#i now realised hair length nose ring and glasses have in fact changed since then

[lostinthefrigginwoods]

@nerdwreck tagged me in a challenge: make myself from both now and 2015 to compare in this picrew! Hilariously this skipped right over the years I had funky coloured hair. Still an avid snack lover, still reading Homestuck. What you can't see in the picrews is most of what's changed, actually.

Challenging @whostoleallthecookies @foxfae69 @nyarchivist @mlm-saeran and anyone else that is interested!

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Che Bellissima Neve

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: agoraphobia mention, just a lot of long distance pining

Summary: With his lover constantly travelling the world, acting on stages all over Europe and beyond, Virgil wonders if it’ll be snowing in Venice by the time he sees Roman again...

(Recommended music: Snow In Venice by Elizaveta)

--

Virgil Giordano was never normally one for things like promises and long goodbyes. 

Coffee in hand, he warmed his cold fingers against the mug. His phone was right there by his side, but his right index finger instead busied itself - not with numbers - but with cursive. 

Looping letters. 

Spelling out where his heart lay.

The winter had seen fit to bless Venice with a soft kiss of frost. Gathering in the corners of the windows, haphazardly along the walkways, tickling the noses and lips of passers by. All the while Virgil couldn’t fight off the disappointment as the sky remained clear. The stars were beautiful, but his wasn’t among them. No, his star was miles away from where he should be; back home, in Virgil’s arms. 

Stealing his body warmth while they cuddled together. Complaining at the lack of room for the both of them on the one chair, but still refusing to move. Running his hands through the freshly plum pigmented plume of hair atop Virgil’s head. 

A soft sigh left Virgil as the homebound poet quietly pined for his lover. 

-

Roman D’Angelo had only dreamt of this level of stardom in far fetched dreams and scrawled in journals during drama lessons. 

Even as he walked out of Berlin’s Theatre Des Westens still wearing his getup as Leopold Bloom, Roman could hardly believe he was one of the most sought after up-and-coming musical actors in Europe. Stopping for autographs was brief; Roman adored his fans of course, but the face he always longed to see among them was never there. Not for a lack of wanting, but because his beloved was confined to his home - no, their home, it was always home for the both of them no matter how far Roman travelled - by his agoraphobia. Roman never held it against him, he only wished he could call home more often. 

As his taxi passed a phonebox, Roman politely asked the driver to stop. His wallet held rarely any change these days, but he had what he hoped would be enough.

The cold night air caressed his fingers unpleasantly. Curse his lack of patience, but spontaneity was always Roman’s forte when it came to acts of the heart. Screw his phone that needed charging back in his hotel room, he needed to hear his beloved’s voice that second. Each number dialled brought a new rush of excitement and nerves until the phone began to ring.

He just hoped Virgil hadn’t decided to have an early night..

-

Luckily for Roman, Virgil was as much an insomniac as he was an agoraphobe.

Of course, he didn’t recognise the number, perhaps it was a spam caller? Probably. He rolled his eyes and went back to sipping his cooling coffee, content to let the answering system take a message. Instead of some hack trying to sell him car insurance or some scam worthy payment plan, the voice on the other end had Virgil scrambling to answer the call so quickly he nearly doused himself in lukewarm bean water.

“Virgil? It’s me, though I take it you must be asle-”

“Roman!”, Virgil cursed the crack in his voice as he answered, “I’m here, Princey. It’s been a while, where are you calling from this time, mister world-famous-actor?”

Roman’s hearty laughter had Virgil’s own heart beating so loudly he wondered if he should schedule a doctor’s visit. “I’m not quite there yet, cuore mio. But I’m in Berlin, Charlottenburg to be exact. And it’s still snowing, in fact it’s snowed every night since opening night. Can you believe that?”

“Really?”, Virgil sighed, unable to stop the fond smile making itself at home on his lips, “Sounds lovely.”

“It is…. But it does have its drawbacks.”, the actor mused, drinking in the adorable noise of intrigue his lover made over the phone.

“And what would they be?”

“... It’s not home.”, Roman began, his eyes following the tufts of snow that danced through the skies outside the phone box. “And you’re not here.”

For a moment, Roman wondered if he’d overstepped. If he’d made Virgil feel bad for not being able to be beside him, but his fears were replaced by a longing he wasn’t aware he was capable of as Virgil’s voice - almost strange in it’s softness - caressed his ears, 

“Funny, I was just thinking that myself.”

It was hard for Roman to find the words, but he mustered the courage to ask, “Are you doing alright, Virge?”. The silence gave Roman his answer, he knew Virgil would never admit to him outright just how much he missed him, how lonely he was at night without Roman by his side. Well, not directly.

“... When will you be home again, vita mia?”

Virgil knew Roman would be home in an instant if he could manage it. If he wasn’t bound by the dream he’d had since their adolescent years, Virgil knew his beloved would be in his arms right that second. But the poet knew what he signed up for when he fell in love with Roman D’Angelo; he was prepared to let his beloved chase his dreams while he could never follow alongside him. That didn’t mean it hurt any less to be without him.

“...Virgil? Are you still there?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Sorry, I-“

“Got caught up in your thoughts again, cuore mio?”

Virgil nodded bashfully before realising Roman couldn’t see him, “Yeah. I just…. I miss you so much, Roman..”

“... I know you do. And I miss you too.”

He hadn’t meant for Roman to hear the soft, dejected huff he let out, but as he practically heard Roman frown over the phone, Virgil sighed, “It’s been almost a year, Roman, almost a year of telling myself not to be selfish, just wishing you were here with me instead. I just… I want you to be happy, but I don’t know how much longer I can go on without you.”

The anxiety he felt pooling in his stomach threatened to draw out his tears when Roman softly spoke again over the line. Lord knows, Virgil adored the tenderness in his tone and the love dripping from each syllable,

“Vita mia, anima mia, bisogna resistere...”, Virgil’s breath hitched and he was unsure if it was because he was close to an anxiety attack or because he could feel the hope building itself a home in his chest, “I’ll be home soon, vita mia, I promise.”

He wanted to believe it, but he’d heard those words before and Virgil couldn’t help the doubt his hope was wrestling with, “Before or after it starts snowing in Venice?”, he joked.

Roman chuckled, they were both grateful for the moment of levity, “Never doubt the power of my undying love for you, Giordano.”

Virgil chuckled, affectionately snarking something akin to ‘sbruffone’ as he hung up and got cosy in his armchair. It had just passed midnight, he might as well get comfy considering he wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Not with Roman invading his every thought…

-

Once Roman had returned to the taxi, he was filled with an unwavering resolve. He all but raced to his hotel room; his hands blurred in his vision as he began to pack the few things he had brought with him into his suitcase with one hand while the other held his phone. 

After the couple of times he’d pulled out the charger on accident, Roman was finally able to call his manager. Despite her protests, Roman knew they could let his understudy handle being Leo Bloom for the last couple of shows. Even if it meant it might cost him some valuable work and publicity.

Sure, being on stage was his dream, but Virgil was his life. 

“I’m coming home, vita mia...”

-

The armchair was so comfy. Virgil hoped whoever was knocking at his door was prepared for the consequences of waking him up. 

In fairness, he should have gone to bed instead of snuggling even warmer into the chair, but also in fairness there was no reason for anyone to be knocking on his door at half four in the morning. Seriously, who just does that? Virgil hoped it wasn’t some stranger in need of help; he didn’t fancy having to stomach explaining he was literally terrified of leaving his house. Perhaps it would just be Valerie next door, checking in on him, that’d be nice. That he could deal with. As long as it wasn’t the mailman. Or Mormans. 

If his fear of going outside could be rivalled by anything, it was with his hatred of people trying to intrude on his home.

Virgil’s mental ramblings stopped as his mismatched eyes caught a glimpse of a figure through the frosted glass of the door. It was hard to be certain, but the silhouette, the colours, even when distorted…

Never had the door known such force as Virgil tore open the door and came face to face with the love of his life.

“Roman…!!”

The taller man smiled like the angels Virgil was sure had carved him; his cheeks and nose were flushed rosy red, his dark hair was tousled and stuffed underneath the winter beanie atop his head. By the way he was breathing, Virgil guessed that Roman had run at least the length of the street to get here.

Despite knowing he’d regret it once the intrusive thoughts came for him, Virgil braved the two steps outside his doorway to wrap his arms around Roman, a gesture his beloved returned. Warm hands resting on Virgil’s lower back assured him that everything that was happening was real; that the Roman in his arms was real. He didn’t give a second thought to kissing his darling actor, he just did.

When they finally broke for air, Roman chuckled, sweet as honey, bathing Virgil’s face in warm breath, “Vita mia, Virgil, I’m loath to suggest we stop, but I fear you may freeze if we continue. I love you but I’d rather the love of my life not be turned into a popsicle.”

It took Virgil a second to realise what Roman meant. Not only had he rushed out in his pjs, but his clothes and skin were littered with tiny plumes of snow.

Snow. In Venice. 

When Roman pulled off a surprise, he sure did it in style.

As much as the poet could feel his anxiety over being outside - even momentarily - begin to build, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle,

“Come on then, Roman,”, Virgil huffed softly, his smile so beaming with love, Roman wondered if it was possible to be burned alive by it, “You have stories to tell me from your travels, and I have a warm armchair and some coffee to for us to share...”

----

Fluff? Straight up fluff? No angst!? It’s likelier than you think!

Seeing out the year with a happy little fic based on smth I talked about with a friend after the Christmas Concert Livestream!

All the Italian used is stuff I tried to cross reference so if anything is wrong or could be improved, please let me know!

(they’re supposed to be talking in Italian the entire fic I just wanted to add in some actual Italian like in the song)

Taglist:

@patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword @gattonero17 @shadowylemon

[harryimaginestuff]

Sarcasm is the Lowest Form of Wit

A/N: here is the request the anon requested ages ago (sorry for the long wait) Ngl I struggled to come up with how to write this one but I like how it turned out.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2k

The one where there’s a side to you that he’s never seen before.

    Harry had met you almost five months ago on the set of his newest Gucci campaign with you being the assistant to one of the camera operators. He approached you the same as he did with anyone else, after all that was how he was raised; to treat everyone with respect and kindness. However your coy and shy behaviour drew him in, the way you bit your tongue on topics that you had little interest in, but as soon as videography or anything of that matter was brought up you would dive in, your hands moving in sync with whatever words came out of your mouth. You were passionate about your work, just as he was. And it was your passions that bonded the both of you the most.

    And now almost four months later you were his girlfriend, after a series of dates and casual hang-outs, he had been the one to make it official. He had taken your hand in his across the dining table as he looked deeply into your eyes as he proposed the question to which you quickly replied with an ecstatic yes.

    But for such a charming man, he had never been as nervous as he was now sitting beside you as the two of you awaited the arrival of all of your friends. You had begged him to accompany you to your reunion with your friends from school to which he hesitantly agreed to.

    It wasn’t as if this was the first time he was meeting the friends of whoever he was seeing, but the fact of the matter is that this was different, because you were different. He’s had his fair share of models and their model friends and although he found you extremely attractive, he felt this stunning beauty radiating off of you that he had never felt elsewhere. Therefore, he was well aware that the friends that were coming now, were the ones you had grown up with, they had watched you transition into the woman you were today, and there was no way that they didn’t love you, after all who wouldn’t which only mean that they would be 10x more protective over you.

    The two of you had already had a couple of drinks since you had agreed to come a little bit early to save some space, and although this was the first time you had properly drank in front of him (a glass of wine with dinner doesn’t count) he could see the sobriety in your eyes slowly leave as alcohol took its place. He was listening to you reminisce about your time in school whilst simultaneously playing with your ring-clad fingers.

    “Y/N!” he heard causing his gaze to turn from your intertwined hands to the owner of the voice.

    “George!” you said with the same amount of enthusiasm. From what you had just told him, George was one of your best guy mates and one of your first ones at that. He had been there for you when one of his mates had broken your heart as well as you being each other’s rocks during the rough exam periods. “What the hell have you done to your hair?”

    Harry watches on as you embrace the man, lightly ruffling his shoulder-length hair as you smile brightly at him. “You look like Tarzan but in a more ‘I’ve let go of myself way’.”

    Harry is left in slight shock at your words, and although they’re not outright rude they are certainly not the kind of words that he’s used to, especially coming from you; the sweetest person alive.

    He let out a breath that he wasn’t aware that he was holding as soon as George cackled loudly and pushed your intruding hands away, “Wow, Y/N I have not missed your crippling honesty that’s for sure.”

    Harry reckons that he’s never seen you like this, on the fast track to being drunk, your hands moving animatedly during whatever you were discussing, not just when talking about work. He figured that he liked drunk you, although he liked sober you more. With every drink you had you fell deeper into his side, your body slowly melting into his, and with every drink he had, the sloppier the kisses to your head and cheek got.

    But your displays of affection weren’t the only thing that had progressed as the night went on, it seemed that the more comfortable you got the easier the insults spewed out of your mouth. You had something to say to everyone apparently.

    He’d watch as you’d reply with a long and dramatic ‘noooo’ every time someone had made a dumb comment and the way you’d reply sarcastically to any question, but then immediately break out into a big grin as soon as the words came out of your mouth, even when you tried to be rude the kindness in you always managed to shine through.

    “Who’s this bitch?” that was another thing, apparently, drunk you was a fan of swearing a complete opposite to the way you cringe every time a foul word left anyone else’s mouth when there was no alcohol running through your veins. Harry turned to look at whoever was at the other end of your jabbing and seeing as everyone else was here, he assumed that the last girl to arrive was Anna, the last girl that you had spoken about as you prepped him for the arrival of everyone a few hours ago.

    “Late as I ever I see, I guess nothing’s changed.” You hummed, jokingly shaking your head.

    “Well I may be the same, but you’ve sure changed. The last time I saw a man attached to your side was back in school.”

    “At least I didn’t have a different man hanging off of me every second.” You laughed, patting Anna’s shoulder as she took her place next to Harry.

    “Bitch! You’re just jealous that I had boys all over me, but you were always too awkward to make any moves.”

    “True!” you pretended to sob, digging your head into Harry’s neck. He couldn’t help but laugh as he felt you inhale deeply, the hot air from your breath causing goosebumbs to rise on his skin, and his heart couldn’t help but stop as soon as you sent him a cheeky intoxicated smile before jumping back into conversation with George and the girl, Lily, who was sat opposite, whilst Harry properly introduced himself to Anna.

    “Karaoke!” he heard bringing him out of the conversation he was having with two of your friends. He turned his head to you slowly and cautiously, after all he knew how much you adored it. He recalled the first time he was at your flat, it was 2 months down the line, and you had dragged him into the living room and pushed him onto the sofa. And if he was being honest he did think that something sexual was about to happen, especially when you had reached into one of the cupboards, bending down but those dreams had immediately vanished as soon as you had turned around, with the widest grin he had ever seen, a karaoke microphone in your hand. That night you had begged him to sing a song, and since then it had become almost tradition for you to pick a song for Harry to sing.

    Which was why now, although hesitant to do so, he was sitting on a stool in front of the whole bar, with the opening track to Nirvana’s ‘Smells like Teen Spirit’ playing on the speakers. And despite the deafening noise, he still heard your voice ring out above the crowd, he didn’t know what to expect, perhaps words of encouragement like you always did whenever he sang songs but this time it was different, this time you continued with your insult rampage and lightly ripped into him.

    “Boo!” you shouted, hands cupped around your mouth, “Get off the stage you can’t even sing.” And despite the bright lights shining in his face he could still vaguely make out your figure. He could still see the way you laughed so hard at your own joke that your hands clapped together, kind of like a seal, he thought. He could see Anna lean over to you and whisper something in your ear causing you to crack up even further, your hands now moving to hold onto your stomach as your legs lifted off of the ground. If it wasn’t for the loud music playing by his ear, he would’ve missed his cue. But even as he belted out the lyrics to the song you had chosen, he still couldn’t help but stare at you, and the way your eyes crinkled, and your nose twitched as you laughed. He couldn’t help but think that there was so much more to you, because turns out you had some sort of twisted sense of humour that entailed making fun of your friends, and whilst many people go too far, you knew exactly when to stop. You were the perfect mixture of naughty and nice.

    You were perfect for him.

    And as the song ended, and soon the night he realised he never wanted to not see your smile again. You were special, and there was no way that he’d be letting you go.

    The both of you were now laying in your bed, cuddled under the covers, the alcohol slowly leaving the both of your bodies.

    “Did you have fun tonight babes?” you asked, twisting a stray strand of hair that fell into his face with your pointer finger.

    “I did. Learnt some new things too.”

    “You did?” you hummed sleepily, this time resting your head on his naked and warm chest.

    “Learnt that you were quite the bitch back in school.”

    You let out a breathy laugh in reply, your chest vibrating slightly as you giggled at his words. “A bitch? Who me? Never.”

    He thought back to the night, and all the days and nights prior to this one. He thought of the way your hair and swished every time you turned your head and how every time you had walked past him you had left the most heavenly scent of coconut, which he now learnt was a result of your dousing your hair in coconut oil once a week before bed, something you ad roped him into doing now too. ‘For soft, thick locks,’ you had said.

    He had thought back to the way your hands would always find their way to his, and the way your fingers would grip onto his.

    He thought back to the first time you had cried in front of him after he convinced you to watch ‘Marley and Me’ to which you had originally objected because ‘it makes me cry like a baby’. And just as you promised, you had been reduced to a crying mess by the end of it, and despite the fact that snotty tears should be the least attractive thing in the world, he thought you’d never looked cuter. That was the one of the first times where he saw just how big your heart was.

    He thought back to tonight, and the way you found rude humour so funny and how you took joy in mocking and teasing the people you loved most. He thought back to the way you couldn’t even keep on a mean face for more than five seconds as immediately after something remotely mean came from your mouth, you would break into the biggest smile.

    It was this moment, when he was playing with your hair, and you were lightly stroking his back that he realised that he loved the way your eyes crinkled and your nose twitched, he loved the way you always smelt like coconuts, and he loved how you had shared your routine with him. He loved the way your hands would always hold onto his and he loved the way your soft finger tips felt against his calloused ones.

    He even loved the way you cry, how your whole body would shake with every breath and how you would do your best to hide the tears that streamed down your face. He loved your crappy humour and your dead jokes too.

    In fact…

    “I love you.”

[sometimesstorieshappen]

Over/Under

Barian had been mopping the floor for approximately 12 minutes when he was interrupted. Not that he didn't welcome the interruption, for usually cleaning was a job he assigned to someone else, but nevertheless he found himself mildly annoyed as a man materialised in front of him with a muffled crack. He stepped back to avoid getting water on his immaculately white suit.

"Please. We have a front desk for a reason you know." Barian said as he waved the smell of sulphur away. He had often wondered why he wasn't used to it by now, as despite smelling it almost on a daily basis it still forced him to crinkle his nose.

"Uhhhh...."

"Desk. At the front. Big queue, you can't miss it." At the man's continued confusion Barian sighed and dropped his mop. "Alright then, I'll help you this time. But only this time." He practically dragged the man to his feet and set off towards the door.

"Who...who are you?" The man asked with a quivering voice. He was dressed in clothes that looked tattered and torn, as though he had been mauled by a bear, and next to Barian's gelled hair and white suit he looked even worse.

"I am Barian, general manager and secretary to Lucifer himself. And you are?"

"Leo. I don't – I don't have any titles."

Barian shrugged. "Doesn't matter too much down here." As they exited the room Leo was given a sight of what looked like the entrance to a bank, albeit a very, VERY large one. A line of desks stretched into the distance, far beyond the limit of Leo's eyesight, and in front of each one was a queue of between 100 and 250 people. Behind the desks was one long wall, punctuated by doors every so often, and it was from one of these doors that the pair had come out of. Barian looked at the queues and groaned.

"I forgot, there's a war going on at the moment. Tell you what, since I'd rather sort you out quickly I'll take you to the boss myself. If anyone asks then you waited in the queue. Got it?"

Leo had enough sense to nod. "But who is your boss?"

Barian stared. "You kidding me? I even told you his name already! Come on, you seriously never heard of – ah forget it. Come on." Barian pulled out a set of keys that jangled loudly, putting one in the door they had come out of. After some jiggling and muttered curses, the lock turned and the door opened. Except it was not the same room. Inside was what looked like a large ballroom, occupied by nothing but a desk with a computer on it. A man sat at the desk, studiously typing away, and there was another empty chair for visitors to sit on. Barian dragged Leo to the chair and sat him on it.

"Did you finish up in 37B Barian?" The man asked.

"Not yet, got interrupted. Queue jumper. I'll leave him with you." Barian turned on his heel and left, the sound of his jangling keys following him. The man typed for a few seconds longer before pushing the computer to the side and addressing Leo.

"Now then, my name is Lucifer. I hear you appear to have skipped the queues out there."

"I don't know how I got here, I just –"

"Alright alright, first things first. Let me find you on the system." Lucifer typed for a few seconds, and Leo took the opportunity to look at him. He was dressed simply, a plain black shirt and jeans, hair cut very short. No rings, necklaces, jewellery of any kind. Suddenly something clicked for Leo: Barian had mentioned the queues were due to war, and the boss was called Lucifer...

"Am I in hell?" Leo blurted out. Lucifer looked up at him.

"I should think that's a bit obvious. It's not exactly easy to arrive here accidentally. Though..." He frowned. "I can't find you on here. Now it could be a computer error but Belerus assures me that is not possible. So option two is that you are not meant to be here." Leo squirmed in his seat as warmth flushed through him.

"Am I... am I dead?"

"Well now that's an interesting question. The fact that you are here suggests yes, but if you're not on the system then you are not officially terminated." Leo felt warmth flush through him again, stronger this time, and little beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. "I believe the best thing to do is to give it some time, allow your representation to –"

With a crack and a smell of sulphur, Leo disappeared again. Lucifer frowned, and after a moment's contemplation pulled a mobile out of his back pocket and pressed a speed dial.

"Belerus? It's me. I need you to run something through the simulations for me. Yes, that one. Yes, I just want to check it. Okay. No, I'm not your chef, there's a snack machine in the corridor. You asked for the damn thing. Okay. Okay bye." Lucifer pocketed the phone, sighed, and returned to his computer.

Leo opened his eyes. Or rather, he opened one of them – the other had something in it. His right arm was held in a cage of twisted metal, the bicep pierced by what looked like part of a door. One of his legs was dangling in front of him, the joint twisted beyond normal angles. He was held in place by something that he recognised as a seat belt, the ends disappearing into the broken branches and car parts around him. There was a person crouched over him, beaming. Leo couldn't quite tell what was happy about this situation, but then he did not have the context. The defibrillators should have been a giveaway.

For 2 minutes and 13 seconds, Leo Brazikin had been clinically dead.

*

"Look, do you realise the implications of what you're asking me to do?" The doctor put his pen down, giving Leo his full attention. "You're not even off crutches, let alone healthy enough to undergo this sort of thing."

"2 months ago I died, Dr Massan. I died, and I saw where I was going. Now I want to go back, and this is the only way I know how." Leo shifted in the chair. It was an uncomfortable plastic one, and with his leg still in plaster it was proving impossible to find a good position. He sighed. "Look at me. They say the leg will never heal fully, the break was too severe. I'll have problems for the rest of my life."

"The fact that you even have a life is enough reason to reconsider. You have no idea how lucky you were to live. The fact they didn't amputate that leg is even more astonishing."

"It might as well have been amputated." Leo said with a frown. "I've looked everywhere, you're the only person who could undertake this. You've been researching clinical death for nearly 20 years."

"Yes, preventing it. Not causing it." Massan dragged a hand down his face. "This is clinical death, not clinical sleep, or clinical rest. Death. The risks in doing this are immense."

"With respect Doctor, it is not your place to decide what I can or cannot do with my life."

"With respect," Massan retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm not just worried about you. Let's say something goes wrong. I'm left standing over a dead body that I personally killed. Manslaughter, 5 years minimum. And there's no way out, it's only your word that can save me, and it's not like I can drag that out of you when you're a slab of cold meat on the table. This is just as risky for you as it is for me!"

"Doctor, please. I... I don't have anywhere else to go." Leo looked down for a moment, gathering himself. Massan let the silence hang in the air for several seconds before breaking it.

"If we're going to attempt this we need rules."

Leo looked up in joy. "Oh thank you so –"

"Shush. Rules. Listen. First rule is that you write a will extenuating me should you die. Unfortunately that's pretty much going to be a signed suicide note, so you cannot show or discuss this with anyone."

"I'm single and my parents are long gone. Who would I talk to?"

"Alright. Second rule is length. No longer than 30 seconds."

Leo frowned. "Why?"

"The longer you're out the greater the risk of brain injury. 3 minutes is the cutoff point for full recovery, After that it's virtually guaranteed you'll wake up with some brain damage. The only way to extend that is through induced hypothermia and I don't want to risk any further complications. You've already been through a 2 minute death, doing another one is asking for trouble." Massan stood up, pushing his chair back and walking to the window.

"Anything else?"

"Last rule." Massan turned to face Leo. "You do everything I say. If I say jump you say how high. Most of the potential damage from this will be while you're conscious, and if I can't do the proper procedures then the chances of brain damage are very high. So Listen. To. Me." Massan smacked his hand on the windowsill to emphasise each word. "I'll need to prepare a room out of the way, plus get hold of some equipment. I'll message you the address and date.

Leo stood up. "Thank you Doctor. You have no idea what this means to me."

Massan sighed and turned back to the window. "No, I don't. I never do. I just do what I think is right. Don't prove me wrong. Now get out before I change my mind."

*

"Uhh. Hi God. It's me." Leo looked up. The stained glass window above him was supposed to depict some kind of religious scene, but he couldn't really tell what exactly. He didn't exactly live in the most opulent area, and so he reasoned that it was likely done a little cheaply. "So it's been a while huh? A few years I think. Okay a lot of years. I'm not good at this." Leo looked around. He was sitting on one of the front pews of the church, bathed in orange and yellow light from the window. Or he would have been if the weather wasn't cloudy.

"I don't know if I should kneel, or like, bow. Or do something besides sitting. Not sure if it even matters. You're probably ignoring me anyway. I would." Leo sighed. "So I'm here because, well, I guess you could call it an old habit. My mother used to bring me here, take me to confession. I would sit in a booth and tell some guy that I took a chocolate from the sweet cupboard at night, and he would tell me to say some prayer I don't remember, then everything would be fine. You were supposed to admit your sins or something. And that's what I'm here for. I want to get something off my chest." He paused for a second. "Am I crazy?" He waited for an answer. For a godly sign, a beam of light coming from the heavens. But there was nothing. "I died, then I lived, now I'm about to die again. Except this time I'm dragging someone else into it. If I die, he takes the blame. I feel...guilty. You know? Like he has to deal with me because I can't. I don't know if that counts as a sin or not, but it's worth admitting I think." For a moment the sun found a gap through the clouds, shining through the main window onto Leo. Had it been slightly earlier it could have looked like a godly sign, however now it just looked like the sun shining through a slightly crappy stained glass window. Leo looked at his phone again, at the single message from Dr Massan. He sighed and stood up as the light faded.

"Keep an eye out for me God. I know I've been a dick in the past but just this one time. I'll say however many prayers you want. I'll even go to church. I really will. Do this for me and I'll do something for you. I promise. For whatever that's worth." Leo stood up and made to leave, but he stopped for just a second. He gave as much time as he dared for an answer to materialise. But nothing came, and he carried on out of the church muttering to himself. "I'm asking a goddamn window if I'm crazy. Way to go Leo, good job. Gold star."

*

"Ah there you are. Come on, quickly." Massan led Leo down, down, into the basement of the building. After a few too many stairs for Leo's liking they arrived at the designated room. It was large but undecorated, with a cracked concrete floor and ventilation pipes snaking through the roof like worms; the sort of room you held kidnapped people in, Leo thought with a morbid smirk. In the middle was a hospital bed, with several other pieces of equipment surrounding it. Most were complicated looking medical machines that Leo did not recognise, all hooked up to an extension lead going to the corner of the room. One looked rather worryingly like a refrigerator.

"Oh ignore that." Massan noticed Leo staring at it. "It's an ice machine. We'll only need that if things go wrong. Lie down please."

Leo laid down on the bed, fully clothed, as Massan began attaching electrodes to various parts of his body.

"So you're not going to be in the same position as last time. Last time was full cardiac and respiratory cessation, due to shock and having a big hole in your lung." Massan finished attaching electrodes and turned to a machine behind him. Leo could hear the beep, beep, beep of his heart ticking away. The sound of his continued existence, spelled out in monotone notes. "I'm going to induce ventricular fibrillation using a large AC shock. I would tell you how big this shock will be, but to be honest I don't want to frighten you. Take off your shirt and spread this on your chest." Massan gave Leo what looked like a tub of hair gel.

"What's this for?"

"It's so you don't have defibrillator shaped scars on your chest. At this voltage these things will burn your skin without protection, and I don't have the equipment to deal with an infection here. Plus if you show up at a hospital with defibrillator burns they'll start asking questions, which is the last thing I need." Massan pulled out two paddles, rubbing them together as they charged. They made a faint high pitched whine as they did, and Leo eyed them nervously.

"Is this going to hurt?"

"I'm afraid so. I can't get hold of any decent painkillers without going through procedures and they would never approve this. Unless you want to start downing paracetamol now I suggest you don't think about it. It's a very short shock." Massan placed the paddles on Leo's chest, pulling out a stopwatch as he did so. "3, 2, 1, clear."

Leo looked up. The roof was far above him, which meant he was lying down. But he wasn't lying in the bed. Instead he was in a big room. Someone was looking down at him. Someone familiar.

"You again. Most perplexing." Lucifer shook his head. "Alright I'll bite. What do you want?"

"I want to understand." Leo said as he stood up, his legs shaky. His chest ached, a deep throbbing pain that reverberated through his body. "What is this place? How does it work? What happens?"

"I don't deal with the technical side of things down here. But I know someone who does." Lucifer walked towards the door, pulling out his keys as he did. After a quick fiddle with the lock the door opened to what looked like a laboratory, full of giant glass tubes and computer banks. A small man in a lab coat and sunglasses was busy at one of the machines.

"What now? I'm busy." The main said. His voice was nasally and thin, tinged with annoyance.

"Leo, this is Belerus. He's our chief of technology down here, and if anyone can tell you about how we work, it's him. Now don't bother me again unless it's important." Lucifer practically shoved Leo through the door and slammed it behind him. Belerus finished at his machine and turned around, grinning.

"I heard about you. Barian couldn't keep a secret if his lips were glued together. Although being asked to run some very specific simulations was a hint."

"What exactly is this place?"

"Really? That's the question you want to open with? I should think that was pretty obvious." He spread his arms. "Welcome to Hell. Purgatory. Shak'delar. The Cycle. Whatever you want to call it. Every culture has some inkling of what happens after death, and though the words change the intent is the same. This is where you go when you die."

"I thought there was a heaven as well as hell?" Leo frowned.

"Depends who you ask. As far as I know there's only one place after death, and that's here. Thing is what you're seeing is technically a communal mental representation of what you think this place looks like. Your subconscious is deciding everything for you." Belerus walked over to Leo, and as he did Leo realised just how small he was. The man was barely 4 feet tall, his lab coat tails dragging on the floor. His smile was greasy, a little too forced. "So right now your body is a subconscious mental projection of your self. Effectively you're walking around in your subconscious body. This place can therefore be treated as both heaven and hell in a sense. It's your subconscious that decides which one you see. You judge yourself guilty or innocent. It's quite beautiful actually."

Leo felt warmth flush through him and realised Massan was trying to bring him back. "What about you? Do you actually work here? What do you do?"

"Oh a bit of this, and a bit of that." Belerus pushed his sunglasses further up his nose. "That's not important though. I anticipate we're running out of time."

"What – how do you know?"

"You're not the first." Belerus said simply. "I'll explain later but I need more time to confirm. I need you to die for longer really. I don't have enough time to run any simulations on you. Come and see me again when you can stay for longer." Leo felt the warmth again, stronger, and he closed his eyes.

*

"Come on, stay with me. ShitShitShit!" Massan threw the set of paddles to the side and pulled out another pair, these ones hooked up to a car battery. He glanced at the clock. 51. 52. 53. "Come on you bastard, get back here! Come on!" He let the charge go, Leo's slight frame jumping as the electricity contracted his muscles. And then with a gasping breath he opened his eyes.

"I – urgh – ack" Leo tried to speak but found he couldn't.

"Quiet. Lie still." Massan began lumping ice onto the bed, covering Leo in it. Once done he pulled out a syringe, and after a quick inspection, promptly injected Leo in the neck with it.

"Urgh"

"What's your name?" At Leo's blank expression Massan sighed. "I need to know if there's any damage. Your speech will recover once blood circulates, cognitive function should be immediate. Name. Now."

"Leurgh"

"Close enough. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Fouurgh"

"Good." Massan sighed and collapsed into a nearby chair, wiping sweat off his forehead. "This is crazy. You're crazy. What the hell am I doing here performing the medical equivalent of mad science in the basement? That's it. No more. I'm done." The basement was quiet save for heavy breathing and the beeping of Leo's heart, still struggling onwards.

*

"No way. Not after last time."

"He told me I needed to die for longer."

"He could tell you to jump on one leg and sing songs for all I care!" Massan threw his hands up. "Who told you this anyway?"

"Belerus. He runs the technical side of things in the afterlife."

Massan tilted his head. "You know, at first I thought you were making this stuff up. But nobody is this exact with lies. You talk to me about the same things over and over, and you're almost convincing. But I just can't. I'm sorry, but last time was far too close. You were dead for 50 seconds, somehow you didn't suffer any major brain damage but god knows how."

Leo quietly wondered about that. His memory had been worse since he woke up, and he pondered if he really did avoid brain damage. Or if he would even notice it if it occurred. "Massan please. I'm begging you."

"You did that already, and It worked the first time. But no more." Massan sighed. "You have to understand how abhorrent this is to me. I took an oath, Leo. A code I've lived by for nearly 30 years. On top of that what you're asking me to do is something that I have been actively researching to prevent for 20 years. This is something I have dedicated my life against, and you're asking me to cause it. God knows why I even agreed to this in the first place, but it goes against everything I've lived and worked for. Please understand." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't have anything against you personally. I honestly hope you find someone else to help you in this, I really do. But it cannot be me anymore."

"I see." Leo slumped in his chair. Massan looked at him for a moment.

"Look I'll tell you what. You want purpose in this life? Let me give you something. I've got to clear all that stuff out of the basement later today, why don't you come help me with that? It'll take your mind off things."

Leo shrugged, but beneath the nonchalant exterior the gears of his mind were turning. "Guess I don't have anything else to do. What time?"

"7:30 exactly. There's a gap in the schedule that we have to hit. We'll have a 30 minute window, otherwise we'll be explaining why we're carrying hospital equipment to the next janitor. So be punctual." Massan turned to his computer, and Leo stood up to leave.

"Oh and Leo? Life is great. Trust me, I work at keeping it." Massan chuckled to himself.

"Yes. Yes it is." With that Leo left the room, crutches clicking as he walked.

*

Leo looked at his watch as he entered the basement. The equipment was all still there, the defirbillators, the hospital bed, unmade and covered in ice. It was odd to think that this was his deathbed, both metaphorically and literally. He brushed the ice off the bed, clicking on the machines as he did so. He wasn't sure what for but they felt necessary somehow. He couldn't find the electrodes however so instead of a steady repetitive beep the machine simply registered a flat monotone line. It was unsettling, as though he had already died. Another glance at his watch. 7:28. After a moment's searching he found the defibrillators, the cold metal heavy in his hands. A quick search found the switch to turn them on, hooked up to the extension lead, and Leo lay in the bed. He couldn't find the gel, so he simply left his shirt on. As the defibrillators charged with a faint whine he looked up at the roof, the fluorescent tube lighting illuminating the weathered ceiling, the silvery grey of ventilation pipes like jewellery on a scarred body. The earrings and tongue piercings of the building, Leo thought with a smirk. Funny what the mind jumps to when it's about to die. 7:29. Leo placed the defibrillators on his chest, and took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. He muttered "Clear." to nobody in particular. Then he pressed the button.

*

"How long was it between the sessions?"

"A day and a half, more or less." Leo thought back. "Why?"

"I need the data for the simulation. Come." Belerus beckoned Leo over to a large machine, typing some numbers on a small calculator he was holding. There was a screen at the bottom of the machine, and the scientist gave it a few meaningful taps. It began to show a complex mathematical formula, something Belerus evidently understood as he gave a few excited claps.

"And that is...."

"So time doesn't run parallel down here. At the point of death your mind speeds up, it works overtime to find a way to save you. As far as we can tell that overclocking of your brain carries over to down here, hence time runs faster down here than it does up there." Belerus waved his hands distractedly. "Well I say time runs faster, in fact that's a lie. You're just thinking faster. Time isn't a fixed linear progression, it's in a state of flux that varies depending on our perception of the world around us. You think that the passage of time influences your perception of the world, whereas it's the other way around. Your perception speeds up or slows down time."

"I don't get it." Leo was struggling to keep up, and Belerus sighed.

"Basically time runs faster here. The question was how much faster, and now I know." He gestured at the screen. "Taking your mental calculation speed as a base value time is exactly 12.67 seconds per second down here. For every second you spend up there, 12.67 seconds passes down here. Well I say exactly, it's pretty hard to calculate mindspeed but –"

"Wait, how long have we been here for?"

"About 20 minutes."

Leo's heart dropped. "Massan should be here by now. He should be trying to get me up. Where is he?"

"Massan?"

"Someone on the other side. A doctor. He's been getting me here. I.... I tricked him in order to come here this time." Leo looked up at the ceiling in hope.

*

"Sorry I'm late, I had to dodge a few questions. Some of my old colleagues work here and –" Massan stopped. He saw the bed. Leo asleep on it. The defibrillators half charged, dangling from the side. His formidable mind put the pieces of evidence together, sent the compiled report to his brain, and after digesting for a second it came to a conclusion.

"You didn't. No way. No bloody way." He ran over to the bed, but he knew in his heart that Leo wasn't just asleep. "You stupid, selfish, son of a-" He picked up the defibrillators left on the bed but they were still charging, useless to him. The backup pair were hooked up, and he pulled them out. The ECG was still registering no heartbeat, the electrodes dangling uselessly, and the tone mocked him as he pulled up the paddles. Without even hesitating he fired them. Compression. Wait. Discharge. Compression. Wait. Discharge. Compression. It wasn't working.

"Come on you bastard, come on. I'm not going to jail for you. Not like this. No way." He charged the paddles again.

*

"What are you waiting for?" Belerus had a notepad out and a pen poised and ready.

"It feels warm when he shocks me, like a hot flush. He should have arrived a minute ago. I should feel something, anything. But I don't." He noticed Belerus was scribbling furiously. "Will you stop that? This is serious!"

Belerus' phone rang, and he held up a finger at Leo as he pulled it out. After a moment's nodding, and a few affirmatives, he ended the call and turned to him.

"That was the boss, he rang to say you're officially turned up on the system." He held his hands apart. "Congratulations. You've officially died."

*

Massan leant back. The last charge had only produced meagre sparks: he was out of juice. The extension lead was no longer connected. He was out of options. He looked at Leo lying peacefully on the bed, the result of his endeavours. For the first time in 22 years, Massan sat on the floor and, in between muffled curses, began to quietly cry.

*

"What do you mean I'm dead?"

"I'm not sure how you can misinterpret that sentence." Belerus tilted his head. "Besides, what is one world to another? You can be perfectly happy down here. I could even take you on as my assistant."

"I can't." Leo was panicking now. "I have to get back." He grabbed Belerus by the shoulders, practically shaking the man. "You have to help me, there must be a way. There has to be."

"Well, there is a way." Belerus frowned. "Come with me. Quietly." He led Leo through a small door, closing it behind him. In the room was what looked like a table, upright, with manacles on the corners. Various equipment surrounded it, some appearing to be medical in nature, others...less so, Leo thought with a dull flash of fear.

"What is this place?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself about. Hop in." He gestured to the table. Leo stood against it and Belerus closed the manacles around his wrists and ankles.

"What happens when you kill something that's already dead?" Belerus muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh nothing. I must thank you really. I've wanted to try something like this for a while, and simulations are only so good. After a certain point more substantial evidence is required." Belerus turned away, and when he turned back he was holding what looked like a very large needle attached to a cable. "Don't worry about this, it'll hurt for only a moment. It looks scary but it's not that bad, I assure you. I have no other way of delivering the charge to your heart sadly."

"What?"

"I'm going to kill you." Belerus said with a grin. "I don't know if this will work or not, but we shall see. Are you ready?" Leo nodded. "Alright then. On the count of three. One. Two." Belerus plunged the needle into his chest and Leo's world flashed white.

*

Massan jumped. The last vestiges of electricity leaving Leo's body had caused it to jump. For just a second he thought it had made a noise. He looked at Leo intently for a few seconds, but the body was as still as a...well, as a corpse, Massan thought with a mirthless smile. He turned away again.

*

"Wait what was that? I need longer! That was no time at all!"

"I can't." Belerus threw the needle down, the cable clattering on the floor. "What did you see?"

"I saw... there. The real word. But only for a second." Leo looked down at his chest, at the hole the needle had produced. It reminded him of a particularly nasty insect sting, not something that he would associate with a hole going towards his heart.

"The time difference. You saw it for about a 12th of a second if my calculations are accurate."

"I need longer."

"I told you I can't." Belerus frowned. "The body that you see here is a coalescence of your subconscious. I ran a large charge through it for about 2 minutes already, any longer and it'll start to dissipate."

"What do you mean dissipate?"

"It just... goes." Belerus waved his hands in the air, then grimaced. "Look I'm a scientist, I don't like admitting that I don't know something. Down here there are things that I know or things that I will know, nothing else. The coalescence just vanishes if you run too much charge through it, I think it just destabilises the brain, cauterises it somehow."

"How can you know? You've never done this before."

"I told you before. There were others." Belerus said darkly, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not a good person. But I tell the truth. And before you ask no, we can't go again. Your subconscious needs time to settle. Maybe a week or two." He walked over and unbuckled Leo from the table as he talked.

"A week!? I – woah." Upon trying to stand Leo found it difficult to even stay upright.

"You're just had a massive charge run through you for nearly 2 continuous minutes. Your subconscious will struggle to stay together for a while, so take it easy."

"I'm coming back. As soon as I can, I'm coming back. If I have to get a message up there a half second at a time then I will."

Belerus shrugged. "It's your call. Just do me a favour and get some rest in between."

"No guarantees."

*

Detective Inspector Marinetto looked around. This late nobody was in the station, which was perfect for his needs. In the room in front of him was the victim of case 1437. Cause of death apparently defibrillation, suspect apprehended and convicted of manslaughter. Though the times varied slightly, every 4 days the body would jerk and make a noise. His superior had ordered him to get rid of the body, but he was a detective at heart, and he couldn't leave a problem unsolved. So he had pulled some strings to get it and place it under surveillance. He had pieced together the recordings of each noise, and something was starting to become clear. After nearly 12 incidents he had the makings of what looked like a word.

"I'm." He muttered to himself. The body was saying something, and it began with I'm. I'm what? Alive? Here? Marinetto shivered. Eventually he would figure it out. He always did in the end. It was just a matter of time. He clicked his pen, shut his notebook, and without another sound left the station, leaving the body to wail its message into the waiting lens of the camera and the open arms of the dark night.

[little-maynard]

Twelve Days of Jack (December 17 - Day 4)

Summary: When Sarah is invited to casually hang out with her Friend With Benefits, Jack, and his group of friends, things suddenly get a lot more serious than she bargained for.

Word count: 1.2K

[A/N] This mini series all takes place in the run up to Christmas. Each chapter takes place the day it is uploaded.

[Extra A/N] This chapter contains explicit smut.

Day One - Day Two - Day Three

On the one hand she really wanted to know whether Jack had had another one-night-stand that night, but on the other hand she knew that she would feel like crap for the rest of the day if he said he had.

She waited until two in the afternoon to text him.

Sarah: How was your night out?

Jack: So good!! Sad u missed it though. Feeling better today?

Sarah: Yeah much better thanks

Jack: Good. Wanna come round tonight? 😉

His invitation could mean that he didn’t get laid the night before and was looking to make up for that, but then again, Jack definitely didn’t mind getting it on multiple times a day.

Sarah: Sure. Did your sad ass not get a girl last night? 😉

Jack: lol no I didn’t thanks for asking

She wasn’t sure why this made her feel better. Jack was just someone she had sex with sometimes. She needed to get her dumb feelings in check and stop pining after him.

She purposely left her phone in her room when she went to the TV room to do homework.

--

At 9PM Sarah took a bus to Jack’s place. He’d offered to pay for an Uber, but that would make it feel even more like a bootycall so she had politely declined. Fortunately the bus wasn’t crowded and she found a seat by the window where she sat quietly for the duration of the ride. This would be the first time they’d have sex since the Winter Wonderland ordeal, and she was nervous that something might have changed between them. She did feel like something had changed. They were closer now; more like friends than they had been before.

The first thing she noticed when he opened the door was the fact that he was wearing his nose ring again, which he hadn’t done in a while.

He grinned when she pointed it out, “I know you like it. Dug it up from the bottom of my jewellery case just for you.”

“You’re just trying to get yourself laid.” She joked.

He nodded and laughed.

His rouse still worked though.

She had him with his back against the wall within five minutes of coming in, kissing him and running her hands over his soft body. That damn nose ring worked every time, and that grey hoodie with the flowers that looked so fucking good on him wasn’t helping.

He seemed pleased with himself.

She dragged him to his bedroom and he lost his hoodie and T shirt somewhere along the way, discarded on the floor.

“It’s been too long.” He said breathlessly.

“It’s been four days, you horny fuck.”

He laughed as she pushed him onto the bed.

“Plus, you had some fun in between. I didn’t. This should really be my party.”

“You are free to make it your party. Please do.”

And so she did.

“Strip.” She demanded. He gladly did as he was told and lay himself back down on the bed afterwards.

She loved how he looked at her when she was in control. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, watching her every move to figure out what she’d do next and begging for more just with his looks.

She straddled him, pinning his hands above his head, and started kissing him. Starting at his mouth she soon drifted to his neck and throat, then onto his chest where she left small red marks with her teeth. As she lowered, her hands could no longer reach his, but he kept his arms above his head even when she was no longer keeping them there.

She stopped at his abdomen, sitting up to take in the sight in front of her. He was out of breath, chin tilted up to expose his throat. She made good use of that, by leaning back down and leaving some marks on his throat that she knew would fade quickly enough that he wouldn’t be bothered by them. When she was satisfied, she got off the bed and undid her jeans, pulling them down and kicking them off.

He knew what was coming, scrambling to his knees to accommodate her. When she lied down, he immediately got between her legs. She held her hand over the back of his head, holding him down the whole time, until she realised he was reaching down to touch himself. She grabbed his hair and gave a small tug on it, “Hands down.” She ordered. He made a soft noise and put his hand back onto her leg.

“Good boy.”

She loved to tease him, making him so desperate he would beg for just a touch. He was nearly there, she noted when she had him lie down on his back. His hands clutched at the bed sheets and precum was dripping onto his stomach.

At this point she’d been teasing him for about twenty minutes, so she figured he’d waited long enough now. She wrapped her fingers around his dick and started moving so slowly it made him dizzy.

Finally, she leaned down and licked along his length, and then took him into her mouth. His entire body tensed up but he didn’t move, apart from his hips, which stuttered a little at the pleasure.

She continued bobbing her head up and down until he was trembling and making desperate noises, indicating he was close to coming. As she raised her head she ran her fingertips over his abdomen, “How are you doing over there, Jack?”

“Fine.” He muttered.

He had his eyes closed, but opened them when he felt her get off the bed, “Where you going?” His speech was slurred, high on anticipation.

“Just getting a condom, relax.”

He did as he was told, putting his head back on the pillow.

She rolled a condom onto him with expert ease and then coated it with some extra lube.

His hands lowered a bit so he could tangle his fingers in his own hair, watching intently as she straddled his hips and held him by the base of his cock. His eyes rolled back when she pushed him into herself.

Neither of them lasted very long once she started moving, Sarah coming first and Jack following right after when she tensed around him. He let out a moan that she broke off by pressing her lips to his.

They both winced when Sarah got off him, and Jack lay still for a bit while he caught his breath.

When he opened his eyes again, she was offering him a glass of water. He sat up and took it. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You alright?”

“I’m great, yeah.”

She couldn’t help herself; she leant in and pressed a kiss to his sweaty hair.

“Nobody can live up to this.” He whispered, loud enough for her to hear.

“To what?”

He motioned vaguely, “This. Sex.”

“Oh, your one-night-stands won’t tie you to the bed?”

“None of them have, so far.” He said, laughing.

While she was cleaning herself up in the bathroom she strongly considered leaving and never coming back. Those sweet smiles and fondly spoken words Jack gave her were getting to her head; she was trying to get to terms with liking him while also trying to stop herself from doing just that. He was confusing as hell and taking up way too much space in her head.

[ecotone99]

[RF] Broken

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

----

The music was blasting, my ears were ringing already, and I was only at the bar. My musketeers had asked me to fetch them some drinks while they evaluated the state of the dancefloor and looked for potential dance partners.

It was too early for me to party; I felt like shite, I could still smell Anne’s perfume in my sheets and in my pillow. I couldn’t bring myself to wash them, maybe yearning for her touch was my way of beating some sense into my own head. That woman had been in my life since I was 7 years old, and now, in every moment of the day, I always felt like there was something missing, no matter where I went and no matter what I drank.

The waitress came back with 4 rum and colas, throwing me out of melancholy lane for the moment. I tapped my card, collected the glasses and snuck a peek at those beautiful green eyes of hers as I mouthed thank you, they seemed to beam with their own light.

Back on the dancefloor, we were doing a poor job at balancing our drinks in one of our hands while dancing like proper dorks: flapping our arms like birds, doing the robot; the whole shebang. I loved the fact that we were happy to chill for once; when we were in our early years of university, it was all about women and it got boring quite quickly for me.

We must have looked ridiculous together since we are extremely different. Raf stood at 2 meters tall, slim, with wild curly brown hair breaking free from underneath a stylish hat, and a huge nose. Loui was looking careless lately: he had left his black hair to grow out of control, almost reaching shoulder length, thick glasses framed his pale white face. He didn’t visit the gym that much anymore; you could tell he was ripped, but we had all seen him in better shape. Richard was out hunting tonight, he wore a stylish white shirt over some jeans and when he raised his hands to dance you could see the hypertrophy struggling to break the bonds of that expensive shirt, tattoos sneaking off to his forearms from the sleeves. I stood between Richard and Loui, my dirty blond hair was barely combed through and I was wearing a shirt that did a good job at hiding how much I had stopped taking care of myself lately.

Richard was the first one to spot them: the blonde was hard to miss. She was probably under 25, and she was wearing a dark red dress that was too short for my taste, ending just a few centimetres from her bottom. She was petite, slim and slender, but the dress stuck to her like a second skin, shifting over her as she danced. It was mesmerising, I had to admit. The dark red tones of her dress matched her lip colour and contrasted with her porcelain skin. She was wearing a heavy layer of makeup that probably took a few hours to put together. I could still hear Anne’s voice:

‘If you want me with a proper face on, either shut up or fuck off. Would you darling?’

The dress reflected some of the dancefloor lights and made that golden hair of hers even more obvious. She was sipping on a cosmopolitan and talking with her group of five friends.

I could already see ‘The Womaniser’ thinking about a plan of approach. Richard was an open book to most of us. We had known each other since we were in our early teens. Raf pointed towards Richard, as he moved towards the group of young women. He smiled; ‘Classic Richard’ screaming out as body language to those that could read it.

Patience is a virtue and I was not in a hurry to turn this guys night out into whatever it was that Richard had on his mind. I had recently started to drink a lot faster, and hence, I was running dry, so I went to get another one for myself. Alcohol was starting to numb my previous melancholic state of mind and I felt like indulging myself.

From the bar, I asked the green-eyed bartender for a whiskey double. She briefly made a recommendation of a brand they were carrying. I was happy to humour her, she nodded as she went for the bottle. From the bar, I could clearly see Richard perform his mating ritual moves nearby the group of girls, casually approaching. Not casually enough. Their faces went from amusement to annoyance to amusement again as he realised that he had been caught and went full dork mode again.

‘Your friend better stay away from Chloe, she is too much for him to deal with.’ I barely caught the last words over the loud music.

I turned to see an attractive woman around 30, wearing a very light layer of makeup over dark caramel skin and what looked like pale brown eyes, yellow maybe, I couldn’t tell with all of the lights. Her lips were a shade darker than her skin. She wore a very simple black dress that clung to her shoulders by a single strap around her right shoulder, almost touching one of the two silver loops hanging from her ears. She was of medium build and looked like she hadn’t been skipping gym lately. Her expression was a mixture of contempt and irritation.

‘How do you know that I’m with that dork, lady?’ I smiled as saw Raf and Loui join Richard in what it seemed to be a native American rain dance.

‘Cause you’ve been laying everyone low with those 60s moves and we’ve been laughing at you for the entire night!’ She wasn’t quite smiling.

‘I don’t see the problem on making a bunch of, if I may say, very lovely women laugh at us. Do you?’ I offered her my most innocent smile.

‘Ha! Cheeky!’ It seemed that comment caught her by surprise, as her stern face lit up momentarily.

‘So, you’re with Chloe the cheerleaders, I take.’ I asked pointing at Chloe and her red dress.

‘It’s more of a hen party actually. She’s is getting married.’

‘Jack, STOP it. Get up, please.’ I somehow managed to smile through the flashback of my brief, failed attempt at marriage.

‘Pleased to meet you, mother hen.’ I replied playfully, extending my hand.

‘Oh, would you sod off?’ She slapped my hand away, looking irritated, after a brief pause she turned her back on me.

‘Pardon me miss, I meant no offence, I was simply jesting.’ She looked away, without bothering to answer.

I got the message loud and clear. My drink got here, I signalled the waitress to come close. ‘I’ve been a proper jerk to that lady I’m afraid! Whatever she’s having, get her another, and charge it here.’

She nodded and loaded the contactless payment platform with the proper amount. Whatever I ordered for her was cheap. I collected my drink and gave it a sip.

‘Holy moly miss! That’s some proper whiskey, thanks for the recommendation.’ I smiled at her.

She smiled right back and made an ‘I know a thing or two’ gesture. I shook her hand and went back to the dancefloor, quickly setting my unfortunate encounter aside. It was only 1 am, I had plenty of time to have fun.

‘Somebody got rejected by an Indian goddess.’ Loui shouted at my ear.

‘She was already angry to begin with! She cannot take a mild joke…If you talk with her, whatever you do, do not call her mother hen.’ I said.

‘Hahaha, you can be such a twat sometimes Jack.’ He replied while smiling.

We talked about the girl group for a few minutes, got the remaining musketeers up to speed. I grabbed Richard, who was looking a bit grim after discovering that his mark was already taken and invited him to join me for a legendary waltz. After we were done and we were all laughing at the poor show we were putting on, someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned to see Mother-Hen, holding an empty glass and looking less angry than before.

‘My friend told me that you love nicknames.’ Loui shouted through the music, sharp as ever.

‘You can call me Daddy Rooster!’ the subtle Richard strikes again.

‘I see you’re all clowns!’ she replied.

‘Yup!’ we shouted in unison.

That got her to laugh and she got closer to me so that I could hear her better through the blasting speakers.

‘May I return the favour?’ She raised her empty glass.

‘You may.’ I was short for words. I didn’t know where this was going, this woman was still feeling a bit off, and I wanted to be a bit cautious.

‘Tell her to get me a rum.’ Loui wasn’t done being an idiot.

As we headed towards the bar, it got quieter and quieter. We could finally speak in a normal tone of voice.

‘Sorry, I overreacted before.’ She looked forward, trying to find a spot to order.

‘Don’t worry about it, you’re not the first nor the last lady I piss off by running my mouth off.’

She was walking in front of me; I got a brief look of the back of her dress, which was open just before reaching her lumbar back, showing a discrete tattoo in black ink between her shoulder blades. Her skin tone made it really hard to see clearly. We saw a spot in the middle of the bar and we headed towards it to order.

‘What are you having?’ she asked.

‘They have a lovely single malt here, the bartender will know what I’m referring to. Tell her no ice.’ I turned around and placed my elbows on the bar.

'My my, a bit young to take your stuff straight aren’t you?’ She playfully stated, her tone change was sudden and it seemed out of character.

‘Just old enough to appreciate my liquor bare.’ If she was game, so was I, god knows I could use some company. There was something wrong with this lady though, I could feel it, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

She nodded as she spoke to the waitress and swiped her card. She had a single ring on her right hand’s middle finger, a silver band and a black stone. Classy. Our drinks got here and we gently knocked our glasses together.

‘So I take that to keep things civil I’m going to have to call you by your name.’ I said, while taking a small sip, it was lovely.

‘My name’s a bit long, you can call me Shiva.’ She said, funny enough, an Indian goddess after all. Shiva was the male God of destruction, I could faintly remember.

‘Nice to meet you Shiva.’ We shook hands. ‘I’m Jack. So, how is it that you ended up in charge of the girl scouts over there?’

She smiled.

‘I’m their boss…’ Her face turned grim again. ‘I really didn’t want to come here.’

‘How so?’ I could relate.

‘Oh you know they are just in the whole celebration mood. They want to drink till they’re fuzzy enough to not give a fuck and then go to this strip club down the road.’ I knew the place, it was one of my recent haunts, something that I wasn’t about to admit. ‘They’ve hired a boy toy for a private party.’ I did not know they had male strippers. ‘They just want to enjoy the view as he shakes his junk all around the place.’ She was clearly nervous about this last part, which made me wonder why. Her thumb kept turning her ring around her middle finger.

‘Well, if you are looking for an alternative, you are in luck! My friend Richard there happens to be a fantastic dancer.’ I said.

‘Is that the discrete one?’ She smiled.

‘That’s his surname, yes’

Her smile grew wider.

‘Yea I bet he wouldn’t mind.’ She kept turning the ring on her right hand around. ‘You two could have your own number.’

‘Ha! It’s a work in progress. We don’t get much practise I’m afraid. I can barely dance while I’m sober so we only get the chance while we’re out!’ I replied.

‘It sounds like that’s not very often.’ Her expression turned neutral again. ‘Do you come here much? I haven’t seen you around.’

‘No, I‘ve been a bit of a shut-in lately, but it’s good to go out with the gang again.’ I pointed at them. Raf seemed to take this as an invitation, as he decided to approach us. He faced Shiva, greeted her by taking his hat off, with his other hand, he took my glass and chugged my drink in one swift gulp.

I closed my eyes, raised my eyebrows, gently shook my head and sighed with a profoundly sad expression. You don’t do that to a nice whiskey. I could have slapped him, except, not really, because he was too bloody tall. He smiled as he flicked me off and went back to the dancefloor.

‘Well… that’s one way not to drink whiskey.’ She said.

‘Yes indeed, but I’m not ever going to teach that twat how to drink for pleasure rather than numbness.’

I waved at the waitress, pointed to the glass as I mouthed another one.

‘Please, let me get this for you.’ She said.

The waitress was pouring the whiskey into the measuring cup.

‘Under no circumstance lady. You’ve already bought me one.’ I held my card on my hand.

‘But your friend drank it! You didn’t get to have anything…’ Her tone turned melodic and playful again. She got closer to me. ‘Let me get this for you. Please. I probably make more than you do anyway.’ She said as she held my hand back with hers.

I’ve always had a short fuse, and I’ve always been very aware of this fact. It has always gotten me into trouble. Even my mom was never able to understand how I could ignite so easily when I was being looked down upon.

‘How patronising of you!’ I tried to hide the fact that my blood was boiling under my skin with a very poorly faked smile and a mockery of her playful tone. I removed her hand from mine with more firmness than I meant to, as I signalled the waitress to ignore her.

‘Oh please don’t take it the wrong way!’ She replied sung with that bloody tone again, it was driving me insane. ‘I must be 10 years older than you! Just let me get you that drink!’ She said, putting her hand again on mine so that I couldn’t swipe the card.

‘Seriously Shiva, piss off, I don’t want you to pay for my booze.’ At that point, I was the one wanting to slap hands away.

‘Oh come on… Did the baby get offended?’ She got uncomfortably closer and she playfully grabbed my cheek. ‘Don’t be like my kid!’

My patience came to a sudden end.

‘Yeah, I bet you don’t need anymore else that just wants you out of their life.’

The slap made the heads of everyone in this side of the bar turn. There was a jolt of pain under my left eye. When I opened my eyes I saw her face lit with a fury that I did not expect. She drew her hand back again, her upper lip was drawn upwards and I could see her teeth showing. She hit me again, on the same side with her open hand. She was going for the third hit. I grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly.

‘Whatever the hell you got going on, love, you should really get some help… You obviously need it.’ I said. I let go of her hand, as I gently pushed her back, picked up my whiskey, drank it like Raf did, placed the glass down and headed for the exit of the club. She didn’t say anything, she just stood there. I only caught a brief glimpse of her face before I turned, a weird mixture of anger and embarrassment.

My friends had been watching, they had seen what happened and they were coming to meet me.

‘What in the world did you say to that woman? It looked like you were about to have a little moment there. I blink and I see her properly slapping you.’ Richard looked worried. ‘You okay?’

‘Yea, of course, I’m okay. It’s not like I’ve never got slapped before. To be honest I don’t usually mind getting roughed up.’ I joked while trying to make this less serious than it seemed.

‘We’re not taking you out ever again. You never keep your mouth shut.’ Raf said, barely standing. ‘Now we’re going to have to hit another club!’

I smiled, and a jolt of pain went through my right cheek again. She had some wrist power for sure. I put my hand on my face to find that it was sticky.

‘What the hell?’ I thought out loud.

‘Jack, you’re bleeding.’ Loui said. ‘Let me have a look at you…’

I tilted my head back so that we could shine some of the lights from outside the club.

‘How did she even draw blood?’ I wondered.

‘I don’t know but you have a nasty ass cut on your face mate. Maybe two? I can’t quite tell.’ He grabbed my face and made it face the light. ‘We’re going to have to get you stitched up to avoid this from scarring. This looks deep…’

‘Oh my god there they are!’ We four turned our heads.

Shiva and Chloe were out of the club, apparently looking for us. They approached us with urgency.

‘Coming for strike three?’ I said while they were approaching. ‘You crazy cow! You managed to cut me!’

‘I know…’ She said after arriving, panting, a fine layer of sweat on her forehead. She paused for a moment and looked at her hands, which were bloody. ‘It was the ring. I’m so sorry I lost it there I…’ She didn’t finish the sentence, she looked down and her gaze fixed on her hands.

‘Apologies not accepted, now kindly piss off.’ I replied.

‘No, wait! I’m really sorry, may I please have a look? I’m a doctor.’ She insisted.

‘No, you may not. Seriously, leave me alone before I call the coppers.’ I was not impressed by her sudden remorse.

‘Look, the sooner you get that stitched up, the lesser chance you have of it actually scarring. I live in that block.’ She pointed at the building directly opposite to us. ‘I’ve got the necessary stuff to patch you up in the next 10 minutes. I’m a surgeon so I know what I’m doing. You can call the police afterwards if you want, call them now if you want. Just… let me fix this.’

‘Please Anne, just… let me fix this.’

I looked at Loui, he was almost done with the fifth year of his medicine grad. He didn’t say anything, which meant that he somewhat agreed with what she said.

‘How much has she had to drink?’ I asked Chloe, she had just observed the encounter, silently standing behind her boss all this time.

‘She doesn’t drink at all.’ Chloe looked at us worried, and then to Shiva. ‘She did come back with two drinks from the bar once, but we checked. You know? Cause we like… we thought we had finally gotten her to grab a proper drink but no… they were both sodas.’

That was the first time I invited a woman to a flipping soda in a club.

‘Seriously, you should let her stitch you up. You can’t even imagine what she does to faces on a daily basis.’ Said Chloe.

‘I think I might have a slight clue.’ I pointed at my open wound.

‘So I take you’re less of a doctor and more of a plastic surgeon.’ said Loui, he was aiming for neurosurgery, elitism was something that just came in the package.

‘Yes, I’m a plastic surgeon.’ Shiva barely looked at him to respond before turning to me. ‘Just please let me help. Please?’ Her yellow eyes stared right into mine.

----

We walked into the lobby in complete silence, we hadn’t spoken since we left Chloe and the musketeers waiting downstairs. We got into the elevator and we both turned and stared at the door. The elevator went up to the twentieth floor, the last one, it wasn’t a short ride. It was the only apartment on that floor, must have cost a fortune.

She pushed her keys into keyhole and swung the heavy duty door open. I didn’t break the silence as I didn’t want to wake up some kids in the middle of the night with a bloody face. She turned the lights on, the lounge turned bright. The ceiling was quite high for an apartment, it was about 3 meters high and it had white walls with dark brown furniture, the floor was pale marble, it looked a bit like a futuristic palace. There was a single corridor making the way into the apartment. A single empty three shelved shoe rack marked the start of the no shoe zone. She took her heels off and placed them there, leaving her purse hanging inside the closet. Everything was in an immaculate state.

‘Could you take your shoes off please?’ She said.

‘Yes of course.’ I bent over to undo the laces on my trainers. A few drops of blood fell on the marble floor. They looked like how the dress looked on Chloe’s skin. ‘Ugh, I’ve…’ I said struggling to find my words.

She turned around and she looked where I was pointing at.

‘Oh don’t worry about it, I’ll clean it later. Come to the bathroom, I got my first aid kit there.’ She looked nervous, but emotionless, cold, like a bonfire that’s just been smothered by a bucket of water.

She moved into the apartment turning lights on as she reached the switches. I followed her after I had neatly placed my shoes on the rack next to hers. The corridor was long, I passed two rooms on my right hand, one of them had punk rock posters pasted on the door, Sum 41 and Green Day. I smiled, those were from my generation. The second room had a figure of a moon hanging from the knob and was open. I peeked in, and the walls were blue, a single cradle was in the corner that was visible from the door, and there seemed to be a mattress on the floor, which looked slightly out of place.

‘Jack?’ I heard her call my name.

I hurried to the source of her voice, I passed two corridors to each side, I kept going straight and arrived at a huge, professional kitchen, the fridge was huge, and the induction cooker looked completely unused or very well kept, there was a high dining table in the middle of the room, with high stools, which reminded me of the ones from the club. At the furthest side, there was a baby chair. There was a half open bottle of wine on the middle of the table, and a dirty glass right next to it. I thought Chloe said she didn’t drink. A few dishes were piled up next to the sink, it had a faint food smell like the kitchen hadn’t been aired in a while. There were a few boxes from what seemed to be takeout piled in the trash and there were a few family pictures hung on the walls. Nice place.

‘Shiva, where are you? I’ve gotten lost in this small apartment of yours.’ I whispered into the corridor.

She came from the corridor to the right carrying a little bag.

‘Oh, you found the kitchen, that works better than the bathroom. Sit on that chair would you?’ She hurried me back in, grabbing a stool and sitting next to me. She took the contents of the bag out, and methodically placed them on the counter. ‘This might sting.’

She cleaned the wound with some transparent liquid from a small bottle and some cotton.

‘It does sting like the devil.’

‘Do you want to sit on the baby chair?’ She gave me a Mona Lisa smile.

‘Yes please.’ I could take a joke, even in this weird situation.

She didn’t reply, her smile grew a bit wider before she started to study my cheek, she seemed worried. She gently tilted my head to the side and asked me to hold the position as she got way too close to my face; her rounded nose was close enough to be burrowing into my beard; her yellow eyes, centimetres from mine, not aware of my gaze; her chest was pressed against my arm. She seemed to be a lot more comfortable with this than I was. While trying not to think that this was the closest I had been with a woman that I hadn’t paid to strip for me in some time, I focused on one of the pictures hung on the wall. Shiva was wearing a full piece swimming suit, she was hugging a pale, blond, muscular man, they were on the beach and she was pregnant.

‘I’m so sorry Jack… I’ve done a good number on you, there are two cuts, almost parallel to each other.’ A few tears fell from her face into my beard. ‘Oh god, I’m sorry, I must look like a proper nut-job at the moment.’ She wiped the tears from my face and from hers with the back of her arm.

‘No worries…’ This was beyond awkward, I was still somewhat angry at this woman and I wasn’t quite sure that I had made the right decision following her there.

She continued cleaning the wound, the cotton was turning reddish as she methodically and carefully pressed it against the cuts.

‘Okay, I’m going to need you to stay still. This is some very fine material and I don’t want it to snap.’ She grabbed the hook with something that looked like tweezers, the thread was barely visible to me.

She spread my face with her fingers, now behind a silicone glove and she put the stitches down one by one. I decided to keep my pretty mouth shut and looked at the picture again. I noticed that there was a small boy climbing on her husband’s leg, holding onto his waist with both hands and wrapping his legs around him to push himself up, he had curly dark hair and his skin was a very light shade of brown. It was a lovely family picture.

‘Okay, we’re halfway through, you still there with me?’ She said.

‘Yea, just admiring your little monkey, he seems to have excellent taste in music. How old is he now?’ I pointed at the picture.

‘He’s seven.’ Shiva said, completely emotionless, focused on her work.

‘Pretty young to listen to Punk Rock isn’t him?’ I realised that was none of my business after those words came out of my mouth.

‘That’s his dad’s fault.’ She quickly stated, less neutral than she wanted to sound.

‘Sorry, I was thinking out loud. It’s no concern of mine.’ I did not want her to snap again. I pictured her choking me with the thread, very plausible indeed.

‘Don’t apologise, please… I’m almost done here.’ She tied another knot, but at the end, she dropped the tweezers, which ricocheted off the floor and went under the sink counter.

‘FUCK’ She shouted.

‘Shh!’ I tightened my whole body and pushed my open palms down in a “be quiet” gesture. ‘Jesus Christ, you’re going to wake your whole family.’ I was in no hurry to experience how wonderful it might be to explain this situation to her husband.

‘Shit, those things are slippery. I don’t have another pair, we’re going to have to get them from down there…’

‘Seriously don’t worry about it, I’ll get the rest done at the hospital. God knows what’s down there, I don’t want to get the cut infected…’ This was getting weirder and weirder and I just wanted out of the house. This had been a really bad idea.

‘You’re right, I think Jonh keeps another pair in his nightstand.’

‘No no, do not wake your husband up please.’ I pleaded anxiously.

‘He’s not here.’ She said in a neutral calmed tone. ‘Now shut it and wait till I’m back!’

A few minutes later I heard a loud noise.

‘Shiva?’ I whispered loudly into the corridor again.

‘I’m okay, I just fell down, wait there.’

I’ve never been the waiting kind, I headed to the source of the noise, to the left of the kitchen, and I saw her sitting on her side, in the dark, facing the door, patting her right thigh and looking in pain. I turned the lights on as I entered the room.

‘How did you fall?’ I offered my hand, she grabbed it and pulled herself up.

‘I must have tripped on something. Let’s get back to the kitchen.’ She seemed to want to get out of that room rather quickly, she was tight, nervous.

I thought it was because of the fall, but then I actually looked at the room. I had not noticed the state it was in until that point. There were bottles everywhere, she had tripped on one of them for sure. There was no mattress on the bed, it must have been the one that I saw in the room with the cradle. The blinds were shut and there were two ashtrays sitting on one side of the bed, completely full of cigarette butts, everything else on them was glasses and mugs, some of them overflowing wish ash and more cigarettes. As I noticed this, the smell of home hit me: stale tobacco, marihuana, closed room and the sour-sweet smell from the dried alcohol in the bottles. The pictures in the room were taken off the walls and turned around and there were piles of books on both sides of the bed frame.

‘Seriously please, let’s get out of here, I got Jonh’s first aid kit right here.’ She waved the little purse in front of my eyes, capturing my attention. It was the same way a mother would wave some candy in front of their kids while saying ‘look what I got here’. By this time, Iw as already used to her forcefully playful and cheerful tone.

Before she left, she opened the windows. We left the room without speaking at all, as she left, she closed the door behind her. I sat down in my stool, rested my hands on my lap, and she started working on me again. We remained in silence for a few minutes, this allowed me to unpack the night a bit. I thought about my own demons, and how much they might look like hers. She looked calm and serene while she dug into my skin with that hook. By the few last stitches, I was no longer angry.

‘He left with the kids right?’ I said as I looked her in the eye.

‘Yes.’ She tied another stitch and wiped her first tear away.

----

If you've reached this far, thank you for taking the time to have a read. I really appreciate any feedback. English isn't my first language, so if I've gotten anything wrong: do let me know. Once again, thanks.

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