals, they go back up There – you humans would call it heaven- but most souls get lost along the way. All the other planets, but mostly Earth, have showed me over the last three thousand years that souls are weak. Most souls go to the bad place – Hell, for all intents and purposes – because they are distracted by mortal temptations. And the ones who achieve their goals only end up back here on Earth a decade or two later. It is pointless really. So, my wings were taken.”

           Stiles had no trouble understanding it. An Angel who was supposed to help people reach their goals became pessimistic due to human nature. It had taken Lydia three thousand years to realize what Stiles had known since he was fourteen. Humans suck.

           But he was confused, she seemed intrigued, fascinated by humans. She often wanted to know about his every thought and what food tasted like to him. He never even tried to hide anything from her.

           “But you love humans. Their thoughts, watching them, movies.”

           “Your movies often idolize the qualities you lack, making an average human to be a villain. Your morals sway so much over the years, and there’s only been movies for the past 80 years. Watching humans on this planet is comforting because it’s equally as disappointing here as it was There.”

           “What about all your questions about me and my thoughts and my family- “

           “Stiles, you are different from any soul or human I’ve ever observed.” The way her voice lowered when she said those words confirmed her honestly. She was also biased when it came to him, because despite how plainly ordinary he was, she loved him.

           He stared at the angel in front of him and everything came together. The way her skin seemed to radiate light, even at night, the way she spoke, the pain she felt whenever she leaned too far back in her chair. She made sense now in a way she hadn’t before. He only loved her more.

           When he pulled her into his arms, he felt his heart tighten in his chest. She looked at him, and he looked at her the same way he always had. The sparkle in his eyes gave her a hope she hadn’t felt in centuries, bringing a twinge of pain where her wings used to be. Hope was a bad sign for her, and yet it grew inside, intertwined with her love for him. It would send her back to a place she didn’t want to be. She didn’t feel like she was meant to be everyone’s Angel, she was meant to be Stiles’ human.

Days and months passed, their relationship grew stronger as the weather grew warmer, scalding them whenever they stepped outside, or whenever Her skin touched his. This didn’t stop him. The more time she spent with him, the more her scars tugged with the hope growing inside of her, wings waiting to sprout in the heat.

           She sat on the grass, watching Stiles as he laid next to her, eyes closed humming to himself. Finals for him had finished earlier that week, but they couldn’t pull themselves from their favorite spot atop that hill.

           “What does an angel do when she’d done with school?”

           “Get a summer job, just like everyone else.”

           Stiles chuckled and looked up at her through squinted eyes and cheap sunglasses. She pressed her lips against his, feeling a tug on her shoulder. She knew he would be going home to help out his dad, and he’d asked her to come. She was hesitant, she knew her time on earth with him was withering away.

She couldn’t stay away from him too long, her heart tugging in his direction whenever they spoke. Three days after he left, she joined him and his family. They were kind, and smart and knew what they were doing. Despite his Mother’s death, they functioned as best they could, which Lydia thought was admirable. The old house Stiles had grown up in explained so much about him. She ran her fingers over the ridges of height marks on the inside of the pantry door, smiled at the posters that covered his walls, the pictures carefully scattered around the house. Everything she admired carried a memory he later explained to her between soft kisses and damp sheets.

           She fit right in with his family, His Step-Mother offered her a summer job at the craft store, wanting to spend time with the girl who snagged her Stiles. His father kept making comments under his breath about sealing the deal and marrying her before someone else could. She remembered hearing those comments, that night lying in bed Stiles’ face in her chest, fast asleep whilst she spent hours imagining a life with him that she’d never had. She wanted to grow old with him, have kids, live in a house like the one he’d grown up with, dying happily in each other’s arms. Every happy memory made her scars tingle with the burn of impossibility.

           Humans feared death, but Lydia welcomed it with open arms. She wasn’t fit to be an Angel but she’d go back soon enough. The pain of the scars unbearable most days, she hid this from Stiles but he saw the pain in her smile and the way she sat most days.

           He pretended, for her benefit. He wanted her to tell him, but the days were cooling down and she seemed to be withering away from him. Her skin’s shine was slowly becoming a glow and the scars on her back seemed to be protruding at odd angles more than shoulder blades should. The hope he gave her made him more cynical with the thought of a life without her.

By the time the leaves turned, they were living in her tiny house, falling into a comfortable rhythm. They both knew it would end soon.

           One night in September, she woke up shaking, her body covered in sweat, and the pain from her shoulders made her whimper and groan enough to wake him up. The sight in front of him vaguely reminded him of the first time he’d seen her, drenched then too. He pulled her into his arms, trying to rock and sway the pain form her.

           It felt too soon; they hadn’t been with each other for a year. She couldn’t go yet.

           He refused to let go. He had so many regrets, he wanted more time, to tell her all the things he hadn’t, to talk about her leaving, just more time. His hands were unyielding.

           “Stiles, please.” Her voice shook, barely audible. “Don’t make this harder. You know if this were my choice, I would stay. Growing old doesn’t seem abstract to me anymore, not with you.”

           “Life without you is bleak and cruel. It was before you and it will be after.”

           “Eternity without you seems bleak and cruel. S, you’ve given me hope…” her hand held his hair almost limply.

           “Maybe my greater purpose was to help you…”

           Lydia smiled, pressing her finally cool lips against his for the last time. “I’ll see you soon…”

           A shriek erupted from her lips following the hopeful words. She curled away from him before the house fell silent, and her eyes fell closed. Two giant auburn clouds sprouted from her shoulders, swirling like soft serve or a cinnamon roll covered in icing. They were different than anything Stiles had imagined; they didn’t have feathers or look anything like her drawings, and yet somehow, they fit her perfectly. He watched her body slowly fade into translucency and glow in the light before disappearing altogether.

Lydia sat next to Allison, watching the souls below. She didn’t tell any of her friends about Stiles, she was sure they’d watched. She didn’t speak of it, as it brought a mix of sadness and happiness into her that she couldn’t bear, but she kept watching him. She saw him grow old as the years passed, marrying a girl from his hometown. They had three kids, and he died from old age when he was eighty-seven. That day she waited, hoping his soul would remember, and everything would make sense again.

           She watched his soul ascend, looking strange because it wasn’t her Stiles. She looked at the soul, waiting, hoping. The soul smiled warmly at her the way Stiles would, before nodding and disappearing above, making the spot where her humanly heart would be, ache with longing for someone who no longer existed.