#i want to shave him bald and stick him in butter

[gamerwoo]

Wonwoo: Hearing Lips

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/warnings: non idol au, angst, a little fluff, a little crack, terminal illness/cancer, implied major character death. basically this starts out a lil happy but just gets worse and worse as it goes on

Word count: 3,053

Summary: Sometimes relationships get hard. Sometimes someone cheats. Sometimes someone doesn’t feel the same anymore. And sometimes, someone gets sick and things take a turn for the worst. But in the last instance, no matter how hard things get, you stick beside them until the end. Because you love them.

a/n: i wanna make a second part at some point bc i have an idea for it but i have a lot of shit to do so we’ll see

Wonwoo took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He looked down at the clippers that one of his friends, Minghao held in his hand.

“This sucks,” was what he decided to say.

You pursed your lips and nodded slowly. It was at that stage where your husband’s hair was starting to fall out, but he decided he didn’t want to go through all that. Wonwoo asked if you would care if he just shaved his head to avoid the hair loss. You asked him why you’d care.

“What if I’m ugly?” was his response, which made both of you chuckle.

“You’re always going to be the most handsome man on the planet to me,” you replied.

So he called on his friend, Minghao to do the cutting for him. A handful of his other friends showed up, promising to shave their own heads along with Wonwoo just so he wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Why can’t I do it?” Mingyu whined. “We’ve been friends longer!”

“Because you’d probably shave his ear off,” Joshua scoffed.

As the group began to tease Mingyu, Minnghao turned to you, offering the clippers to you, “Are you sure you don’t want to do it, _____?”

You looked down at the clippers, considering it. But ultimately, you shook your head, “What if I shave his ear off?”

“The only thing I want to lose today is my hair, thanks,” Wonwoo nodded.

“Alright,” Minghao turned the clippers on, but Wonwoo didn’t react to the noise. The sound of the clippers didn’t scare him like he thought they might. Just because he had to shave his head, that didn’t mean it was the end. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged before he sat in the chair placed in front of Minghao.

While Minghao shaved Wonwoo hair, the strands falling in clumps on the floor around him, the rest of you watched and told various stories of times you’d hung out together just to lighten the mood and make each other laugh. Like the time Soonyoung stuck bubblegum in Jeonghan’s hair to see if peanut butter would actually get it out. Or when they managed to convince Seokmin that girls don’t have to shave, their hair just falls off when it gets too long. 

The rest of the boys took turns sitting down in front of Minghao before Josh did the younger boy’s hair. 

Admittedly, Wonwoo pulled the bald look off.

Seungcheol absolutely did not.

-

“Where are you going?”

You had heard the bedroom door closed and turned your head away from the TV in time to see Wonwoo walk down the hall. You’d brought him home from his chemotherapy appointment and knew he was supposed to be resting afterwards, so you were concerned as to why he was going down the hall.

“Office,” he replied.

You got up from the couch and went to follow him, “Why?”

“Bills.”

Wonwoo was always a stickler for paying the bills on time, but you weren’t sure why he didn’t just let you do it or simply ask you to do it for him.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” you told him.

“I’ll be sitting in a chair, it’s fine,” he said before entering the office and shutting the door behind him.

With a sigh, you retreated back to the living room, deciding to text one of your friends to see what to do. Wonwoo had been getting a bit touchy lately, and you didn’t want to tell him what to do and make him mad. So your best option was to get advice because you didn’t want Wonwoo to pass out in the office or something.

To Hansol: wonwoo wont lay down

From Hansol: ???? whats he doing?

To Hansol: paying the bills in the office

From Hansol: ah

From Hansol: maybe he wants to make himself useful??

To Hansol: wdym

From Hansol: all he’s supposed to be doing now is basically nothing

From Hansol: things arent looking good rn

From Hansol: he probably want to do things for you and himself while he still can

You stared at your phone, feeling a pang in your chest reading the texts. You let out a sigh and set your phone down, letting Wonwoo stay in the office to do the bills.

-

it was the first time all of the guys had come over since putting Wonwoo’s bed in the living room. It was the only place with enough space since it was a hospital bed, and Wonwoo would at least always have the TV since the only thing he could do at this point was lay in bed.

“Wish I could sleep in my living room,” Soonyoung said.

“Yeah, I bet your girlfriend wishes that, too,” Jeonghan nodded.

Once a month, they’d all have a game night where the thirteen of them would gather at someone’s house to play something, whether it be Uno, poker, Cards Against Humanity, or whatever else they could come up with for that many players. But until your husband got better, it would have to be at your house all the time.

You gave them their space despite insisting they could include you in the game. You decided to just go to the office and use Wonwoo’s PC to play some games and watch a little YouTube. 

In the living room, the boys were playing Uno together while talking and laughing together. A few of them were drinking beer as well, but most of them stuck to soft drinks instead.

“How’re you doing lately, Woo?” Jeonghan asked after taking a sip of his drink.

Wonwoo shrugged with a sigh, “Fine, I guess. I can only use this blanket because the others feel bad on my skin. I’m bored. I’ve watched like, every YouTube video ever at this point.”

“How do you feel, though?” Chan wondered.

“Tired.”

Junhui laid down a card before looking over at Wonwoo, “How’s _____ been?”

“She’s an absolute angel,” he chuckled. “She takes care of me and everything. She’s the strongest person I know.”

“If you ever need one of us to stay here for a couple days to help out, you know you can ask,” Jihoon stated with a handful of them nodding or giving various sounds of agreement.

“Neither of us wants to bother anyone.”

“It’s not a bother,” Seungcheol said, looking Wonwoo in the eyes. “Neither of you will ever be a bother.”

Jeonghan nodded, “We know things are going to get tough and we’re here for you guys. Just say the word.”

“Yeah...” Wonwoo shrugged with a deep sigh as he put down a card when it was his turn, “there are days worse than others. But lately, it’s been okay, I guess. At least, that’s what she leads me to believe.”

“Yeah, _____’s never been one to break down in front of people,” Seungkwan mumbled.

“I hope she’s doing okay, though,” Wonwoo frowned. “I feel so bad for her...”

You truly were the strongest person Wonwoo knew for doing just about everything for not only him, but for yourself and everything around the house. And you did it all without ever showing if you were feeling negatively -- at least, not around him. Wonwoo thought you were absolutely amazing, but inside, he felt guilty for doing this to you.

But like you’d never tell Wonwoo when you felt overwhelmed, he’d never tell you how he felt, either.

-

It was one of those days. One of those bad days. You felt like the world was crumbling right in front of you but there was nothing you could do about it. You were sad, scared, stressed out, and you didn’t know what to do next or who to go to. You always just kept things bottled inside even though your friends and family told you it was better to talk to people about things. But you didn’t want to seem like you were complaining about Wonwoo. It wasn’t your husband that was the problem, it was the situation.

You had taken Wonwoo’s empty dinner plate from the living room to the kitchen, setting it in the sink. You dropped your head, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you squeezed your eyes shut to keep the tears threatening to escape from spilling. 

Something one of the nurses had said to you during one of Wonwoo’s hospital visits was to be careful of what you say, even quietly, around him.

“People with cancer and the like tend to just hear really well,” she explained. “Especially when they can’t open their eyes anymore. Their hearing is scarily good. Don’t say anything bad around him because he will hear it.”

You learned to only let out your emotions when you were alone in your bedroom, but you couldn’t make it through the living room to get there. So you just stood in the kitchen, trying to compose yourself to go back out into the living room to sit with your husband.

“This is too hard,” you just barely whispered to yourself.

“I know,” you heard Wonwoo say softly from the living room, “I’m sorry, love.”

You lifted your head, your heart breaking hearing him apologize. You didn’t even think about how he heard you, rushing into the other room to promise that you weren’t talking about him. As you walked up to his bed, he looked up at you with a sad half-smile.

“I know I’m making things tough,” he continued quietly. “I’m really sorry you have to deal with it.”

“No, baby, no,” you quickly shushed him, cupping his face in your hands. “It’s not you, it’s the situation. You’re not difficult or making things difficult. None of this is your fault.”

Wonwoo didn’t really like things touching his skin because it had become so sensitive and felt weird when most things touched it, but he leaned into your touch and put his hands over yours. He noticed the tears welling up in your eyes and reached one hand up to brush his thumb under one of your eyes.

“It’s okay if you need to cry, you know,” he told you. “You keep everything to yourself and that’s not healthy.”

You shook your head, whispering so your voice wouldn’t break, “I have to be strong for you. I don’t want to cry and scare you that things are getting bad.”

He chuckled sadly, “_____, I know things are bad. You’re stressed. You can cry, it’s okay.”

Hearing him say that broke you for some reason. You collapsed in the chair you kept beside his bed and just cried while he held your hand. That was the first time you cried in front of Wonwoo in a long time.

While you cried, you heard him softly tell you, “You’re still the strongest person I know.”

-

Despite not wanting to go, Wonwoo had to be admitted to the hospital. You weren’t sure for how long, but he was complaining about feeling sick and neither of you were sure if it was cancer-related or not. But the doctors decided it was best to keep an eye on him for a couple days until he was feeling better.

Unfortunately, he was getting to a point where his eyes didn’t open as often. Even if he was awake, sometimes he just looked like he was sleeping. You were told that would happen eventually, and whenever Wonwoo looked at you, you looked back at him and tried to memorize the shade of brown as if it would be the last time you’d ever see his eyes.

Jeonghan came to visit you at the hospital after finding out you were there for an entire day without anybody besides Wonwoo. So he rushed there after work and sat with you in Wonwoo’s hospital room, both of you trying to keep your voices down since Wonwoo seemed to be sleeping. You knew if Wonwoo knew that one of his friends were there, he would’ve been talking to them.

Jeonghan reached out with his foot, nudging your shin with the tip of his sneaker to get your attention. You looked over at him. He mouthed something to you, but you weren’t sure what it was.

You cocked your head to one side, mouthing, “What?”

He leaned forward, so you did, too. He tried to whisper his question as quitely as he could, but you still heard absolutely nothing, and you were having trouble reading his lips.

“What?” you mouthed again.

“He asked if you paid the bills on time,” Wonwoo murmured, still looking like he was asleep, “but it’s okay if you didn’t.”

The only part of Wonwoo that moved was his mouth. Even once he was done talking, he looked like he had been sleeping the entire time. You wondered if you almost inaudible conversation was heard loud and clear to him.

“O-oh,” you said. “Um, my mom reminded me, yeah.”

“Did you...have enough?” Jeonghan wondered.

“Please don’t offer us money again,” you frowned.

“You know I have more than enough for myself. And you’re always staying home to take care of Wonwoo. I just want to make sure you’re both okay fanatically.”

It was true that Jeonghan made pretty good money. And considering his last relationship didn’t work out, he only had to support himself. For what he got paid, he definitely had some to spare. Still, neither you nor Wonwoo wanted to take ‘free money’ from your friends.

You opened your mouth to reply, but a nurse had walked in and asked to speak with you. You sent a playful glare toward Jeonghan before you got up and left the room.

Jeonghan was unaware that Wonwoo’s hearing had gotten so strong, and the fact he heard the question surprised him. So he wanted to test it to see how good it was, mouthing something else.

“No, Jeonghan, you can’t steal my wife,” Wonwoo sighed with the hints of a smirk on his face. “At least not until I’m dead.”

Jeonghan ignored the dark addon at the end, letting out a chuckle, “That’s kind of spooky, dude.”

“I hear everything now,” he said.

The older boy sat back in his seat, staring over at his friend who still had his eyes closed -- despite that, he still had his glasses on for whatever reason, “Have you actually...talked with _____ about that, though?”

“About you stealing her?”

“No. Have you told her if you’d want her to move on if you actually do...y’know?”

“Yeah. When I was first bedridden, I figured I should mention it. I told her to just find someone who makes her happy, even if it was one of you. I just said she can’t marry Soonyoung because he’s a fucking idiot.”

Jeonghan let out a laugh, leaning forward in his chair, “Yeah, I don’t think any of us would let that happen. Even Soonyoung knows he wouldn’t be good enough for her.”

“I’m glad she’ll at least have you guys if anything happens,” Wonwoo hummed. “You’ll watch out for her. You’ll make sure she doesn’t get into any shady relationships or do anything reckless.”

“Why do you always assume we need to be there?”

“Because I need to be prepared.”

Jeonghan sat back in his seat again, not knowing what to say. He just stared at his friend, hoping that he was preparing for nothing.

-

You had a bad feeling this was coming, but you were hoping it was just your anxiety telling you that. But when the doctor told you that you had to have the papers signed, you knew that there wasn’t any going back now.

Wonwoo was going to die.

Just in case, he had already gone to have the papers drawn up for if he’d want to be revived or not if anything should happen. But he had forgotten to get them from your attorney so they had to be retrieved and signed. But you were specifically told you couldn’t just instruct your husband to sign them. You had to sit there and explain what everything was, and then he could sign them. You just weren’t sure if you could do that.

Seungcheol was the one who went into Wonwoo’s hospital room with you with the papers. You sat down by Wonwoo’s bed while Seungcheol sat in a chair across the room and watched, just there for emotional support if you needed it.

“What’re those?” Wonwoo asked.

“I need to go over these with you,” you told him.

You sat by his bed with his table pulled out as you read the papers and explained what they meant. You already knew the decisions Wonwoo had made, but reading them and saying them out loud was hard, especially knowing that this was how things would end. He said he didn’t want to be revived because he knew how hard it would be on you. He wanted to make things quicker and easier.

“So if you’re to...start...going...you don’t want--”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence before you choked on your tears, coughing to clear your throat.

And that’s when Wonwoo knew. This was it.

“Why’re you crying?” he asked quietly. He knew this was coming. He knew you knew this was coming. But he knew you wanted to believe it wouldn’t. 

You sniffed while you tried to control your breathing so you wouldn’t break down sobbing. But it didn’t work, tears already falling down your cheeks as you whimpered, “I don’t want you to die.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Seungcheol got up and stood beside you, rubbing your back to comfort you despite tears of his own escaping from his eyes. He couldn’t even say anything to help you feel better because he knew nothing would work. So he helped you go over the papers with Wonwoo while all three of you tried to choke back tears.

-

It was getting close. You knew it was. You just had a feeling that stuck with you all day, so you never left Wonwoo’s side. You held his hand and sat beside him for hours, trying to keep your crying as silent as you could while you mouthed ‘I love you’ as many times as you could because you were too afraid of your voice breaking if you spoke.

But you knew Wonwoo heard every word.

[vowel-in-thug]

What vivid imaginations do you have about Silver and Flint grocery shopping?

sigh. i knew someone would call me out about that comment. I KNEW IT. 

“Why the fuck are these places always so cold?” Even as he says it, Silver starts lowering the zipper on his hoodie. He’s only got a thin t-shirt underneath, but at least he has his hair curling around his neck to keep himself a little warmer.

Flint tugs him further inward so the automatic doors can close. “Because of all the food,” he says, like he’s explaining to a child. “I told you to wear one of my sweatshirts. I’m very comfortable in mine.”

“What, and trip over one of your sleeves?” Silver says. “I’ll pass.” He’s a liar, of course. He only likes to wear Flint’s sweatshirts in bed.

Besides, he’s excellent at tripping. They used to go to another grocery store, closer to their apartment. Silver had slipped in a puddle of dish soap there and had threatened to sue if they didn’t get free groceries for life. The store manager, upon seeing Silver’s prosthetic leg and Flint’s cell phone recording the confrontation, agreed. They were able to keep that up for awhile before the manager reviewed the security tapes and saw that Silver had been the one who had spilt the soap in the first place.

Silver wanders over to a big display by the door – a mountain of Coca-Cola bottles that faintly resembled Darth Vader, if one was drunk and had the eyesight of a Picasso painting. He starts poking at the figure, tall enough to reach the ceiling and held up by some thin wires, while Flint grabs the trolley.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling Silver away again. “I don’t want to be here all day.”

They always start in the fruits and vegetables section, when they still feel ambitious about eating healthily, and haven’t seen any of the good stuff yet.

“Can you put that down?” Flint says for the second time. “Yes, I – I know what it looks like. You’re hilarious. Please put it down.”

Silver pouts, the cucumber in his hand wilting. “I wanted to get it.”

“You hate cucumber.”

“I don’t –”

“You like zucchini.”

“I –” Silver looks at what he’s holding. “Which is this?”

“A cucumber.” Flint takes it off him. Every time, Silver picks it up for the same joke, remembers at home he hates cucumber, and it rots in the cupboard for two months.

“Cucumbers are just pickles no one loves,” Silver says sourly, shoveling a handful of tomatoes into the cart without a plastic bag. “Like hell I’m putting one of those in me.”

Silver waits.

He keeps waiting.

Flint inspects an avocado thoroughly.

“In me, like to eat but –”

“I know.” Flint chucks the avocado at Silver, who catches it easily. “Shut up and tell me if this is ripe. I’m going to make guacamole tonight.” Which is shorthand for: I don’t have the energy to do anything but mash up a couple vegetables and eat a whole bag of tortilla chips, do you think I have the strength to deal with you right now? Do you really?

Silver flicks the brown nub at the end of the avocado, careless as to where it flies. He raises it to eye level. “Looks good to me.”

Flint’s eyeing the row of popcorn when Silver shuffles over with his arms full of chips. He tosses them into their trolley as Flint deliberates between Extra Butter and Movie Lovers.

He’s going for the latter when Silver says, “I used to work at a movie theater. The butter they put on the popcorn is just orange juice and soap.”

“That’s my favorite flavor,” Flint says, grabbing two more boxes.

“What film are we watching tonight?” Silver says, sticking a couple of the tomatoes he’d picked up earlier behind the stacks of pretzels.

“Guess,” says Flint, moving further down the aisle. They sidestep a tired-looking employee unloading a giant crate of Pringles.

“It’s your turn to pick.”

“I know.” Flint had read about this trick on the internet and Silver had yet to figure it out. “I’m just telling you to guess. You’ll never get it right.”

Silver hums, thinking about it, which thankfully distracts him from noticing the pasta aisle, or else they’d be there all night.

Finally, Silver asks, “Young Frankenstein?”

Flint barely manages to stop himself from wincing. He enjoys the movie, of course, but Silver never wants to make-out when a Mel Brooks movie is on.

“Damn,” says Flint. “How do you always know?”

“I can read your mind,” Silver says, and smiles.

“Can you please hurry up?” Silver has draped himself over the cart like he’s been waiting five days, not five minutes.

Flint doesn’t stop looking at the rows of multicolored bottles. “No.”

Silver sighs, slouching lower, the slick end of his prosthetic twisting on the linoleum. He sullenly sticks a bag of chips back on the shelf behind the shaving cream. “Flint. You’re bald.”

Flint picks up a bottle of shampoo to closer inspect the label, but puts it down when he reads Keratin-smooth. He doesn’t bother responding to Silver.

“Can’t I just use the kind that’s like… shampoo, conditioner, and body wash all in one?” Silver begs. “That’s what all my friends use.”

“Your friends are heathens,” Flint says. “And they all smell terrible.”

The last brand Silver had used had made his hair dull. Flint wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Silver sighs again, harder. He straightens up. “Fine. I’m going to look at the pasta.” He wheels the cart away.

“No – wait! Damn it.” Flint grabs two bottles that promise full bounce! and chases after him.

The cereal aisle is incredibly organized. Every box is aligned perfectly, each one half an inch from the edge of the shelf. Nothing backwards, nothing crumped. No gaps, no brand toppled like dominos. The sugary kids cereals line the bottom to tempt small fists, while the brans and the whole wheats loom on the top to shame passing adults into buying. This is a newly reshelved aisle, untouched yet by grubby human hands. Nothing in Flint’s life has ever been this well arranged.

Without a word, Silver grabs a box of Frosted Flakes and tosses it into the cart. They move on to the next aisle.

Silver shivers a little more in the frozen food aisle. His hoodie is zipped up a little higher now, but still not all the way.

“Can you just once,” he says, “please, just once – let me live?”

“I’m trying.” Flint shoves the red bag of frozen chicken nuggets back into the freezer, as Silver turns away with a huff. “This stuff will kill you. You want to eat hormonal shoe-leather wrapped in frozen breadcrumbs, and – and pieces of diseased cows no one should ever consumed, ground up and shoved into those disgusting – pocket things and –”

“‘Pocket things?’” Silver is laughing at him now. “Why are you acting like you just landed on this planet?”

“Why don’t you want real meat?”

“Oh, I eat plenty of real meat,” Silver says, smirking and leaning in close. Close enough to Flint to wrap on hand around the freezer door handle behind him. “I love eating your meat.”

“Stop.” Because Flint likes Silver close, but his hatred of processed meats is stronger. He nudges Silver away, so he can open the freezer door again. He sticks the remaining back of chips from their cart next to the chicken nuggets, saying, “I can make you a real chicken dinner, you know that.”

“God, that sounds exhausting,” Silver grumbles, rolling the cart back and forth petulantly.

Now it’s Flint’s turn to lean in close. “But I like making you a real chicken dinner.” And Silver ducks his head a little bit, ears pink, but he finally moves away from the fucking chicken nuggets.

There’s only one cashier at this time, and she looks incredibly bored.

She looks even more bored when they roll up with their cart, which has been emptied of everything except a single carton of milk.

“How do you bare with this chill?” Silver asks her, teeth chattering. His hoodie is zipped up all the way to his neck now. “I can’t take it.”

She says nothing at all, so Flint says to him, “Go wait outside, then. This’ll only take a second.”

Silver heads to the automatic doors without a word. The cashier says, “Debit or credit?”

Before Flint can respond, a thunderous crash resounds throughout the supermarket. Both Flint and the girl look over to the front entrance, where the giant Darth Vader Coca-Cola statue has toppled to the ground. The individual bottles all take some time fall, each thud loud and reverberating on top of one another. The noise is so tumultuous, the chaos so sudden, that no one notices when the alarm goes off as Silver walks out the door.

All the bottles, now on the ground, start to fizzle like dynamite, which is finally what gets the few supermarket employees working this time of night to stop staring at the carnage in disbelief and start running towards it.

The cashier stares blankly at it, mouth hanging open. Flint says, “Cash, please” slaps a couple bills on the counter, puts his milk carton into a plastic bag, and says, “Have a nice night.”

He heads towards the door, sidestepping the two-liter bottles now whizzing across the floor like rockets, soda creeping out onto the tile like an oil spill. Bottles are tumbling out the sliding doors with him, so no one bothers him when he walks out to the sound of alarms, too. Outside, a dog is tied to a nearby bicycle rack, and is helpfully barking at all the noise coming from inside, perfecting the din.

Silver is waiting by the car, removing the last item from his jacket – the cereal. Everything else is lined up on the roof of the car: tortilla chips, bread, a package of cheese, four different types of pasta, a can of grated parmesan, two brands of cookies, a guacamole seasoning mix, a fucking cucumber, and a fucking bag of frozen chicken nuggets.

“You have the keys,” Silver says, taking the bag of milk off Flint.

Flint opens the trunk and they put everything inside, along with the bottles of shampoo and conditioner, avocados, popcorn, tomatoes, onions, zucchini, a few tins of cat food, two chocolate bars, three packets of gum, a couple cans of soup, and a magazine Silver likes, that Flint had fit into his sweatshirt.

“Was it a big mess?” Silver asks. “I feel kind of bad.”

“It gave them something to do,” Flint says. “You can send them an apology note if you want.”

Silver grabs a pack of gum before shutting the trunk. “I’m driving,” he says, snatching the keys and moving around to the driver’s side. Flint doesn’t argue. Even with only one leg, Silver’s a better driver. He’s afraid to drive on the highway, never uses his turn signal, and has never parked inside the lines once in his entire goddamn life, but at least he doesn’t regularly endanger their lives.

Flint understands the need for speed limits, but feels they’re more for people who just can’t handle it.

When he slides into the passenger seat, he waits for Silver to turn on the car so he can slide the window open. The night air is cool on his face as Silver slowly backs out of the space, the smell of spearmint coming strong from Silver’s mouth. He can’t hear any sirens, any calls for them to come back right now. Only the faint sound of a dog continuing to bark fills the air.

Flint closes his eyes and smiles. “Werewolf.”

It only takes a second for Silver to respond, his voice lower. “There.”

“What?”

“There wolf,” says Silver, easing them out of the grocery store parking lot. He places his hand on Flint’s thigh. “There castle.”

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Door to Apartment 303

The deep crimson door loomed in the middle of the hallway. The door had a small peephole at eye level. Right above the peephole hung the number 303, fixed there in form of numerals embossed into a small polished brass plate. The doorknob also had the same color and luster, reflecting the soft illumination from the overhead lights in the hallway just outside this door.

Two figures emerged from an elevator, and the sounds of their steps were softened by the old carpet underfoot. The wall-to-wall carpeting’s colors and patterns consisted of dark brown diamond shapes and a desaturated orange mesh that made it look like it had been manufactured in the early 1980s.

They approached door number 303, and the man in the black suit and blue tie pointed at it. Probably in his late forties or early fifties, he looked like he had been going bald early on in his life, with only half a ring of graying hair left around the crown of his head. This fellow looked like a used car salesman, and he smelled of cheap aftershave. His name was Jim Whitehurst. Jim was the landlord of Summerville Heights.

“This is the one,” he said after clearing his throat.

The other figure was Eva Wolczek. A woman in her early twenties with an air of confidence, sporting short, pixie-cut black hair, wearing sturdy boots, a dark blue overall, and a white jacket with the simplistic logo ‘Goldie-Locks’ decorating its back. She had a flat nose and her fingernails were cut very short. She smelled of metal shavings.

“Okay, then,” she responded with an optimistic undertone and nodded. With that announcement, she stood in front of the apartment door and pulled a small black pouch from a pocket inside her jacket.

Jim crossed his arms and looked around in the hallway. His every movement radiated an air of impatience. Eva calmly opened up the Velcro latch of her pouch and knelt down. She placed the pouch on the floor while taking out two fine tools: assorted lockpicks.

“Old tumbler pin lock. Shouldn’t take long,” she muttered. “So, everything alright with the tenant, sir?”

Jim turned to her and sighed. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets before he spoke. Eva paid him no direct attention. She was focused on testing the lock with her instruments.

“That’s what we’re here to find out. Frankly, worst case scenario? The tenant might be deceased. Been over a week since any of the neighbours seen or heard anything from ‘im, and the rent’s overdue.”

“Woof. Sorry to hear that. Not gonna lie, I was always wondering if this line o’ work would get me to see, y'know. A dead body, sooner or later,” she chatted idly while twisting one of the two picks and then switching them for another one that she used like a tiny saw, going in and out of the keyhole.

Using a brown handkerchief from his pant pocket, Jim wiped his brow where sweat was forming tiny little beads, and he smiled nervously.

“Let’s hope it ain’t that bad,” he said.

Only seconds later, Eva reached for the knob and something clicked. The door opened an inch.

“Hah! Lucky.”

She grabbed the tools and her lockpick pouch and stood up, stepping back to make way for her client. He swallowed thin air and looked at the ajar door, observing the pale blue daylight pouring out from the crack. A breeze of cool but stale air poured out, paired with a distinct smell of burnt toast and coffee. Eva put her tools back into the pouch and pocketed that in her jacket again. As the moment dragged on, she looked from the door to Jim and back and forth.

“Do you want me to wait here, or, sh—”

“If you don’t mind, could you stick around? Or better yet, come inside with me. Who knows, maybe one of the doors inside also needs your, uh, expertise,” Jim said, snapping out of his state of inaction and interrupting her. He looked tense, and Eva tried not to stare at his shiny forehead. She failed.

“Yeah, sure. Uh, after you,” she said, using a sweeping gesture to invite him to enter first.

Jim chuckled nervously and mumbled, “Oh, yes.” He pushed the door with his fingertips, and it creaked as it slowly glided open, revealing the inside of apartment 303 to the two people.

Jim entered. He looked like he was feeling light-headed, almost floating in as he walked, as if in a haze. Eva hesitated a few heartbeats long and then followed him, curiously looking around. There were no pictures, no posters, no portraits. Just a dark beige wallpaper everywhere. There was a thin layer of dust on the furniture inside. Everything looked spartan. A small walk-in closet for coats and shoes was built into the wall right next to the front door. A short hallway a few steps long led into a small living room. A second hallway connected the living room to the other rooms of the apartment.

“Mr. Merritts,” Jim suddenly called out loud, startling Eva. He had been peering into another room as he did so, and disappeared in there. Eva stood in the living room, now fully curious. An empty plate with crumbs on it sat on a small wooden coffee table, a butter knife soiled with greasy stains on the blade leaned against the used dish, and next to them stood an old-looking empty mug that said 'BEST DAD’ in bright alternating colors. Rings of coffee stains suggested that this Merritts guy was not a fan of using coasters, she thought.

That door—that bright crimson door to apartment 303—slammed shut. Eva swiveled the moment she heard the loud bang. It was followed by the clicking sound of a lock engaging. Jim showed back up in the second hallway and looked at her with his brows furrowed.

“That the wind,” he said—his words ended up ringing somewhere in between a question and a statement, followed by a nervous laugh. The sound of it was too short and high-pitched to sound genuine. He even looked scared. Eva looked around and did not see any open windows, then just shrugged at him. They both returned to the entry hall leading up to the apartment’s front door.

Jim grabbed the doorknob and twisted. The door would not open.

“The hell?”

He twisted the doorknob again and now even shook it. He was clearly getting frantic.

“May I?” Eva asked. Without waiting for an answer, she pushed past him, and Jim stepped out of the way, looking back to the living room. Eva tried to open the door as well. The doorknob would not even really turn when she tried. Jammed, or something.

She bit her lip and looked at Jim.

“I can open this again, no sweat,” she said, though she was saying it to herself, first and foremost.

“Mr. Merritts was a locksmith, believe it or not. Maybe he made some sorta mechanism for his door to automatically shut and lock,” Jim rambled.

Eva looked the door up and down. The sound of Velcro being ripped open was what broke the awkward silence. Eva shook her head and made herself busy getting out the saw-like lockpick she had used before.

“Huh, never heard of him,” she said, beginning to try her luck with the lock again. “I don’t see no special mechanisms on this door here, either.”

Jingling.

It sounded like someone holding out a key ring with tons of keys on it, shaking it. The jingling resounded one more time. The first time they had heard it, it was already enough to freeze both Eva and Jim solid. Both slowly craned their necks. Looking over their shoulders, they only saw the empty living room: two cheap-looking couches, a coffee table, a small chromed metal stand with a flat-screen television on it, a brown set of shelves with very few books on them, and plenty of negative space only broken up by a signed baseball. Nobody there.

Jim walked deeper into the apartment, peering around the corner into the hallway that led to the kitchen, bathroom, and bedrooms. Eva opened her mouth to say something, but then furrowed her brows and focused her attention on picking the lock once more.

Without seeing him, she heard Jim round the corner and vanish into one of the rooms. The blasted lock would not yield, and she tried twisting the doorknob once more. It refused to budge. She dropped the rake pick when she heard the jingling again. It was louder this time, more intense.

“Mr. Whitehurst?”

Blindly pawing to grab her pick off the carpeted floor while she looked behind her at the living room, she heard nothing else but her own breathing. She finally grabbed the pick and stood up with her lockpick in one hand, the black pouch for her tools in the other.

Eva slowly walked from the entrance into the living room and looked down the hall. The doors to the other rooms were all open. She approached them, one by one, looking inside each of them.

Kitchen. Small green table with a smartphone lying on its surface. Stack of dishes in the sink. So many bills and letters stuck to the fridge with magnets that it looked awfully cluttered. Nobody.

Bathroom. The toilet seat was covered in baby-blue plush, uniform with a bath mat and matching towels hanging next to a claustrophobia-inducing shower booth. Not a soul.

Bedroom. Well, rather, office of some sorts. Desk, laptop, some cabinets. Old leather couch with sweat-stains on it jammed into the corner. Nobody here, either. Eva spotted a brown handkerchief crumpled up on the floor here and would have bet that she had seen Jim holding it earlier.

She asked into the room devoid of people before turning around, “Mr. Whitehurst?”

Other bedroom. The door was ajar. Eva pushed it open and went inside. The bed hadn’t been made, the sheets were a mess. Something very strange here: an unplugged digital alarm clock was hanging by its power cord from the ceiling fan, someone had knotted the electric cable of it around one of the fan’s blades. There was no sign of Jim anywhere. Metal frame of a fire escape just outside, but the windows leading to it were firmly shut. Then the jingling, again.

Eva poked her head back outside the room, looking down the hallway again—scared now. She returned to the living room with fast paces, too afraid to run or even to look back. She wondered if she was hearing more than her own footsteps, but it had to have been her imagination. This apartment was too damn small to hide two other people like this.

“Uh, Mr. Whitehurst, I’m leaving now,” she said with a shaky voice.

She got back to trying to pick the lock again but no such luck. Her hand motions were clearly hastier, and she swore out loud a few times. Then she heard the jingling of metal again, but it was much closer. Right next to her, in fact. The sound had come from the small closet next to the entrance, where she was standing. Eva flinched when the jingling resounded yet again. As if struck by lightning, she dropped the objects in her hand and bolted off.

Running down the hallway past the other rooms, she fled back into the bedroom. She rushed towards the window, trying to get it open to get out to the fire escape, but the window was stuck. Eva looked behind her while she struggled to pull the window open, and the jingling erupted behind her, just outside the room’s door.

She shrieked.

Then things went silent in apartment 303. The place was empty. There was nobody in any of the rooms. Eva’s lockpicks were lying around, abandoned on the carpeted floor by the front door. Eerie silence blanketed the empty home.

There were muffled voices just outside the door. Then someone knocked with significant vigor; the door shook from the sheer force of it. Visible through the peephole, two police officers in uniform were standing right in front of the door to apartment 303.

Two minutes passed. Click-clack. The doorknob turned, the crimson door opened, the policemen entered. They looked around with discerning, inquisitive eyes. One of Eva’s metal lockpicks bent under the weight of one of them accidentally stepping on it. That man stepped aside and looked at the objects on the ground while the other followed his gaze. They wordlessly exchanged a glance at each other and then looked at the living room.

One of them then asked out loud, “Anybody home?”

The other frowned at him and shook his head, then pushed open the closet and pulled the light switch hanging from the ceiling in there. Just enough jackets for two different seasons, two pairs of sneakers, one pair of dress shoes, an umbrella leaning against the wall in a corner, a very dusty Chicago Cubs baseball cap sitting by itself on a shelf overhead. After having satisfied his curiosity by noting the blandness of its interior, he switched the light back off and joined his colleague in the living room.

“How long did you say—”

“Three days. Mrs. Whitehurst said that wasn’t normal,” the other replied, cutting him off. He then looked down the hallway, past the open doors, and asked into the void, “Mr. Merritt?” Then after a pause, “Mr. Whitehurst?” He cautiously walked down the hall, and his right hand rested on his holstered firearm. “Miss Wolczek?”

They started exploring the other rooms of apartment 303 when the door slammed shut.

Then the jingling started.

—Submitted by Wratts

[rvb-junior]

Anonymous ask: do you have any pets? What are their names? Why do you keep them? What got you into keeping them? Do you have any future pet plans? 💖💖

Ok anon do u really wanna get into this convo? Itll take a while.

Okay so im at college so rn the only pets with me are my fishb a male halfmoon plakat named Cosmos Florence the second, a nerite snail named Nertb and a black mystery named Onyx. I keep them because god man i just. I just love em so much ya know? Its like. I have this little ball of hate and rage in my dorm who has such a beautiful personality and then to complement that i have these chill snaild who r just trying really hard. Back home we have even more pets and oh man oh man i love them?? They are what love and joy looks like?? We have my dogs, cat, turtle, lizards, birds, hairless guinea pigs, fish, and chickens.

The chickens are named Short Bread and Oreo bevause of how they looked when they were younger. Oreo is a little spunkyer that Short bread while i think short bread is a little…. Confused? Yeah just generally confused by everything.

We have Mr. T, our full grown, healthy red ear slider who lives in a small pond in the back yard with a few feeder fish he never ate. Those fish have grown to be his pals and he just. Hase never eaten them.

Then we have the birds, Able, who likes to tell at you if u look at her to long. Her hobbys are chewing through toys as she is hanging from them and being suprised when she falls. We then have Birbank, named after the airport my dad found him at, who lives very closely with his bf Ruby. Birbank is a grey and white cockatiel and Ruby is a green Indian Ringneck. They had being more than 2 feet apart for longer than 2 seconds and often u will find Ruby yelling when Birbank flys somewhere he cant go (ruby doesnt know how to fly) and birbank screaming when he realises the mistake he made. Ruby likes to give people kisses and is a lover, not a fighter. Birbank likes to hiss at peanuts and ignore everything besides Ruby. Next we have our Canary, Mango whos fav food is blue berrys and kale. He likes to sing when he hears trumpets and my flute. He has a club foot so when we adopted him the bird rescue we got him from was relived because no one else would take him. He is the most graceful flying bird i have ever seen! Finally we have the zebra finch named Shimmy. When we first adopted him he had a super bad plucking problem and was almost completly bald but hes doing much better now, aggressivly peeping when he hears the canary.

Okay now we have 2 lizards, a leopard gecko named Romeo and a crested gecko named Gargoyle. Romeo is a sweet boi with a chubby tail who loves his crickets fast and his meal worms slow. He has one of those reptile hammocks but he prefers climding his cave more. Gargoyle is a sweet girl who will only eat her food when it starts to harden again for some reason. We dont know why but she does and shes kinda a butt. But ya gotta love her!

Our cat’s name is Figaro and she’s currently bald. She had to get shaved, the vet said shes getting up in her years so when she stopped grooming for a month and got matts in her long fur they said she had basicly cat arthritis. Shes doing good and her hobbies are (well atleast when i was home) meowing in my mouth at 3 am to tell me she ate all her food and wanted more.

Wr have 5 dogs so just get ready for that. All our dogs but 1 is a rescue. Coal is a chow/black lab mix. She was adopted as a pup from a local animal rescue and she kniws the mist tricks. Shes a good girl who likes hugs, treats, and when u massage her face. Her favorite toy is a yellow stick that she will bring to you when asked. Shes the second youngest! Lily is the youngest, i sometiems call her satan but only because she is a trickster! You will turn around and shell be on the table eating food, stealing anything from coal, and trying to think up world domination. She and Coal are super close, when we got her Coal went all MaMa dog and now they are inseparable. What makes it better is that Lily is a half Chihuahua/Pomeranian mix so shes tiny next to Coal. Our third youngest is Scarlet, wr think shes the product of a long hair Chihuahua and a deer head Chihuahua. Shes a primadonna who enjoys her alone time and pets. She also like to be held, mainly like a baby so u can hold her and tub her tum. She also REALLY LIKES CAR RIDES like man even going to the vet shes jazzed. Second oldest is Vinnie, a pug my bro ham adopted. Hes super sweet and good he likes face squishes and whrn he naps his tail uncurles. He stands very proper like hes a gentleman and likes to sit on ur feat. He has a grain allergy so he eats special grain free food. Next we have the oldest of our dogs MY SWEET BABY GIRL GIGI. shes my sun and moon. We got gigi when i was 8 and when i was 10 my sister went to college, leaving her for me to takr care of. And well, shes literally the most important thing in the world to me. My sister got her from a breader (which i dont like cus dogs in shelters need homes) but shes a Brussels Griffon so the breader croped her ears and tail. I DO NOT CONDONE THE PRACTICE OF CROPPING AND PART OF A DOG UNLESS SUGGESTED BY A VET, SOME DOGS GET THEIR TAILS CROPPED BECAUS ETHEY BREAK BONES IN THEM AND THAT IS THE ONLY CROPPING I CONDONE. Her ears were cropped lopsidedb and improperly which brought many problems to her later on. She developed many ear infections that have caused her to scratch her ears until they bleed, has had medication for 3 different ear infections, and has almost no ear canal left. Her vet has told us she is almost deef. Also as she got older she got chronic dry eye and takes medicated eye drops for it but shes fine as long as she has those. She needs loud or sharp sounds to get her attention so i trained her to respond to clapping, whistling (which i do very loudly) and snapping fingers. She is a sweet heartb adn a super velcro dog! I cried for three days after i had to go to college and they drive her up to visit me. When im home she goes looking for me if im out of site for 2 minutes, will wait at the bathroom door for me, stare up the stairs when i go to shower, and press her face against closed doors she knows i went through. Whne she does the last thing i have to drum my fingers on the door so she knows to move back before i open it. I miss her horribly and i skype her almost every day, she gets super excited! The first few days i was gone she actually wouldnt stop barking at night. Shes also a cuddle baby and she doesnt sleep unless she is touching me ao it was probably rough for her. I miss her but ill be able to see her in october when i go to my sisters wedding.

The fish! Okay so my mother has a 75 gallon gold fish aquarium and a 30 gallon in the garage with nithing in it yet (shes thinking tetras). The gold fish tank has 2 butter fly tails and some bristle nose plecos. It also has many a snail rn! A friend of ours dismantled a large aquarium of his own ( he is going through a very hard time financially and im hoping everything works out for him) and gave us the plecos and snails. The snails are 3 rabbit snailsb one nerite (he gave us 2 but the other is with my betta) a few black mysteries, and a golden apple who i named Big Mama.

Lemme tell u about big mama real fast. I call her this because, first of all shes a full grown golden appleb second of all because shes a mama. He had a live planted tank thich included a moss ball he has been taking care of for 5 year, its the size of my head and when we put it in the 75 gallon it because the main pice of the tank. What we found out later was that Big Mama had made her family in ut and we have abou 20 BABY GOLDEN APPLES IN THERE ALONE!! He also gave us an anibius fern which i put in my betta’s tank and after getting to college and living hear for a few weeks i found out there were eggs on it because I KNOW HAVE MANY A BABY GOLDEN APPLE. these ones tho r much smaller than the moss ball ones, mine being hatchlings and those being the size of a finger nail. But anyway they have grown large enough where i can tell they r not pest snails and i will be rehoming them to other fish keepers in my dorms once they get a little bigger.

My mom has 3 hairless guinea pigs. Did you know that at petco people tend to walk in and drop off pets they “just dont want any more”? Well it hapoens a lot and my mom fell in love with them instantly. We have Billy, the oldest, Piggy, the middle in age, and sweet baby Bear who is small and young. They are all good boys and are doing very well so far in their new home! My mom had already owned billy and was looking into getting him friends, (guinea pigs live friends! They actually should be kept in atleast pairs but we were not aware at first, now we know better) all three of them are being slowly introduced! Bear and Piggy already live together but we dont want to rush this process and put billy right into the mix, that would probably be the worst think. They are slowly beibg acclimated to eachother.

I guess you could say i love pets because they are sweet and wonderful. I keep most of them because i know i can care for them, that i have the space, and the resources. I have the time and the will to foster a loving home for all my pets, and so does my family. Animals are a big part of my life and i love all of them with all my heart.

My future plans? Well nothing soon! Im in a dorm so Cosmos and his snail friends are all ivr got planed rn. But i hope to, onece in the distante future, get a tank with a school of danionella dracula in it, they are tiny fishb only getting half an inch in side. But id need a good tank for them since they school about 12 and id like to do the whome thing live plants (i also want one of those rimless aquatiums hnnnnnnnngh) i hope to upgrade cosmos to a larger aquarium b currently hes in a 2.5 which is enough for a betta, sure, but id rather he be in a 5 gallon. But really? I just wanna go home n be with GiGi more than anything.

Thank you for the ask!

[bluesakurablossom]

Life's Gift Of Love: Mikey's Love Story

Name: Skylar Richards Age: 18 Height: 5'7 Hair Color: None Eye Color: Green Skin Color: Pale white Ethnicity: American Personality: Loving, courageous, stubborn, sarcastic, artistic, and gentle hearted As teenage leukemia victim Skylar Richards stared death in the face she could not have imagined that the illness would lead her to love and happiness. For many years her life has been dominated by her desperate struggle against the disease, but in an echo of meeting and saving an orange banded turtle, she had found reason to live again. Can love really overcome a deadly obstacle? Chapter 1 Skylar's Pov...
Late in the winter of my eighteenth year, I decided I was severely depressed. Probably because I have one of the most deadliest diseases coursing the blood and bones. Leukemia. I have had this disease for over ten years now and there has been no signs of improvement. I rarely left my small apartment I rented in the middle of Manhattan except to leave to go to work. I often would just sit with the many pets that I own that I saved from critical situations and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to be thinking about death. Whenever you hear or read anything about leukemia, one of the most serve side effects is depression. But the fact is that depression wasn't a side effect, it was clear sign that I was dying. Well pretty much everything else is really. I have been living on my own for three years now since I left my mom. We really drifted apart after my dad had left me when he found out that I had been diagnosed with this disease. I think really she blames me for all of us not being together anymore. Even after I left thinking I would be finally able to get happy again having my own independence, it seemed to not change. Something just felt missing from my life. I went to my local hospital to see my regular doctor and she agreed that I was swimming in a pool of clinical depression and that I need to do something before it gets any worse. The chemotherapy I had been getting was depressing as hell. I had to met there every Thursday in the same room, laying on the same uncomfortable bed, and getting poked and prodded by needles. I was honestly at the point of why do I even bother still come in every week to get this treatment when it doesn't seem to be doing anything to help cure this. I would always get the treatments in the same arm and I feel like I have lost the feeling it in every time a needle get pushed in. I noticed that the nurses that would give me these treatments would tell me every time that I look like I have been improving, but really they are just masking the truth, trying to lift my spirits. When really they should just flat out tell me and not butter me up. Luckily my life did have some good in it. I had a really good paying job at the tattoo parlor near my place. I earned my license to start my own practice by the time I had turned seventeen. To celebrate, I even got my very first tattoo at the place I work at and they hired me just a week later. I was working my way up to take over the shop when my boss Bryan would retire and I was getting rather close. I never knew why I liked tattoos so much. I guess they just show what you really are inside, a true imprint of what makes you, you. I started getting into designing my own art work when I turned thirteen and continued on doing this until I applied for school to get my tattoo license. Even though that my job did give me some happiness and temporary relief from the depressing hell that I so call my life, it really just hurts me that I really have no one to be with or talk to. Sure I have my boss and co workers but they all have their own lives to attend to and family was out of the question. I was at home watching TruTv Top Funniest, trying to get a good laugh going after coming back from chemotherapy at the hospital, but the sound of my vibrating phone interrupted my attention. It was my mom. Me: I refuse to take anymore of this chemotherapy Mom: Do you want to get better or not? We have talked about this many times Skylar, you won't get better if you allow your stubbornness to get in the way Me: What's even the point?! I am not getting better, I am stuck where I have been for nearly over a decade! Mom: Skylar, you are a teenager nearly grown, you are not a little kid anymore. You need to try to find something to get your energy back up and go out and make friends, get out of the house, and live your life Me: Speak for yourself, I barely had a life after dad left me and you and I separating, and you are not the one with a deadly disease coursing through your body! I threw my phone on the couch refusing to answer anymore messages. I really hate that mom and I fight all the time. We were so close, she was my best friend in the whole world. But after dad left us, it seemed like that strong bonding chain just broke, like a pair of chain cutters came along and separated us both. I wanted my family back, this wasn't meant to happen. I was suppose to be getting all the love and support I need in order to cope and navigate through the difficulties of battling a life threatening disease. I wanted to be happy again. There is only one thing in this world that is shittier than someone like me getting cancer so young, is that I am allowing it to consume every bit of chance of happiness. About now I had enough and I had to get out of the house for a little while before I would scream. I got up from the couch passing my sleeping cat on her little bed curled up. She immediately woke up and followed me into my bedroom, jumping on my circular bed. "Hey Kisa you pretty kitty", I said, smiling a little petting her head My fluffy calico cat with yellow eyes purred rubbing her head against my hand. She always could help me bring a little smile to my face. I changed out of my sweats and slipped on a long sleeve pink shirt, putting a short camouflage shirt over it, and slipping into dark blue skinnies. I slipped on my pair of pink vans and I grabbed my short red bandanna tying it around my bald head. The day that when my hair started to fall out it was the saddest day of my life. I would just be taking fists full of my pale blonde hair and let it fall into the trash can. I opted to shave the rest of it off because so much was falling out at one time and it was covering everything. But for some reason I didn't cry when I saw my newly shaved head. To most people baldness is the sign of sickness, and even though I was told I had a beautiful head, I never saw myself that way. It looked like a permeant defeat. I had grabbed my green tote bag that was carrying my oxygen tank inside and I slipped on the breathing tubes up my nose and hang over my ears. I hated wearing these things. It made so vulnerable to the world, but I had to wear it to help with my breathing when it came to the smog that floated up in the air in this place I called home. I adjusted the pressure making high concentrated levels of oxygen fill up my nose. "Love you Kisa, see you later", I said, giving her ear a few scratches gently I grabbed my phone before putting it my pocket and locking my door on the way out. I walked down three flights of stairs before making my way out of the door and out on to the sidewalk. It was turning out to be a casual night, everything seemed to be pretty normal. Or so I thought. When I was walking along a quiet street I was feeling finally relaxed after dealing with the stresses of home, work and therapy. I considered my walks through the neighborhood to be a great therapy for me in order to relieve stress and break free, if only they could help me with leukemia. I heard my phone vibrate again and I checked to see it was mom again. I sighed annoyed as I continued walking reading her long text of why we are not so close anymore and why did I choose to do the things I wanted to do in life. I really didn't want to deal with it as I have already enough of her bickering from earlier. I clicked on the text and I clicked delete as the message went into the trash can. "Why do you think mom? Jesus christ", I said, to myself Right when I was about to walk again, my heart nearly stopped beating when a metal object was thrown in front of my face stabbing into the concrete, just barely an inch from hitting me. I could of literally seen my life flash before my eyes as I almost slipped backwards towards a staircase. "Holy chalupa", I said, panting hard I walked up to the object and I yanked it out of the wall and it was a flying ninja star. I recognized it from doing designs for some of my clients. It was really beautiful, even more than just seeing picture and designs. It was a gleaming silver with six sharp points and in the center was a design I have never seen before. There was a turtle in the middle of outlined in black. "Wow", I said, looking at the object with amazement I then heard screams as I barely had time to turn and duck down as another star came flying towards me barely snagging on my bandanna. "What in the world?!", I said I saw from across the street that there was an intense fight was being taken place. Not like a local street bar fight that would be easily defused by the police, I am talking about like mixed martial arts fighting. There were many men fighting some huge shadow and I tell you what he was kicking ass. One the men went charging towards him and he back flipped kicking him in the jaw, causing him to fall on his knees. Another man went up on his right, wielding a sword in his hand and he tried to strike at the huge shadow. But he was quick to jump back at each strike and he grabbed one of his arms and head butt him right in the face. "Ow, gonna feel that in the morning", I said, to myself I decided to get a closer look on the action and I snuck close enough at the edge of the alley and knelt down to keep a low profile, not wanting to become apart of it. Another man then used a long stick and grabbed a hold of him by choking him from behind. I gasped and I immediately grabbed the first thing I saw in front of me, an empty beer bottle and threw it across the air. "Duck!", I called out Luckily he heard me and duck his head down just in time as the bottle smashed into bits into the man's face. He then swooped his legs out from under him and he fell on his back. Another man then charged at him from the side and pinned him against the brick wall and he kneed him int he gut and ridge hand him on the side of the head, then side kicked him into a dumpster. I then saw one other man get up and pull out a long stick and I could see electricity between the two metal prods. He then struck him in the back, making the huge shadow scream in pain. "Oh god!", I said, to myself Two more came charging in with the same prods shocking him repeatedly. He struggled to reach out and crawl away from the torture devices, but one stomped on his back a few times with such brute force and even then stomping down on his head into the concrete, where I could slightly hear bones cracking. He groaned in pain before it started to silent, going unconscious from the electricity shocking him. Several men grabbed his huge muscular arms and began to drag him away as he limply laid against the ground. I knew this was beyond dangerous, but I wanted to help in some way without getting myself killed or the victim in the process. I then looked down at my tote bag and I unzipped it open seeing my oxygen tank inside and across from me was a metal pipe laying on the ground behind a pile of junk. I quickly reacted and pulled my tank out of my bag unhooking myself from it as I laid it on the ground and I grabbed the pipe and getting in front of the tank. "Hey dingbats!", I called out The figures stopped what they were doing and looked towards me, I then spun the pipe in my hand. "Surfs up!", I said I then whacked the metal pole down on the regulator on my tank smashing it open and the air entering the tank caused so much pressure that it started smoking up and it went flying like a rocket towards them. The tank crashed into one figure and it ricocheted off the brick walls knocking each figure to the ground, like a balloon letting all its air out releasing a cloud of smoke. The air tank smashed one more in the head before it landed on top of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. "Woo!", I said, doing a victory jump I picked up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I started making my way over towards the person those figures beating up. He was struggling to his feet and I started to jog over, but I stopped suddenly when I saw the huge size of this person crawl on his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet. I was not quite sure I would recognize someone that muscular. His muscles were huge in size, bigger than what I would see on a body builder. His long and slender shadow had covered me completely from the light of the lamp post above. Something was dangling around his neck in two strands, like long hair or dreadlocks or something. He didn't appear to have any hair on top of his head, kind of like me. He looked about my age, maybe a little older. His posture was poor as he stood up from the ground picking up a nunchuck. "Are you okay?", I asked, walking up He suddenly whipped looking me at in my direction, the prettiest blue eyes were looking at me. Even though I couldn't see his face so well I was already intrigued by the beauty of them. When I came closer making sure I didn't injure when I let my tank go flying, he took off running. A mixture of confusion and concern struck me as I started to run after him down the alley. "Wait! Wait! Come back! I won't hurt you!", I called out I then saw him jump against one of the buildings and jump across towards the other beside it, doing a zig zag. I skid to a halt as I reached the end of the alley and I looked up to the rooftop, to see he looked back down at me before taking off disappearing into the night. I then heard a flapping noise coming from behind me and I saw this artwork that looked to be in Japanese in orange and purple spray paint and there was a yellow sticky note right in front of the now dried graffiti. I gently took it off the brick wall and saw there was a message on it. "Thanks, I owe you one-Mikey" "Mikey?", I said, to myself I flipped over the note to see nothing more than just the message and I looked back up to the night sky where I guess now known as Mikey had disappeared to. How could a normal human have such ability to jump that high and disappear that quickly, let alone fight like a professional? I then looked back down at the note and held it with both of my hand and I saw at the bottom of the note there was smiley face winking. "Well then, I guess you owe me one...Mikey", I said

[bluesakurablossom]

Life's Gift of Love: Mikey's Love Story

As teenage leukemia victim Skylar Richards stared death in the face she could not have imagined that the illness would lead her to love and happiness. For many years her life has been dominated by her desperate struggle against the disease, but in an echo of meeting and saving an orange banded turtle, she had found reason to live again. Can love really overcome a deadly obstacle? Chapter 1 Name: Skylar Anderson Age: 18 Height: 5'7 Hair Color: None Eye Color: Green Skin Color: Pale white Ethnicity: American Personality: Loving, courageous, stubborn, sarcastic, artistic, and gentle hearted Skylar's Pov... Late in the winter of my eighteenth year, I decided I was severely depressed. Probably because I have one of the most deadliest diseases coursing the blood and bones. Leukemia. I have had this disease for over ten years now and there has been no signs of improvement. I rarely left my small apartment I rented in the middle of Manhattan except to leave to go to work. I often would just sit with the many pets that I own that I saved from critical situations and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to be thinking about death. Whenever you hear or read anything about leukemia, one of the most serve side effects is depression. But the fact is that depression wasn't a side effect, it was clear sign that I was dying. Well pretty much everything else is really. I have been living on my own for three years now since I left my mom. We really drifted apart after my dad had left me when he found out that I had been diagnosed with this disease. I think really she blames me for all of us not being together anymore. Even after I left thinking I would be finally able to get happy again having my own independence, it seemed to not change. Something just felt missing from my life. I went to my local hospital to see my regular doctor and she agreed that I was swimming in a pool of clinical depression and that I need to do something before it gets any worse. The chemotherapy I had been getting was depressing as hell. I had to met there every Thursday in the same room, laying on the same uncomfortable bed, and getting poked and prodded by needles. I was honestly at the point of why do I even bother still come in every week to get this treatment when it doesn't seem to be doing anything to help cure this. I would always get the treatments in the same arm and I feel like I have lost the feeling it in every time a needle get pushed in. I noticed that the nurses that would give me these treatments would tell me every time that I look like I have been improving, but really they are just masking the truth, trying to lift my spirits. When really they should just flat out tell me and not butter me up. Luckily my life did have some good in it. I had a really good paying job at the tattoo parlor near my place. I earned my license to start my own practice by the time I had turned seventeen. To celebrate, I even got my very first tattoo at the place I work at and they hired me just a week later. I was working my way up to take over the shop when my boss Bryan would retire and I was getting rather close. I never knew why I liked tattoos so much. I guess they just show what you really are inside, a true imprint of what makes you, you. I started getting into designing my own art work when I turned thirteen and continued on doing this until I applied for school to get my tattoo license. Even though that my job did give me some happiness and temporary relief from the depressing hell that I so call my life, it really just hurts me that I really have no one to be with or talk to. Sure I have my boss and co workers but they all have their own lives to attend to and family was out of the question. I was at home watching TruTv Top Funniest, trying to get a good laugh going after coming back from chemotherapy at the hospital, but the sound of my vibrating phone interrupted my attention. It was my mom. Me: I refuse to take anymore of this chemotherapy Mom: Do you want to get better or not? We have talked about this many times Skylar, you won't get better if you allow your stubbornness to get in the way Me: What's even the point?! I am not getting better, I am stuck where I have been for nearly over a decade! Mom: Skylar, you are a teenager nearly grown, you are not a little kid anymore. You need to try to find something to get your energy back up and go out and make friends, get out of the house, and live your life Me: Speak for yourself, I barely had a life after dad left me and you and I separating, and you are not the one with a deadly disease coursing through your body! I threw my phone on the couch refusing to answer anymore messages. I really hate that mom and I fight all the time. We were so close, she was my best friend in the whole world. But after dad left us, it seemed like that strong bonding chain just broke, like a pair of chain cutters came along and separated us both. I wanted my family back, this wasn't meant to happen. I was suppose to be getting all the love and support I need in order to cope and navigate through the difficulties of battling a life threatening disease. I wanted to be happy again. There is only one thing in this world that is shittier than someone like me getting cancer so young, is that I am allowing it to consume every bit of chance of happiness. About now I had enough and I had to get out of the house for a little while before I would scream. I got up from the couch passing my sleeping cat on her little bed curled up. She immediately woke up and followed me into my bedroom, jumping on my circular bed. "Hey Kisa you pretty kitty", I said, smiling a little petting her head My fluffy calico cat with yellow eyes purred rubbing her head against my hand. She always could help me bring a little smile to my face. I changed out of my sweats and slipped on a long sleeve pink shirt, putting a short camouflage shirt over it, and slipping into dark blue skinnies. I slipped on my pair of pink vans and I grabbed my short red bandanna tying it around my bald head. The day that when my hair started to fall out it was the saddest day of my life. I would just be taking fists full of my pale blonde hair and let it fall into the trash can. I opted to shave the rest of it off because so much was falling out at one time and it was covering everything. But for some reason I didn't cry when I saw my newly shaved head. To most people baldness is the sign of sickness, and even though I was told I had a beautiful head, I never saw myself that way. It looked like a permeant defeat. I had grabbed my green tote bag that was carrying my oxygen tank inside and I slipped on the breathing tubes up my nose and hang over my ears. I hated wearing these things. It made so vulnerable to the world, but I had to wear it to help with my breathing when it came to the smog that floated up in the air in this place I called home. I adjusted the pressure making high concentrated levels of oxygen fill up my nose. "Love you Kisa, see you later", I said, giving her ear a few scratches gently I grabbed my phone before putting it my pocket and locking my door on the way out. I walked down three flights of stairs before making my way out of the door and out on to the sidewalk. It was turning out to be a casual night, everything seemed to be pretty normal. Or so I thought. When I was walking along a quiet street I was feeling finally relaxed after dealing with the stresses of home, work and therapy. I considered my walks through the neighborhood to be a great therapy for me in order to relieve stress and break free, if only they could help me with leukemia. I heard my phone vibrate again and I checked to see it was mom again. I sighed annoyed as I continued walking reading her long text of why we are not so close anymore and why did I choose to do the things I wanted to do in life. I really didn't want to deal with it as I have already enough of her bickering from earlier. I clicked on the text and I clicked delete as the message went into the trash can. "Why do you think mom? Jesus christ", I said, to myself Right when I was about to walk again, my heart nearly stopped beating when a metal object was thrown in front of my face stabbing into the concrete, just barely an inch from hitting me. I could of literally seen my life flash before my eyes as I almost slipped backwards towards a staircase. "Holy chalupa", I said, panting hard I walked up to the object and I yanked it out of the wall and it was a flying ninja star. I recognized it from doing designs for some of my clients. It was really beautiful, even more than just seeing picture and designs. It was a gleaming silver with six sharp points and in the center was a design I have never seen before. There was a turtle in the middle of outlined in black. "Wow", I said, looking at the object with amazement I then heard screams as I barely had time to turn and duck down as another star came flying towards me barely snagging on my bandanna. "What in the world?!", I said I saw from across the street that there was an intense fight was being taken place. Not like a local street bar fight that would be easily defused by the police, I am talking about like mixed martial arts fighting. There were many men fighting some huge shadow and I tell you what he was kicking ass. One the men went charging towards him and he back flipped kicking him in the jaw, causing him to fall on his knees. Another man went up on his right, wielding a sword in his hand and he tried to strike at the huge shadow. But he was quick to jump back at each strike and he grabbed one of his arms and head butt him right in the face. "Ow, gonna feel that in the morning", I said, to myself I decided to get a closer look on the action and I snuck close enough at the edge of the alley and knelt down to keep a low profile, not wanting to become apart of it. Another man then used a long stick and grabbed a hold of him by choking him from behind. I gasped and I immediately grabbed the first thing I saw in front of me, an empty beer bottle and threw it across the air. "Duck!", I called out Luckily he heard me and duck his head down just in time as the bottle smashed into bits into the man's face. He then swooped his legs out from under him and he fell on his back. Another man then charged at him from the side and pinned him against the brick wall and he kneed him int he gut and ridge hand him on the side of the head, then side kicked him into a dumpster. I then saw one other man get up and pull out a long stick and I could see electricity between the two metal prods. He then struck him in the back, making the huge shadow scream in pain. "Oh god!", I said, to myself Two more came charging in with the same prods shocking him repeatedly. He struggled to reach out and crawl away from the torture devices, but one stomped on his back a few times with such brute force and even then stomping down on his head into the concrete, where I could slightly hear bones cracking. He groaned in pain before it started to silent, going unconscious from the electricity shocking him. Several men grabbed his huge muscular arms and began to drag him away as he limply laid against the ground. I knew this was beyond dangerous, but I wanted to help in some way without getting myself killed or the victim in the process. I then looked down at my tote bag and I unzipped it open seeing my oxygen tank inside and across from me was a metal pipe laying on the ground behind a pile of junk. I quickly reacted and pulled my tank out of my bag unhooking myself from it as I laid it on the ground and I grabbed the pipe and getting in front of the tank. "Hey dingbats!", I called out The figures stopped what they were doing and looked towards me, I then spun the pipe in my hand. "Surfs up!", I said I then whacked the metal pole down on the regulator on my tank smashing it open and the air entering the tank caused so much pressure that it started smoking up and it went flying like a rocket towards them. The tank crashed into one figure and it ricocheted off the brick walls knocking each figure to the ground, like a balloon letting all its air out releasing a cloud of smoke. The air tank smashed one more in the head before it landed on top of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. "Woo!", I said, doing a victory jump I picked up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I started making my way over towards the person those figures beating up. He was struggling to his feet and I started to jog over, but I stopped suddenly when I saw the huge size of this person crawl on his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet. I was not quite sure I would recognize someone that muscular. His muscles were huge in size, bigger than what I would see on a body builder. His long and slender shadow had covered me completely from the light of the lamp post above. Something was dangling around his neck in two strands, like long hair or dreadlocks or something. He didn't appear to have any hair on top of his head, kind of like me. He looked about my age, maybe a little older. His posture was poor as he stood up from the ground picking up a nunchuck. "Are you okay?", I asked, walking up He suddenly whipped looking me at in my direction, the prettiest blue eyes were looking at me. Even though I couldn't see his face so well I was already intrigued by the beauty of them. When I came closer making sure I didn't injure when I let my tank go flying, he took off running. A mixture of confusion and concern struck me as I started to run after him down the alley. "Wait! Wait! Come back! I won't hurt you!", I called out I then saw him jump against one of the buildings and jump across towards the other beside it, doing a zig zag. I skid to a halt as I reached the end of the alley and I looked up to the rooftop, to see he looked back down at me before taking off disappearing into the night. I then heard a flapping noise coming from behind me and I saw this artwork that looked to be in Japanese in orange and purple spray paint and there was a yellow sticky note right in front of the now dried graffiti. I gently took it off the brick wall and saw there was a message on it. "Thanks, I owe you one-Mikey" "Mikey?", I said, to myself I flipped over the note to see nothing more than just the message and I looked back up to the night sky where I guess now known as Mikey had disappeared to. How could a normal human have such ability to jump that high and disappear that quickly, let alone fight like a professional? I then looked back down at the note and held it with both of my hand and I saw at the bottom of the note there was smiley face winking. "Well then, I guess you owe me one...Mikey", I said