#i pondered weak and weary ~ ooc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lustresky · 5 years ago

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kahit ‘di mo alam [james ‘bucky’ barnes x f!filipina!reader]

summary: After an emotionally taxing mission, you and Bucky share some stories— and maybe also some leche flan along the way.

wc: 5200ish. (might have went to town on this one.. haha woops)

themes: angst (i need to chill tf out i’m sorry:’’/), some fluff ig, happy but kind of ambiguous ending (mayhaps a sequel....), mention of ptsd/trauma, hydra being shitty, bucky trying his best to comfort reader (this is my first time writing him so sorry if he’s kinda ooc..), filipina!reader, also kinda cliché idk

a/n: psa, i do not know how to bake. all i am is your typical filipina girl who has a soft spot for bucky and also thinks that there needs to be more poc centered readers. that is all<3 thanks to @ panlasang pinoy for da leche flan recipe lmao. also! title is a song by december avenue, which i think fits this story. check it out if you want!:]

requests are open! & pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! c:

You hum quietly to yourself, beating the yolks with a silver balloon whisk that Tony had.

Out of all the things that you would never have thought Tony would own when you first joined the team, a full on expensive ass baking set was on the top of the list. Hell, you don’t even think that he’s ever opened the oven door before; but then again, the guy’s loaded, so maybe it wasn’t really a smart idea to wonder what he did or did not own.

Whatever— you thought to yourself. Pondering about what the billionaire did with his money wasn’t really what you should be focusing on right now, anyways.

You continue with the repetitive motion of your hand, stopping once the eggs were smooth. Gradually, you add the condensed milk, followed by the regular milk and then finally, a few teaspoons of vanilla extract. You mix the concoction once more, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you focus on the task at hand.

You didn’t hear the gradual shuffling of feet into the kitchen, nor the opening and closing of the refrigerator door; and so you were startled out of your concentration when Bucky Barnes himself ended up in front of you, a bowl of oatmeal in his hands as he positions himself properly on the island chair.

He doesn’t greet you— and honestly, you weren’t expecting him to anyways. You two were never really close; acquaintances at best, with how high both of your walls were built.

You really only knew Bucky from what Steve had shared. You knew that he was part of the Howling Commandos, that he’s Steve’s life long best friend, that HYDRA had brainwashed him and used him against his own will...

Even just thinking about that acronym still makes bile rise up in your throat.

HYDRA had also imprisoned you, beat you, used your body for their own gain. Your stories were similar. Two unwilling and unlucky humans— taken against their own volition, experimented on like a pack of mouse labs, memory and history wiped out to store target information…

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself.

Baking had been the only thing that you remembered from your past. As much as HYDRA tried to erase your history, the memory of your lola’s kitchen came back time and time again, relentless and the only sense of soundness that you found yourself with. The cartons of eggs, the measuring cups, the light dusting of flour all over the table, the rays of the hot afternoon sun peeking through the curtains, the smell of the freshly baked pandesal wafting through the air…

It was comforting, sometimes it was the sole thing that made you calm down. The only pleasant memory that you had left of the simple life that you barely remembered, but greatly missed and longed for.

Hence, before you knew it, you were in the spacious kitchen of the compound; making leche flan to calm your nerves and trying your best to forget what had just happened a few hours ago.

The mission had ended with the team’s victory, sure, but you don’t think that you’ll ever forget the image that had seared itself in your mind. You desperately wanted to forget the sight of Bucky, vulnerable as he lay on the ground with his metal arm torn off of his body, right before an enhanced individual gave him a powerful blow square on his abdomen.

Blood had spluttered out of his mouth, red, bright, coating the brick walls that you were both enclosed in. The mission should’ve been simple: break in, grab the information needed, and then bring said information back. There should’ve only been a few guards. It should’ve been a quick mission— but the sight of Bucky being plummeted with no remorse brought you back memories. Memories that you had tried so desperately to forget.

You bite your bottom lip harder, unintentionally gripping the bowl and whisk in your hands tighter as your arm mixes faster— faster and faster until you suddenly find yourself with a splatter of batter on your cheek.

You groan. Nice one, Y/N, you thought.

You hear a small snicker in front of you and you look up, embarrassed and annoyed. Bucky just stared back at you, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Taking a quick but good look at him, you notice that he had cleaned himself up. His hair was still damp from a shower. It was wavy, pulled back into a small ponytail behind his neck. His face was clear of soot and blood, and he no longer wore his combat outfit.

You can’t help but flicker your eyes over to his left arm, familiarity getting the best of you. You know that you should be rational, but you still feel your shoulders sink as your gaze missed the glint of metal that you were accustomed to.

Bucky senses your wandering eyes. He shakes his head, head dipping back into his bowl of oatmeal. “It isn’t your fault.” He mutters, voice raspy.

You huff, setting down the metal bowl on the marble counter with a bit too much force. You take off your apron and with it, you hastily wipe the splashed part of your face clean; or at least, as clean as you can without a mirror.

“No,” You argue, feeling your throat tighten as the memory and your emotions flashed through your mind once again. You ball up the now dirty apron, throwing it onto the counter. “It is.”

When you had seen him lying on the floor, taking hits every single second, you were unable to move. You had felt helpless, weak... cowardly. It was dumb. You were an Avenger, for Christ's sake. Your life was plenty of danger— seeing people getting hurt had never shook you so hard to the core before. Hell, you survived HYDRA.

Yet the memories were enough to make you freeze up.

Thankfully, Steve had showed up right before the enemy had landed his final blow. If it wasn’t for him, you highly doubted that Bucky would’ve been sitting in front of you right now, casually eating his oatmeal as if he didn’t almost just die a few hours ago.

When Bucky tilted his head up to look at you, ready to retaliate, you stood your ground and stared right back at his light blue eyes. Neither of you said a word.

You were angry. Mad. Furious. At Bucky? Maybe. Him dismissing the fact that you almost let him die and treating your mistake lightly was a thing in its own, but fuck. You were mad at yourself.

You feel incompetent. Useless. You almost let a teammate die, even if physically, you were completely capable of saving them. You drop your head down, unable to continue looking at someone whose life was in your hands just a few moments ago. A life that you were fully capable of protecting, but couldn’t, just because of some stupid fucking memories coming back to haunt you.

Before you know it, a hot tear ran down your cheek— and you hurriedly wiped it away with your arm. Now isn’t time, you hiss at yourself. Baring vulnerability in the middle of the kitchen? Ha. you thought to yourself.

Pathetic.

You grip the edge of the marble tiles, steadying yourself and trying to control your breathing. In and out. In and out. One, two. One, two. It was shaky at first, but after a few seconds of repeating the exercise, you managed to get a loose grip on it. Just enough of a hold to straighten your posture and set aside your mixture, before bolting away from the kitchen and into your bedroom a few doors down the hall.

Once inside, your resolve crumbles. You didn’t even have time to lay on your bed, your legs just giving up and leaving your body down on the carpet. Fresh hot tears ran down like rivers on your face, your nose stuffed, your eyes blurred. Your lungs heaved, just trying its best to give you enough oxygen, but you’re sniffling, your throat’s dry, and your mind’s weary and everything just feels like absolute shit.

You don’t remember how long you had sat there, your legs against your chest, head in your knees and hands on the back of your head as the rest of the water in your body leaves in tears.

You hate feeling like this. Emotional, vulnerable, sensitive… You aren’t supposed to be like this. You have a job. You can’t let your own personal problems get in the way of accomplishing what needed to be done. There isn’t any backing out in what you’re doing. There isn’t a delete nor reverse button. If you fuck up, you fuck up, and that’s that.

Your bedroom door suddenly opens, the unexpected sound making you flinch. Fuck, you forgot to lock it.

Still, you hold your head down against your knees. You don’t want to see anyone right now, you don’t even think that you have any energy left to make a proper conversation. Your throat’s dry, your nose is stuffed, your eyes are sore. You absolutely feel like shit.

The intruder continued their pace, before stopping in front of you. You hear a shuffling of legs, and something being set on your nightstand, until you feel a warm hand lay itself on the side of your left leg. They gave you a couple of soft pats.

From your position, you can’t really see who they are; you had a gut feeling that it was Wanda— but then again it can also be Nat. Or maybe even Steve.

Whoever it was, you know that they’re just trying their best to help, and you appreciate their concern, truly, but you just don’t think you’re capable of talking about something so close to your heart with someone else.

At least, not right now.

Except, you also know that they wouldn’t leave without any verbal cue, and so you force a smile, a truly fake and horrible one as you lift your head up to try and convince whoever it was who decided to check up on you that you’re fine, thanks, and that you just need some space— but as soon as your eyes focused on the person in front of you, your act drops, as the one who you expected the least stared back.

Before you can even ask him to leave, he beats you to it. “Here,” He says, getting up on his knees and retrieving the bottle of water that he had placed on your night stand. “Drink this.”

Wordlessly, you comply. The quench of the water on your tongue clearing your head, hydrating your body back.

Eyes glued to the carpet, unwilling to look anywhere else, you pass him back the glass. Bucky takes it and places it back to where he had originally put it.

He clears his throat. “Listen, Y/N… I— I know that we aren’t really… we aren’t really on the best of terms but— if you want to talk about it, I’m all open ears— but if you want me to leave and forget about this, I’ll head straight out the door.”

“I just—“ Bucky continues, and although your eyes were still fixating on the tufts of wool of your carpet, from the corner of your eye you could still see him shuffle awkwardly on his kneeling position. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We all are.”

You… didn’t really know what to say.

Here Bucky was, a soldier, another person who had undergone through HYDRA’s torment, someone whose walls have since been taller then, a teammate who you respected but aren’t close to— hell, barely even really friends with; offering you comfort, a place to vent, a shoulder to let your head rest.

As much as you barely knew him, you feel a pull in you to let him stay.

Bucky, however, takes your silence as refusal. Your eyes catch his legs unfolding from their position, straightening out as he stands up. He doesn’t say anything else as he turns towards the door.

“No, wait—“ You croak, cringing mentally at your voice. Looks like the water didn’t do as well of a job as you thought did. Letting out a much needed sigh, you finally let your gaze strike his, and once it made contact, you saw him. Clearly.

His eyes are cloudy, concern evident in his features. His dark brows are furrowed, lips set in a straight line.

You muster up some courage, and whisper, “Stay.”

Bucky’s expression flickers for a moment, concern turning into total surprise for just a millisecond, and if you had more energy you would have maybe laughed— but you didn’t. Instead, you cast your eyes back to the floor as you hear him shuffle back to you.

He sits to your left, legs crossed, arm on his lap. He doesn’t say anything for a while, the sound of your breathing and his being the only sounds filling your bedroom for a few minutes.

It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, some awkwardness from you both definitely seeping through... but nevertheless, your eyes start to get heavy.

Bucky, somehow sensing your current situation, clears his throat— effectively gaining your attention. Your head snaps up to meet his eyes.

“If you want… you can, you know…” He gestures to his right shoulder with his hand. He doesn’t continue his sentence, knowing that you had caught on to his proposition.

Too tired and sleepy to say no, you let out a breath and say fuck it.

You shuffle closer to his body, and as you lean your head down, a wave of fatigue washes over you. You hear Bucky inhale a breath as you finally drop, the left side of your face colliding with his shoulder.

As much as your body was pleading for you to simply close your eyes and just… rest— it still feels too awkward to do so. The silence is deafening, and as much as you appreciate Bucky lowering down his walls just a bit, you can’t help but let the next words tumble out of your mouth;

“What was it like in the ‘40s?”

You feel him stiffen beside you, and for a moment you worry that you had asked for more than you can chew, but within the next second Bucky lets out a small chuckle. He shakes his head slightly, a few strands of his freshly washed hair subsequently grazing over your face. It tickled.

“It was…” He starts, seemingly finding the proper words to say. “It was definitely a different time.” He concludes, sounding nostalgic and full of wistfulness.

His voice: deep and gravelly, began to lull you to sleep. You’ve never heard him quite like this before, often, his words were quick and precise and straight to the point. Never full of sentiment, never so… warm.

You want to hear more. So you hum in response, wanting to know more about his old life, urging him to go on— and go on he did.

He talked about the memories that Shuri had helped him remember from his time in Wakanda. His secret rendezvous, his childhood with Steve, their adventures and misadventures. He went on, his own memories making place in your own mind and pushing aside the ones that had you freezing up before. The ones that had broken you down are now being replaced by silly anecdotes, wistful memories and nonsensical stories.

Without even noticing it, you find yourself asleep on his shoulder, a small smile on your face as Bucky recounts another thought from the past.

You don’t know how long you had fallen asleep, but the crank in your neck was enough to tell you that it might have just been a bit too long. Your bottom aches, sore from the not so cozy flooring, and your back definitely needs to be stretched. Your body hurts, but at least your chest feels lighter.

You lift your head up from Bucky’s shoulder, feeling him flinch from your sudden movement. His head pulls back from its resting place on your wall. He looks back at you, confused.

He meets your eyes, and it seems that he had just woken up as well… had he fallen asleep too?

Bucky just continues gazing into your eyes, and you can’t help but just… stare back. Thankful for his comfort.

“I…” You whisper, about to thank him, until you remember the dessert that you had just hastily cast aside before bolting to your bedroom. “The leche flan!” You cry out, worried— fuck, if you leave it out for too long it could spoil!

Bucky, however, became even more confused at your outburst. You calm yourself down for a moment, letting out a sigh.

“My— uh, my dessert.” You explain, embarrassed. “It could spoil if I leave it out too long— I need to… I need to get back to it.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, thankfully understanding your dilemma, giving you a nod. So you lift your body up, stretching it just a bit, your bones popping themselves back into place.

You’re almost out of your door when you hear footsteps from behind and to no surprise you see Bucky, hair disheveled and lounge clothes wrinkled. You fight an urge to giggle. The all powerful soldier, looking all messy and drowsy... It’s definitely a sight to behold, maybe even a precious one at that.

He runs his hands through his hair, loosening his ponytail and settling his hair tie around his wrist with one hand. You try to ignore the way his fingers easily managed to do that. “If… I mean if you need a hand… I can— help?” He suggests, voice dropping to an unsure whisper by the end of his sentence.

You feel your mouth pull into a small smile, and this time, you let it do so. “Sure.”

So to the kitchen both of you went, a comfortable silence and understanding settling between you two. You quickly spot your metal mixing bowl from before, alone on the island counter. A relieved sigh falls from your lips as you peek an eye into the container to see the mixture untouched.

“So…” You start, grabbing the apron that you had thrown onto the counter in a fury. You don’t bother with getting a new one— it’s only slightly dirty, anyway. You put it on, tying it around your waist and patting it down slightly in less than a second. “Let’s get you an apron, shall we?”

You open the cabinet in which you keep the aprons and pick one up at random, giving it to Bucky with one hand— your back still turned away from him— as you use your other hand to close the door. When you turn back to face him, a complete look of hesitation is on his face.

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Bucky clears his throat. He looks up at you, and then at his arm, sheepishly. “Can you…?”

Eyes widening, you quickly nod, ashamed that you had forgotten about something so important. “Yes, of course.”

You walk to his side, grabbing the piece of cloth on his hand and positioning yourself behind him. “Here.” You say, grabbing the bib part and looping it around his neck. You brush his hair out of the way, inadvertently appreciating its softness, as the neck ribbon then lays itself properly against his neck. “Arms up.” You order, Bucky complying instantly. Taking the other two pieces of ribbon by his side, you wrap it around his waist and tie it by his back with a small little bow, tightening it just enough for it to not fall off but still be comfortable. “There.”

“Thanks.” He mutters, turning around to face you with a grateful smile, hair swishing as he did so. You smile, but then you realize that he should probably tie it just so that it won’t get dirty or in the way.

Before you know it, you ask him, “Want me to tie your hair, too?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and upon realizing what you had just said too, your eyes did the same. Was that too much? You quickly open your mouth, desperately trying to apologize. “I’m just— it could get dirty or in the way if you don’t… and doing it with one hand must be…” You explain, inwardly cringing at your own words and not even trying to finish your statement.

Thankfully, Bucky quickly catches up to what you were trying to say. He flashes you a reassuring grin. “I would appreciate it, doll.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach at that little nickname.

Getting the hair tie from his wrist, you desperately ignore the way your hands brushed against his. You angle your body towards his back once more, raking your hands softly in his hair, grabbing it gently and putting it into a comfortable ponytail.

“Thanks again,” He turns around to face you, gratitude clear in his eyes. You just smile back at him, feeling the heat creep up to your face. Thank God your skin doesn’t easily show colour.

You had never been this close to him before— and the bedroom incident (You had decided to label that... ’moment’ in your mind like that as of right now.) just a few minutes ago didn’t quite count as you weren’t looking at him, nor were you a hundred percent conscious during that encounter.

Before things get even more awkward, you quickly turn your body back to the kitchen island. “Well then— let’s continue with this, shall we?” You announce, wanting to just calm your feverishly beating heart and the rise of heat in your cheeks. Maybe agreeing to let him bake with you isn’t as good of an idea as you had thought.

Bucky just gave a hum as a response, and so you went about and explained to him each and every step that needed to be done. Thankfully, you had already finished mixing up the batter, and so now all you really had to do was heat up the sugar, pour the batter into the moulds, and then steam it all up. Just three more steps and you’re done.

“So,” You start, grabbing the metal containers that you had already pulled out from the cabinets before you had started. “This—” You lift one up, pointing at it with your index. “Is called a llanera. What we’re basically going to do is pour some sugar in it, heat that up until it’s nice and brown and syrup-y, and then we add the batter. Got it?”

“A yah-neh-rah?” Bucky asks, rolling the word over his tongue, getting the feel of it. You smile at his well-executed attempt.

“Yep,” You reply, placing the mould down onto the counter. You grab the sugar jar and a tablespoon, dipping it into the container and sprinkling a generous amount all over the metal container. “Actually— I’ll heat up the sugar and then you can pour the batter in, that sound good to you?”

Bucky just gave a hum once more, signalling his approval of your plan.

After about two tablespoons, you put it aside and walked towards the stove top, Bucky following beside you in earnest with the metal bowl containing the egg mixture in his arm. Turning the dial up, you put on an oven mitt as you wait for the range to get hot enough; and once it does, you hold the metal tin a few centimetres away from the top of the burner. Within minutes, the sugar caramelizes, turning into the familiar, brown syrup.

The scent that then fills the kitchen is heavenly, pure sugar wafting through the air. You hear Bucky sniff, and you let out a smile, happy that he liked it too.

You place the hot tin onto a cooling rack. “Your time to shine.” You smile up at Bucky, motioning for him to go ahead and pour the batter in.

With a gentle and cautious hand, Bucky slowly tilts the bowl into the mould, the creamy mixture pouring itself out. After a few seconds, you say, “Okay… that’s good— you can stop now.” He swiftly follows your instruction, stopping when there‘s only 2 or more so centimetres left in the pan before the batter touches the rim. He looks up at you, expectant.

Before you know it, the thought passes by your mind. How cute.

Biting your lip, you set aside the flutter in your stomach. You give him a huge grin. “That was great,” You praise him, genuine pride rushing through you. “Now let’s finish the other ones, shall we?”

Bucky and you then continued on, filling the rest of the llaneras up. It was a pleasant experience, discomfort and awkwardness not present at all while both of you worked on your respective tasks. It was… soothing, you could say.

“Nice!” You cheer, clapping your hands together as Bucky finishes filing the last of the moulds, setting down the empty metal bowl in the sink right after. “Now, let’s cover it with aluminium foil and then we can steam it and eat it.” You grin up at Bucky, who simply nods back at you.

You grab the aluminum foil, eyeballing the sizes for each of the containers. It doesn’t really matter anyway, they just had to be big enough to cover the pans. Within a few, quick minutes, all of the llaneras were ready to be steamed.

Opening up the steamer, you place three of the moulds in— mentally telling yourself that you should ask Tony to buy more steamers so that you can simply just cook the next batch of leche flans all at once. You then close the handle, setting it on medium heat and the self timer on. “There.” You announce, hands unintentionally going to and resting at your hips, proud.

You face Bucky, who seem to be just as proud as you are. It seems like he had something on his mind, though, and so you tilt your head. Curious. “Something on your mind?” You ask.

He hums, hand going back to scratch the nape of his neck. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…” He starts, giving you a reassuring smile to show you that he meant it. “But… how’d you learn how to bake?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his question, caught off guard as the answer flashes in your mind. To say you were surprised was an understatement. You had assumed that he would ask you when the leche flan would be finished— not about your… past.

Though, you figure that he deserves to know about your history, now that you basically know all about his own. He had recounted his entire life to you just an hour or two ago, after all. It’s only appropriate that you share some of your own life with him back.

You let your hands fall from your waist, resting them in front of your stomach as you fiddled with them as you compose your answer. “Well—“ You start, taking a deep breath. Bucky, patiently, urges for you to go on with a small nod. “I don’t— I don’t really remember much from my past… just a few memories here and there.” You take a pause.

“But— there had always been this one memory, which… always stood out from the rest.” You bite your lower lip, the recollection taking place in your mind, making you smile. “I was in my lola’s— my grandma’s kitchen, dough in my hand and flour everywhere and we were—“ You feel your throat tightening up, making you take another pause. Bucky, still as patient as ever, gives you a small smile and wordlessly urges for you to go on. “We were making pandesal… a type of bread…” You continue, smiling, remembering the sticky hands and the rays of the hot southeast sun passing by the blinds. “It was a calm afternoon… just me and her, baking...”

“That’s all I really remember of her, and so I… every time I feel overwhelmed or every time I’m having a bad day I just— bake.” You conclude, looking up at him. There was more to the story, more that you have yet to tell him, memories that are still hard to share; but even with the small piece of it leaving your chest, your whole body feels lighter, grateful for having been listened to.

Bucky just stares back at you, respect evident on his face, a small smile still on his lips. “I’m… thankful that you shared that with me, Y/N.” He says, and as your name rolls off his tongue, you can’t help but smile back.

You were about to say something, but the moment was cut off by the steamer's angry beeping. You let out a small giggle as you see Bucky flinch. “Well— let’s check up on those lil’ things, shall we?”

Opening up the steamer and waving the steam away from your face, your mouth waters at the sight before you. They looked perfect.

Quickly grabbing a serving plate, you take one of the tins out and place it upside down on the ceramic— it would probably be even better if you let it cool down first in the fridge, but you can hardly wait. You give it a couple of taps, stopping once you hear the familiar ‘plop’ sound.

You take off the llanera, and a pristine and perfect looking leche flan greets you back. You hear Bucky hum in approval beside you as you take out a fork, getting a slice. Turning to your side and raising the utensil up at him, you ignore the slowly rising heartbeat in your rib cage as you muster up the courage to say, “Want the first bite?”

Bucky seemed to be taken aback at first, and for a moment you fret that you might have overestimated and overstepped your boundaries, but a small nod from him eases your worry. Lifting it up to his mouth, he lets you give him the slice. You decide to ignore the intimacy of the moment, as is the heat in your cheeks; instead focusing on his expression.

He doesn’t show nor say anything at first; and you furrow your eyebrows. Was it too sweet for his taste? Had you accidentally let some egg whites mix in with the yolks?

Before you have the chance to ask him what he thought of it, Bucky swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his lips curled into a huge grin. “Damn... that’s really good Y/N.”

Relief rushing through you at his approval, you laugh, happy that he likes it. Not wasting another second, you open your mouth and give yourself your own slice; savouring the creaminess and sweetness of the desert. It tasted heavenly.

Looking back at Bucky, you startle yourself out of your sweet paradise as he stared back at you. Light blue— almost cerulean— eyes gazing back into yours.

“Thank you.” were the only words out of his mouth, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fastening it’s pace nor the butterflies from welcoming themselves into your stomach.

His deep and raspy voice clearly enunciated every single emotion, and you know, deep in your heart, that he wasn’t just talking about the dessert.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling, as you say, “You’re welcome.”

#lily’s lil’ stories #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x you #poc reader #poc!reader #filipina reader #filipina!reader #this was very self indulgent haha oops #also might do a sequel to explain readers past...... so look out for that;)#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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rosaline-kei · 5 years ago

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Hanji and Mikasa - A Series; Part 1

Title: Pain and Pills and No Peace

Disclaimer:I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Parts: ( 1 )

Synopsis: The idea of becoming the new Commander of the Survey Corps, the memories of comrades dying and the mere thought of more of them dying should she make a wrong move is driving Hanji Zoe further down into the dark path of insanity. Alone in the office in the darkest hours, Mikasa Ackerman enters the room quiet and distant to pass her a report. And the last thing either of them expects is for vulnerabilities to seep through from one of them. They were mere strangers—acquaintances at most—after all.

(PLATONIC Hanji and Mikasa)

Rated: T

Pairings: Hinted Levi Ackerman / Hanji Zoe

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at:

Ao3 or FF net

Author’s Note : I told myself to take a break from writing because of my stupid busy life, but something frustrating happened to me yesterday that I ended up spending my entire night writing this as a vent lmao.

I really love Mikasa and Hanji a lot as characters, and I wished they interacted more I guess and had a closer relationship(platonic) like a mother-daughter?? Idk haha; the idea just intrigues me. I hope it isn’t OOC.

This will be a series of one-shots/two-shots? (Under the series name 'Hanji and Mikasa' on tumblr tags and my ao3) BUT it won’t be updated normally; it’s just a side thing I’ll write when I have time and have Writer’s block I guess.

- - -

The brutal sounds of swords clashing against one another rang through the area, accompanied by the tragic suffocating screams of the living that abruptly halted once their corpses came crashing down on the rock-hard ground that reverberated relentlessly one after another. There was no end. Deafening roars left the giant monsters'—Titans'—mouth non-stop as they mercilessly trampled the ants beneath them along with their homes. It was like an earthquake. A bombing. It was so loud, so agonizing. So noisy. A titan-crazed woman like her should have been absolutely and undeniably thrilled at the mere sight of those beasts stomping their way towards her. But she was only human too, a human distressed by her fallen comrades that ceased to ever see life way beyond the walls and the vast Ocean. Freedom. They ceased to ever see freedom.

And that woman was none other than Hanji Zoe. She looked up wearily, knowing the fight must go on regardless. It had to go on. No matter how much she had lost, no matter how much she was losing it… the fight had to go on. The fight, the war, the battle it had to be carried out to the very bitter end until a victor emerges… right?

She looked up towards the papers she held. The papers she had to finish looking through before tomorrow came. Or maybe it was already tomorrow, Hanji couldn't tell for her curtains were closed shut, there wasn't any hope in that for a light to shine through. All she had was the lit lamp and other fixed lightings around her. But even with that, all she could see ahead was darkness.

She sat alone in her office. It was quiet, really. Silent as the dead. And yet, those dreadful memories came at her, haunting her with those excruciating sounds that never failed to send a shiver down her spine. It was a quiet room, but whatever was going on in her head was anything but that.

I shouldn't have been Commander. It didn't help that thoughts like that would intrude in her head frequently, worsening the voices. Why Erwin? Why me?

Eren had left—no, he had abandoned them not too long ago and travelled to the enemy's side. He went on ahead to pursue his mindless schemes that not even his close companions had an inkling about nor could they ever understand why. Not even a goodbye, had he left them with. He left without a warning, fled away to some island to achieve what he called 'freedom'.

"Not too long ago… you gave me solutions…" Hanji recalled all the experiments, all the fun she had with him. He had been Humanity's Last Hope. And that was what Hanji truly believed, for the results she obtained from him after countless experiments had undeniably paved a path for them to walk towards Freedom and hope. Away from those titans—cruel beings that Hanji was so helplessly fascinated with. But given the chance, Hanji rather trade her and their entire existence in exchange for all of them back. Her comrades. The ants they stomped on. "And now look at you… giving me problems and trouble." If it hadn't been for the knock on her door (a sound that she welcomed; it was better than the chaotic and piercing noises in her head.), she wouldn't have realised her clenched hand that came close to crushing the paper she was gripping. There was a sudden temptation to throw that paper away, everything on her desk away. Everything. She didn't want to be in this room, left alone with nothing but traumatic flashbacks and exhaustion. She didn't want to be in this room meant for a Commander. A position she believed she could never live up to. She—

The second knock on the door interrupted her disorderly train of thought, "Come in!" She quickly said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Maybe even with more enthusiasm than how she was whenever she conducted those experiments of hers back then.

She hoped it was Levi. Please be Levi. It was selfish of her to think this, Hanji knew. Because even this late at night, she knew Levi and many others still had responsibilities to carry out. Nonetheless, she continued to wish for that Ackerman to appear. Perhaps he wasn't the best man to deal with someone who was in such a distraught and emotional state. But, if anything, he knew how to clean up messes. And more than anything, he was one of the few who could deal with the madness of Hanji Zoe. He was one of the few who understood her. He was someone close to her that she hadn't lost yet, and hoped to never lose ever. He was someone she needed company from. So please, she thought. Let it be—

"Sorry to bother." The feminine voice greeted her upon opening the door, and her height betrayed and ruined any remaining hope of Hanji's that it could be Levi. She was greeted by the other Ackerman. "It's Mikasa Ackerman. I have the reports you wanted from Armin."

"A-Ah…thank you. Place them here." Hanji gestured to the piles of reports that she still had to go through. She felt lucky that she hadn't given into the temptation to rip apart and throw everything away; because then she wouldn't know how to explain to Mikasa, who probably knew nothing of the true pain residing in her heart. She did feel disappointed that it wasn't Levi, but what could she expect? This wasn't a fairy-tale where happily ever after would appear so conveniently at the doorstep.

She watched Mikasa enter the room, and briefly envied her. The way she walked in was awfully graceful, her movements were smooth and the way she held Armin's report with such care made Hanji wonder how could she be so calm. Or maybe, it was just her in the entire Survey Corps who was going overly insane. If it weren't for the eyebags that betrayed Mikasa, Hanji would've been tempted to ask her how she got through it. The exhaustion. She had almost forgotten that people were different. Thus, they all dealt with things differently. And that included Mikasa.

Her pain could never be compared to Mikasa. They were all different. Mikasa currently grieved the loss of a loved one who was still alive and breathing but lost while Hanji suffered from her own inferiority complex she didn't even know she had. How could she fit in Erwin's shoes?

Mikasa placed the report down just as gently as the way she came in. She even took the initiative to straighten the pile of papers, eliminating any corners and edges that had been sticking out. Hanji nodded in thanks, and when she took a glimpse at Mikasa, she didn't understand. She couldn't decipher the emotions in her eyes nor face; aside from her weariness indicated clearly by her eyebags. Other than that, she looked blank. Even Levi who was similar to her in more ways than one, showed more emotion than this. Then again, he only ever let that vulnerability slip when he was alone with her. He could reveal so many things to her in a single look and without a single word. Perhaps it was because they were close, unlike how she was to Mikasa.

That or, her missing eye was the cause of her inability to see. To really see. And for a fleeting moment, Hanji pondered if the loss of her left eye was the reason why she couldn't see the damn solution to this mess.

"Do you need me to pass anything to anyone, Commander Hanji?" Hanji winced at the end of her question. Irritation and guilt filled her for a small second upon that reminder—that she was the Commander. She would take back her earlier nod of thanks she gave to the if she could, it wasn't the papers that needed cleaning up anyway. No, no Hanji… I'm being too… petty. It isn't Mikasa's fault. She doesn't know that I…don't want to…

"No, thank you for bringing it here. Thank you." Hanji wondered if she had sub-consciously said her thanks twice verbally because she felt bad for wanting to withdraw her nod of thanks earlier, for fixing and straightening the other reports. "You may leave."

Back to being alone, was what Hanji wanted to think before bracing herself from the attacks going on in her head. But Mikasa didn't move.

"Mikasa…? Is—"

"Sorry." She apologised, her eyes shifting towards the cupboards around the office. "May I ask something…?"

Did she notice the damn mess I'm in? Hanji pondered, anxiously. There were only a few people Hanji dared to let her guard down completely. And Mikasa wasn't one of them. She couldn't let her own subordinates see any more of her weakness, because she feared it may affect their faith in her.

Truth be told, she felt like sobbing on the ground right now like a damned whiny, bratty child because the stress was too much. It was all too much. Every decision had to be approved by her and a single wrong move and approval could cost another hundred soldiers. She missed and craved and wanted her life back as the scientist. Admittedly, she could take that life back. She could give up this title to someone probably more suitable. But because she trusted Erwin so much, she couldn't just carelessly and ignorantly toss this burden of a title away. She couldn't just run away. She couldn't. Because at the end of the day, Hanji wanted freedom too. It's just… she didn't want to seize it in a way as harshly as Eren.

"Yes, what is it?" Hanji forced a calmness in her voice, hoping that this solider worth a hundred wouldn't see through her façade.

"Do you have… any medicine here?" Mikasa queried, "I've been having… insomnia and headaches. It's been affecting my performance recently and I want it to stop. The infirmary cabinets are locked, and the nurses nor doctors aren't around right now…" She sounded so absurdly and naturally nonchalant as she said this that even if she was faking it, Hanji would be unable to tell. How does she do it?

Despite Hanji's natural curious nature, she chose not to pry. There was a line and she didn't want to cross. Besides, with all these tragedies happening… she was gradually forgetting what it felt like; to be a scientist. To be curious and to have one's curiosity piqued.

"Yes, I do. Hold on." Hanji opened one of her drawers, taking out an unopened bottle of pills and passed it to Mikasa. "Take one only. It's the stronger type. Afterwards, tell the others working to call it day. You need rest." She hadn't taken any pills for her exhaustion, and the only 'medication' she received for her suffering came in the form of a cup of tea prescribed by Levi. Even if she knew these pills could numb her pain and give her a temporary fake paradise, she knew better than to take them in her state right now. She knew better than to be too reliant on medicine like that, that could become a poison if Hanji ever went mad enough to decide to indulge on them as opposed to just simply take it. She didn't even know how and why she got them in the first place, and she couldn't care less about it.

Hanji watched her cautiously examine the bottle, before passing her a cup of water she poured for herself earlier, but never really got to drink. Maybe it was because she got a little too use to Levi's random appearance, coming in with two cups of tea that never failed to soothe her senses. She had almost forgotten that he was a busy man who had other matters to deal with, too.

"Here." She added, and Mikasa nodded in thanks before she took the cup, that had accidentally knocked itself against a pencil on the table, causing it to drop. "Ah—"

"I'll pick it up." Hanji assured, before bending down to search for the fallen stationary. Despite it being of a lighter sound as compared to the sounds of bones being crushed, Hanji found it all the same. Just as how the pencil presumably accidentally fallen, a single accident in her calculations, could result in more than a single death. Tsk… even a damn pencil can remind me of these things… She sighed as she thought this, before grabbing the pencil. Well, unlike the pencil… I can never bring them back up to life…

She remembered telling Mikasa something like that some time back.

'I also have people I want to raise back up…there are hundreds. It's painful, even so we have to step forward.'

They never talked about it since. They moved past it, and Hanji assumed it was a sort of understanding that didn't need any further confrontations. There didn't seem like there was a need to.

"Well, whatever…" Hanji muttered to herself as she slowly rose back up to her seat. And despite having one eye left that still required the assistance of a lens to see clearly, it was sharp enough to identify the danger that Mikasa had just placed herself in.

Hanji never felt her tiredness disappear so fast, nor did she think she would be able react so swiftly when her body had felt heavy this entire time. She hadn't physically felt her heart palpitate this quick in a while, and she hated that it was because of fear, yet again, and not because of some fun thrill. Her arm stretched out across the table and ruthlessly snatched Mikasa's own arm before she could ingest the pills she had in her palm. The force of her snatch inevitably caused the pills to drop on the ground, and the table had felt the impact from Hanji's rough movements and as a result, which caused the papers Mikasa helped arranged neatly to disperse and fall.

That other entirely different mess was the least of their concern, though.

The pill-drop silence was incredibly mortifying, and the intense gaze of Hanji Zoe didn't lessen the tension any bit.

Mikasa was frankly startled by Hanji's reaction, she hadn't expected for her reaction to be that immediate after her 'accident', considering she looked too tired. She had underestimated her.

"I said take one, Mikasa." There was a sternness in her tone, and even if that statement wasn't exactly a reprimand it sounded like a chide. But it didn't sound like how a Commander would scold her subordinates though, there was something else hidden beneath the anger and worry in her tone that Mikasa and Hanji were yet to identify. Mikasa wanted to rip her gaze away from Hanji's, but she couldn't. Her single eye could hold her so tightly, it was quite suffocating. Her grip too.

There had been a rumour a long time ago that it was Hanji who was the scariest when she got angry, and here Mikasa was to confirm that rumour to be a fact.

"I'm sorry." It was her third sorry that night and unlike the other two, this one felt broken. She was breaking, her perfect façade was shattering. Even a soldier worth a hundred had their limits. This was Mikasa's, and she didn't know why.

There was no mention of Eren. No mention of her suffering; no implications of it. There was no conversation made about the current situation about him. All she did was enter her office to deliver a report. And who would've known her desperateness to seek a brief escape would've gotten the best of her, which led to her meeting a fierce look upon being caught red handed for the defiant actions she conducted when she got her hands on what she could be her escapism.

Or maybe Hanji's intervention in her silliness, in her recklessness had reminded her of everything—it had reminded her how careless she could be when she was troubled. She hadn't even realised she took more than one pill until after Hanji pointed it out. Had she lost so much that she couldn't even control her body; that seemed to seek an escape even if it'd cost her deathly consequences?

And it was all because of one man. She felt like a fool. She felt like a fool for still caring about him so much. She wondered if she was in denial about who he was and the destruction he might soon bestow to the innocent. She didn't even know what he was doing anymore, or who he was. And for some reason she felt responsible for it. For him.

But that one man was the root of everyone's current stresses and problems and predicaments. Some just suffered more because of the ties they made with him… the ties that they couldn't cut. The ties she couldn't bring herself to cut. She was still wearing that damned, precious red scarf.

I'm pathetic. "I'm sorry." It was her fourth sorry, and she managed to look away and take back her arm when Hanji regained her composure, as well as softened upon seeing her distress; the distress she was unable to conceal in front of her Commander.

Mikasa had somewhat fought this woman before, back when she stopped her from saving her beloved friend, Armin. It was safe to assume that she wasn't afraid of her, even if she was her Commander. For her loved ones, she was fearless.

However, in this moment, where she let her vulnerability carelessly slip. She was. She was terrified and she didn't know why. Was it because she didn't want people who weren't so close to her see her at her weakest and lowest point? But then again, she didn't even want Armin to see this side of her.

Everyone was suffering. Everyone was pained. Everyone was tired. She didn't want to add on to that and burden all of them even more. There was just no time and space for her to act like a childish girl.

And ironically, she was here, breaking… in front of her. It was pathetically hypocritical.

Even if she and Hanji weren't close, Mikasa wasn't blind. She knew her Commander was undergoing her own troubles, too. The way she saw Hanji grip her paper as if she wanted to shred it to pieces, the way her remaining eye looked so sad when it saw Mikasa; as if it was looking for some form of solace that she couldn't get from her. If anything, it would be extremely absurd if anyone here wasn't uneasy about this entire predicament. But Mikasa said nothing about that to Hanji. Because she knew not to meddle. Because she knew she wasn't the person she was looking for.

And because she knew her Commander was so troubled, she resented herself even more for looking like a mess in front of her, for almost attempting something so stupid and something that she didn't fully consider the effects of the aftermath had she done that.

Now she wanted nothing more to leave, even if her gaze softened she still felt the lingering intensity of her look piercing right through her soul. She didn't want to give her more trouble to deal with either.

"…I'll take my leave now, Commande—"

"Don't." Hanji had cut her off harshly, she didn't need that now. "Don't call me that." She sounded sharp, and her voice was raising. And it was the second time she snapped in less than an hour. "Not now. Not here. Just call me Hanji."

A pause. It was brief, and she didn't give Mikasa enough time to even glance at the spilled pills on the hard, wooden floor.

"Are you tired, Mikasa?" It was an odd question, wasn't the answer obvious enough? There were a few times when Mikasa had observed Hanji's curious, crazy and hyper nature. She always found it an oddity. She was an enigma to her. She couldn't understand her craze over titans, and there were times she forgot she was human too—considering there were moments where she neglected the well-being of others for the sake of experimentation. But she was reminded, how this crazy scientist was a human too… back then, on the roof, her arms wrapped around her as both a restraint and a comfort.

They never talked often. Their relationship was merely soldier and Commander. Thus, they never talked about that incident, nor bothered to seek solace from one another even if Hanji had back then revealed to her that their pain was so similar.

"Yes." Mikasa answered truthfully, there was no hiding anymore. Her eyes found itself fixating on the pills she dropped, and she felt her stomach clenching and churning with disgust and disappointment at her pathetic state. Because how dare she attempt to run away when she was the one who wanted to bring him back the most? And how dare she forget his words that had been her motivation to push on?

"But… in order to win we must fight." She uttered, and faced back towards Hanji whose eye brimmed with such anguish and agony upon hearing her words that Mikasa couldn't possibly understand why. "I… shouldn't have… I just… right now… in that moment I was—"

She was interrupted yet again by Hanji, whose hands reached out— albeit not as forcefully as just now— and held both her hands together, gently.

"Treasure your life, Mikasa." A part of Hanji realised how hypocritical she sounded, because she couldn't tell herself that sometimes, during dark times. However, this was what she truly wanted Mikasa to believe.

There was a tenderness in Hanji's voice, it didn't sound as authoritative as compared to earlier but rather more… motherly. Mikasa didn't know how else to put it. Regardless, she was surprised that Hanji seemed to care for her a lot, even if they weren't close. Perhaps, it was because she didn't want to lose anyone anymore no matter how trivial their connection was.

Hanji parted her lips, as if wanting to offer more soothing words but Mikasa stopped her before she could. "It's okay." She assured, before carefully withdrawing her hands from Hanji's grasp that soon loosened. "Thank you, C-… Hanji." Mikasa quickly corrected, and Hanji shook her head. "I barely said anything… don't thank me." She sighed softly. And it was true, she didn't offer that much comforting words. But there was something unspoken and unsaid in the moment that both of them seemed to understand. Maybe it was because at the root of it all, their current troubles was all because of… him.

"I should… leave." Mikasa spoke, not wanting to keep Armin waiting too long. She wanted to ask Hanji whether if she would relay this incident to others, but something told her this incident would stay between them. She turned, and made her way towards the exit.

"Wait." Hanji called, albeit a little hesitantly. "Do you… really think the only way to win is to fight?"

Mikasa didn't turn around and only halted in her steps. She considered Hanji's words, and for the first time contemplated the words Eren had told her almost a decade ago.

Everyone was tired from this fight. From this constant war that stole too much from everyone. It would be so much better if things could be sorted more… peacefully.

"I… don't know." Mikasa was caught off guard by the doubt in her voice, but decided to shove it down. "I just… want everything to go back to how it was before." And suddenly, she sounded desperate.

"Me too." Hanji said solemnly, before taking a deep breath. That was enough for today, it was better for Mikasa to go rest and collect her thoughts as opposed to staying in this sullen room, chatting about sad things to make her sadder. Hanji could only hope that insomnia wouldn't consume her that night. "Tell the others who had been overworking to take a break tomorrow too. I think you all should have time to… recuperate." She instructed before bidding her a farewell. "Sleep well, Mikasa."

"You too, Hanji." The unfamiliar word or rather name left her lips; it was strange calling her so informally. But she was still in this office, and the least Mikasa could do was follow her request to the end. "Take care." And Mikasa left.

Hanji observed her as she walked off, until her vision was cut by the closed door. And she couldn't help but feel an immense amount of pity for her. "She still carried her façade as she walked out…" She mumbled to herself, having noted the exact smooth and confident movements Mikasa walked out with just as she came in. How much of her pain was she keeping to herself? At least I have Levi to talk to… and so does he with me. But Mikasa… it seems…

As Hanji pondered about this, she found herself walking towards her windows, before ripping her curtains open and was greeted by the moonlight as opposed to the rays of sunlight. And in this moonlight, one thing caught her eye.

She walked towards the little object that sat innocently in the little light the moon offered, and crushed it with her foot mercilessly. The pill, that was. One of the pills. "I ought to throw that bottle away… it's not like I even eat it." She sighed, and walked towards the area where her papers were scattered on the ground, without a care in the world for that crushed pill. She now wondered if this was how some of those titans felt whenever they stepped on them, killing them.

As Hanji bent down and gathered the scattered pieces of paper, she then found herself wondering if Mikasa saw as much vulnerability as she had seen in Mikasa. And if not, she wondered if the world had enough bad humour to make her crumble as much as the raven had in front of her.

"Oi, shitty glasses." A familiar voice dragged Hanji back to reality. "I knocked three times and you didn't answer." She had been immersed in her thoughts so much that she hadn't even noticed.

A wave of relief flooded in her heart when she heard him, though. She slowly turned towards the male who clicked his tongue agitatedly at the clutter of papers on the ground. He made his way towards her, placing their cups of tea down, and was about to offer her help after making a snide remark. But stopped. Flinched and hesitated.

Hanji was confused, and was about to ask why until Levi spoke. "Why are you… crying?"

Now, she realised the tears coursing down her cheeks like a river. But oddly, she laughed. A laughter so fatigued yet hysterical, which increased Levi's concern.

"I don't know." She lifted her glasses shakily and wiped a tear away. "I'm just… very tired."

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blade-king-luze · 5 years ago

Text

“An Icy Distance Against the Dim Light”

(OOC: A Non-canonical story showing Luze’s icy personality. WARNING: Mild profanity and suicidal thoughts.) (The stories I write are not in chronological order. They are random moments I come up with that demonstrates how his personality and life would look like, or some moments that should have happen if events, for instance, after Chapter 59 of Uraboku were to occur.) Feat. Yuki Giou

🎵 - (Music to read through this)

Not everyone has their eyes on Yuki, being the protector to their favored God of Light. There are some within the shadows that would spite their sworn enemies either from misunderstanding them, or severely disliking them from ruining their family lineage further. Luze, unfortunately is one of them.

Staying within the mansion for about a few days as a prisoner, he starts to be concerned about his master as he looks out of the window from his quarters. The first thing he sees that disturbs him however, was Yuki conversing with Luka down below on the second floor outdoors. He sees Luka walk away as Yuki stands there, as if pondering. Luze has had it with Yuki as he approaches him, unfortunately not in a friendly way.

What if Luze had a personality that brought someone’s moral down? What if he was that one person to dislike the one that everyone, including Reiga, so cherishes? Surely there has to be one person to do so, or else there wouldn’t be such relationships.

We take a look on how this unfolds in this non-canonical story about Luze’s venomous personality towards Yuki. If anyone is weak on hurting the boy’s feelings, I am sorry. But there really has to be someone that greatly dislikes him not through jealousy, but from pure hate and disgust, not understanding why people crowd around him so much. If it’s one person to do it, it would definitely be Luze, considering Luka’s close relationship with Yuki.

The breeze flew through from the opened window within my quarters. I stood there, leaning against the wall by it, gazing out into The Surface’s skies with folded arms. Blue and inviting, unlike the red or orange skies down in Infernus. I usually let the breeze ease my nerves whenever I stray away from my train of thought. The wind was always with me, and I prefer to let it take me away whenever I meditate.

It’s been a few days since staying inside the Twilight Mansion. Fowler must be worried ... There’s no way I can contact him nor communicate with him without being watched. I wonder what he would do or say if I were to return, and only for him to find out that I had told them everything they had wanted from me. I clenched my arms at the thought. He wouldn’t give up on me just yet. Or else I would have disintegrated right on the spot.

I close my eyes and sighed deeply, the wind still continuing to ease my nerves.

It wasn’t until a few moments passed as I heard small voices out of nowhere. I slowly opened my eyes as I saw two figures down below on the second floor rooftops. The one I obviously recognized was a tall figure which was my brother, Luka. The other ... I never wanted to see at all. The bloody Light. I narrowed my eyes as I was just observing.

Why? Why does my brother keep talking to him? The one that desecrated our family name more into ruins? Is it because of that female Hume back then I heard about from Fowler? Just because she resides inside that god forsaken male Hume, doesn’t mean that she is completely there. Yet ... Why does Luka still go along with it as if she is still here upon The Surface? She isn’t here anymore. I clenched my arm tighter. She doesn’t exist. She’s long gone. Still ... People cling to him as if he is more valuable than their own pitiful lives as The Zweilts. Even Fowler himself ... Who he wants to vanquish but cannot. Wasn’t that his sole reason in the first place? So then ... Why ... ?

I focused on them more calmly as I continue to watch them, casually just talking. Soon, Luka suddenly walked away slowly. The Light was now left alone. Did something happened, I wonder? I huffed out air as I thought of it, thinking to myself that I shouldn’t be curious about this trivial thing. However, I decided to make my way towards The Light.

My heart suddenly felt a little heavy. Whatever happened down there between them, might not have gone well. Yet I swore I saw Luka reassuring The Light that everything was alright. But I can tell that it wasn’t. It’s strange how twins work. If something is off putting, either one of us would feel uneasy as the other would be downtrodden, as long as they are in the same vicinity. It’s just like as I said before: Blood ties seem like they cannot be severed, no matter how far apart their relationship may be. I exited my quarters and downward to the halls, hoping that I wouldn’t cross paths with my brother.

---

“...” The Light pondered as he gazed outward, resting his arms on the ledge of the balcony. The wind still keeping its steady breeze. The sound of my footsteps interrupted his thoughts as he turned around and saw me. Arms folded, I steadily walked towards him with a stern look. “Ah. Luze - san.”

“Don’t call me that.” I suddenly said as I stopped in front of him, still a distance away. He paused and was slightly taken aback. It sickens me whenever he calls me by Hume terminologies.

“... I’m sorry.” He looked away. Such a weakling ... I kept my gaze at him, still holding my posture with my arms folded. A part of me wants to slap his pitiful face to at least stand up for himself. Alas, I knew not to do such a thing as I kept my composure. Just how old is he in Hume years to act in such a way?

“... You seem to be troubled ...” I said quietly. The Light looked up at me surprised, but it wasn’t my intent to be sympathetic at all as he would have taken it.

“Oh. It’s nothing, really.” He tried to smile as he shook his head.

“Hmph.” I narrowed my eyes towards him. “Such a facade can obviously be seen through. You should know how to hide yourself more better.” Again, with that nervous gaze he gave me. He hesitated.

The Light sighed as he turned around towards the scenery. The silence made me impatient enough to where I shouldn’t be here with him especially this long now. Yet, for some reason I urged myself to come here. “It’s just ...” He finally began to say. “I don’t know if you knew about the history of The Zweilts, but ...” Another pause. “Everyone seems to know about their past lives and yet here I am, not knowing mine.”

“... I’ve heard about how Zweilts still hold onto their memories as they reincarnate to other Hume bodies.” I stated. “But, what does this have to do with anything with you, especially knowing about your own memories?”

“I ...” The Light shook his head as he looked at me, concerned as he put a hand to his heart. “I just want to remember what I wanted to forget. Or more of what she wanted to forget.”

“... And why is that?”

The Light stood a little firm but weary at the same time. “I want to be able to help Luka. I want to be able to recover such hidden memories, so that maybe ... Maybe Luka would be--”

I scoffed. The Light suddenly looked at me surprised and nervous. I couldn’t help as I started to scoff a little more. I wanted to say “don’t make me laugh”, but it was too late. How hilarious ... I can’t seem to control myself that I might just go insane from his wasted breath. I gazed at him with a scowl. “Help? Help with what? What does recovering your memories have to do with ‘helping’ Luka?”

The Light’s eyes widened as I saw his eyes quivering in disbelief. “Think about it ...” I continued. “It’s quiet simple onto why she sealed her memories. Is it not?” I walked towards him slowly with my hands now in my pockets. “Or perhaps ... You don’t know the sole reason behind it, especially something that involves around Luka?” The Light stepped a few paces back as his back barely touched the balcony ledge. I stopped directly in front of him for a moment, thinking to myself and wanting him to just fall and plummet to the ground below. But instead, I walked towards the side of him gazing out at the landscape as he kept his gaze at me. “Surely, I don’t know myself. Nor do I even care for such a thing since it doesn’t concern me ... But whatever it is that she was trying to keep away, she was doing it for those she loved. Maybe to forget the pain she felt along with his.” My eyes looked towards him as I kept my posture facing forward still. “So tell me ... Is remembering going to help, as you say? Or hurt Luka even more?”

The Light was shocked as if realizing about such an obvious thing, and looked downward, glazed. “I ...”

I turn my head slowly to him. “... You’re just realizing this now?” I then turned fully with my arms crossed, scowling coldly. “Just how long have you been around my brother for? Months? Years? ... I never thought I would feel this disappointed figuring out that you nonchalantly spend more time with him ever since he has kept his eyes on you. Yet you know nothing about him, unlike I used to. And I know where my boundaries lie. Unlike you, who is trying so desperately just to strain yourself mentally, not knowing where your decisions in this lies against the person who protected you for the rest of their lives.”

The Light looked at me as if he was about to break. I walked steadily passed towards him as we were now standing side by side facing opposite directions. He looked down still in shock. “It’s shameful, really. Such a Hume like you, wasted with such a husk not knowing anything at all on what your actions would do. You truly are weak compared to the other Zweilts that know how to stand up for themselves in such a way that they don’t need their memories to ‘help’ in the matter, if they forget ... Wouldn’t it just be easier to be yourself and forget about your intentions to ‘help’ Luka? The person that cherishes you and not her? The one that he is trying to move on away from?”

I began to walk away slowly, internally agitated that I wasted my time. He stood there as if he was completely and utterly useless, staring off to space. He seemed vulnerable to where I could just easily kill him on the spot. That way, he wouldn’t have to feel as much stress as I have anymore ... It wouldn’t matter if I would become more of an enemy towards my brother if that were the case. He should have been taken care of from the first time I saw him.

“I ...” The Light began to say. His eyes covered with his hair. “I also want to help you ...”

I stopped in my tracks. Was my ears just bleeding? The wind began to die down. I barely turn my head around, not saying anything but looked to him sternly.

“I ... Want to help you and Luka as well. So that ... You two don’t have to fight anymore ...”

My eyes widened. What was that? Help me? Is this some kind of joke or excuse he made up in his empty cranium all of a sudden to have me sympathize with him?

The Light suddenly looked up at me, tears swelling in his eyes. “I even said it myself before! I also want to be able to remember what I did wrong that caused you and Luka to hate each other this much! Luka told me about you. Even though it may be brief, he still cares for you.”

My hand twitched. My eyes grew slowly wide in frustration. ... The Light continued. “He has told me things about you. What you were like, what you two have done for each other in dire times within your family. He even explained to me on how you two were the only ones who you had left before you two were separated for years and years!”

Lies ... All lies. They are just mere Lies. There’s no way Luka would have that much thought about me. He considered me and marked me as an enemy, unknowingly. There’s no way. He left everyone. He left his family. He left Infernus for that god damn Hume. He left me.

“I was just beginning to think ... The first time I saw you ... And how Luka told me that you were his sibling. That you had to fight each other, even if it means killing one another. I didn’t want none of that ... But I am glad it didn’t turn out that way.” He clenched his fists and shook his head. “Isn’t that why he kept you alive here and now? Isn’t that why when I asked you that time, that if you weren’t ordered to, you wouldn’t fight Luka? He still truly cares for you no matter how he labels you! He l--!”

“SHUT UP!”

The wind came to a halt. Silence. Deafening. The Light stood there in disbelief. For the first time in awhile, I felt my body quivering. My eyes now full of years long hatred. My hands clenched as fists at my sides.

I hate you ... I hate every single thing about you ... I hate everything that you have to offer. I still don’t understand how people cling to you when you’re just a mere idiot inside an empty shell being used as a valuable tool. You’re the one that made my family suffer.

You made me suffer. Made me alone for centuries. You should have cease to exist as I have within my god forsaken fucking brother’s eyes. How much I wanted to hurt you equally as you have hurt me ... “... Leave me. Out of your useless. Idiotic goals to help my fucking brother ...” I muttered harshly underneath my breath. “None of this shit ... Should have any regards to me ...” I walked away steadfast inside, leaving The god forsaken Light to his own damn fantasies.

As I kept walking, I felt myself heading to nowhere within these large enclosed halls. I didn’t even feel myself holding tightly to my arm with my family crest embedded on me. I felt as if the walls would close in the further down I walked. I felt my body shake with each step I took. My breath becoming more and more unsteady. I wanted to drop down to my knees suddenly but my mind wasn’t too far from bringing myself together. I placed a hand on the wall by me as I tried to bring my composure back. My hand decided to curl into a fist as I didn’t give a damn scratching and tearing through the wall with my claws.

There’s just no way. No way for anyone to find any value in me. Not even Luka, my one and only twin brother. Nor even Fowler, my dearest master. Have I gone delusional already?

Maybe this truly would have been better if The Light ceased to exist. So that time would stand still, back to the way it was. When times were simpler in our own terms ... Maybe ...

It would be better if I ceased to exist. So no one else would feel the same pain as I have before ... And no one would get hurt from me.

#Unheard Words #Precious Light #Luze #Luze Crosszeria #Uraboku #uragiri wa boku no namae wo shitteiru #Betrayal Knows my Name #Yuki #Yuki Giou

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