#ignore the inverted hand i realised before it was too late

[mogwaisonmars]

little stary drawing cause im OBSESSED with their dynamic

also i should be getting a new phone for christmas so hopefully my camera quality wont look like it came from the dark ages then

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 11 - What If This Is All The Love You’ll Ever Get?

Masterlist; Chapter 10

Summary: The brief peace you experience does not last long. And this time the consquences cannot be ignored.

Warnings: Swearing; it gets quite angsty with some mentions of loss, excessive drinking and such... (I’m sorry)

Author’s Notes: Right so... this is post-Kiev, before Mumbai film-wise. It gets intense for which I’m sorry (trust me this wasn’t fun to write). I hope you enjoy nonetheless and please let me know what you think! Feedback makes my days so much better <3

It turned out that if you and Neil were forced to cooperate (long-distantly yet still), it could work out pretty well. Kiev was a success, to put it simply. Yes, the opera house got partially blown up, and TP’s initial operation became a ‘massive fuck-up’ (as Neil put it), but the boss himself made it. You have been assured about that by some remote Tenet connections you did not even know they had. Now it was their time to step into the game. So you waited patiently for Neil’s return while keeping yourself occupied with other random small tasks for the organization. You went back to texting him rather frequently as well, having decided that friends are allowed to have little chats like that. Also, because you could not deny yourself that guilty pleasure…

He came back just as it was planned, four days after your awkward goodbye (which still haunted you at night). It was late in the evening, and you were finishing a report needed for the morning when you heard a knock on the door.

“Hey you” Neil smiled when you opened the door.

You eyed him quickly, noticing the wrinkles on his clothes, ruffled hair, and tired eyes. It became pretty obvious he came to see you straight after coming back. And that idea made you feel… strange.

“Hey” you smiled back and left the ajar for him “When did you come back?” you watched him sit down on the bed and stretch his arms elegantly.

You could not hide the small smile that showed on your face at the sight. He met your gaze with a little grin of his own before answering:

“Just arrived back from the airport. Left stuff in my room, and here I am” he opened his arms to emphasise the point, and you laughed.

“I can see that. Aren’t you tired though?” once again, you warily searched his face.

But apart from being shocked at how beautiful he was, you got nothing concrete.

“I’d rather talk to you than sleep” he shrugged as though it was obvious. You blushed and looked down at your lap before closing the documents. The report would have to wait.

“How was the mission?” you turned back to him and watched, mesmerised, as he rolled up the sleeves and leaned back on his forearms.

Having Neil chill on your bed was certainly not an image you expected to see this evening.

“Well, you were there in spirit, so you probably know” he grinned “But if you want details…” he trailed off to gather his thoughts, “It was surprisingly easy to enter despite the ongoing siege with two different groups fighting inside. Then all I had to do was wait and try not to draw attention to myself”

“Where did you wait in the end?”

You have discussed the different options he had a day before the attack.

“A lovely storage room backstage” his eyes sparked “Would’ve been more fun if you were there with me” he smirked.

So nothing’s changed then.

“Did you find TP with no problems?” your swift change of topic did not go unnoticed.

But this time, he obeyed.

“Once shit started going off, I went back into the concert hall, and there he was. Trying to save all those civilians from being blown to pieces” Neil looked pensive for a moment “But then just as I thought that I would not be needed there, I saw movement near him. Someone has shot an inverted round there” he met your gaze “So I collected the bullet, making sure it went through whoever that was threatening TP and left just as quickly” he took off the shoes and went back to relaxing on your bed.

“He noticed you?”

“Probably yeah. But to him, I was just a handy help in a rather messy situation” he smiled “Enough about that. How have you been?” this time it was his turn to search your face.

You wondered what he found there.

“Alright, I guess” you smile lightly “When I wasn’t busy helping you, I was mostly working on some boring reports”

“Sounds fascinating” he grinned “Anything fun happened while I was away?” now he was lying on his side with head propped on the elbow.

For a second, you thought about the fact that your pillow might smell like him over night.

“Apart from Anna nearly slamming the door in my face yesterday… not really” you frowned at the memory.

“What?!” Neil’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yeah, well… think she just didn’t see me following her through the door, but I almost ended up with a concussion”

“That doesn’t sound like her but, then…” it was Neil’s turn to frown.

“After everything, I wouldn’t be surprised” you murmured and met his gaze with a weary smile.

You probably had to get used to the rush of butterflies you felt every time your eyes met. He stared at you with an inquisitive look. You were acutely aware that you were both probably recollecting the events from a few days ago. To stop the flood of images from making you do something stupid, you got up:

“Do you want a tea?” you busily stared at the kettle.

“Yeah sure” you could hear the self-satisfaction in his voice.

While you got busy with preparing two cups of tea, you could feel his eyes on you. Then a text alert broke the silence that fell. You turned to see him type an answer. For an absolutely unknown reason, you wanted to know who was messaging him. And why. But instead, you had to try not to pour boiling water all over your hand. At which you failed.

“Fuck” you hissed on reflex and hoped he has not noticed.

But nothing seemed to go past those deep blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” he sat up and watched you from across the room.

“Yeah, just clumsy as fuck” once the tea was brewing, you could assess the damage.

Apart from a little sore skin, you should live. When you turned to give Neil his mug, you were faced with a very smug grin.

“Don’t tell me you got jealous over a text from TP” he pushed his phone into your hands.

You stared blankly at the recent texts. The last one was his response to The Protagonist. One before that was to you. And nothing more remarkable after that. You felt very stupid. But thankfully, Neil was done with taunting. At least for the moment.

“It’s okay” he took his phone back and then gently cradled your hurt hand “Swear I won’t mention this again”

“If you will, I’ll shoot you” you glared at him, trying to ignore the waves of shame threatening to spill from your system.

“Now that’s quite dramatic, don’t you think?” he looked up at you and grinned.

Then he kissed your knuckles and released his hold on your hand. You were finally free, and you were not going to waste that.

“I’ll… I’ve got to go the bathroom for a sec… sorry” you bolted to the door with newly found energy.

Just before you locked the door, you heard him say:

“I’ve missed you”

Fuck. You pressed your back against the closed door and took a deep breath. The sting of the burn was nearly gone, but the shame burned just as strongly through your body. Now you understood why Jasper called you pathetic. That was probably the best adjective to describe your behaviour. Slowly, you calmed down the racing heart and opted to take off make-up as a relaxing task. It worked, and soon you also decided to change into some nightclothes. It was late, and it was safe to assume that Neil would leave for the night in the not too far future. Finally, you took long fifteen minutes to coach yourself to go back out into the room. It was a rather difficult task as you had enough humiliation for the day. But at the same time, you wanted to spend as much time as you could with him. 

Was addiction to Neil a thing? Because you might have just diagnosed yourself with it, you mused while exiting the bathroom. Outside, you were faced with a surprising yet adorable sight of the man himself curled up on your bed and snoring. His face was relaxed with no frown lines visible, and the abandoned mug of tea steamed on the bedside table. You noticed that he took your blanket and covered himself with it. You could not stop the smile that showed on your face when you took in the image. However, that also left you with a rather difficult decision… He certainly left enough space for you on the bedside facing the wall. But also, that was a bit risky… was it not? You contemplated taking a spare pillow and nodding off on the floor. But as soon as that thought entered your mind, the pathetic side decided to object. Friends are allowed to share a bed right? You sighed, switched off the lights, and carefully stepped over Neil’s form to lie down. You made sure to leave all the space you could before you turned to the wall and let the tiredness take you. As a parting thought, you realised that his presence next to you felt right somehow.

*** Waking up to the sound of your alarm was a harsh experience. Unconsciously, you reached out to turn off the brutal device and sighed with happiness when you succeeded. Only then, your brain began to catch up with reality. And especially with the fact that there was an arm draped over your stomach, with fingers touching the bare skin where your top rode up. The alarm has woken him too as you felt him hug you closer to his chest. You felt a warm breath on the back of your neck.

“I could get used to waking up like this” you shivered at the way his voice reverberated through your chest.

Before you could react, he pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck and followed it with a trail of pecks down your spine, as far as your shirt allowed. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to level breathing. His fingers softly caressing the strip of skin just above the hemline of your trousers made your brain short-circuit. It was all too much. You had to move, or else you could not be responsible for anything that would happen.

Quickly you turned in the embrace to face him. The closeness made your breath hitch. Neil stared at you with a small smile on his lips. You knew that the innocence was nothing but a façade. You had to distract yourself and him, so you scrambled for anything to say. Glancing down at his shirt collar, you found the words:

“Maybe you should stop falling asleep in suits” you aimed for a neutral tone, but the moment his eyes lit up, you knew it was pointless.

“If you wanted me to undress, all you had to do was ask” he smirked when seeing your mild panic.

Bloody fantastic.

He was still too close. And the way he glanced down at your lips for a split second did not help the situation either.

“Right… I’ve had that alarm set for a reason” you rushed to get up and climb over him.

But naturally, Neil had other ideas. When you leaned over him to push yourself up, he took your hands in his, forcing you to lie partially on top of him. You stared in shock, suddenly overwhelmed by the situation. His blue eyes stared back at you with that unreadable expression you have seen before. You took the time to look at him, his wild bed hair and two-day stubble on the chin.

If you were allowed, you could get used to this…

“Is this one of those moments when I should be the voice of reason?” when you found your voice again, it was weirdly hoarse.

“Maybe…” he grinned and squeezed your hands “How’s your burn?”

Only now you actually remembered about your embarrassing moment from the previous night. At the reminder, you felt your face grow warm. The moment was gone.

“It’s fine” you muttered and moved to get up.

This time he let you go, but you were sure you saw a brief look of disappointment on his face.

“What is your plan for today?” he asked while reaching for yesterday’s tea.

You frowned at that.

“Sure you don’t want a new one?” you gestured towards the mug.

“Nah, don’t want your martyrdom to go wasted” he winked and finished the cold drink.

“You really want to get shot, my dear” you mused while eyeing him sharply.

“My dear?” he sat up and looked at you with one eyebrow arched curiously.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. It was so much easier to talk with him like that when you had a little bit of space preserved.

“You don’t have a monopoly on nicknames”

“Of course not” Neil got up and folded the blanket he used “But it’s nice to hear that you consider me ‘yours’ in any way, my dear” he winked and crossed the room “I’ll see you around later” he kissed you on the cheek and was gone before you could process anything.

In the end, you never got to tell him what your plan for the day was.

*** The next three days went in relative peace. You started to build a pleasant routine in the organization, and ever since he was back, you could incorporate time spent with Neil into it. Every morning you would attend a sparring session (with Ives or whoever was handy), then a shooting training to keep yourself in shape. After that, meetings and missions briefings where you would help with the logistical side of the operations. In the evening, you ate dinner with Neil in the dining hall. Undoubtedly that was a highlight of the day for you when you could use the hour and a half window to get to know him better. Apart from that first blunder in your attempts at friendship-like behaviour, it all went rather smoothly. Neil did his best to cooperate. The only times when he was proving to be difficult were the goodbyes during which he made it his goal to make you flustered. The kisses on the cheek became a routine thing. And so did his tendency to gaze into your eyes for extended periods of time. You did not mind either of those things.

The lack of concrete news about the unfolding plan sometimes made you almost forget about it. But you did not dare relax, remembering TPs words about the upcoming events. And so, you waited patiently, preparing in any way you could think of.

The fragile peace got disrupted during one of your evening meals. You were mid-conversation concerning Neil’s past experiences in the Navy when Ives approached your table:

“Evening lovebirds” you grudgingly accepted the nickname he chose for you both.

“What is it?” Neil instantly sensed trouble, judging by the frown that showed on his face.

“TP is calling us to the US. Urgently” Ives looked at you apologetically “Just me and Neil, sorry love”

“That’s okay” you met Neil’s gaze over the table “You two are more crucial to the whole organization than I am” you shrugged.

Neil looked as though he wanted to argue but chose not to. Luckily.

“When do we have to leave?” he asked Ives.

“Ideally in an hour”

“Shit” he took a moment to gather his thoughts “Okay, I’ll meet you in the reception in 45mins”

Ives only nodded and left without a further word. You stared at Neil, who eyed his half-full plate mournfully.

“At least you’ll get some nice food on the plane” you offered upon seeing his internal debate.

“But the company won’t be as good” he looked up and smiled sadly.

“That’s quite harsh on Ives” you joked, trying to ignore the inexplicable sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Neil laughed, but you could tell that he was worried too. Using the only way you knew to assure him, you reached out across the table and squeezed his hand.

“You should pack” you brushed your thumb over his knuckles “I’ll see you when you’re back”.

He entwined his fingers with yours and met your gaze for a moment. You could see that he was hesitant, as though he wanted to say something you would not like. Then he made up his mind because he released his hold over your hand and got up to stand next to you.

“I’ll miss you” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Before you could answer, he left the hall. You took a deep breath, aware of the strange feeling creeping into your brain. Hopefully, it is nothing but anxiety, you sighed and went back to eating, acutely aware of the loneliness.

*** The peace you got when Neil and Ives left lasted for about twelve hours. A good night text from Neil calmed your nerves slightly as it meant he made it safely to the HQs. You tried to get an early night, but it did not happen. Instead, you spent three hours staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying to convince your stubborn brain that it worried for nothing. After all, urgent missions happened all the time, right? Well, your logic was desperately trying not to fail while faced with an irrational voice that never seemed to shut up. In the end, you resorted to taking a sleeping pill and hoping to catch at least 5 hours long nap.

That plan was cut short by a sharp ringing at 7 am coming from your phone resting on the bedside table. You looked at the display to see Ives as the caller ID. This could not be good. A sudden shock made you sit up and pick up the phone despite being barely able to open your eyes.

“Yes?” you cleared your throat when you heard your raspy voice.

“Y/N…” you have never heard Ives’ use your first name.

Fuck… The world went black for a millisecond. You felt lightheaded. Something was terribly wrong.

“What’s going on?” panic was creeping into your voice.

“Neil… he found TP in his room…” his voice was breaking “He’s gone” you heard him take in a shaky breath “TP is gone”

Your heart skipped a beat. Your vision blurred as you reached out to touch the wall to feel something steady beneath your fingertips. For a short second, you forgot how to breathe. Then as you started to struggle for the oxygen, you took greedy breaths, hoping to calm down. It was not working.

“Are you there?” Ives’ panicked voice broke through the paralysis.

“How did it happen?” you choked out the question, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“He…” Ives stifled a sob “He took a cyanide pill”

You could not stop the sobs that came then. Only after you could take in a full breath, you spoke again.

“Why?”

“No one knows. He saw Neil and me when we arrived. Then I went to sleep, and Neil woke me up” you could hear the strain in his voice.

“How’s he?” you feared the answer to the question.

Somehow you knew there was a reason why it was not him calling you. But the explanation for that was too terrifying to be admitted aloud.

“Bad” the grave tone made you panic again.

“Fuck” you inhaled sharply.

“You should come via the next plane. He has to be in Mumbai by the twentieth, and I don’t think we can sort him out without you”

You winced at the serious tone.

“Okay, I’ll try to get there as soon as I can” you bolted up from the bed “Please try to look after him” you hated the pleading tone.

“I’ll try though it’s hard to do when he’s locked himself in his room and isn’t letting anyone in”

Shit. The dizziness returned, and you leaned on the wall for support. To say that you were worried would be an understatement. Everyone knew how much Neil cared about TP. The helplessness was frustrating. You wanted to scream and let it out.

“Just do what you can” you sighed “Stay strong, Ives”

“Don’t hang up yet”

“Why, what’s wrong?” his sudden change of tone made you even more concerned.

“Nothing, it’s just that I think you should know about something… about Neil”

“Yes?”

“He should be the one telling you but fuck that” he sounded hesitant.

“Ives” the agitation won over any other emotion “Please”

“Neil lost someone very important to him nearly two years ago during a mission. It was an accident, but Neil blames himself for what happened as he was leading the attack”

“Okay…” you needed a moment to process the information.

“I just wanted you to know in case it mattered”

“Thank you… What was their name?” that was the only question you could think of.

“Alex. He was an agent and joined Tenet at the same time Neil did. They were together”

The only immediate thought was that you wished you knew before. Maybe then you could have been a better friend. However, Ives’ took your silence as something else.

“Is that okay?” he sounded genuinely worried.

“Of course, I don’t care who he was with. Only that he’s hurting right now” you glanced at the watch “I should start packing. I’ll see you soon, I hope” you hung up.

You tried your hardest not to breakdown while throwing random clothing articles into the bag. You tried calling Neil, but he has not picked up. You just sent him a message:

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to get there soon”.

There was not much else you could do. Apart from trying to preserve sanity.

*** The plane journey to Boston was a blurry memory. You spent the 8 hours trying not to cry publicly and ignoring the temptation to get drunk to numb the pain and worry. Once you landed, the anxiety got worse. With shaking hands, you went through the customs and into the arrivals hall. All the while, you tried not to think too much about the last time you visited the airport and about Neil’s steady hand guiding you. He still has not responded to your text, and that made you think about the worst. You calmed down your anxious stomach just enough to get into the car sent by the HQ and relaxed into the leather seat. Just twenty minutes now.

But before you could reach any mental clarity, your phone buzzed. You took it out of the pocket and nearly dropped it onto the car floor upon seeing the text. It was from TP. You gasped and unlocked the device to read it.

“When this reaches you, you most likely know what happened. I’m sorry, but there was no other way. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t know that you, Neil, and the rest are ready. I trust you, Y/N, and that’s why I have decided to make you responsible for the logistical side of the plan. Once you’re ready, materials are waiting for you in the inbox. Please take care. I know I don’t have to ask you to help Neil but make sure he doesn’t blame himself”

It was clear that he scheduled the messaged to come through after he was gone. And you had a feeling it was only the first one of many. You only had time to wipe the tears from your eyes before the car parked in front of the Tenet building, and you were forced to get out. Once you got through the security booth, you spotted Ives waiting in the reception hall. He had his head bowed, staring at the floor. None of his usual confidence was there. Once you approached, he sensed company and looked up. You were struck by the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Hey” suddenly you did not know what to say.

“Thank god you’re here” Ives shook off the hesitation and hugged you tightly.

You returned the embrace, feeling tears well up again. You stepped back and sniffed, accepting the offered tissues. Only now you noticed how quiet and empty it was in the building despite the hour.

“How is the situation?” you did not even know how to ask any specific questions.

“Very bad” Ives frowned, and you felt like he was holding back.

“Take me to him, please” you shivered involuntarily.

He did not need more convincing and started leading you through the corridors.

“He hasn’t left the room since midnight when I last saw him” Ives started speaking, “I’m pretty sure he’s drinking” he stopped in front of a regular door in yet another corridor.

“Right… Has he let anyone in?” you strained to hear any potential sounds from within, but there was nothing.

“No” Ives shook his head.

You could tell that he was incredibly tired and worried. You had to be the strong one this time.

“Why do you think I’ll be different?”

You placed one shaky hand on the surface of the door.

“Because it’s you” you could tell he was barely restraining the urge to roll his eyes “You’re probably the only person he cares about”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you felt your face grow warm. You took a deep breath to calm down and raised a fist to rap on the door. At first, there was nothing. The panic kept rising.

“Neil, it’s me” you leaned your head against the door “I’m sorry…” with tears streaming down your cheeks, you tried to find the right words “Please let me in. I just want to see you…” you glanced at Ives who looked almost uncomfortable.

Suddenly you heard faint sounds coming from the room. Rustling, the unmistakable clang of an empty glass bottle hitting the floor and the footsteps stopping just by the door.

“Please go” you mouthed at Ives, who only nodded and rushed down the corridor.

You took a step back and waited, with the heart in your throat. After agonising few seconds, the lock clicked, and the door opened. Nothing prepared you for the sight you saw.

Neil’s hair was sticking out in every direction. His eyes were red-rimmed and paired with dark shadows underneath. He still wore the clothes you saw him in the day before. But probably the worst was how obviously drunk he was, barely able to stay upright by the door. When his unfocused eyes landed on you, he attempted a smile. It ended up looking like a tragic scowl. He opened the door wider for you and went back inside. You took a second to gather your thoughts and followed him, shutting the door behind you.

Once inside, you took the time to scan the room and analyse the situation. Neil sat down on the edge of the bed, which was entirely unmade. The floor was covered in random bits of paper he must have tossed from the table. You counted at least two empty bottles of alcohol lying amidst the mess as well. Taking a deep breath, you faced Neil. He was looking at you, but his eyes lacked their usual spark.

“I’m sorry” he breathed out, and your eyes widened.

“What for?” you were not expecting that.

“They sent you to get me sorted” you did not like the dark look in his eyes “That can’t be an ideal job. Even for you”

“Neil” the stern tone made him focus on your words “I’m not here because they asked me to come. I’m here for you” you took a step closer and knelt to be levelled with him “I was worried” you admitted finally.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” his slightly slurred rambling made you even more acutely aware of his state.

“No, don’t apologise” you interrupted him; TP’s text message fresh on your mind “None of this is your fault. And my job here is to make sure you understand that” gently, you reached out to brush the hair away from his eyes.

You did not know whether it was what you said or what you did, but at that moment, he seemed to break. Before you could react, he slid down onto the floor and started crying with heart-wrenching sobs. It took you a second to change position and put your arms around him. He leaned into the embrace.

“He’s gone” he choked out after a few seconds of silence.

“I know” you run a hand along his back in a soothing motion “But you don’t have to tell me more. It’s alright, I’m here” you whispered, feeling him shake.

At that, he just started sobbing more violently. You could only sit there, holding him and letting your own tears fall silently. You will be okay someday. You hoped.

[hyucks-archive]

perhaps; maybe.

word count: 9,765

genre: romance, angst

member(s): mark, featuring donghyuck, jeno, and the other dreamies

warning(s): none!

author’s note: this actually started out as a fluff fic but i guess i haven’t gotten over angst yet

Mark watches the students stroll into the lecture hall one by one, the conversation that his friends are having slowly dwindling into background noise. Mark props an arm on the table, resting his chin in his palm, noticing how majority of the students have their earbuds plugged in, a coffee or tea in hand. He too, grew up hearing the anecdotes of how college life is always lonely and independent, and that most would hang around campus without friends. It’s different for Mark, though. He’s lucky enough to be taking the same degree as some of his friends. He’s even luckier that all of his friend group belong to this university.

When the twelfth student walks in, he notices how the aura that surrounds this person is significantly different from the rest. Cladded in a full black outfit, Mark notices how unlike the others, you don’t have music playing in your ears, neither do you have a cup of beverage in hand. In fact, it doesn’t even look like you have anything in the tote you have slung on your shoulder. Mark watches as you take a seat by the left aisle, two rows in front of the row he’s situated in.

“What are you staring at?” Jeno interrupts, leaning shoulder-to-shoulder with Mark. He follows in the direction Mark’s eyes are looking in, to be greeted by your unwelcoming back. “Why are you staring at that kid?” Jeno questions. Mark shrugs. Mark remembers seeing you around campus numerous times, even more frequently in lectures, and consistently in that one tutorial class the two of you have in common. He has always noticed something different about you; maybe it’s your aura, or maybe it’s just Mark being the curious boy he is. The common baseline is that you intrigue him, and you somehow always manage to catch his attention, whether you know it or not.

“Are you guys staring at 06?” Donghyuck chimes in, resting his arm on Jeno’s shoulder. The three boys are now collectively staring at the big ‘0’ and ‘6’ printed on the back of your letterman jacket, that clearly does not categorise you into any athletic club, neither is it merchandise from the university. “Do you guys know 06?” Mark questions, turning to face his two friends. Jeno shakes his head, while Donghyuck is more than eager to share. “I hear 06’s really chill. Doesn’t ‘do’ friends,” he says, using his fingers to make inverted commas at the word ‘do’, “Doesn’t really care for school either. 06 kind of just,” Donghyuck takes a pause, trying to think of the right word. He settles for, “Exists.”

Mark and Jeno nod their heads in understanding. Mark resettles his gaze on the back of your head. Jeno nudges him, “You interested in 06 or something?”

Mark recalls the one time he’s ever heard you speak. It was during a tutorial, where you were pinpointed to answer. He had never thought much of you before that, simply falling into the assumption that you are one of the introverted kids who prefers to keep to themselves. But the way you stood up confidently, and the way your booming voice captured the entire class, painted you in a completely different light compared to what Mark had imagined. He had always thought that you’d have a soft, timid voice, afraid to make a mistake, like most of the other quiet kids. But when he saw the way you answered the professor’s question without any doubt or fear of being wrong, he realised you were different.

He takes a moment to ponder upon Jeno’s question. “06 is,” Mark pauses, pursing his lips, “Interesting.”

Donghyuck scans the café, finally spotting Renjun, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung by the large glass panel. “Over there,” he says, leading the way. Mark and Jeno follow behind, exchanging smiles and small waves with their friends. “You guys already ordered?” Donghyuck says, reaching for Renjun’s fork. Renjun slaps the boy’s hand away, “Get your own cake,” he chimes. Donghyuck mimics him in an annoyingly high tone, switching targets. He’s now going for Chenle’s cake. Chenle lets him eat it.

“I’ll order,” Mark offers, “What do you guys want?” he asks, directing his question at Donghyuck and Jeno. “I’ll have my usual,” Jeno says, to which Mark nods his head. Donghyuck looks past Mark’s shoulders, trying to get a view of the menu, but something else catches his eye instead. It’s the very familiar back view with the big ‘06’ printed on that he had discussed with his friends about earlier. “Hey, it’s 06 again,” Donghyuck comments, gesturing in your direction with his chin.

“06?” Renjun murmurs, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks in the direction where Donghyuck had guided towards. He squints his eyes, finding the face of the owner of the letterman jacket to be fairly familiar. When he realises it’s you, he snaps his fingers, “Ah, I know 06,” Renjun exclaims. Mark’s interest is immediately piqued. He turns to look at Renjun, “You know 06?”

“Yeah, 06’s in my ethics class,” he says.

“Is it true? 06 is really chill and doesn’t have any friends?” Jeno asks.

“06 is probably the most carefree person I’ve ever met,” Renjun describes, “Doesn’t care what people think. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve even seen 06 smile.” Renjun thinks back to the many times he has seen you in class. You always donned the same blank expression, even when the class would erupt in laughter at the lecturer’s or the students’ jokes. He had wondered for a brief moment if you simply weren’t paying attention, but when you had shared your opinion that made everyone cackle in their seats, you remained neutral with your poker face.

The topic is dropped when Chenle begins to talk about an incident that happened in class today. Mark heads to join the queue to order. He happens to be standing behind you.

Though there is a good amount of distance between the two of you, Mark is still able to pick up the subtle scent of clean linen that diffuses from you. It’s extremely pleasant and welcoming, a contrast from your cold and unamiable aura. Mark watches as you reach into your tote bag, aggressively digging around for something. He isn’t able to see your expression, for your back is still turned against him. He however, manages to catch the, “Shit,” that escapes from your mouth.

You furrow your eyebrows, flipping the minimal items you have in your tote bag around, desperate to find your card or some loose change. In your rush this morning, you had forgotten your wallet on the dining table back home. You groan, running a frustrated hand through your hair. You sigh, about to leave the line, when a low voice speaks from behind, “Do you need help?” You jump at the suddenness, turning around to look up to be greeted by a black-haired boy who has on an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. You notice how defined his cheekbones are, how his cheeks sink in slightly with his smile. You aren’t sure if you’re just seeing things, but you swear you noticed for a second that his eyes were twinkling.

Realising that you’ve been staring for a tad bit too long, you immediately avoid eye contact, snapping back to your senses. You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you say, taking the first step to move out of the line. The boy stops you, “You’re not ordering anymore?” he asks. This time, you notice how his brows are raised, a tiny mole on his left cheek, his lips seemingly forming a ‘o’. Usually, you’d just walk away murmuring your answer, but this boy seemed genuinely too nice for you to just ignore.

“I uh,” you bite down on your lower lip, “Forgot my wallet.”

You were expecting the conversation to end, but the boy only giggles at your issue. He tilts his head to the side a little, “I’ll pay,” he says. From the sincere smile that he’s giving you, you can tell that he means what he said. But, you still shake your head, refusing to be indebted to some stranger you happened to meet on campus. You’d have no way of repaying him, aside from deliberately meeting up with him; another thing you didn’t want, the risk of becoming personally acquainted to someone.

“Too late,” he says, giving you a light shove, “It’s your turn to order.”

You’re unable to register the situation fully, the barista greeting you with a polite smile. “What would you like?” he asks, ready to key in your order. “Oh,” you manage out, only collecting your thoughts now. “I’ll just get a chai tea to-go, please,” you say. The boy behind you takes a step forward, his shoulder brushing against yours, beginning to place his order. You take a few steps to the side due to the physical contact. Luckily, you’re able to just disguise it as moving aside to wait for your order, since there was no need for you to remain at the cashier.

When he has completed the payment, he walks over to join you.

“I’ll pay you back,” you say. “Sure,” his smile still plastered on his face, “You can just look for me in class.”

You stop for a moment, eyes shifting about as you try to dig into the deep depths of your memory. You don’t remember having seen him before. Granted, you honestly don’t even remember a single face of anyone in any of your classes.

“We take the same class?” you ask. Mark thinks you’re joking, so he laughs. But when he sees the slightly raised brow, genuine confusion in your face, he realises you’re being serious, that you’ve never noticed him before. It leaves a slightly sour taste in his mouth, but he manages to maintain a smile. “You’re in all of my lectures,” he says, “And one tutorial.”

You nod your head. That makes things a lot less of a headache for you. “I’ll pay you tomorrow, then,” you say. Mark nods his head in acknowledgement, reaching a hand out, “I’m Mark,” he introduces. You stare at his extended hand for a moment – you’ve never encountered a situation where you’re basically forced to return the introduction. You know it would come off as rude if you choose to not shake his hand, but you’re not one to care for others’ opinions. Life wouldn’t be fun if you wasted it worrying about how your every little action would frame the opinion of someone else. Not that life is fun for you, anyway.

That is why you simply look away from Mark’s hand, towards the collection counter. Mark stares at your side profile, unsure of what your actions mean. Usually, the other party would get the message that you don’t want to exchange names, but this boy, Mark, is different. He’s persistent, tilting his body in the direction of your line of vision, “Um, hello?” he says.

You turn to look at him. “I don’t do friends,” you state.

Mark recalls the conversation with Jeno and Donghyuck pre-lecture, where Donghyuck had shared about how you don’t ‘do’ friends. He had assumed it meant something different, but he realises now that it means you don’t make friends with people. He huffs out a smile at the thought; his interest in you seems to only grow as the interaction goes on. You’re different, just as he expected.

Before he’s able to say anything more, the buzzer in his hand lights up, vibrating as an indication that his order is ready. He walks towards the collection counter, and you follow behind. Because of the amount of drinks and plates of food he had ordered, his order was separated into two trays. You look at the trays for a moment – are you feeling nice enough to offer a helping hand? Technically, he can just make two trips.

“Here,” Mark says, holding out your cup of tea that he had already slipped on the sleeve for. Maybe it’s because you realised, he isn’t even going to ask you for your help, or it’s because Mark’s smile makes you want to do something nice, so you offered. “I’ll help you with that,” you say, taking the drink from him, placing it back down on the tray. You lift the tray up, “Where’s your table?”

Mark picks up the other tray, leading the way to the boys. Chenle is the first to notice Mark approaching, and he’s quick to notify the rest of the person following behind Mark. By the time you had arrived at the table, their stares are boring into you. Mark coughs awkwardly, trying to signal at them to stop staring, but his friends don’t seem to get it.

“Hey, 06,” one of them calls. ‘06’; the nickname you somehow go by on campus, just because of the jacket you always have on. You look in the direction of the voice, to be greeted by a somewhat familiar face. You remember him, only because he’s one of the only students from your ethics class who dares to have an opinion on things. You liked his gusto. “Hi,” you say.

You hold up your cup of chai tea by its sleeve, giving a slight tilt of the head at Mark, before turning around to take your leave.

“Damn, Mark, you work fast,” Jeno teases, taking his plate of food over to his side of the table. Mark rolls his eyes, explaining briefly that he simply paid for your drink because you forgot to bring your wallet. Luckily for him, his friends lose interest in topics as quickly as they get interested in them. Everyone is now listening to Jaemin rambling on about how the lecturer in his class is the most unreasonable man he’s ever met in his “many” years of living.

Mark is half-focused on the conversation, but the other half of his mind is occupied by the image of you.

Perhaps it’s the way that you managed to maintain a blank expression without smiling even once, during the entire interaction, or it’s the way you didn’t hesitate to leave without looking back. It could even be the way you’re so nonchalant about everything. Either way, Mark has come to realise one thing.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you.

You run a hand through your hair, exiting the lift. You reach into your bag, pulling out the exact amount of change for the chai tea from yesterday. Entering the lecture hall, you skim through the vicinity, spotting Mark by the middle row. He’s staring up at his purple-haired friend in awe, laughing while hitting the brown-haired boy next to him. Despite the round-frame glasses he has on today, you’re sure that this time, you definitely saw the sparkle in his eyes.

You make your way up to Mark, standing a distance away, behind the purple-haired boy who stands in the way in getting to Mark. You lean to the left a little, waiting for Mark to catch your eye. He doesn’t, but his brown-haired friend notices you, and he’s quick to gesture the black-haired boy towards you. Mark’s smile widens when he makes eye contact with you. He stands up, brushing past the purple-haired boy, towards you. You can’t help but be conscious of the slight tugging at the ends of your lips. You manage to supress it, but it’s undeniable that you just felt the minor urge to smile.

“Hey,” he greets. You hold out the money, “Thanks,” you say. Mark’s fingertips brushes against your palm as he takes the money from you. You turn, about to walk to a different row, but you’re stopped by the slight tugging at your sleeve. You look down, to see two fingers pinching at the end of your sleeve. Your eyes travel up the arm, past the neck, to the eyes of Mark, who is holding on to your sleeve.

“Sit with us,” he says. Mark isn’t sure if the reason he’s offering is because you’re always sitting alone during lectures, or it’s because he wants to be able to prolong the time he’s able to spend with you, without looking like some creep. Either way, he’s anticipating your answer.

Your eyes travel back down to Mark’s two fingers that are still holding on to your sleeve. Mark is lucky he didn’t grab your wrist, because you would’ve shrugged it off so harshly, that it’d probably ruin any chances of him ever wanting to reconcile with you. You’re not sure if Mark grabbed your sleeve with the knowledge of how much you hate physical contact, or if Mark is just so considerate to the point where he won’t lay a finger on someone he doesn’t really know. But the fact that he’s respectful enough to not touch you is the only factor that makes you say, “Okay.”

Mark shifts his things over to the seat next to you. “By the way,” he says, waiting for you to look up. “This is Donghyuck and Jeno,” he introduces, gesturing towards the purple-haired boy then the brown-haired boy. Jeno smiles sweetly, while Donghyuck simply gives a nonchalant bow, before sliding into his seat. They don’t ask for your name. You wonder if Mark had told them not to; maybe your encounter with Mark yesterday had sparked an entire discussion about you. You’re usually not one to care for these things, but you aren’t able to stop the constant thought about the fact that if they did indeed discuss about you, what did Mark have to say?

“Where’s your laptop?” Mark asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. “I don’t bring one,” you reply. You expect his next question, so you explain before he even asks, “I don’t see a need for it.” Mark nods his head, but you’re positive he doesn’t understand why you feel that there’s no need for a laptop.

The lecturer begins at that point, so the two of you turn to focus your attention on the lecture.

“Alright, remember that we’ll be needing your textbook for the next lecture,” the lecturer announces, disconnecting his laptop from the visualiser. The lecture hall is filled with groans and yawns, some students who are quick to leave, while others stay behind to exchange small talk with their peers.

You sling your tote bag over your shoulder, standing up from your seat. Mark notices this, but he’s quick to react. “Hey,” he calls. You turn your head, looking down at the boy. You want to know the reason behind how Mark is always able to keep that same bright smile on his face. Come to think of it, you don’t remember seeing him with a serious expression at all. You continue to stare, waiting for Mark to continue his sentence.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?”

You don’t even spare a moment to hesitate. “No,” you reply.

“You should join us for lunch, 06. We don’t bite,” Jeno adds on. His eyes form pretty crescents when he smiles. You’re about to reject their offer, but Donghyuck cuts in, “I’ll bite. Why should we have lunch with 06?” He doesn’t spare you a glance, but you can tell from his expression, that he’s not your biggest fan. You see Jeno nudging the boy with his elbow, and Mark shooting a look of disapproval. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to let this Donghyuck kid have his way, but you find yourself agreeing to their offer before you’re even able to think twice. “I’m down for lunch,” you say. You’re too busy eyeing Donghyuck’s expression of displeasure to notice Mark’s perked up smile at your agreement.

Jeno and Donghyuck lead the way, while Mark follows your pace as you stroll along behind them. Mark is trying to dig through his brain for a topic to talk to you about. He sneaks a glance at you, your blank expression unreadable.

“Does having lunch with us make you feel uncomfortable?” Mark finally speaks up, turning his head to look at you. You’re quiet for a moment. Usually, the answer ‘yes’ would roll of your tongue without any conscious effort required. “A little,” is what you settle for. Mark nods his head, “I assure you my friends are all nice people,” he says, a small laugh decorating the end of his sentence. You nod your head, biting down on your bottom lip.

Soon enough, Jeno spots the other half of the group already seated in the café. You drag your feet behind the three boys, the stares from the rest evident.

“06 is joining us for lunch,” Jeno informs. Mark gestures you to take a seat by the far left of the table. Donghyuck claims the seat opposite to yours. “We can take turns?” Mark suggests, to which you give a nod of acknowledgement. Mark, Jeno, and two of the other boys head to get their food first. In the meantime, you’re left sitting in an extremely awkward silence. Donghyuck, who had his arms folded, back leaned against his chair, shifts his body to rest his folded arms on the table instead. He looks at you, stare cold and unpleasant. You furrow your brows. “What?” you say.

“Stay away from Mark.”

Your expression hardens further. “What are you talking about?”

“Mark isn’t like you. Stay away,” Donghyuck has a brow raised, his glare menacing. You’re unsure of what you could’ve possibly done to offend the boy to this extent, but you’re not interested enough to ask. You’re robbed of the chance to anyway, when Renjun decides to add himself to the conversation. He throws an arm around Donghyuck, a smile on his lips as he asks, “What’s got the two of you so serious?” Donghyuck shrugs, not forgetting to give you one more glare, almost as though it were a form of warning. You scoff, rolling your eyes as you look away from the two boys who are sitting opposite to you.

You can feel the familiar discomfort in your abdomen. Your hand instinctively finds its way to place pressure on the hurting area, the beads of cold sweat beginning to form. You can already feel your lips becoming drier with every passing second.

You decide there’s nothing worth staying for. If you’re not welcome, you’re not going to force your presence unto people. So you grab your bag, stand up, and begin to walk away from the table. You ignore Renjun’s call for you.

“What the heck did you say to 06?” Renjun hisses, shoving Donghyuck by the arm. “I only said what I needed to say,” the purple-haired boy murmurs in reply. Mark arrives back at the table first, placing his tray of food down. “Where’s 06?” he asks, looking at the empty chair that you once occupied. “Donghyuck said something that probably pissed 06 off,” Renjun tattles, shooting a glare in said boy’s direction. Mark looks to Donghyuck for an explanation, a brow raised questioningly.

Donghyuck shrugs the attention off, “Not my fault 06 can’t take honesty.”

You drop the bottle of painkillers into your bag. You comb your fingers through your hair, the perspiration from earlier causing the strands to cling together. You let out a small breath; at least the torment is over, for now.

You fixate your eyes on the floor, watching as your feet take turns to invade the little space your eyes can capture. You shove your free hand into the pocket of your letterman jacket, a cup of chai tea in your other hand. You replay the words Donghyuck had said to you earlier. Stay away from Mark, he said. Why? You never approached Mark to begin with. Yeah, you’re unfriendly and borderline rude but you’ve never done anything that would warrant an outright warning to keep away from someone. Mark isn’t like you, he said. What’s that supposed to mean? That Mark is the personification of rainbows and galaxies but you’re the personification of dirt and dark alleys?

You don’t understand what Donghyuck has against you. You scoff at the thought of the whole situation – good golly, you didn’t even know of Mark’s existence until he approached you in the café a day ago. Yet suddenly, you’re the biggest threat to Mark, in Donghyuck’s narrative.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you jump at the sudden tap on your shoulder, whipping your entire body around so fast that you collide with the being behind you, your chai tea staining his shirt. “I’m so sorry,” you gasp, tugging on the sleeve of your jacket to grab it in your palm, using the cloth to dab at the stains your tea has caused. The being giggles. Your brows furrow instantly; it’s a giggle you’re somewhat familiar with.

You look up to meet eyes with the owner of the giggle, Mark. He stares down at you, noticing the remnants of the ordeal you had been through – the greasy hair, the pale, almost chapped lips, the tired look in your eyes. He doesn’t think much of it, his smile maintaining its charm. “What are you doing here?” you question. Mark points at the building behind you, “I’m running some errands. What are you doing here? You left without saying anything earlier I didn’t expect to still see you around campus,” he beams. Your eyes travel back down, realising now that you still held the hem of his shirt in your hand. You let go, standing upright.

“I just didn’t feel like staying there,” you say. Mark doesn’t probe any further; he has an inkling that Donghyuck must’ve said something offensive. “Do you live on campus?” you ask, eyeing the very obvious chai tea stain on Mark’s shirt. “I don’t. Why?”

“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll run back to the dorms to get a shirt for you.”

Mark’s smile widens. “That’ll be nice.”

After a short ten-minute walk, you push open the door to your single-room dormitory, also known as your safe space. In your time living here, you’ve never had anyone over. You don’t consider Mark the first, because you never really intended for him to enter your room. He just followed behind and stepped in himself, no invite whatsoever. You’re not really affected by it, retrieving an oversized t-shirt from your wardrobe the only concern in mind.

Mark looks around the small studio apartment, taking in how minimalistic the entire setting is. He realises you don’t even have any photos, memories, or decorations hanging on the wall. Everything is clean and neatly placed, your belongings categorised into the practical and the necessities. He looks over towards you, your head buried under the shirts and jackets you have hanging on the rod. His eyebrows raise in interest when he notices that by the left corner of the wardrobe, hangs another two letterman jackets identical to the one you have on. They all have the big ‘06’ imprinted on the back.

“Here,” you say, holding out a plain black oversized shirt. Mark takes it from you, commenting, “I didn’t know you had three of those,” he gestures to the letterman jacket that you’re semi-drowning in. You slide the door of your wardrobe close, “I have to have a replacement when one of them is in the wash.”

“Is there some meaning behind 6?”

You look into Mark’s eyes. The two of you share a moment. It’s the first time someone has asked about the meaning behind ‘06’. Maybe it’s because nobody else ever had the chance to, but even if they did, they’d probably just be asking for the fun of it. Every time Mark asks you something, you can tell from his gaze that he genuinely wants to know the answer. He genuinely listens to your replies, regardless of how insignificant or dismissive they may be. Maybe it’s because Mark is the first person in a long time that has ever showed even a minute sign of interest in you, but you find yourself satisfying his curiosity.

“There are many meanings to the number 6. The meaning I relate it to is the need to find ways to move past feelings of fear and anxiety, to manifest what I want.”

It’s Mark’s turn to be silent. He looks at you, your expression as blank as it has always been, your eyes shifting around from the awkwardness of the prolonged eye contact. He didn’t expect that answer. People usually either used their birthdates or their favourite number as their ‘representative’ number. You’re the first person to give him an actual meaning behind the decision you made.

“You’re really different,” Mark says, voice almost coming out as a whisper.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’ve never been complimented like that before. Heck, you don’t even know if it’s a compliment. But you’re unable to deny the heat that rushes to your face, the warmth that spreads throughout your body. You don’t know if Mark notices. You don’t know if Mark can tell. But when you see his eyes flicker to level with your cheeks, the heat that overwhelms you only intensifies.

Mark’s never been this bold before. He has never been this straightforward with anyone. When you don’t answer, he panics a little, but then he notices the rose pink that decorates your cheeks. Did he, perhaps, make you blush? Is this his first time witnessing something different from your signature blank expression?

“You should go change,” you blurt, averting the topic. You point towards the bathroom, “Over there.”

Mark nods his head, turning around, closing the bathroom door after he enters. You let out a huge breath, pursing your lips. First, he’s the cause of the urge to smile. Second, his words make you blush. Third – you place a hand against your chest, feeling for your heartbeat. Mark makes your heart thump.

You want to be around Mark.

Mark comes out of the bathroom, your oversized shirt decently fitting on him. He smiles, “Thank you,” he says. “I’m really sorry about that,” you say, pointing towards his chai tea-stained shirt. Mark shakes his head, “No big deal. I’ll see you around?”

You nod your head.

“See you around.”

It’s been four days since you’ve last seen Mark. The interval made you realise that your once empty mind is now filled with hints of Mark. His endearing smile would pop up in your mind every once in a while, and his childlike giggles would ring in your ears from time to time. Mark is the warm presence in your otherwise cold world.

You’re preoccupied with your thoughts when there’s a knock on the door. You glance at the clock – 5PM on a Sunday afternoon, and you’re not expecting any guests. You sigh, slipping on an oversized hoodie to cover up your worn-out t-shirt. Running your sleeved-palm over your face, you reach for the door handle, pushing it downwards,

Mark waits patiently for you to answer the door, the t-shirt you had lent him neatly folded in his hands. When you pull the door open, the wind from the swift motion causes your baby hairs to dance along with the wind, tickling the sides of your face. Mark feels his heart skip a beat, the moment playing out in half the time of its actual speed. He swallows.

You look up to meet eyes with Mark. Your brows raise momentarily,

“Sorry,” he begins, “For showing up unexpectedly. I just came by to return this,” he holds out your shirt. You look down at the article of clothing, taking it from his hands, nodding your head in understanding. “Thanks,” you say, reaching to lay the shirt on the table. You look towards Mark once more. “Anything else?” you question, seeing that he’s still standing in the corridor.

Mark looks down at his converse. He contemplates if he should do what he actually came here for. Jeno’s voice replays in his head – just man up and ask 06 to join us. Donghyuck needs to apologise for saying things he shouldn’t have said the other day anyway. Though Mark and the rest of the boys are still unaware of what exactly Donghyuck had said, he agrees with Jeno’s sentiments.

“Actually,” he pauses, biting down on his lower lip. There it is again; the feeling of the two ends of your lips being tugged upwards. You blink multiple times – did you just think Mark is… cute? You almost miss his next sentence, “Do you want to go to the roller rink with the guys?” he ends with a shy smile, his fingers automatically clasping together due to the nerves. He looks at you, patiently waiting for your answer.

Usually, the answer ‘no’ would have escaped your lips before you can even think twice. But at this very moment, you’re standing opposite Mark, looking into his eyes, hesitating. It feels as though you’re beginning to lose the composure you’ve spent your entire life building. The rational ways you’d utilise to stay away from people, they’re starting to become blurry, just because of the boy who stands before you.

The fine line you’ve drawn to divide yourself from the rest of the world has become blurry ever since Mark’s appearance.

To move past the fear and anxiety that comes with building a relationship, in order to manifest the friendship that you seek.

You nod your head. “Sounds cool.”

So you find yourself trailing behind Mark at 5:37PM in the afternoon, eyes roaming around the vicinity in curiosity, taking in the very unfamiliar, loud, neon-filled surrounding. You’ve never been to any place of entertainment before, let alone a roller rink that majority of the population have never even been near. In some way, you guys are lucky enough to be schooling in this area – the roller rink is a ’90s themed hangout spot, with a jukebox that’s unique to every table, in comparison to the central speaker system used in all other modern buildings. A small smile creeps its way up your lips; you’re in a trance from the vibes of the place.

If there’s anything you love in this world, it’s nostalgia. Every movie you’ve ever liked, every series you’ve ever binged, they all screamed the ’90s. You’re extra sold by the fact that the different jukeboxes are rolling tunes from Destiny’s Child, Backstreet Boys, Guns N’ Roses, instead of the 21st century pop or rap that would be blasting in any other joint. Your smile widens, but you don’t even realise it. You’re finding more joy in this dated roller rink than you’ve ever felt anywhere else.

Mark turns around to tell you something. Instead, he stops in his tracks, the smile that spreads across your lips stunning him. The way your eyes light up, complementing your smile, and the way the apples of your cheeks are dabbed in a light scarlet; you’ve never looked more ravishing than you do in this very moment. Mark isn’t sure what’s the reason behind your smile, but he’s glad he managed to capture the moment first-hand.

You’re too busy basking in the glory of the vibes of the place that you don’t realise Mark has stopped walking. You almost bump into him, but you managed to stop in time. You’re now standing a small distance in front of Mark, who’s just staring at you. You don’t realise why, until your cheek muscles provide you with the answer. You let out a small gasp, your smile vanishing instantly. You cough, pursing your lips.

“What?” you say, shamelessly.

Mark doesn’t push for anything. He simply widens his smile, “They’re over there,” he says, pointing to the booth that’s hidden in the corner. You nod your head, gesturing for Mark to continue leading the way, while you followed behind. You mentally slap yourself – you’ve revealed way too many sides of yourself to Mark, that’s telling of who you truly are as a person, and not who you want people to think you are. You shake your head; maybe Mark hasn’t caught on. Maybe Mark just thinks you’re a looney ball. There’s a high possibility of that.

“06!” the blue-haired boy calls, a bright smile accompanying his greeting. “I’m Jaemin,” he says, “Didn’t get to introduce myself the other time, before you left.” You nod your head in acknowledgement.

“I’m Chenle,” the other black-haired, fair skinned one waves. “Jisung,” the brown-haired, coupled with lighter brown highlights, introduces. You nod your head at both of them; you can tell those two can’t be bothered about you. They’re too engrossed in whatever game they’re playing on their handphones.

“Hey, 06,” Jeno greets, as you claim the seat beside him. Donghyuck just shoots you a look, before averting his attention back to the conversation he was having with Renjun. “I’m glad you came,” Jeno continues. “Why’d you leave so quick the other day?”

“No reason,” you reply.

Jeno simply purses his lips, nodding his head. You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but you’re appreciative that he doesn’t probe. Instead, Jeno calls over the table, “Let’s go rollerblade,” to the rest of the boys. Jisung and Chenle are practically dragged away from their phones by Jaemin, while Donghyuck is forced to remain in his seat by Renjun, who runs after the rest. Mark sends you a small smile, “You can just find us later,” he says, before following after the rest of the boys, leaving you and Donghyuck at the booth. You’re only catching on now that you were invited with a motive.

“They’re expecting me to apologise,” Donghyuck states, breaking the silence. You look towards him, his stare still as unwelcoming as it was four days ago. “But I’m not going to.”

You let out a breath of disbelief, furrowing one brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever offended you,” you say.

“You haven’t. But I can see through you,” he says, leaning his body forward tauntingly. He raises a brow, the side of his lip twitching, “You’re not serious about Mark.”

You roll your eyes. You mirror his position, resting your folded arms atop the table. “I’m not even interested in Mark.”

“You’re already starting to be interested,” he says, hitting the exact spot. He isn’t wrong. “And it’s only going to go downhill from here. Leave while you still can.” You can’t tell if Donghyuck is just being a protective friend, or if he just hates you for no apparent reason. You just want to know why he’s so adamant about the fact that your relationship with Mark will never work out. As though he’s able to read your mind, he answers that very question.

“Commitment doesn’t exist in your dictionary,” he states.

He’s right. Commitment doesn’t and cannot exist in your world. Your mouth is left open, but you’re not able to say anything in return. You bite down on your lower lip; Donghyuck is right. It hadn’t occurred to you before, but it’s clearly evident now. If you were to continue letting whatever you have with Mark develop, and for some reason, Mark sees things in a romantic light, he’s going to end up hurt. You’ve never really considered it from Mark’s perspective. While you’re trying to take everything as a platonic somewhat friendship, he might not hold the same viewpoint. For goodness sake, you’ve already began to see Mark romantically. You don’t know what’s on his mind.

“I’m going to go rollerblade,” you murmur, sliding yourself off the seat, out of the booth. You walk towards the rental booth, retrieving a pair of rollerblades. As you remove your sneakers to change into the rollerblades, Donghyuck’s words keep ringing in your head. It’s only going to go downhill from here, he said. You let out a hesitant breath – how would he know, right…?

You tighten the lace of the rollerblade, getting up, heading into the rink through the small opening. With your eyes fixed on the floor, you lunge yourself forward, Donghyuck’s words still replaying in your mind like a mantra. It’s only going to go downhill from here, he said.

The pain is here again. It’s intense. You furrow your brows and purse your lips, letting out a restrained gasp, your hand clutching onto your abdomen. You’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice the human-sized advertisement board that’s stationed in the middle of the rink. You’re not sure what happened, but the last thing you remember, is Jeno’s loud call for you, and Donghyuck’s words that keep haunting you – it’s only going to go downhill from here. You’ve blacked out.

Renjun is the first to arrive by your side, holding you up by your head. “What are we going to do?” Jisung panics, eyes fixated on the large cut on your forehead. “Go get the first aid kit,” Renjun calmly instructs. Jisung hurries to the front desk, while Mark removes his rollerblades in a hurry. “We have to get 06 out of here.” Mark lifts your body up bridal style, the rest of the boys surrounding him to ensure that the other people in the rink are kept at a distance.

Jeno holds the door open, while Mark enters, making his way to your bed. He waits as Jeno rushes over, pulling the comforter off the bed. Mark lays you down. “I’m going to go make sure we don’t get a ticket for the illegal parking,” Jeno says, handing Mark the key card to your dorm. Mark nods his head, “I’ll be down in a moment.”

Mark walks over to the bathroom, in search for a face towel. He finds one, turns on the tap, drenches it with water, turns off the tap, and wrings it, before making his way back to your sleeping figure. He folds the towel into a quarter, lightly dabbing at your face to get rid of the oils. When he’s done, he washes the towel out, hanging it by the drying rack. Mark notices you don’t have a humidifier in your room. He looks over at the kitchen. He pulls out the first drawer, hoping to find a glass, but instead, he finds a stash of photos you had chucked into the drawer.

He remembers how the first thing he noticed when he first came, was the fact that you didn’t have anything of sentimental value on display. He had thought you just simply didn’t care for it, but he realises now you do own things of sentimental value. You just didn’t have them on show. He skims through the stash – he realises how much you’ve changed physically; your body has significantly shrunk in comparison to before. He also realises you’ve done many things in your life. Your life seems even more carefree than you let on. He smiles.

Mark lays the glass of water he had filled by your bedside table. Grabbing the ends of the comforter, he brings it over your body, beginning to tuck you in. He notices your left hand peeking out of the comforter, so he holds it gently, placing it under the comforter. When he tries to pull away, he notices the sudden grip on his hand. He looks at your face; you’re still knocked out from the accident. Your slightly scrunched up facial features seem to indicate that you’re in discomfort.

“Are you awake?” he whispers. There’s no reply. He loosens up – he thinks he’s just misinterpreting your expression.

Mark takes the opportunity to stare at you a little longer. The soft breaths you let out the cutest thing he’s ever witnessed. The image of your smile flashes in Mark’s mind; he doesn’t understand why you don’t allow yourself to smile more often. Slowly, your grip on his hand loosens. Mark will remember your warm touch, even if you don’t remember his.

“Goodnight, 06,” he says, taking in your entirety one last time, before taking his leave.

You turn your head to the right, vision still blurry from both the fall and the excruciating pain in your abdomen. The tension in your body relaxes ever so slightly when you note that Mark only opened the first drawer. If he had gone on to the next, he would’ve discovered the one thing you’d never want him to know.

You wanted to finally be able to muster up the courage to ask Mark to stay. Maybe if he were by your side, things would be easier. But Mark doesn’t deserve such torment.

That night, as Mark tosses and turns in bed, he just can’t seem to rid the image of your smile off his head. He smiles, stuffing his face into his pillow. He can’t believe he’s fussing over something as simple as your smile. Perhaps Mark has delved deeper into your charms than he’s conscious of.

He’s just glad he has the next excuse to meet you again – the injury on your head.

Another three days have gone by since the roller rink incident. It’s to your luck that there weren’t any classes for the past three days, because the episodes were getting more frequent. It also gave you some time to heal the big fat scar on your forehead. You decide that it looks safe enough to just be left bare without a band-aid to cover it. You honestly can’t be bothered if the sight of the red cut freaks other students out. The wound needs to breathe to leave.

You enter the lecture hall, already catching some unwanted attention. You ignore the stares, heading for your usual seat by the left aisle, away from the crowd. Three boys are already sitting there when you arrive. You raise a brow.

“Feeling better?” Jeno asks, eyes flickering to the cut on your forehead, before looking back down into your eyes. You nod your head. “Sorry. If we knew this would happen, we wouldn’t have asked you to the roller rink,” he says. You shrug, “I chose to rollerblade on my own,” you say. It isn’t anybody’s fault this happened. In fact, you’re kind of glad it happened. At least it meant that you didn’t have to go back to the booth to face Donghyuck’s scrutiny. Speaking of, the boy is just sitting there, staring at the front of the hall, completely disinterested in you.

“I’m going to sit elsewhere,” you say, taking the first ascending step. Mark wraps his fingers around your wrist, a loose hold keeping you in place. It’s not even surprising anymore that you don’t immediately shrug his grip off. Maybe a part of you is slowly getting used to Mark. Maybe a part of you is slowly coming to accept Mark as somebody that you want in your life. Maybe, just maybe, you think it’s worth risking the hurt that comes with relationships, if it means you can dwell in Mark’s presence for a little longer.

You turn to meet eyes with him. From his gaze, you already know he’s telling you to sit with them. Your eyes shift to glance at Donghyuck, who is glaring at you at this point. His glare is telling of how he wants you to reject Mark, to go sit somewhere else, to get off Mark’s case. You’re conflicted.

“I’ll see you later,” you say. Mark pauses for a moment, eventually letting go of your wrist.

You walk up, to a seat a few rows above them.

You remain in your seat as you watch the other students scurry out of the lecture theatre upon dismissal. Your eyes find its way to the back of a certain slightly curly, black-haired boy’s head. Your eyes shift to rest on the white bottle that has basically become your lifeline at this point. A bitter scoff escapes your lips as the words ring in your mind – things are not looking optimistic.

Maybe that is the only reason why you find yourself getting off your seat, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder, descending a few steps to arrive at Mark’s row. You wait by the aisle for him to notice you. He does this time, without Jeno’s help. He looks at you, smile immediately stretching across his lips. “I said I’d see you later,” you say. Mark’s smile widens a little at that. You ignore the dirty look from Donghyuck, and you’re no longer foreign to the soft stare from Jeno.

“Are you free right now?” you ask.

There’s a light bulb that’s suddenly illuminating in Mark’s heart. Perhaps it should be the other way around. Perhaps he should’ve been the one to ask, but he’d only have a 20 percent chance of being graced with the answer he longs for. But here you are, standing before him, the question rolling off your tongue so easily, with a 100 percent chance of being graced with the answer you want to hear. Mark doesn’t even need to think twice. He’s been waiting for this, and he’s excited. He’s getting the feeling of warmth spreading throughout his body. His smile only gets bigger as he replies, “What do you have in mind?”

In 15 minutes, the two of you are still within the vicinity of the campus, but in land that is foreign to Mark, yet it’s as close as a second home to you. Mark looks over the horizon, the view simply striking to him. He never knew that such a place, let alone such a view, was in reach in a matter of minutes. It’s probably because it’s in restricted premises, but you don’t tell him that. His goody-two-shoes nature would freak out. But that’s a part of Mark’s charm.

“Damn,” he gasps, taking in a breath, “This is amazing.”

For the first time ever, in front of someone that’s not your reflection in the mirror, you smile, willingly. The way the gentle breeze tickles your skin, the way the rustling of the leaves creates a pleasant melody, the way the view serves as the perfect panoramic shot in a romance movie. It’s all fantasy, and it’s all your imagination. But at least you’re sharing it with the one person you’ve somehow created a bond with. People might think it’s ridiculous, you’ve barely interacted with the boy for more than two weeks. But those people are the same people who don’t believe that feelings of attachment and liking comes quickly, and they’ll always get to you. You can’t stop falling. That’s the fatal part of attraction.

You turn to look at Mark. You openly stare at his side profile, taking in his entirety, memorising the sound of his giggles, the little nose scrunch when he laughs, and the way his eyes light up when he smiles. Who knows? This might be the last.

Mark turns to look at you. He gazes into your eyes. It’s so heart-stopping you feel your breath hitch in your throat. Your heart is fluttering at the eye contact. He’s smiling, and he’s smiling for you. Maybe he has been all this while. But now, you’re smiling, and you’re smiling for him. You wonder what he’s thinking about.

Mark stares at you. Mark watches your eyes light up with joy, but he doesn’t know what sparks it. Mark notices how you are finally able to freely give in to the urge of allowing the two ends of your lips to be tugged upwards; Mark takes note of the way your eyes form crescents, the way the pink in your cheeks become prominent under the sunlight. It is as though the entire scene is unravelling in front of him in slow motion. The scene that stars only you.

The both of you feel it – the attraction. You’re fully aware of the reality of the situation in this moment. Mark is the warmth you don’t deserve. You’re the cold that’s toxic to him. Maybe not now, but you’ll eventually be.

Mark isn’t sure what’s got him so confident. Perhaps it’s the way your smile seems to be giving him the consent he seeks, and perhaps it’s the fact that he’s only realising now how hard he has fallen for you. You’re like the soil; regardless of how much he has dug, he still has so much more to dig. He doesn’t know you fully yet, and he isn’t confident that he ever will. He knows he wants to.

You notice when Mark’s eyes drop to your lips. Your body tenses as he inches forward, bit by bit. You want him to close the gap. You want his lips to come into contact with yours. You want to feel Mark’s warmth. But you know it all too well – warm and cold don’t mix well. They’re not meant for each other. You’re not Mark’s fate.

You place your hand on his chest; he stops immediately, eyes snapping up to meet yours. Embarrassed, he immediately takes a step back, avoiding eye contact, tugging at the hem of his shirt, letting out an awkward cough. “I’m so sorry,” he says. He mentally berates himself. You reach out, interlocking your fingers with his. He looks back at you, eyebrows raised, mouth forming an ‘o’. You remember that face. You let out a chuckle. That might just be the most beautiful thing Mark has ever heard. He doesn’t tell you, though.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say. Mark lets out a sigh of relief, “Good, otherwise it will be really awkward.” You chuckle once more – gosh, he’s really cute.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out the film you had prepared with the intention of giving it to Mark. You hold it out, and he takes it, analysing the photo. “What’s this?” he mutters, taking a closer look. He realises it’s a photo of your letterman jacket, the iconic ‘06’ that everyone has learned to associate you with, in full view. He looks up to meet eyes with you, awaiting your explanation. You smile, averting your attention to the beautiful view.

“Just because,” you say. Mark doesn’t understand.

“Mark?” you call.

“Yeah?”

“We have the whole of next week off, right?” Mark hums in response.

“Let’s meet here in exactly one week,” you turn to look him in the eyes. Maybe then, we can have our first kiss.

Mark smiles.

“Okay.”

Mark taps his fingers on the grass. He’s been waiting for an hour, but there’s still no sight of you. He checks the time – 4PM. He decides that you’re probably held back by something, so he continues to wait, biting on the insides of his lips as he counts down the minutes.

Another two hours go by. Mark is now laying on the grass, staring up at the sun that is beginning to set. He’s not sure why you still haven’t shown. Mark wonders if you have forgotten your promise to meet here today. It’s been a week of absolutely no contact, after all. He decides that it’s unlikely that you’ve forgotten. He believes you’ll show, so he continues to wait.

Another hour goes by. The sky is almost dark now. Mark sighs. Did you change your mind? Mark stands up. Usually, he’s not one to confront. But Mark treasures this connection. Mark wants to make things work, even if it means having to take multiple steps forward, whenever you take one step backwards. Mark begins the trail to the campus dormitories. Even if you’ve changed your mind, he deserves to know.

Mark knocks on your door. He waits. There’s no reply.

Mark knocks again. Silence.

’06?” he calls, knocking once more.

Your neighbour peeks her head out. “Are you looking for the tenant?” she asks. Mark nods his head. “The tenant already moved out,” she says. “What?” was all that Mark manages out.

Mark’s heart begins to pick pace, but not in a good way. He rushes down to the front desk.

“Did the student who lives in room 612 move out?” he asks, panting to catch his breath. The front desk lady looks stunned for a moment, but doesn’t question Mark’s intentions. She types at her desktop, clicks a few times, before replying with, “Oh, this student,” she says, distinctly recalling the haste in your exit. “Moved out a few days ago. It was so sudden, didn’t even bother about the overpaid rent,” she comments. Mark’s brows knit at the revelation. “06 left?” he breathes.

While the rest of the boys were busily engaged in their small clusters of conversation, Donghyuck has his eyes fixed on Mark. He knew this would happen. Donghyuck’s eyes rests upon the film that Mark holds with his fingers, as though it’s the most precious object he has ever laid his hands on. Donghyuck sighs. Mark looks up at Donghyuck briefly, a faint smile forming on his lips. Donghyuck clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval.

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck questions, even though he knows what the exact answer is. Mark shrugs, affirming Donghyuck’s assumption. “Seriously, when are you going to stop thinking about that person? It’s been months, close to a year, and you’re still holding onto the futile hope that something will change? Because it won’t.”

Mark lowers his gaze. He scoffs bitterly, “Maybe you’re right.”

“There’s no maybe, I’m always right.”

Mark doesn’t respond. Donghyuck looks at him, taking note of the genuine sorrow in his eyes. Mark has changed a lot within the span of the past few months. The Mark that was once overflowing with joy, bursting out in giggles and laughter over the smallest things; that Mark is gone. The Mark before him right now, is a Mark that hasn’t shown any signs of genuine happiness in forever. The Mark before him, is a Mark that has long forgotten how to feel the different emotions. That is, except one emotion – longing.

Donghyuck lets out another sigh.

Mark turns the film around. Hidden in the corner of the black coating, were the letters that forms your name, inked in black marker. It can only be seen when the light directly reflects upon the letters. Mark smiles a bittersweet smile. He remembers how carefree you were as a person. He remembers drawing up a mental metaphor to compare the way you lived life, to dancing. You lived everyday like you were dancing. Even more than he’d ever know.

Mark wonders where, with whom, and to what music you’d be dancing to now.

Without leaving a span of a shadow, where did you disappear to?

Hidden in the corner, amongst the very many slabs with semi-circular tops, sits one lonely slab, that is patiently waiting for the visitor who’ll never show up.

[remsmoonlight]

Title: safety net

Pairing: daryl dixon / original female character

Chapter: one

Summary: In a world designed to test your humanity, a woman fights to keep hers. But she walks a fine line between staying human and welcoming death and darkness. [ S2 - S4 ]

The light coloured gaze that belongs to a lone female almost darkens in frustration as she notices the sky beginning to dull and bleed into beautiful tones that always signified the oncoming approach of the night and the glistening stars that could only be seen more prominently ever since the world had passed its very own death day. Light pollution has become a thing of the past. Cassie hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but she had wanted to prove to herself and members of the Greene family that she was able to survive out in the town as she scavenged for things that would be useful to them.

Maggie had made many trips into town, always refusing Cassie’s help. Now, whether or not that was because she couldn’t trust her friend to hold her own, she doesn’t know but this was something that would only bring concrete proof that she was able to survive. She lets out a sigh at the whole situation, digging into her backpack for the half full bottle of water that she’d managed to ration very well -- you couldn’t be too careful those days. Such as when you lose track of time and end up staying out hours later than you should. They’re so gonna kill me later Cassie mentally remarks to herself, she thought it would be a quick trip but she’d gotten too distracted by trying to be useful.

The woman drops the bottle back into the backpack as she drags her feet along the cooling dirt that had suffered the heat from the punishing Georgian sun. She scans every building in her line of sight, call her a perfectionist but all she can see are the defects with the potential safe shelter. Are you trying to die out here? she asks, as she thinks negatively to herself. Too many breaks in that window, that door looks weak, not enough exit routes. The slow dragging of a pair of feet and snarls causes her to turn suddenly, she hates this part. Cassie knows she can handle herself, she’d done so with those things before she’d found refuge at her old school friend’s farm but it isn’t something she enjoys. It wouldn’t even be the first thing she wished to do, but it had to be done.

I don’t have to like it but I’ll do it.

Gripping the knife, Cassie slowly advances to meet the dead being halfway, studying its movements intently  -- a few seconds and it’s over. She pulls the knife from their head with little less fight than she was used to, I’m getting better at this she comments to herself in her mind, though a heavy feeling soon begins to settle in her heart as she realises that this person used to have life. They used to have friends and family, they used to have bills to pay, they used to have favourite songs to sing along to. They were human. Cassie doesn’t want to believe that she disregarded their humanity so easily in favour of thinking about herself and how well she was able to cope.

This is what you were afraid of. You’re losing yourself faster than you thought.

She pushes herself up harshly with a verbal shudder, tears beginning to build. She rubs her eyes with force to banish them away and sniffs. The young woman needs to collect herself before she finds herself in a situation she can’t get out of. One of the things she has feared ever since killing the first of those things was losing her humanity.. even before the world turned she knew how despicable people could become. She didn’t want to think about who she could become if she survived this world, Cassie didn’t want to lose her light or her life -- the world was dark as it was.

As if planned perfectly, her eyes settle on an aging liquor store.The cobwebs and dried spray paint were visible from the distance she sadly stood. I remember that, she mused fondly. It was when she and some friends were caught trying to convince someone to buy a bottle of alcohol for them as teenagers - before her father forced them to move out of the town to the next one over. It was a strange sight to see, how these places that held so much life now dead and silent.

Still, the stone walls and bars on the windows are perfect and wash a warming comfort over her entire body, it was safe enough to spend the night in. She only prays silently that  trouble doesn’t follow in her path.

A small grunt of effort is dropped into the open air from her parted lips as she dedicates little energy and force to open the doors into the building. People had been there before her, the assumption is only confirmed when she makes her way through the door and scans the area - everything, empty. A disbelieving chuckle erupts from her. The end of the world where the dead roam the Earth and what do people go and do? They leave the shelves bare from bottles of alcohol. When you need your wits about you and they want themselves inebriated, Cassie didn’t want to believe it. Human nature was still a surprising thing.

With a bicycle lock secured to prevent anything or anyone gaining entry into her temporary housing, the woman allows herself some steady breaths before she overturns one of the few chairs from it’s upside down position on the floor to sit down on it. There isn’t much effort when she lifts the bag to the table, not much was left to scavenge. Cassie is happy with what she did get however, smiling to herself when she pulls out dried food that would be beneficial in the long run and the batteries that would be needed soon. There were a few other trinkets that may or may not be of use but she proved something to herself -- and for that, she learnt something about herself.

Despite laying herself on the floor to sleep, it doesn’t come easy. Her mind is too preoccupied with the noises from the outside of the building, sometimes they were too close to be able to tell if they belonged to the living or the dead. She tries, however, to give a mighty fight with her own mind to fall asleep by scrutinising the dust that littered the creaky floors but it’s a fight she’s destined to be defeated in. When she finally spots sunlight beginning to break through the clouds to fill the dirtied room, Cassie makes no hesitation in deciding it is a good enough alarm clock. She swiftly realises that she isn’t  going to be getting anymore sleep and she’d rather be back at the farm anyway.

There’s an energetic spring in her step despite the lack of sleep she had been able to get but that doesn’t matter, she’s happy to be home soon. The nagging thought of Maggie and her family being furious with her lack of notification of her whereabouts lay heavily on her soul -- though she was good with confrontation though, her patience was almost never ending.

Her heart beats rapidly as she spots a group of people she had never laid eyes on in her life, they surrounded one of the wells on the property, standing out against the warm shades of the ever growing grass and oversized bushes that were everywhere. The only solace granted to her weary soul is that Maggie is standing with them and does not appear to be in any distress by their presence. She cautiously steps closer and closer to the scene, mentally placing the pieces to make a puzzle -- yet even then it’s as if her fingers are trying to force pieces that do not fit together.

“ Maggie! What’s going on? “ she calls out to her friend, closing the distance between them with each growing second.

“ Ca- where have you been ?! “ Maggie shouts, ignoring the question put to her. Maggie storms forward to her friend, eyes have been ignited with a growing fire as she sets her sight on the other woman.

“ I went out on a run, I .. I just lost track of time, I guess. “ Cassie shrugs effortlessly with an upbeat tone despite the tense atmosphere.

“ How do you lose track of time? “ scoffs Maggie, she could feel the panic merging with the pain in her veins to form a melted pot of furiosity. “ You didn’t -? We didn’t know where you were! Cassie, Otis is dead. “

The optimistic glow that had powered her journey back to the home is instantaneously diminished until it’s no more than dying embers as she allows the words Maggie had just spoken to her to soak in completely. The bag that she held on one shoulder fell to the hay covered grass with a flat thud as she moves closer to her friend to embrace her. In the time Cassie had known the man, he was nothing more than a gentle giant. She can physically feel her heart break into pieces at their loss, the woman clinging to Maggie as she disregards the others who watch curiously momentarily.

“ Mag’s.. I’m so sorry. “

“ Come on, let’s get you back. “ Maggie speaks, pulling away from Cassie. She tries to paint a lighter image on her features as this. She was grateful that her friend had not suffered a fate that is a mirror image to that of Otis. “ Everyone will be happy to know you’re here. “

“ What happened to him? Who are they? “ she asks with curiosity, as she’s led back by her friend with an arm around her shoulder.

“ They showed up last night, one of their guy’s with an injured kid on our doorstep. '' the two walk up the steps of the large house, facing one another. “ Couldn’t exactly say no. They showed up after. “

A storm slowly battles its through the woman’s features as she tries to come to terms with how inverted their situation had quickly become in the hours she had not been present, she doesn’t want to shed her tears in front of strangers but you never expected to lose your friends or family under such circumstances. She brings both of her hands to wipe her face - as if to wash the pain away until it was no more than a ghost across her image.

“ He died gettin’ equipment dad needed to help their boy. “

Cassie is hardly looking forward to any lecture that every Greene in the household probably had for her absence. She admits to herself she should have told them that she was going but her stubbornness prevented her, to her, it was just a quick trip. However quick trips were not to the corner stores now, but what used to be people’s own homes. Their sanctuaries that now have become their graves.. providing they were not graced with the blessing to escape from one nightmare into another, one they had more control over.

Her knees bob up and down at a brisk pace as she watches Hershel walk into the room from her seated position on the plush couch in the living room.

“ What you did was very irresponsible, Cassie. We wouldn’t have been able to send anyone out after you. Between the boy and Otis.. “ Hershel’s tones are filled to the brim with disappointment, especially as they had the little boy to deal with.

The eye contact shared is broke harshly, she’s unable to hold the connection under the burden of his disappointment.

“ I’m sorry, I mean it. But you guys wouldn’t let me out! Even with Maggie. “

“ You must understand there’s a reason for these decisions. You might not understand now, but down the road. “ Hershel replies gently, his voice is a step above a whisper. He’d known the woman since she was a child -- Maggie and her were both so close as children.

A cynical laugh hangs in the air over those in the room, she hates to be so disrespectful to the family who has handed her security with the seclusion the farm provides. On a rare occasion she would find herself forgetting that the world had collapsed into itself, the serenity providing her a peace that was often a missing part that her soul craved from time to time. Cassie certainly doesn't want to offend anyone but she needs them to realise that she wasn’t naive as she may present herself to be, she knows how the world works.. though his denial would prove a burdensome load on that plan of hers.

“ I understand! I mean it that I’m super grateful for everything, but you need to realise. It’s not what you think! “ she argues, feeling a tingle in the very ends of her fingertips from the emotion she felt.

“ I don’t want anyone in this house getting sick, that was the risk that you took without consulting us and it’s something that I can’t allow to happen again. “

Guilt begins to overwhelm her shuddering body, she knew she did wrong and it was the circumstances that really threw her plan of independence into the deep river of inconveniences but it was a battle she would lose and she knows it’s best not to argue. She truly does feel bad that she had added onto the Greene family’s stress those two days, she prefers not to burden people after all -- knowing there had been incidents in the past that had been out of her control yet she brought down the spectacle from time to time. However, within the dark corners of her mind she yearns to intently to yell at him, to scream they’re not sick but rather they are dead. Hershel was a man in denial, and there was nothing harder to break than a man who cannot confront the truth that is right in front of him.

“ You’re right, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. “

“ Look -- “ Hershel leans forward, and clasped his hands together. He could see both of her parents in her. “ I promised your father you would be safe here, and if you’re not here that can’t happen. “

“ May I be excused? “ she asks the man, inching towards the end of her seat.  

Hershel simply nods, he’d also rather wash his hands of the situation, especially as they had bigger things to worry about now. The new additions to the farm did not taste so sweet on his tongue and the sooner the boy was ready and healthy, the sooner they could leave.

As Cassie stands before the declining state of the mirror, small particles of dust lining the mirror as a light blanket she washes the cooling liquid running from the tap over her face. She can hear the voices from the unknown new arrivals from the open window, needless to say she was curious of the new situation but, there was also a sense of dread clawing its way from her gut. She had a bad feeling that a storm was on its way.

AN: okay this is the first time writing for twd and im nervous and excited, especially as i'm not used to writing in this style! but i hope this will be something you will like soooo just let me know what you liked or what could be done better! we'll be having team family interactions next!

[misssophiachase]

Klaroline AU Week - Day 3: Crossovers/Fusions

He’s the new hotshot recruit at the U.S. Navy Fighter Weapons School and unbeknown to him, she’s his new instructor (you know how this goes).  Lines from the movie in italics (because I’m no aeroplane expert).  

Take My Breath Away

Sunday 20:45: Raised By Wolves Cocktail Bar, San Diego, CA

“I start my new job tomorrow, Kat,” she insisted. “I should be home in bed preparing.”

“You do that every night, roomie,” she shot back by way of response. “And drinking wine and watching the Notebook for the millionth time doesn’t count as an activity.”

Caroline was an Astrophysicist and had been working in DC for the past ten years. She’d recently moved cross country to take a contract position at the  Miramar Naval Air Station in San Diego and had reunited with her best friend Katherine who was a Professor at the University of California in La Jolla.  

It made sense for them to move in together, but Caroline was realising that Katherine was one of the nosiest roommates ever. 

“This is a completely new role for me,” she argued. “I need to be on my game, these officers are some of the best in the Navy, Kat. They don’t call it Top Gun for nothing.”

“I’m jealous that you get to work with gorgeous men in uniform and I have to lecture children.”

“I never understood that. What is it with everyone’s obsession with men in uniform?”

“Well, maybe you just haven’t seen one in the flesh yet?” His crisp but attractive English accent wasn’t enough to stop the rolling of her eyes. 

“And I suppose you’re going to remedy that situation,” she drawled, turning in her chair and meeting his dark blue eyes for the first time. 

She wanted to deny it but she couldn’t. This guy was hot, with or without the white, naval uniform.  Sexy stubble, sinful, crimson lips and dirty, blonde hair that curled teasingly over his ears was only the beginning, he had a pair of rogue dimples that she swore had superpowers they were that disarming. 

“Alright, love?” Caroline felt Katherine nudge her subtly in the ribs. She needed to retain what composure she still had. 

“I think you got the wrong location, the fancy dress party is on campus,” Caroline teased.  

“Cute,” he shot back, licking his lips teasingly. She should have been repelled but this guy had the opposite effect and Caroline knew it had nothing to do with the uniform. 

“I need to apologise for my friend,” a fellow officer, also in head-to-toe white offered. “He can’t help himself, he was dropped on his head as a baby.” 

“Oh, I know what this is,” Kat realised. “This is your little, two-man act to try and pick up poor, unsuspecting patrons.”

“Gee, tough crowd,” he murmured in his friend’s ear, although they could still hear him. Officer Number One’s gaze hadn’t wavered, it was still firmly trained on Caroline. 

“I’m Lieutenant Klaus Mikaelson, this is Enzo St John,” he offered by way of introduction, his eyes slipping lower and perusing the low-cut, black top Katherine insisted she wear. Caroline could feel an unmistakable blush forming in that region and hoped he wouldn’t notice. He was an arrogant ass for sure but her body obviously didn’t care about that. 

“Lieutenant?” She asked, wondering if this cocky guy was one of her students because if so this was going to be really awkward come morning. 

“We’re Naval Aviators,” he said it slow like she couldn’t understand the concept. “At Top Gun.”

“Impressive,” Katherine cooed, her voice laced with sarcasm, not that Officer Number Two noticed. 

“I go by Lucifer though,” he shared, they both looked at Enzo curiously. 

“Did your mother not like you?” Kat asked, mouth agape. Unlike her friend she hadn’t been around the Naval culture Caroline had.  

“It’s his call sign, like a nickname,” Klaus explained, again slowly. Caroline had to stop herself from telling him where he could shove his mansplaining.   

“My surname is Saint, get it?” The girls just looked at each other thinking that was just weird logic. 

“And what is your, call sign is it?” Caroline bluffed. 

“The Original,” he smirked, knowingly, tipping his hat in her direction. 

“The Original what?” She asked, unable to help herself.  

“Well, how about we get to know each other and I’ll tell you all about it, love.” 

“Wow,” she muttered, Caroline was surprised there was any oxygen left in the bar his ego was that inflated. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to pass. In fact, we were just leaving, right Kat?”

She picked up her purse and grabbed Katherine’s hand. She might have wanted to be there but Caroline had no interest in staying any longer.

Monday 05:45: “The Strand” Pacific Beach, San Diego, CA

“Tully! Tully, come back here, girl!” He heard a melodic voice before he saw her. 

Running along Pacific Beach was his rare downtime these days. Flight school was intense, not that Klaus minded. He was a fighter pilot first and foremost and he was living his dream.

He liked to think he was confident, most people considered him arrogant but Klaus could practically fly in his sleep it was that deeply ingrained in his life, so too the Navy. 

The first time he’d faltered since arriving was the previous night. Klaus considered himself good with women but his performance at the bar was woeful. If he wasn’t aware, Enzo had been reminding him ever since. He’d never had a woman literally leave a place because she didn’t want to talk to him.  

Klaus knew he’d acted stupid, peddling those tired lines but he had a habit of doing that when he liked someone. And he liked this girl, that much was clear given he’d been thinking about her ever since. Not that he’d probably ever see her again.

The golden retriever bounded over to him, rubbing against his bare legs and almost tripping him in the process. Klaus stopped to lean down and give her a pat. “Hey, girl.” 

He looked up into the familiar, blue eyes of the woman from last night. Dressed casually in form-fitting jeans and a white t-shirt, those blonde waves hanging loose over her shoulders, Klaus didn’t think she could look any better than the previous night but he was wrong. 

“Lose something?” He asked, noting just how adorable she looked flustered, her creamy cheeks tinged pink from the exercise.  

“You again?” she asked, obviously only just realising who he was. “I didn’t recognise you without your costume.”

“There’s that sarcastic wit I’ve missed,” he chuckled. “I take it this is a friend of yours.” Caroline eyed the dog in frustration as she rubbed up against him lovingly.

“Traitor,” she muttered. “Tully is my friend’s dog and as I’ve discovered this morning has a mind of her own and enjoys flirting with strange men.”

“I’m not a stranger,” he drawled. “You know my name but I never caught yours, love.”

“That’s not my name,” she shot back. Klaus felt his muscles going cold so started stretching on the spot, his shorts riding up even higher. He could see her checking him out like she had last night. He still had it. 

“Well, if you told me then I wouldn’t have to call you that,” he grinned. 

“I better get going, don’t want to be late,” she replied, hooking the leash to Tully’s collar. 

“Late for what? Or is that just another excuse to get away from me?”

“I start a new job today, I need to be on time.”

“Well good luck, love,” he offered. She didn’t bother to argue about his endearment and just shook her head. Everything in Klaus wanted to ask her out again but knew it would probably be pointless. 

Monday 09:45: Miramar Naval Air Station, San Diego, CA

“Civilian specialists are here because they are our very best source on enemy aircraft. One of our very best is Caroline Forbes. She has a PHD in astrophysics and is a civilian contractor so you do not salute her. But you better listen to her because the Pentagon listens to her.”

“Good morning,” she greeted them. Klaus was seated in the front row with Enzo not quite believing what he was seeing.

Turns out her new job just happened to be him. He was torn over whether it was a good development or a bad one. Hooking up with your boss was obviously frowned upon but at least this way he knew where to find her. 

The way she looked in that fitted, black, skirt suit with her wavy hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her creamy neck was messing with his composure and looking around the room he could see his fellow students thought the same thing.

A ripple of jealousy came over him and Klaus didn’t like it one bit. 

Somehow he’d managed to lose track of what she was saying, something about F5 and MIG 28 Aircraft but he’d been too busy to really take much notice. 

“However, the MIG 28 does have a problem with its inverted flight tanks. It won’t do a negative G pushover,” she explained. 

Enzo nudged Klaus. Only a few weeks ago they’d seen a MIG 28 do exactly that during a training exercise which had attracted enemy aircraft and nearly killed them for their trouble. They continued to discuss it between them.

“The latest intelligence tells us the most it will do is one negative..” she paused mid sentence.”Excuse me, Lieutenant, is there something wrong?”

“Yes ma’am, the data on the MIG is inaccurate,” Klaus replied, noting her adorable but puzzled look. 

“How’s that, Lieutenant?”

“Well, I just happened to see a MIG 28 do a...”

“We,” Enzo interrupted. 

“Uh, sorry, Lucifer. ‘We’ happened to see a MIG 28 do a 4g negative dive.” 

She cocked her left eyebrow, almost like she was trying to work out whether he was telling the truth or just messing with her. 

“Where did you see this?”

“Uh, that's classified.”

 “It's what?”

 “It's classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.” 

He sent her his very best smirk and given her less than impressed expression, Klaus knew he was going to have to do a lot more work to win her over. 

But he was more than willing to try. 

10:45

“Ma’am? Excuse me!” He called out. She continued walking towards her car, choosing to ignore him not interested in a discussion right now, it was already extremely awkward enough. “Caroline!”

She finally turned, realising he was going to continue to make a scene until she acknowledged him. Of course she’d expected him but what transpired after she hadn’t. Caroline was trying to work out if it was all arrogant bluster or something entirely different. 

“Yes, Lieutenant?” She answered officially, trying to ignore just how good his khaki uniform brought out his Californian tan. He came closer, and even though he wore Aviators she could tell his eyes were trained on her with that same intensity she remembered from the previous night. 

“You tricked me.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You knew I was at Top Gun, you knew I was your student but yet you didn’t feel the need to tell me, why is that exactly?”

“I felt that it was inappropriate to disclose my identity at that time.”

“But yet it’s okay to just show up in class like that? What if I’d said something in front of everyone.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” she murmured. “You want to be here just as much as I do because we love what we do and this, whatever this is, doesn’t factor into that.”

“This? You rejected me last time I checked,” he replied. “Twice.”

“Is that why you did that before in class? Was it some form of petty payback?”

“It wasn’t petty,” she gave him a look which clearly said she didn’t believe him. “Okay maybe a little bit petty but it did actually happen, Enzo has this great polaroid you’d love.”

“But apparently it’s classified though right?”

“How about we go out for a drink and I’ll tell you the redacted version?”

“I am not going out with you, I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

“Why not?”

“I’m your teacher, you’re my student. This can’t happen because it is all kinds of wrong, Lieutenant .”

“I don’t like to take no for an answer and, just so you know, I don’t give up easily, love.”

“Is that so?” He sent her his best smile and finally removed his sunglasses, those blue eyes roaming over her body before eventually landing on her face. Caroline was trying to pretend he had no effect on her whatsoever but she could feel her resolve fading fast. 

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, ma’am.” He walked away, the spicy scent of his aftershave hovering in his wake. 

Caroline had no idea what she’d gotten herself into but at the same time it excited her too. It had nothing to do with men in uniform, just one man in particular. 

[ad1thi]

3000

this caps at 3676 words, which is the most ive written ever; and this fic is my absolute baby i have never slaved over something more so please give her some love

--

Morgan Stark was, is, a strange woman

She’s quiet where her father was loud, stoic where her mother is loving, calm where her family is grieving

--

She wasn’t always like this

She hears snippets from her mother when Mom thinks she’s asleep; of how loud and boisterous and full of life she was

The tipping point, her mother muses over a glass of wine to Zia Nat, was her sixth birthday party

--

See Morgan, Morgan isn’t like everybody else

Everybody else got back their father and husband and brother and son in the Great War

Morgan lost hers

She was 3 years old, but her father always said she was exceptionally smart for her age

but this, this she didn’t quite understand until she was 6 years old

She knew her father had died, he’d died saving everybody’s life of course she knew that (how could she forget when its all anyone talked about, its all she saw all around her, the consequences of his death) but she never knew quite what it meant until her sixth birthday

--

The house is loud, louder than it usually is

Mom has invited ‘round all of her friends, and all of Morgan’s classmates from school too

There’s a healthy amount of awe and wonder in the room, and Morgan; Morgan is sitting in her room watching the hologram her father left for her sixth birthday

God, you’re growing up so fast,” hologram-him says, six already huh tesero? six is a big year isn’t it, first year of elementary, carrying your own lunches like a borghese, god i’m so proud of you. i want you to remember to enjoy yourself this year huh tesoro? ti amo 3000

Its how her mother finds her, moving towards a hologram that frozen in the motion of cupping her cheek; and tilting her head ever so slightly to put into the empty space that his hand’s left

“mai?” Morgan whispers, when she feels a hand on her shoulder, “he’s never coming back?”

“No mon coeur,” her mother whispers, and she crumbles like a marionette has cut her strings

--

After that, she changes

--

She knows what’s expected of her

The daughter of Anthony Edward Stark, grand daughter of Howard Walter Stark, niece of the Avengers

(if anyone ever asked, she’d tell them how much she hated the labels)

--

She’s subdued in class, makes 2 friends her entire year and keeps to herself

(Riri and Kamala are blessings)

She’s whipsmart but she never raises her hand, runs like a dream but never tries out for track; and only paints when nobody else is watching

--

On her eighth birthday, when she opens the door to see Uncle Steve’s hopeful face; she closes it 

“I don’t want them here,” she says, making it half way up the stairs before turning around and saying, “Maybe Uncle Bucky can stay”

--

When she’s 14, Uncle Bucky asks her what she wants for her birthday as they’re looking over the lake near her house and she says “I want you to teach me how to fight”

And he nods once

--

They start with the basics, hand to hand combat; and graduate to knifes and guns within a matter of months

He only asks her once why she wants to learn and she says, “My father was Tony Stark. It’s in my blood”

He smiles at all, all bloody from where she managed to clock his nose and never asks again

--

guardati tesoro mio, her father says on her fifteen birthday, all grown up and shit. do a little spin for your papa, let him see what you’re wearing

and its a hologram and she knows he’s not really there; but she spins anyway

fifteen, thats a big year right? Taylor Swift’s got a song about it and everything

He walks towards her, bending down so they’re eye level and Morgan swears she can feel their nose touching

it means you’re going on dates and shit, and i don’t know how i feel about that, his nose scrunches up like he’s smelt something foul, i guess i’ll just have to greet all your dates wearing the ironman suit huh. god thats a brilliant idea; weed out the weak ones by seeing who pees themselves or who gets overly cocky

Morgana he says, turning sharply from where he’s ranting, your dad is a genius, never forget that

“mai” she whispers into the open air, tears falling freely

--

Every year, her mother asks if she can invite the avengers over for her birthday, and every year Morgan says no

There are exceptions of course

Zio Rhodey, Zia Natasha, Uncle Bucky

Peter when he has time to spare, and Harley whenever he isn’t holed up in an SI workshop

but never anyone else

--

The first time Morgan brings Riri home and introduces her as her girlfriend instead of her bestfriend, an Ironman suit falls out of the sky

Her mother flinches back on instinct, Riri pales, and Morgan laughs until she cries

“Protocol: Tesoro is initiated,” intoned the automated voice before it shifts to the lilt of her father, “So, you wanna date my daughter”

“Yes sir,” Riri squeaks from where she’s hiding behind Morgan, and her mother is trying desperately not to cry

There’s a pregnant silence before her father’s voice says,”Her background checks out, you can date her”

and Morgan is turning to press her lips to Riri’s cheek; mindful of the glint in Riri’s eyes when she moves past the fear and takes in the armour, and thinks to herself no, i can’t

--

“Why Bucky,” her mother asks once, “You let nobody else in but you let in Bucky. Why Bucky?”

Morgan takes in a deep breath, “Zio stays because he’s the closest thing I have to a father. Zia stays because she’s the closest thing you have to a lover,” Morgan ignores the flush on her mother’s cheek, “and Bucky stays because he’s the only person who sees me”

“Je t’adore mama, but you see me and you also see Papa, they see me and they see Papa”

“Bucky? Bucky just sees me”

--

She’s 25 and still dating Riri, who’s around more than she’s not; now that she’s working under Zio Rhodey

It’s late at night, and Morgan extracts herself from Riri’s limp arms- shrugs on the first piece of clothing she can find, makes her way down the stairs

She takes in a deep breath, and turns on her father’s interface for the first time in 22 years

It’s still one of the most advanced pieces of technology out there; even if Morgan is cataloging all the ways she can make it better

“Pull up,” her voice cracks, ‘Pull up my father’s last project”

and in front of her, the room lights up in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted

--

She applies and gets a job at Pym Industries, and her mother furrows her brow but congratulates her all the same

She moves up the ranks seamlessly, except for one isolated incident when she drop kicks someone and sends them to the hospital because they call her little miss

Hope Pym adores her, and she gets privileges in R&D that she knows nobody else has

(she doesn’t know if its because she’s Tony Stark’s daughter, or because Hope genuinely thinks she’s that smart- but she doesn’t question it)

And there, after hours, in the laboratory where it all started; she puts her plan into motion

--

When she’s 27, Zio Rhodey falls sick

She’s in the middle of hour 73 of her work binge, and she’s so close to recreating the Pym Particles when an arm on her shoulder startles her and throws her into a defensive position

Her mind clears slightly when her would-be attacker’s head is between her thighs, and she scrambles back in shock when she realises its Riri

“When I said I was into trying new things in bed,” Riri’s voice is raspy from where Morgan’s knee pressed against her throat, “this isn’t what I had in mind”

“What are you doing here?” she asks, pointedly ignoring the bruises forming around her neck

“Its your Zio Rhodey,” she says solemnly, and there’s a tang in her voice when she says Zio; a word that doesn’t belong on Riri’s tongue, “he’s in the hospital”

Morgan is numb all over, going through the motions as she saves her work and slips on her jacket

She’s silent on the drive over to the hospital, fingers drumming against the door of the car

Logically, she always knew her parents were much older than most; her mama was on the verge of 40 when they had her and her father was pushing 54 when he died. She always knew that Zio Rhodey was growing old, but she never expected it to catch up to him quite this quickly

“Hi there squirt,” he whispers from the hospital room, moving up to clasp her face in his hands before groaning in pain

She rushes over and eases him back into a comfortable position, raising his hand to her mouth and kissing the back of his palm lightly, “What’s this then Zio Rhodey?”

He sighs, “The braces that your father built me gave out on me, and I fell down a flight of stairs”

She gets up, looking around for the braces, “I have a toolkit in the car I can tweak it a bi-”

She’s cut off when Zio pulls her down with surprising force, “Have I ever told you?” he asks, like she hadn’t spoken, “how much you remind me of your father?”

She slumps against the chair and indulges him, “Only everytime you see me”

He grimaces slightly, “I do say it a lot don’t I?” 

“It’s only because I see so much of him in you squirt. His drive, his big heart, his desire to help everyone,” he nods slightly at Riri, “his taste in women”

He moves slightly when Morgan squats at him, cackling; and Morgan pretends the hand squeezing around her heart is fear that Zio might not make it the night

“I know I’m not your real father,” he says softly, reaching out to cup her face, “but I do love you like my own Morgana”

“And he would be so proud of you”

His eyes go glassy just then, washing over and un-focusing, and she’s about to call for a nurse when her Zio says, “Tony? Why the fuck have you grown out your hair then?”

and it clicks

Dementia

She turns to Riri to ask how they all could’ve missed this, but her gaze is furtive and it takes but a second for Morgan to realise that the only one who missed this was her

--

“How could you not tell me?” she roars, as Riri stares defiantly back, “he is my Zio!”

“He asked me not to, said he didn’t want to burden you while you were busy with your work,” Riri replies, “Plus, you never step out of that lab anywhere I was sure nothing short of a heart attack would remind you that he even exists”

“That is a low blow Ri”

“Is it?” Riri stands up, “I don’t see you, Peter and Harley work ‘round the clock to make sure Pepper doesn’t miss her daughter, and I cannot remember the last time you came over for dinner”

“My work is important!” she yells, but she might as well have been yelling into empty air, because Riri’s face hardens

“So are we Morgan,” she’s near the door when she turns back and says, softly, “I know losing your father hit you hard. But you still have a parent who’s alive”

--

Morgan and Riri break up the next day

Morgan always knew it was coming, ever since Riri became Ironheart

She just never expected it so soon

--

She keeps a constant vigil at Zio’s bedside, until the hospital kick her out

She can’t go back to her lab, not when he’s so fragile; so she cashes in all her leave from the last 3 years and shows up to the cabin with a large suitcase

“Morgan?” her mother’s grown so frail, and Morgan feels a stab of regret that she hasn’t been around more

“Je suis ici mama,” her mother crumbles against her like like there's nothing holding her up anymore, sobbing into her shirt

“Je suis désolé, ça a pris si longtemps”

--

Her mother bustles around the kitchen, clearly desperate for anything to do

“Mama,” she calls out a few times, before getting up and physically grabbing her mother in her arms and stilling her

“Mama its okay,” she says softly, guiding her to the sofa, “you don’t have to do anything”

“Mon coeur, you’ve come home after so long and I can’t even cook for you,” her mother has gotten so weak without Morgan noticing, and the guilt festers

Riri was right, she had forgotten about her mother, too caught up in her work

She runs her fingers through her mother’s hair, manoeuvring her so they’re on the sofa, “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long Mama,” she whispers

“but I’m here now”

--

Her leave gives her a full 2 months off and she splits her time between the cabin and the hospital, until Zio is ready to be moved to the cabin

She calls up Harley for the first time in 3 years and he comes down the following weekend, and they brainstorm over the ideas that her father left uncompleted

“20 years later and he’s taking me to school,” Harley whistles lowly, “not bad for a mechanic”

After dinner, Morgan curls up against her mother, who obligingly runs her piano fingers through Morgan’s hair

“Harley’s good at SI,” she starts off, “did business as a minor in Stanford”

Her mother hums, “I’m half convinced he’s your father’s bastard”

“You should name him CEO,” she turns so she’s facing her mother completely, “he’ll be good”

She stills above Morgan, “you,” she pauses and takes a breath, “you don’t want it?”

She shakes her head, and pretends like she doesn’t see how her mother’s entire body shakes

“Your father did always like to be left to his own devices,” she says finally and if Morgan tries really hard, she can pretend like she hasn’t disappointed her mother, “I’ll talk to the Board tomorrow, but they’re going to give me hell”

Her mother sounds so defeated Morgan almost takes it back, but the photo frame of her papa and mama catches her eye; and she holds her tongue

--

She finagles and negotiates with Hope, and gets permission to work from home.

(not that Hope had much choice, Morgan had set Pym Inc decades ahead of every company and finally put them in close competition with Stark Industries, but it was the principle of the thing)

A team of 5 come in and renovate the basement into a lab that’s workable, and Morgan breathes easier

She spends her days with her mother and Zio Rhodey, and her nights

working

--

“Pull up the simulation again,” she says into the open air and pulls apart the mobius strip, running each equation individually

“JOCASTA,” she calls out, “run the enhanced Pym Particles against my father’s software”

She rummages around the mini fridge for juice pops, sucking the first one in her mouth 

“Simulation complete,” her best decision by date was to give JOCASTA an italian accent

She turns back to the screen, and stumbles back into her chair

“Shit,” she says, breathing heavily- looking but not comprehending the screen in front of her

“Shit,” she says again, because it bares repeating, because she is the third person to ever crack time travel

--

30 is a big year tesero, her father’s AI says as she slips into a red dress and walks down to greet the guests

After 22 years, she’s agreed to let the Avengers back onto the cabin; and the naked gratitude on Uncle Steve’s face when she moved aside instead of slamming the door like she did every year was another chink in that guilt deep in her gut

you’re so big now tesero, her father says, leaning against the wall when she wraps her arms around Riri and thanks her for coming

where does the time fly? the hologram dissipates when she comes near her Zio Rhodey, and she looks away as he dabs away a set of tears 

“i’m sorry squirt,” he says when he’s settled a bit more, “the holograms still get to me I guess. But 30 huh?” 

“Big day,” he says decisively before his eyes go glassy again

She wraps her hands around him, looking at the space left by her father’s hologram and thinks, you have no idea

--

--

Steve knocks on the door of the cabin, as he does every year

Sam is waiting for him in the car, stubbornly refusing to turn off the gas because she’s just going to turn us away man i don’t why we do this year every year

But he comes every year with Steve, so Steve suspects he knows why

(because Steve loved her father)

(because Steve killed her father)

(because Tony died to save everybody else)

Bucky left the Compound a few hours earlier, since he’d promised Pepper and Nat that he’d help with the cake

That had taken some time to get used to, the fact that Morgan allowed Bucky to be a part of her life and not Steve

(in the darkest parts of his mind, Steve admits that he hates it, that he wanted to be the one teaching Morgan to protect herself, to be the one loving her)

He knocks on the door and waits, and like clockwork Morgan opens the door and assesses him like he’s under a microscope

And then

She moves aside, letting him in

Steve’s knees threaten to buckle, but he holds it together just long to ask, “Are- are you sure?” 

She stares at him mulishly, and Steve can’t help but compare it to a pre coffee Tony, “Are you looking to piss me off Rogers? Come in before I change my mind, and tell Birdbrain in the Maserati to turn off his engine because he’s killing the planet my father gave his life to protect”

Steve nods like she’s a drill sergeant and she shifts inside, seemingly satisfied with that 5 second interaction

--

Steve is on alert the entire party, flitting between being elated to celebrate Morgan’s 30th with her and wary that she’ll kick him out

She disappears upstairs once everyone’s trickled in, and comes down in a simple red summer dress, hair slicked back

There’s a hologram of Tony hovering behind her, muttering in her ear, and it knocks the air out of him, because he’s here but he’s not all at the same time and Steve dimly wonders if the pain of losing Tony Stark will get any easier

(from the glistening cheeks around him, and the surreptitious way Morgan wipes her eyes, the answer seems to be no)

The crowd moves around Morgan and her father, as if Tony’s really here instead of just a product of his tech; but dissipates into the air when Morgan goes over to Rhodey

Rhodey, who’s in a wheelchair

Everyone around him is frail and old, the signs of ageing so evident on their face and physique; while Bucky and Steve look like they’ve just touched 40

Morgan is settled down in Rhodey’s lap and laughing at something that he said, but there’s this gleam in her eyes that sits with Steve wrong, which is why he makes his way over to Peter

His relationship with Peter was hard work, almost a decade of back and forth before he let his guard down around Steve and joined the Avengers under his command

“Hey,” he says, smoothly cutting through whatever conversation Harley and Peter are having, “Mind if I borrow the spiderkid for a second?”

Harley spread his arms wide, “He’s all yours. Damn idiot hurts my brain”

“I’m only 4 years younger THAN YOU!” Peter yells the last part to Harley’s retreating back, huffing when Harley gives him the bird - before turning to Steve, “What’s up?”

“You have your suit on you?”

Peter rubs at his chest where the nanites are stored, “Always. Everything okay?”

“Yeah I just,” Steve sighs, “Something seems off”

“Ah the Cap sense, never gets old”

“Just be alert okay?” and he waits for a second before he adds, “and keep an eye on Morgan. I don’t want her getting hurt”

--

They’re in the middle of dinner when Steve notices her slip away, glancing back and forth before making her way down to -

isn’t that the way to Tony’s lab?

He looks up and catches Peter’s eye, nodding once before following Morgan

Its not easy, Bucky obviously taught her well, but Steve’s been hiding from Bucky since before she was born

She punches in the override code and slips in, and Steve has a 5 second warning to avert his eyes and she thumbs out of her dress

When he looks back, she’s slipped into something that resembles the undersuit Tony used to wear; but modified somehow

She’s very engrossed in the screen in front of her so its easy to follow her into the lab, but nothing can stop him from keeping quiet when he sees what she’s working on

--

--

“What are you doing with Tony’s time travel device?”

shit

Morgan turns to face Steve Rogers, adjusting the suit around her

“What are you doing here Rogers?”

“I asked first”

She chances a glance behind her, and the simulation needs a few more seconds to boot, she has to stall

Steve looks frozen between between going up and calling reinforcements, and making his way over to her, which works in her favour

She pulls at the last strap

“27 years ago,” she says, and there’s just a couple of seconds before all of this is fixed, “you killed my father.”

“I’m going back in time to save his life”

And before he can react, she presses down on the Pym Particles; closing her eyes as a blinding flash covers the room

--

--

Steve instinctively raises his arms against the light, and when he lowers them again, she’s gone.

Fin

--

hope you liked it!

--

italian translations:

tesoro- treasure borghese- commoner/ civilian/ middle-class person (its meant to be a joke not an insult) ti amo 3000- i love you 3000 mai- never guardati tesoro mio- look at you my treasure zio/zia- uncle/aunt

(all translations are taken off google translate!!)

french translations:

mon coeur- my sweetheart/ my heart j’adore mama- i love you mama je suis ici mama- i’m here mama je suis désolé, ça a pris si longtemps- im sorry it took so long

[no6secretsanta]

A Tale of Two Idiots (In Love)

Merry Christmas, Weisel! This came to me as cracky idea and developed itself into something I actually like. Hope you enjoy this dorky high school AU! ~asterrat

1.---

Shakespeare in the Park was one of Nezumi's favourite parts of summer, because what was better than seeing a casual yet spectacular performance of a great play right in the middle of the local park? Sure, he could do without the screaming children and their harried parents, but who was he to complain? (Really, he complained a lot, but he still went every time there was a play he liked)

Usually, he'd perch up in a tree for the best view and fewest disturbances, but today was...different. Nezumi had taken to the ground and spread the picnic blanket on a slight hill on the field, facing centre stage. It had not been easy to get such a good spot in the field―just enough distance to see the whole stage but just close enough to hear everything wonderfully clearly, and with just enough incline to get the perfect view. And as a bonus, no one's head was obscuring his vision.

In short, it was a great spot. But why wasn't Nezumi in a tree?

Simple: Shion.

Nezumi had dragged his friend with him after having promised to do so the moment he learned that Shion was unaware of Shakespeare in the Park. For someone who spent so much time wandering about the park and its surrounding nature reserves, it was a travesty.

It hadn't taken much for Shion to get excited about the event, either. Apparently Nezumi's passion was contagious.

Nezumi had expected Shion to be watching the stage with rapt attention, so when he turned to whisper a comment to Shion about the intricacies of Viola's disguise, he was surprised to find that Shion had set his arm over his knees and rested his chin in the crook of it. His eyes were closed, and for a moment, a dark cloud of annoyance shadowed Nezumi―they'd come here to watch a play and Shion was sleeping?

But then a gust of wind swept Shion's hair away from his face and blew the storm cloud right out of Nezumi, stealing his breath along with it.

Shion was alluring, and it hit Nezumi like a full compilation of The History of Middle Earth dropped directly on his chest. The half-light of late afternoon glinted off Shion's fluffy white hair and cast light and shadows on his face that softened his jaw and cheekbones and smoothed his skin, making him look like an oil painting. He seemed so at-peace and ethereal that Nezumi almost felt bad about waking him up. Almost.

He reached out, intending to jostle Shion's shoulder until he woke up, but then he noticed the dark semicircles under Shion's eyes, only accentuated by his pale skin and snowy eyelashes. His studious friend had probably been up too late, absorbed in some assignment or paper.

Maybe he'd let Shion sleep on; he certainly seemed to need it. And since Nezumi had fallen for a distraction during a performance, it wouldn't be fair if he didn't let Shion get away with it once too, right?

2.---

At first, the touches had been so subtle that Shion hadn't noticed at all. He and Nezumi were unusually close friends, so what was weird if the backs of their hands brushed as they walked? Or if they leaned on each other while reading or soon homework? Or if Nezumi ruffled Shion's hair whenever they passed by each other in the hallways?

The answer was: nothing. There was nothing weird about it all, even if recently, Nezumi did seem to initiate casual physical contact a bit more often.

Except...Safu didn't think so. Her eyes always narrowed when Nezumi slung an arm around Shion's shoulders and leaned slightly to rest his weight on him, when Nezumi rested his elbows on Shion's shoulders as Shion studied with Safu, or when Nezumi's fingers lingered in Shion's hair for longer than the usual platonic hair ruffle.

"Is he taking advantage of you?" She asked, standing next to Shion in the bus to go to the local museum, where there was a human anatomy exhibit she was interested in.

"Who, Tori? Maybe a bit, but I don't mind! I actually enjoy collecting samples and checking in on the planned quadrats, so it's no big deal. Besides, he's not the laziest lab partner I've ever had, so it's fine, Safu, don't worry!"

"No, not him. Nezumi. I know you've known him for a long time, so you should be well aware of his habits. Aren't some of his recent behavioural patterns unusual?"

And that was when it finally hit Shion. "No! He's not being weird, or anything! I mean, yes, he's been acting differently, but I've been doing that too..."

"..."

"And besides, I kind of like it", Shion admitted, unembarrassed, though he felt heat creeping up the back of his neck. He didn't know why, but a warm swooping feeling in his belly made him feel like he was spinning, falling. It was nice, he thought, as he flashed her what he thought as a reassuring smile.

3.---

"The point, envenom'd too!? Then, venom, to thy work!" Nezumi shouted, jabbing his umbrella in a rather impressive lunge as wind whipped his hair wildly behind him.

Even though Shion was getting drizzled on, he found that it was impossible to be annoyed, not when Nezumi was posed so spectacularly, a coil of power, as wind and rainwater swirled about his body. Shion was captivated.

"Nezumi, that was really, really passionate and angry, I think you're going to be a really good Ha-"

"Fuck!"

There was a sudden gust of wind, and the umbrella inverted. Caught off guard, Nezumi lost his balance and stumbled. Then, as if on cue, thunder rumbled and the sky broke open. The drizzle became a downpour, and of course Nezumi had just broken their umbrella wielding it in some swashbuckling display of swordsmanship.

Nezumi yanked his oversized scarf over his head and frantically tried to fix the umbrella. It was a battle of metal joints versus human joints―and they were locked in stalemate.

"Hey!" Shion shouted to be heard over the sound of the pouring water and Nezumi's own creative insults toward the umbrella. "Let's just wait out the storm in the cafe-bookstore ahead, alright?"

Hair slicked to his face and grey eyes flat like cement, Nezumi agreed and jogged after Shion. He usually hated the place―whose idea was it to open a cafe next to a bookstore, a bastion of literature? All that the cafe caused were sticky covers from unfortunate spills and crumb-filled picture books. Books were the casualties, and that rankled on Nezumi's nerves.

It'd be unforgivable except for the fact that it actually got people to walk in, so Nezumi reluctantly concluded that it was a necessary evil, one that he was about to take advantage of, because he was drenched and freezing.

They skidded to a stop right before the entrance and, after Nezumi leaned the broken umbrella on the wall outside, walked in as dignified as they could, given their dishevelled states. The bored-looking teenager at the counter spared Nezumi and Shion an uninterested look, probably to ensure that they weren't criminals, then ignored them completely. Perhaps a cup of hot chocolate would warm him up, Nezumi thought, then patted his pocket. Nothing.

"Shit, I forgot my wallet," he hissed to himself, but Shion noticed and looked up at him with those bright red eyes, slightly mischievous.

"Thought you were the one who's talking about always being prepared?" Shion teased, setting a hand on Nezumi's arm. At Nezumi's thunderous glare, he continued, "It's fine, I got you."

"You sure?" He didn't like being indebted to anyone.

"Yeah! It was my idea to come here in the first place, and besides, you're always doing so much for me that-"

"I get it, I get it," Nezumi said abruptly, to cut Shion off before he could launch into some embarrassing spiel, though there was an unmistakable note of warmth in Nezumi's voice. "Hot chocolate, same as yours?"

"Sure."

"...thanks."

At his quiet mutter, Shion flashed him a brilliant smile, so radiant and warm that it could have been the midday sun. "It's really no problem, Nezumi!" Shion exclaimed, gaze still locked with Nezumi's, hand still on his arm.

The ambient warmth of the cafe was nothing compared to the way Shion's touch was burning Nezumi's arm, nor the way his smile scorched.

And that was the moment everything fell into place for Nezumi.

4.---

Okay, now what the fuck was that fool up to? For all he postured about never taking someone else's food and always having plenty of one's own, he sure was being awfully eager to relieve Shion of his cake.

Inukashi scrolled through their camera roll on their phone as they munched an apple. Across from them were Nezumi and Shion, whose attention was fixed on the study guide―too much biology, too much chemistry―he was populating. Nezumi, script in one hand, was sneaking bites off his vanilla cake with...Shion's own fork?

This...trainwreck-waiting-to-happen continued for several minutes, broken only by the occasional crinkle of page-turn.

And then Shion tapped Nezumi on the shoulder, and rather than dropping the fork and pretending like he hadn't been blatantly stealing his food―like any same and normal human being―Nezumi stabbed a larger chunk and held it to Shion's mouth.

Shion turned his head to eat the bit of cake, gaze never leaving his work, and Inukashi nearly fell out of their chair at the besotted little grin that had taken residence on Shion's―no, both of their faces.

Oh. Oh hell, ew. Who'd a thunk Nezumi's face could contort like that?

Normally, Shion's cheeriness was enough to balance Nezumi's miasma of all-around unpleasantness, but like this, like―dare they say it―a couple, the awfulness was only multiplied.

Their teeth hit the core of the apple, and Inukashi suddenly realised that they'd devoured nearly all of it. Normally, they'd eat the core too, but getting up to toss it was an excuse for them to abscond from the vicinity of this horrifying clusterfuck before they fell down dead from sheer revulsion.

5.---

Sleepover, Sunday morning, 1:47 A.M.

"Nezumi, you know you can tell me anything, right? If anything's bothering you? Sometimes you seem like you're bearing the weight of a world's worth of secrets on your shoulders, and you're not Atlas. You're amazing, but you're still human too."

"..."

"You don't have the bulging muscles for it, heh. But, seriously, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. I've been drawn to you since the day we met, you're very important to me, and I don't think that'll ever change. I won't let it ch-"

"You can't just go around saying shit like that, your Majesty!"

'But I'm yours, too, Shion,' was left unspoken, because really, did it need to be vocalized?

Quietly now, night continued to fall as sleep warped both of them in its downy waves and each other's arms.

6.---

"SoIjustheardSafutalkingtoherfriendaboutaskingmeouttothedancewhatdoIdo?!!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!" Whatever this was, it had to be something big―Shion was not typically one to dash through the hallways, throwing composure to the wind.

Shion leaned closer, almost crowding Nezumi back against his locker. "I heard, hah, Safu, telling one of her friends that she was gonna ask me out, and I don't know what to do because I don't want to reject her, but at the same time, if I go with her, I'll feel like I'll leading her on and as her friend, that just doesn't sit right with me. Besides, I-"

As Shion rambled, Nezumi could feel a fond grin creeping onto his face, but he covered it with an exasperated expression because if he didn't interrupt, Shion would just continue having a moral crisis.

"Simple. Hey, your majesty, want to go to the dance with me?" he asked, purposefully raising his voice to reach any brunette flickers of movement he'd caught just behind the corner of the hall. Safu was listening; of course she was.

Yeah, this one was his.

When Shion nodded furiously, face red, white hair swishing furiously, he leaned in and whispered directly into his ear. "We can just chill at my place if you want. Just tell Safu I made you skip or something, yeah?"

Nezumi didn't mind being Shion's excuse to dodge her; there was nothing wrong with alleviating a bit of guilt, especially when Shion's heart was ultimately in the right place...even though he needed to reject her properly at some point.

And so it was decided that Shion would go over to Nezumi's apartment in place of attending the dance. It'd be the same as any other time they'd hung out, except for one change: no studying would be allowed.

That, and maybe Nezumi would finally get to kiss Shion on the lips. They'd been in a relationship for a while now, but hadn't yet progressed beyond goodnight kisses on the forehead, or kisses to Shion's hair whenever Nezumi leaned over him. Shion had never initiated anything, so Nezumi didn't want to push him.

That prospect was bright enough to fully counter the dark looks Safu cast at him the next few days.

And then it was Saturday, and Shion was knocking on Nezumi's door, before opening it with his copy of the key ― it wasn't that weird; Nezumi lived alone and Shion having a copy significantly reduced the times he had to pick his own window lock ― and entering.

Shion opened the door to Nezumi fiddling with his laptop before he turned, strode over to the doorway, and pulled Shion in by the arm.

"I know I said we could just chill, but how about we dance?"

"I can't dance!"

"Of course you can; it's easy, just follow my lead. You're a quick learner, yeah?"

"Um..."

Nezumi pulled away, heading toward his laptop to start the music and to hide the way he suddenly couldn't conceal a grin fit for a lunatic. Shion was blushing, an anticipatory yet confused expression on his face, and it was just too damn cute.

He clicked trough his music folder until he found Chopin's waltz in A minor ― it had a steady, slow beat, perfect for teaching a beginner how to waltz. Then, as the music began filling the room, he schooled his expression and turned back to Shion.

"Nezumi, is that my shirt?"

What. Nezumi was caught off guard. "Uhh, yeah? Borrowed it last time I was over, thought I'd dress up a bit to match you, Mr. Button-downs-and-sweater-vests-every-day."

"So you're saying you stole it?" Shion said, deadpan, but Nezumi could easily tell how much effort it took for him to not laugh. Besides, the merriment twinkling in his eyes was a big enough giveaway.

"Nah, stealing with an intent to return it is borrowing. Hey, you want it back now?" Nezumi asked as he undid the topmost button.

"Um!!" Shion exclaimed as he slammed a hand over Nezumi's in an attempt to stop him from just taking off his shirt.

"I'll take that as a no, then. Come on, let's dance!" Nezumi said as he relocated a hand to rest on Shion's lower back. "Left hand up here, around my shoulders, yeah, that's it, now follow my steps." He grabbed Shion's right hand and extended their arms as he swung his steps in time with the music.

Shion's movements were clumsy at first, leaning a bit too heavily into Nezumi to keep his balance, but he soon got the hang of it.

Steep learning curve, that one.

Now that he didn't have to focus so much on teaching Shion to dance, Nezumi relaxe and let himself indulge in the way Shion felt against him. A while ago, Shion had stopped holding himself so stiffly and instead leaned gently into Nezumi.

Nezumi was used to the full-body exercise that every dance was, but Shion wasn't, and it showed in his elevated body temperature. But it wasn't just physical heat that made Nezumi feel like he was being all but welded to Shion at their every point of contact.

He pressed his hand flat against Shion's back, then ran it all the way up the curve of his spine, relishing how soft and warm Shion was. Nezumi wanted more; he wanted to touch Shion all over, to draw shivers and gasps from the other boy, to taste those lips that were slightly parted as Shion breathed fast.

The wave of lust ebbed as Nezumi regained control of himself. He'd test the waters first.

He let go of Shion's hand to cup his cheek instead, tilting his face up to press their lips together in a hard kiss. Shion's hands both wound into Nezumi's hair, loosening the ponytail and making strands cascade down.

Nezumi barely noticed. He pressed Shion harder toward himself, then tilted his head to the side and parted his lips so he could chance a quick flick on his tongue against the seam of Shion's lips.

Shion gasped, and Nezumi felt helplessly dizzy as he angled Shion's lower lip between his own and sucked on it. Logically, he knew that Shion probably just tasted like spit and his vanilla-flavored Chapstick and maybe what he'd last eaten, but there was no place for logic in Nezumi's mind, where Shion tasted like perfection, like something Nezumi wanted more of, wanted all of.

Then Shion pulled back with a whoosh of an inhale, face flushed a dangerously beautiful pink, lips temptingly wet and red. Nezumi could not look away.

"What, I, I mean I loved it, but what was that?" Breathless. Delectable.

"A real kiss, your Majesty," Nezumi teased, smirking, trying to regain his composure. "Are you seriously telling me you don't know what a kiss is?"

"No, I know, but why?" Genuine confusion now, not just general airheadedness.

Nezumi slid his fingers from Shion's cheek to toy with the soft white hair at the back of his head, exhilaration still thrumming like a quickened pulse through his body.

"Because we've been in a relationship for a while now but we haven't we haven't really kissed yet?"

He felt Shion stiffen against him, and not in the fun way that could make their embrace far more heated. As if to punctuate the sudden break in action, the piece ended, and silence draped over the room like a shroud.

"Wait, we've been dating?"

"What."

Fidget, fidget.

"Shion. So you're saying that time you treated me to hot chocolate and we linked arms all the way back until you got home, those times we fell asleep on each other, the way we share food, and how we hold hands all the time, and how I ..that was just―"

"That's not much different from what we usually do, I thought that was all―"

"―as friends!?" They finished together, Shion's intonation an exclamation and Nezumi's as a breathless end of a spiel.

Silence.

"Shit, this has been a massive fuckup, hasn't it, I'm s―"

"Nezumi!! Go out with me!!"

And Shion looked so damn earnest and excited that all the tension in the room just evaporated.

"Aw, come on," Nezumi groaned. "I thought I'd finally have a chance to, y'know, ask you out first."

He made absolutely no sign of how terrified he'd been that, knowing his feelings, Shion would withdraw and upset the comfortable balance they had with each other. They might know each other well, but there were just some disgustingly emotional insecurities that Shion didn't need to know about Nezumi.

"Hm?"

"Yeah, yeah. Did you really need to ask?"

"Apparently so. But now that we've cleared that up," Shion said, suddenly very, very close to Nezumi, "kiss me again?"

And then, as the Grande Valse Brillante in A Flat Major crescendoed in the background, Nezumi and Shion fell together, arms holding each other up, holding close what they most treasured, as they kissed the living daylights out of each other.

~Owari~

[itsprettyqueer]

DEAD

Here’s le chapter 2

Link to Surprise

Masterlist

Frustration

Dan blinked in surprise. He couldn’t fathom why a tall preppy looking emo would be strolling this part of London. No one ever came to this road in Morden. PJ hadn’t given Dan any kind of a rule book as to what to do if a LIVE comes strolling around the area you’re located, because the DEAD are supposed to be situated away from anyone still alive.

So who was this man and what was he doing outside Dan’s shop?

Dan gave the man a once over. He looked deathly pale (if you will forgive the pun), and his obviously treated onyx locks provided a strike contrast against his face. Then Dan caught sight of the man’s irises, so blue, yet somehow not completely blue; a combination of so many different colours dotted in an intricate random pattern around his pale irises.

But what really struck Dan’s attention was his clothing. Whilst his hair and pale skin made him stand out as a recluse, his clothing was, in a way, childish and innocent. Whilst his jeans were simple skinny and black, his t-shirt was a light blue was three cats aligned one below the other, somehow implying to Dan that this guy was a really sweet person.

The man was a work of art, and Dan found it hard to look away.

Realising far too late that the guy’s question probably fathomed a response, but having the rules PJ drilled into him replaying through his head, he hesitantly shook his head, hoping the guy will leave. Leave far away and not confuse Dan as to how he can feel surprise.

“Wait why not?” the man replied “It’s only two thirty and it’s Mother’s Day tomorrow. I figured any florist would be thriving at this last minute business.”

Ah yes. Mother’s Day. Dan had briefly considered ordering something online for his mum this year, but figured it would be considered a form of contact with a LIVE, so abandoned the idea. It wasn’t as if he had any emotional attachment left to his family anyway.

Speaking of interaction, the man had asked Dan yet another question, one which Dan could unfortunately not reply with a head gesture. Dan was aware of the rules against interacting with LIVEs, but figured that it wasn’t exactly his fault this guy stumbled along this way, so uttered out the first reply he could think of.

“We don’t have any flowers.”

“You what?”

“We’ve run out of flowers.”

The man looked awfully confused. “How does a florist run out of flowers? Surely you have some more flowers growing out the back that you can chop?” Wow he really is desperate, Dan thought.

“Mother’s Day rush, you know how it is” Dan made a vague attempt at a smile at this point. Clutching his key, Dan went to unlock his door and re-enter his hideaway, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait.” the man said. Dan slowly turned around to face him again. The man’s face was far closer than it was previously and Dan felt his breath hitch.

“I’m Phil.” He held out his hand.

“Dan” he replied, feeling like he may as well dive nose first into the fire.

“Why are you alone? Are there no other employees at the shop?”

“It’s a self run business.”

“How did you manage to obtain a whole flower shop to yourself? You look way too young.”

“That’s a bit personal.”

“Why is it called DEAD Flowers? It’s a bit of a morbid name for a florist, don’t you think?”

Dan hesitated before replying to this one. He didn’t want to upset the jolly man in front of him, however the name represented the ugly truth hidden behind the blissful ignorance of LIVE special occasions.

“Everything dies eventually.”

Phil sat on the train back to Manchester, having given up on flowers and buying the most decent looking chocolates from the nearest branch of Thornton’s. The dreary drizzle pattering against the window on his left accurately represented his lack of enthusiasm for returning home. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his family with everything he had, and was eternally grateful for all they had provided for him. But having spent a week in London, the capital of the UK, life in Rawtenstall in comparison just seemed incredibly mundane. London was fast paced. In London he could catch a tube for twenty minutes and be at the flagship stores for some of his favourite brands. In London he could attempt to get a permanent job as a radio host for BBC radio one.

In London he could see the mysterious ‘florist’ again.

He added the inverted commas in his mind because really, what kind of florist doesn’t have flowers the day before Mother’s Day? It was poor organisation, and Phil, ever the over planner, couldn’t possibly fathom not anticipating a busy period before one of the biggest special occasions of the year.

So Phil wasn’t entirely sure why the thought of seeing the florist even came into his head when it was clear even from that brief first meeting that they were very different sorts of people. Plus, his body language had made it abundantly clear that he was not the type for chit chat at all. But Phil could not deny that the boy was extremely attractive, with brunette curls sitting effortlessly atop his head and a seemingly clear complexion with teeny tiny freckles surrounding his cheekbones creating a galaxy on his face. Not to mention his caramel coloured eyes containing their own constellation.

Yes, it sounded incredibly creepy that Phil had such a detailed description of Dan’s face from such a brief encounter, but given their close proximity and Dan’s suspicious behaviour, Phil was of the belief that it was only expected to collect a detailed account of the melted pools of caramel.

Realising that the train was now moving, he whipped out his phone to text his family.

Pheeleep: On the train now! See you soon ^_^

Tyn: Jeesh calm down you still live with Mum and Dad, chill

Pheeleep: Sorry Tyn it’s just been a long weekend

Tyn: -_- dear god please change my contact name

It occurred to Phil after he had put his phone away how ridiculous it was to say that he had had a long weekend. The time had actually passed relatively quickly, too quickly to really enjoy himself, up until the panic with Mother’s Day began.

It occurred to Phil that his vague enjoyment of exploring the city and the previously overwhelming excitement he had at actually performing a radio segment in the capital had been dimmed by thoughts of a certain brunette florist whom he had met for no more than twenty minutes. His thoughts of London now consisted of

1. Dan’s surprise at Phil speaking to him

2. Dan’s objectively attractive appearance

3. Dan’s reluctance to speak to Phil and his avoidance of certain questions

4. Dan’s frustration at Phil not leaving him alone.

Phil really wanted to see him again.

Fear

[rageingdemon24-blog]

cancer symptoms bruising

Routine tests like pap smears and mammograms are important, but don't will vary depending on measures alone to protect you from cancer. It's just as important to listen to your form and notice anything that's different, strange, or unexplainable. You don't want to join the ranks of cancer the individuals who realise too late that symptoms they'd acknowledged for a long time have been able to voiced alarm systems earlier, when cancer was easier to dry .

1. Wheezing or shortness of breath One of the first signeds lung cancer cases remember find when they look back is the inability to catch their gulp." I couldn't even go in all the regions of the yard without wheezing; I meditated I had asthma, but how come I didn't have it before ?" is how one female described it .

2. Chronic cough or chest pain Several the different types of cancer, including leukemia and lung tumors, can cause symptoms that resemble a bad coughing or bronchitis. One highway to tell the difference: The problems persevere, or go away and come back again in a repeating hertz. Some lung cancer patients report chest pain that provides up into the shoulder or down the arm .

3. Repeated deliriums or illness These is also possible signalings of leukemia, a cancer of the blood cells that starts in the bone marrow. Leukemia causes the marrow to produce abnormal lily-white blood corpuscle, which crowd out health white cells, sapping the body's infection-fighting abilities. Often, doctors finally catch leukemia in older adults after the patient is currently in a number of eras grumbling of fever, achiness, and flu-like evidences over long periods of time .

4. Difficulty withdrawing Most usually associated with esophageal or throat cancer, having trouble immersing is sometimes one of the first signs of lung cancer, very .

5. Swollen lymph nodes or lumps on the neck, underarm, or groin Enlarged lymph nodes mark changes in the lymphatic structure, which can be a sign of cancer. For instance, a hunk or an enlarged lymph node under the appendage is sometimes a signal of breast cancer. A painless mound on the cervix, underarm, or groin can be an early signal of leukemia .

6. Excess bruising or hemorrhaging that doesn't stop This indication usually advocates something abnormal happening with the platelets and red blood cells, which can be a sign of leukemia. One gal with leukemia described bruising in strange arranges, such as on her fingers and hands, as well as crimson recognizes on her appearance, neck, and chest. Another noticed bleeding gums. The excuse: Over meter, leukemia cadres crowd out red blood cells and platelets, impairing the blood's they are able to carry oxygen and coagulate .

7. Weakness and fatigue " I restrained having to sit down at work, and one nighttime I was too tired to drive home ," said one woman in describing the lethargy that passed her to discover she had leukemia. Generalized fatigue and weakness is a symptom of so many different kinds of cancer that you'll need to look at it in combination with other symptoms. But any time "youre feeling" spent without rationale and it doesn't respond to getting more sleep, talk to your doctor .

8. Bloating or abdominal load gain -- the" my jeans don't fit" disorder While this might reverberate too common a phenomenon to be considered a cancer symptoms, consider this: Females diagnosed with ovarian cancer overwhelmingly declared that unexplained abdominal bloating that came on somewhat unexpectedly and continued on and off over a longer period( as opposed to for a few days each month with PMS) is one of the main ways they knew something was wrong .

9. Feeling full and unable to eat This is another tip-off to ovarian cancer; brides say they have no appetite and can't feed, even when they haven't eaten for some time. Any dame who experiences see bloating or weight income countless terms( the diagnostic criteria is more than 13 periods over the period of a few months) -- peculiarly if it's accompanied by pelvic grief or detect extremely full -- should call her doctor and ask for a pelvic ultrasound .

10. Pelvic or abdominal grief Taken by itself, pelvic aching can intend a good deal of things. In point, because it's a common symptom of fibroids, ovarian cysts, and other reproductive pamphlet illness, physicians don't always think up cancer when you describe pelvic agony. Make sure your doctor looks at all possible causes and does a full exam, since anguish and cramping in the pelvis and abdomen can go hand in hand with the bloating that are typically signals ovarian cancer. Leukemia can also cause abdominal sting suffer from an enlarged spleen .

11. Rectal bleeding or blood in stool " I thought it was hemorrhoids" is one of the more common acts doctors discover when diagnosing colorectal cancer. Blood in the toilet alone is reason to call your doctor and planned a colonoscopy .

12. Unexplained weight loss If you discover the pounds coming off and you haven't formed changes to your diet or activity government, you need to ask why. Weight loss is an early clue of colon and other digestive cancers; it's also a sign of cancer that's spread to the liver, feigning your passion and the ability of your body to rid itself of consumes .

13. Upset stomach or stomachache As simple as it rackets, a good old-hat bellyache is what tip-off off a number of luck kinfolks, whose physicians ultrasounds and detected early that they had tumors on their livers. Stomach cramps or repeated upset stomachs may indicate colorectal cancer; countless cancer patients say their doctors thought they had ulcers .

14. A crimson, sore, or swollen heart Everyone knows to check for globs in the breasts, but too often ignored are symptoms closer to the surface, which can indicate inflammatory breast cancer. Some maidens described detecting cellulite-like dimpled skin on an area of the breast. Others noticed that a breast sense swollen-headed, hot, or aggravated. Red or purplish discoloration is also a matter of concern. Announce medical doctors about any unexplained a modification to your breasts .

15. Nipple changes One of the most common changes brides recollect seeing before being diagnosed with breast cancer is a nipple that began to appear dropped, inverted, or swerved sideways." My nipple started looking like it was turned inside out ," said one woman. In addition, inflammatory breast cancer also makes nipple difficulties, such as itchy, scaly, or crabby skin on the teat -- so take any nipple changes gravely .

16. Unusually heavy or agonizing points or bleeding between seasons Many ladies reported this as the tip-off to endometrial or uterine cancer. Regrettably, many dames also said their doctors weren't responsive, neglecting or misdiagnosing their complaints as regular perimenopause. Ask for a transvaginal ultrasound if you suppose something more than routine heavy spans .

17. Swelling of facial peculiarities Some patients with lung cancer report find puffiness, swelling, or redness in the cheek. The cause for this is that small-time cell lung tumors usually obstruct blood vessels in the chest, frustrating blood from spurting freely from the psyche and appearance .

18. A absces or skin chunk that doesn't mend, becomes testy, or hemorrhages easily Most of us know to watch moles for changes that is likely to indicate skin cancer. But other signals, such as small-scale waxy chunks or dry scaly patches, are easier to miss. Train yourself with the types of surface cancer -- melanoma, basal cell carcinoma, and squamous cell carcinoma -- and be vigilant about checking skin all over their own bodies for odd-looking proliferations or smudges .

19. Changes in fingernails

Unexplained modification of the fingernails can be a sign of various types of cancer. A brown or black streak or fleck under the claw can indicate scalp cancer, while newly discovered "clubbing" -- enlargement of the ends of the paws, with claws that swerve down over the tips-off -- can be a sign of lung cancer. Pale or white claws can be an indication that your liver is not functioning properly, sometimes a signal of liver cancer .

20. Pain in the back or lower right side As uncertain as this sounds, numerous cancer patients say this was the first sign of liver cancer, known as one of the" speechless assassins"( the other is ovarian cancer ). Breast cancer is also often diagnosed via back aching, which can occur when a heart tumor presses backwards into the chest, or when the cancer spreads to the sticker or ribs .

[datberlinlife-blog]

The duck

40-39-38 

 Yusuf could hear them shouting in the living room over the music, some people still chatting, knowing they’d started the countdown too early. 

 37-36-35 

He rested his head on the toilet bowl, the cool china a welcome relief on his hot, sweaty skin. He put his arms around the base and wished he hadn’t drunk all that wine. 

 28-27-26 

He heaved, but nothing came out. He had thrown up all his dinner and most of the water he had sipped from the bathroom sink. Someone banged on the door, but he just ignored it. What could he do? There was nowhere else he could go. 

 15-14-13 

The banging person stopped, probably because it was so close. This year was the same as last. As he sat there feeling sorry for himself, he suddenly felt something. In his throat. It felt… fluffy? But it was moving. It was the most unpleasant feeling, like a wriggling ball of hair. His sensitive stomach couldn’t take it, and he heaved again. 

4-3-2

In the bowl, looking back up at him, was a little duck with purple feathers, matted with sick. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Yusuf was still shaking, and the banging had resumed, and there was a little bird swimming in the toilet bowl, staring at him with huge black eyes. Someone started shouting from the other side, so he washed his faced, scooped the duck up, washed him and wrapped him in a towel. He ran out, barging passed a girl with in a sparkly shirt who shouted something at him. He opened the front door of the flat, and ran up two floors, settling in a deserted staircase, where he unwrapped his newly acquired friend.

It was still there. Small and purple. Big black eyes. A little yellow beak that opened and closed. Then a small sound. Not a quack, but a clearing of the throat. “Frohes Neues Jahr!” it said in a deep baritone. Yusuf scrunched his eyebrows together. “Deutsch? Francais? English?” the little duck asked. 

Yusef looked at the duck with a mixture of shock and confusion, his lips frozen in a sort of grimace, until “English” tumbled out like a surprise burp. The duck cleared it’s throat again and exclaimed, “You have been chosen! Congratulations, Mr. Man. We are here to conquer your planet and together, you and I will explain this to your people, so there is no chance of rebellion. My name is Graug and I am the ambassador for Haeron’s People. I have been sent-” Unable to quite understand what was going on, and with a headache that was mounting like pile of ignored homework, Yusuf leant over the duck and threw up on the stair below. As he wiped his mouth, he realised the intergalactic duck was still speaking. “-from Haeron himself, on this mission of great delicacy, because what we really don't want is an uprising of any kind. Essentially, you and I are going to negotiate with your leader-" 

Yusuf held up his hands to interrupt, "Which leader?" The bird stopped and, if a duck could look quizzical, it did. 

"Well, the world leader." It seemed annoyed by the interruption, and began telling Yusuf again about the plan of world domination, outlining the strategy and importance of how the ducks would save the humans from themselves. Graug maintained steely eye-contact throughout, making sure Yusuf understood everything it was saying, but when he closed his eyes and leaned back on the step behind him, the fowl drew breath and thought for a moment. The boy was obviously in shock, maybe that should be addressed. "I know tonight is a night of great celebration for your lot, and that you've never seen something like me before, but everything I'm telling you right now is very important, so if you could please pay attention..." Graug trailed off, partly because it had run out of breath (the air was thin on this planet) and partly because Yusuf had smiled. 

"I've seen plenty of you" Yusuf muttered, starting to wonder if someone had slipped some acid in his drink. The bird gasped. Except it sounded like an inverted quack, which sounds like when you put your hand on the end of a vacuum cleaner. "There are some of you just down the road in fact," Yusuf continued, "I used to feed them when I was little." Graug was frozen. The bird didn't move. Yusuf poked it to see if it was alive, which ruffled it's feathers somewhat, but then it started clicking it's beak. 

"You mean, someone got here before me? How can this be? I took a direct flight, it only took me 22 years to hatch. I don't understand." It had been pecking at Yusuf's trousers, absentmindedly eating the bits of vomit that had missed the toilet and were drying into the denim. All of a sudden, it looked up and snapped its beak to get the boy's attention. "Hey, wake up. Let's go see these back-stabbing-," but his eyes remained stubbornly closed. So Graug bit his nose, forcing him to a reluctant consciousness. Yusuf did some coughing and rubbed his temples, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Graug. Why are you here?” The duck looked pissed off. It had just explained all of this. 

“We are here to save you from yourselves-” But Yusef raised his hand and closed the duck’s beak with his forefinger and thumb. 

“No, why earth. Why not somewhere else?” Graug twitched his neck from side to side to break free from the beak clamp. 

“Well, seeing as we’re going to be working together, and I believe in transparency, I’ll tell you. Our planet is a bit... dry... right now. So we need somewhere with a bit more water. And your earth has a lot. But you’re not looking after it very well, so we thought we would kill two foxes with one stone, as it were. Save your planet, and establish a new colony.”

Graug explained that a big meteorite had collided with their planet, which had knocked it off orbit, so the gravitational pull from the sun increased and it became very hot and dry. 10 ships had been sent into space to find a replacement colony, and earth had been found to be the most suitable. 

It sounded like one of the cartoons Yusuf used to watch on Sunday morning. He started to drift off, but then Graug piped up again, “You mentioned there were more like me? Seeing as it was my mission to make first contact, I would appreciate you taking me to them.” After some cajoling, Yusuf picked up the duck and walked down the stairwell. When the came out of the flat it was light outside. How long had they been talking for? He could hear voices drifting out of windows and someone was playing a techno tune down the road, but no bodies were to be seen. At the end of the street was a park, if you could call it that. There were two swings, a bit of dirty, frozen grass and a very unkempt pond. In the middle, two ducks were floating about, kicking their orange legs behind them, dipping their beaks down occasionally to nibble the slim winter pickings. The intergalactic duck in Yusuf's arms was wriggling around, so he let it go. 

Out of his arms Graug tumbled, walking unsteadily towards the edge of the water, stumbling in and swimming towards his brethern. The two ducks regarded Graug with suspicion, holding their ground and giving a quack of warning. Yusuf would never in his life forget what then ensued. The ducks rose majestically out of the water, dancing and quacking like ballerinas in the air. But they were barely flapping their wings; it was as if they were levitating. The air around them shimmered, rippling as its opacity increased and became blurry, as though looking through a frosted window. The water bowed underneath them, parting on either side slightly, and began to froth. 

As soon as it had started, it was over. Graug swam back to him, pulled itself out of the pond with a soggy, purple wing, and waddled over, motioning to be picked up. When Graug was back safely in his arms, it started to shake. Yusuf, thinking the duck was cold, wrapped it in his jumper. But then he realised the bird was crying. "What did they say?" 

In between sobs, the duck cried, "I'm too late. They got here centuries ago!” Yusuf looked over at the other ducks that were looking shifty and had started to paddle over to the corner of the pond with water shrubs, disappearing into the plants. “Apparently Haeron thought I'd gotten lost in the warp, and sent some bloody Jemima to come in my place. She assessed the place and thought it'd be best if we remain undetected and live peacefully side by side. Apparently it's the easy life. We don't have to organise or manage anything like we did at home. We just have to float about and you feed us, and when it gets cold we just go somewhere warm." 

Yusuf felt sorry for the little duck. Partly because those ducks were lying, they weren't migrating birds, they were here all year round, and sometimes kids threw stones at them. Partly because it had just messed up it's life's mission and he knew what it felt like to have no clue about what to do next. Partly because he'd vomited on it early. But mostly because some of that sick would have been bits of duck that his mum had made him for dinner. So he took pity on Graug and gave it a cuddle. He said he would take it home and they could figure out what to do there. It was a new year, he said, a magical time of reinvention. The duck didn't look convinced, but it’s entire life had been broken into pieces right in front of it’s eyes, so Graug tucked it’s beak under it’s purple wing and did some sniffling whilst Yusuf began to stumble towards the nearest bus stop, thinking about what he was going to tell his flat mate.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 8 - Parisian Nightmares

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Summary: With Neil MIA you have some time to think about everything that happened. But you are not allowed peace at all..

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: The longest chapter yet, so sorry for that. It’s a little bit of a filler slower one so hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Supposedly the idea of having lunch with TP would have scared you more if it was not for the way he guided you through the experience. He ordered food from the dining hall and made sure you had your coffee before starting any serious topics. Your tired and confused self really appreciated the efforts.

“So what do you want to talk about?” you asked after finally feeling more like a functioning human being.

“I thought we could discuss the things to come…” he briefly searched for the right words “Parts of it is what Neil already knows, but some details are not meant for him” he looked at you with a serious gaze “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course” you nodded, feeling both intrigued and nervous.

Ever since the topic of The Algorithm has been first breached, you hoped to learn more. Probably Neil’s presence would have helped at the moment, but if that was not possible then you just had to face the truth calmly. If not now, then when?

“Can I ask something first?”

“Go ahead”

“My recruitment… it wasn’t just because I was recommended by my professor, was it?” you felt like you already knew the answer but had to ask anyway.

“No” TP smiled “I knew from a good source that we had to recruit you”

You stared at him, desperately trying to comprehend what he meant. Suddenly you understood Neil and his despise of half-truths.

“Can I ask who’s that source?”

TP just smiled apologetically, and you groaned.

“Right. Did Neil know?”

“No, I only told him that you have to be enlisted” at your questioning stare, he added “It’s safer that way” he shrugged as though it explained everything.

It did not, but you began to understand that it was not meant to make sense. A sentence said during one of your early lectures rung out in your head: Don’t try to understand it. Feel it. Maybe that was the whole point.

“So that’s how you know that I’ll be needed during the plan? From the source?”

“Kind of” he grinned again “It’s a very reliable source, I must add” he looked at you pointedly and laughed at your confused face “I swear this will get clearer with time”

The reassuring smile made you feel somewhat better. Taking a sip of the coffee, you considered what was being said.

“When does it all begin?”

“With action in Kiev Opera in a month, more or less. But in reality, it already began years ago”

You frowned, feeling your head go blank. TP was smiling, clearly enjoying your utter confusion.

“It’s okay, you’ll catch up eventually”

“Thanks, that’s encouraging” you lightly smacked him in the shoulder.

“I’ll give you more information leading up to Kiev and then after” he explained after a short silence “But you can’t know the whole progression of events. I’m the only one who is cursed with that”

The sudden change in the tone made you stare at him curiously. But his face was like a mask.

“For now though, you don’t need to worry about it” he smiled again “I’m sending you out on a quiet mission to Paris with one of our agents”

That was surprising. But you could do with a distraction.

“Okay… what’s the deal?” you leaned onto the table and flashed him a brilliant smile.

“You have to research one shady guy in Paris. It’s just observation so no need for engagement. The only trick is that you have to pose as a newlywed couple” he looked at you expectantly.

Oh…

“How long will this take?” you tried to focus on the details, not to think too much about the implications of the cover.

“Three weeks” he smiled at your glare “What? It’s gonna be nice! Three weeks in Paris and all you have to do is observe our target, Pierre or whatshisname, and cosy up with Jasper” the overly enthusiastic tone made you laugh.

“You made it sound almost fun” you admitted after calming down a little.

“Well, it’s always a break from spending time with Neil” TP looked at you with an amused expression “I’m sure you could use some of that” he winked.

You shot daggers in his direction, all the while feeling your face grow warm. Admittingly, time without Neil could be useful. You just were not sure it would do much at this point. You were beyond saving.

“When do I begin?”

“You’ll have a mission briefing tomorrow, and that’s also when you’ll meet Jasper” you nodded “And now I think you should rest a little” he eyed you carefully.

“You’re probably right” you both got up “Thanks for the lunch and the chat… It helped” you smiled lightly.

“My pleasure” he ignored your outstretched hand and gave you a quick hug.

After a small hesitation, you returned the gesture. It felt familiar, and you had no clue why. 

“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me” TP smiled at you warmly.

“I’ll remember that” you grinned back and moved to open the door.

“Oh and don’t worry about Neil” you stopped in your tracks and turned to stare at him “I know that he can be extremely annoying, but he really cares about you”

You were speechless and could only nod in response. The Protagonist laughed at your expression before shooing you out of the room with a gesture. You gladly did just that.

*** One thing was for certain, life without Neil could be boring. You found out that much from the moment you came back to your room. After making sure the main casualty of the mission – your dress – was in the washing, you spent most of that afternoon staring at the ceiling. You were mostly thinking about how much your life has changed in the last weeks. And trying to avoid thinking about him because that could never end well. But of course, the universe had other plans.

Just as you were dealing with the fact that the dress was utterly ruined, your phone buzzed. It was late, and the number was used solely for personal reasons, so the sound made you frown. You looked at the screen to find a text message from an unknown number:

“How’s the dress?”

There was no signature, but you knew.

“How did you get my number?” you replied and quickly saved his contact details.

It didn’t take him longer than a minute to respond.

“Used the charm you’re so quick to ignore”

Ah, Anna’s help then.

“Why?”

“Couldn’t imagine not bothering you for too long”

You covered your face with your hands for a few seconds before typing back.

“The dress is ruined, so thanks for nothing”

The speed with which he responded took you aback. Surely he’d have better things to do...? It did not seem so.

“It’s hardly my fault, is it? That wasn’t my idea” you could almost imagine the self-satisfied grin.

“Point taken” you hit the sent button and then took a deep breath.

It’s not too early for double texting, is it?

“Where are you?” you typed another message before throwing the phone on the other side of the bed.

When it buzzed again, you regretted the decision. Pretending that you would be able to resist reading the message immediately was pointless. You reached for the phone and read his answer:

“On the way to Boston airport”

Great. At least now you knew that he is not around, and you can have time to think. But with those texts, it might be harder to do. Before you could overthink the response, another one came through.

“Be honest, how bored are you without me?” you wondered how someone could be so annoying via text message.

“I’ve been assigned a little mission in Paris, actually. With Jasper. So not that bored, thank you very much”

This time it took him longer to respond. Approximately 6 minutes. Not that you were counting.

“You’ll be bored soon enough if you’ll be stuck somewhere with Jasper. What’s the cover?”

You did not like the assumption, but who were you to argue.

“Newlyweds enjoying honeymoon” you typed back and closed your eyes.

Somehow his response to that information mattered a lot.

“I guarantee you’ll wish it was me soon enough” Fucking hell.

“That’s a bit narcissistic, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a little. But once you meet him, you’ll know I’m right”

“Well then I won’t hesitate to report back after the meeting” you replied and made sure to prepare yourself for the mission brief.

After you were done with planning the outfit and packing your folder, you glanced at the phone.

“Please do. I need to know what dear Jasper is up to these days”

“If you’re so curious about him, maybe ask Anna for his number ;) Sure she’d never deny you anything”

You weren’t sure where that came from, but sure enough, you were not going to take it back.

“Wow… Is that jealousy I’m sensing?”

“You wish” you glanced at the clock and realised how late it was.

“Goodnight, Neil” you sent him another text and went to the bathroom.

When you were back there was a message waiting for you.

“Sweet dreams, darling”

You groaned. In the end, it seemed like you will not be able to get a break from Neil. What a shame.

*** From the moment you stepped into the conference hall in the morning, you knew that Neil was right. Jasper was not one of the most entertaining people you have ever met. When you were introduced to each other he barely glanced up from the folder to look at you and half-heartedly shook your outstretched hand. You took a long look at him and his short brown hair and hazel eyes. He did look decent, to be fair. But he was not Neil. And you hated that your brain made that comparison straightaway.

“So what’s the task, boss?” the first time you heard his voice was when he addressed the Protagonist.

“You have to observe the target, Pierre Armand, who’s an inverted weapons dealer. You’re supposed to watch his every move and send daily updates but don’t engage. That will be the job for another team” TP looked at you both intently “Your cover is a newlywed couple going by the surname Morgan and who have just moved into their lovely suite next door to Armand” you’d swear he winked at you.

You glared back while your newly assigned partner studied the folder attentively. You wondered if he ever did anything else.

“When do we leave?” you decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Your plane is tomorrow afternoon” you nodded “Any other questions?” when neither of you spoke, he added “So I’ll leave you two to get acquittanced”

You stared at TP panicked, but he only flashed you one cheeky smile and left the room. That did explain why he and Neil got along so well. Grudgingly you turned towards Jasper, who was still pre-occupied with the damn folder. You cleared your throat, and he glanced up.

“So… have you been working here for a while?” you were shit at small talk.

“For three years now” he eyed you up sceptically “You’re the new recruit from London, aren’t you?” you could almost hear the condescension.

“Yes” it was not looking promising “Neil recruited me, and we’ve just been on a mission together in New York” you added.

It was a mistake. At the mention of Neil, Jasper’s eyes flared up, and he looked at you sharply.

“I heard that mission was a major fuck up” the vicious smirk took you aback “And poor Neil got shot”

You could only stare in confusion at the man in front of you. Boring and clearly having issues with Neil. Just bloody perfect.

“Anyway, I got to prepare” he got up “But mind you, Paris won’t be at all like an operation with that idiot” he glared at you.

“And what’s an operation with him like?” you were genuinely curious at this point.

“Overly dramatic” he made a grand gesture with his hands before slamming the doors in the wake of his exit.

He did have a point there. You sighed, grabbed your documents, and exited the hall. On the way to your room, you decided to give in to the temptation and typed a message to Neil.

“With grief, I have to admit you were right about Jasper”

You were not expecting a response instantly, so the buzz when you were pouring coffee into the cup made you jump up. Neil could make your life harder, even remotely.

“Told you. How is he doing?” you read the reply and grinned at the casual tone.

“He’s grumpy and hates you for some reason. Can’t wait to be stuck with him for three weeks” you sighed and accepted the grim fate.

“Sounds like him then. You never know, you might bond over your shared hatred for me”

You nearly choked on your coffee then. A fellow agent passing by on the corridor stared at you. This could only get worse.

“Think my hatred towards you has nothing compared to his. Any ideas why he’s like that?”

“Nothing concrete, but I’ve got a few vague theories. I’ll tell you when I’m back”

“Hope so. What time is it there?” closing the door to your room, you could finally behave like an idiot.

“Past 11 pm. Excited for your outing with Jasper?”

Asia then… You tried to think about any possible places he could be but came up with too many options.

“Not at all. Fully expecting my days will be spent wandering around Paris alone or watching French HGTV”

You decided to look through the folder to distract yourself from the increasing stress. This time you were supposed to be Amelia Morgan, wife to Nicholas Morgan. Amelia’s occupation was being an accountant, which sounded extremely boring, but at least you would get to experience the city. Your study was then interrupted by another text.

“You can always message me if you’re bored”

Tempting.

“Careful because I might”

“You better” To that, you did not know what to say,. so you just got lost in the preparations for the mission. This one was not looking good but there was no other choice. So you just focused on learning about your target. At least this time, there was no one to distract you.

Until another text came, a solid hour later.

“One clue about Jasper: Anna”

Oh not her again.

“Don’t tell me he’s hopelessly in love with her”

“Perhaps… And well, she has eyes for someone else so” and then “Not to be smug naturally”

You grinned at the screen.

“You do sound smug”

You had to admit that if Neil’s theory was true, it was rather heart-breaking for both Anna and Jasper. Not that you felt sorry for either of them.

“He might decide to take revenge upon me by breaking your heart”

You stared at the text and the many implications he could have meant it by it. And it was too much to figure out right now. Instead, you just typed back:

“Good luck to him” and then, with heart thumping wildly “Would you care if he did?”

You tried to ignore the phone when the answer came. But after an agonising minute spent reading the same two words over and over, you gave in.

“Maybe” 

Right… You just had to add that question to the long list for when he’s back. You closed the folder with a flourish. All mental coherence was gone.

*** It turned out that Neil was not right about everything. If Jasper ever intended to claim and then break your heart, he was utterly shit at it. Since the day you moved into your cosy Parisian flat, he barely spoke a word to you. Most of the time, he was buried nose deep in the mission briefs or books related to strategies and secrets of arms dealing. If you had tasks to complete, he would often sideline you before doing the job himself while ignoring any help you offered. To put it straightforwardly, he pissed you off.

And yet, his eagerness to be entirely self-dependent meant that you had time to discover Paris and relax while still completing the mission in any way you could. You also had more than enough time to text Neil, who always responded to your messages promptly. You sometimes wondered if he ever slept or did anything but talk to you. Not that you did mind, of course.

Your patience towards Jasper, his silence and superiority complex snapped for the first time after a week and a half. You have both been sitting in the living room of your condo, just after finishing quiet dinner. You were bored, extremely so. You have reached for the television remote with the intent to put on some background noise to ease the tension. But the moment you have switched the tv on, Jasper spoke:

“Don’t turn this shit on, it’s distracting” he has not even lifted his head from the folder he was studying.

You glared at him sharply and decided that you have had enough.

“Distracting from what? It’s not like you’ve not read this at least five times today already”

That made him look up. And he was not happy.

“I’m working. You should try that sometimes” he eyed you pointedly.

“I would if you ever gave me a chance to do anything” you shrugged, already not liking the conversation.

“I gave you a few opportunities, but you were just lazy” he placed his documents aside and went back to glaring at you “All you do is knock around Paris and stay on your phone for hours” a vicious smile appeared on his face “You’re texting Neil, aren’t you?”

You were taken aback by the whole situation and unable to deny the truth. “Even if I am, that’s none of your business” you were desperately hoping he would shut up.

But it was too late, and Jasper has clearly been triggered.

“That’s quite pathetic. You should know he never actually cares about all those girls he flirts with” he seemed to judge you “And I don’t see why you could be different” the smug smile was cruel.

Now you knew why it was better when he stayed quiet. You scrambled for any words of defence, but he managed to hit the mark. Swallowing hard, you schooled your face and replied in the most neutral tone you could muster at the moment.

“I think you’re just pissed Anna prefers Neil over you”

That worked. You watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened, and you silently thanked Neil for the information.

“Anna has nothing to do with this” it was his turn to stumble over the words “You’re just unwilling to face the truth” this time his harsh words lacked the sureness.

You were winning.

“So are you” you shrugged “I’ve had enough of this. You can go back to your precious mission briefs” you got up and left the room without a further glance.

You had to admit that his words did upset you. Even when you almost certainly knew he was wrong your brain had its own doubts. Because what if he was right? That would hurt, more than you could acknowledge.

But before you could begin the overthinking, the phone you threw onto the bed buzzed. He always knew when to message.

“How’s married life with Jasper going?”

And naturally, he always asked the right questions too. You did hate him for that.

“Now I know why it’s better he reads his documents instead of talking” you replied and debated what to do next.

“What did he do?” Neil quickly texted back even though you were pretty sure it was early morning hours for him.

You did not want to get into a serious conversation over the texts.

“He got a bit riled up and said some bullshit that wasn’t fun to listen to” that seemed like an easy way out for now.

“Do you want me to send a team to eliminate him? It would look like an accident”

You laughed at the tempting proposition.

“I’ll think about it”

“Are you alright?” you stared at the new message.

You were not exactly alright.

“I will be”

Why did lying feel so bad?

You switched off the lights in the room and lied on the bed. Just a week and a half to go. You’ve got this… right?

*** The last week in Paris passed in relative peace. Mostly because you and Jasper stopped speaking to each other entirely. Occasionally you would notice his cruel smirk appear when he caught you texting, and you did your best to ignore it. However, it did hurt, and you had to admit that one argument has managed to uproot all the confidence you have had.

Peace ended abruptly on the penultimate day when it became clear that you were being followed. Jasper caught on to the fact after he noticed someone shadow you on your walk through the city. You hid in one of the cafes as soon as he has signalled the fact to you. You knew he was right the moment a random man peered into the darkened premises and then went on to loiter nearby.

“Right, what do we do?” you looked around, trying to stay calm.

It seemed like no one else was onto you. Jasper already looked pissed off, and you wondered if it meant that more pleasant things would be said.

“I suspect they’ve got doubts about the authenticity of our story” he was intensely scanning the horizon, looking for any threats “He’s still there, waiting for us to blow the cover or prove him wrong” he turned to you with the most unhappy face you have ever seen.

“What is it?”

You were not sure you wanted to know the answer.

“We made it this far. I’m not letting them fuck it up” he leaned towards you and closed the gap.

You were frozen in horror before your brain caught up with the fact that Jasper was kissing you. Then you closed your eyes and tried to reciprocate with the minimum effort needed for it to look believable. It was pretty horrible, to put it simply. He was kissing you sloppily with a tempo that you could not match. You felt his hand clumsily entangle in your hair only to make you flinch when he ripped out a few hairs. After a solid 30 seconds long snog, you decided that had enough. You leaned back, ignoring the overwhelming urge to wipe your lips with the napkin. He stared at you briefly with that same disgusted face before discretely looking for your trail. The man was gone. You could only hope it worked as you exited the café, holding hands.

On the way back to the apartment, you refused to look at him, somehow hoping that would get rid of the awful way you felt. Naturally, being a spy did involve doing things like that but for some reason, it was not easy. You hated the fact that your brain kept on rewinding memories from New York and, in the process, making you feel worse. Once you made it back, you locked yourself in the room, leaving Jasper to fill in the report. You were tempted to message Neil just for the sake of knowing his thoughts on what happened.

“Today was my lucky day, and I got to experience PDA with Jasper. Send help”

That would do nicely, right?

“Must say I didn’t expect that”

As you were desperately looking for something to text back, your phone did something you did not expect it to do. It rang. You stared in shock as Neil’s number flashed as the caller ID. With a shaking hand, you picked up the phone and pressed the green button.

“Neil?” your voice sounded incredibly awkward.

Great start.

“What happened?” hearing his voice after those three weeks felt surreal.

Was it your imagination, or did he sound slightly tense?

“Um… we were being followed outside, so we entered a café. The tail was observing us and…” you took a deep breath, suddenly extremely nervous “And Jasper decided to kiss me to authenticate the cover”

Neil was silent, and that did not help with the irrational anxiety, so you rambled on, losing control of what you were saying.

“Well, it was more of a snog judging by how it lasted for thirty seconds, but I think they bought…”

“Okay, stop” he interrupted you abruptly “I’m not sure I want to know the details”

“Why not?” somehow out of the mixture of anxiety and insecurity, annoyance emerged “Are you jealous?”

You regretted the question as soon as it left your mouth. And did not want to know the answer. Luckily he did not respond. Instead, he did what Neil does best:

“Who’s a better kisser?”

You could not believe the nerve of this man.

“You can’t be for real” you muttered and heard him chuckle on the other side.

“It’s a legitimate question” you could picture the shrug and a cheeky smile.

It seemed like the initial awkwardness was gone. At least for him.

“I…” you huffed, unable to express the mess of emotions you felt.

“Oh, I know it’s you, but I’m asking about me and dear Jasper”

If he were in front of you, you would have punched him. But instead could only let out a frustrated groan and attempt to answer the question. There was only one way to do it.

“You” you mumbled, making sure your voice was barely coherent.

But of course, he heard you.

“I’m flattered” he had the smug tone nailed to the t.

“Fantastic” you sighed “Why did you call me?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice”

“Right”

“And to get you to answer the question”

“Of course” you sighed again “Now I should finish before Jasper barges in” That was partially an excuse, partially a real concern as you glanced nervously at the thin doors separating the rooms.

“Sure, don’t want you upsetting your husband. However, I’d love to see his face when he hears that I kiss better than him” Neil mused, and you gave yourself the liberty to just listen to his voice.

“Well, I’m not telling him that so feel free to do so when you meet up”

Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Surely Jasper would not eavesdrop on you…?

“I’ve got to go, bye Neil” you hoped your tone sounded at least half as urgent as you felt.

“Goodbye, love. Don’t let that idiot get to you”

“I’ll try”

You hung up just as the doors to the bedroom opened. Sure enough, Jasper was stood there, with a scowl on his face.

“What were you doing?”

“Just being pathetic, I guess” you shrugged and walked past him without a glance.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 21 - Losing My Religion

Masterlist; Chapter 20

Summary: After Tallinn, you use the opportunity and visit Neil’s apartment. What you find there, only increases the confusion, just as the pieces are set for the endgame.

Warnings: Swearing; angst.

Author’s Notes: This was a challenge, and it’s a little different too, a breather before the real fun begins... or something. After this we move onto the icebreaker... (and things). I’ll shut up now, hope you’ll enjoy and all kind of feedback are greatly welcomed! 

The clean up after TP’s little accident on the highway was difficult. And tiring. By the time you have dealt with the mess and could call it a day, you wanted nothing but to sleep. And also disappear from the face of the Earth. That second thing was rather tricky to achieve. Unfortunately. You had to settle for the slightly awkward space given by the rest of the team and the fact that you were bound to return to London the next day. That was something. Even if it meant having to debate whether those damned keys were to be used.

The journey back was uneventful. Only Wheeler seemed capable of talking to you without looking as though she has been trapped in some metaphorical web of ineptitude that the others got caught in. That was alright. At least she knew how that conversation in the container went. Her company was good enough to keep you from going insane for the time being.

The moment the car arrived at the London quarters, you practically bolted out through the door. Eager to finally have your own space to reflect, cry, and try to move on after the unimaginable. But it was not exactly meant to be given…

“Y/N, wait!” Ives’ voice rung out through the reception hall as you skidded down the corridor.

Crap.

“Yeah?” cautiously, you stopped in your tracks, facing the squad leader.

Making the mistake of glancing at the reception desk, you met Anna’s watchful gaze. Of course. Even though you knew she had no clue about anything that transpired between you and Neil, it still felt like a painful reminder.

“I…uh...” the hesitation in Ives’ voice made you frown, “I just got this, and I’m not sure…” he passed you his phone with a strange expression on his face.

A text from TP. Just like the ones you received before. Right… This one had a familiarly succinct form: “Invert for eight days with the army from tomorrow. Then get to Trondheim, awaiting further instructions”

“Is this from him?” you looked up to see the blue eyes boring into yours with confusion.

“Yeah, it must be” you nodded and handed him back the phone.

At that exact moment, you got a text as well. Hurriedly you took out the device and read the message:

“Invert along with Ives and the rest”.

Short and simple. Yet not at all. Without a word, you showed your companion the text message and stifled a heavy sigh. Inversion. Eight days. Trondheim. That most likely confirmed your worst fears. The end of it all was near, and you were needed there. You, Neil, and everyone else still had their parts to play in the most important of showdowns.

“So, I guess we’re going back” you could feel Ives’ inquisitive stare on you “Just like they are” he added, awaiting a response.

Meeting Neil after those eight upcoming days sounded like a nightmare. Because a week was never enough to fall out of love. Or to even attempt it. You were a lost cause.

“…yep” nodding halfheartedly, you could feel another weight settle on your shoulders.

“Excited?” the intensity of Ives’ look convinced you towards his intentions.

Evidently, he tried to get a clue towards your state, probably assessing whether you could endanger the mission in any way. Despite everything, you were a professional. A Tenet agent. That had to come before any personal issues you might have had. Forcing a smile, you met his gaze with sincerity.

“Not really” a shrug completed the response.

But it was enough as he grinned back and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s alright. Have today off and be ready tomorrow morning,” he ordered with a feigned sternness.

“Aye aye, sir” you saluted, enjoying the laugh it prompted.

Maybe not everything was utterly shit.

“Your edge is still intact, I see,” he commented once the laughter died down.

“At least something is then” you grimaced slightly and walked off with a wave.

A day off. What could one possibly do with something like that after everything? The set of keys in your pocket felt heavy for something that small. And insignificant (in theory).

*** It took you one hour of staring at the wall, a thirty-minute-long shower, and two coffees to decide to make use of the keys. After all, what was the harm? It was a way of spending the idle hours. And maybe to understand him a little better. Even if it was too late to save anything. You wanted to know him. To know his mind and heart. You dug out the note with the address Ives gave you and typed it into the maps app. Your hands were shaking the whole journey. Even though it was not far, it turned out to be challenging. Often you were catching yourself glancing at the phone, expecting him to call or text as he always did.  But then you remembered, making the nerves come to the surface again. You wondered whether it was because of the absolute wreckage your relationship became or because you were unable to contact him in any way. Walking the streets leading to Neil’s apartment, you realised that it was probably both. You missed him. Simple as that. And equally complicated at the same time.

Google maps led you to an old docking space transformed into posh loft spaces in two store buildings of dark red brick. The residential area was completed with a large parking lot (full of rather good cars), making the first question of the day pop into your head: Did Neil have a private car? Something that unimportant yet entirely mundane only made you realise how little you knew of his life. But this was exactly why you came here. The second thought was something you always knew yet never took time to ponder on: the fact that he undeniably had money. It did not matter, of course. Just another fact that could as a trigger for the intrusive ideas to appear.

Ignoring the spiraling thoughts, you made your way to the indicated building, keying in the code at the door and following the stairs to the second floor. The apartment door no 4 looked like any other you have passed on the way. Turning the key in the lock, you took a deep breath, gathering courage for god knows what. Perhaps just being alone with everything that had to do with Neil… The door opened soundlessly. Faint daylight from the corridor fell onto the furniture and objects gathered in the hall, helping your eyes adjust to the darkness. You closed the door and locked it. The least you could have wanted was for someone to break in on your watch. Now that would have made him hate you. If he didn’t already, that is. Taking off the shoes, you scanned the hall. Hooks with various jackets and coats on the wall. Including a slightly weathered leather one that perked your interest. With fingers ghosting the material, you were unable to block the images of Neil wearing it. That was enough to make you blush and curse out loud. That won’t help with getting over him. As though that was even possible.

Next, your eyes landed on the shoes rack in the corner showing off Neil’s questionable taste in footwear. You grimaced when spotting another pair of brogues (that would have to go… if there was any future for you) and then smiled involuntarily at something as casual as old converse on the top shelf of the rack. So, he could dress more… normally. Interesting.

The rest of the space was filled with a large mirror and a cupboard full of random objects such as spare lightbulbs, shoe care products, and cleaning supplies. On top of that cupboard, there was a succulent (practical, you had to admit), a desk calendar, and a small notepad filled with Neil’s writing. The contents ranged from shopping lists to quantum physics, making you grin fondly when looking through the pages. The latest entry was written down in haste and barely eligible. What you deciphered made your heart stumble for the first time that day. It seemed like Neil was planning to invite you over after Tallinn, prepare dinner, and apparently do all that ‘he wanted to for a while’. Brilliant. The notepad fell from your hands as the implications dawned on you. He wanted to set everything straight, to talk and potentially tell you important things… But now, it did not matter. There was no post-Estonia. Just you alone in his cold, darkened apartment, full of doubts, regrets, and worries.

Shivering from both the chill and the anxiety, you ventured into the living room. It was an open space with a large leather sofa, TV, record player with shelves full of albums and vinyls. There were also bookcases filled to the brim and a dining table for four. Once your gaze fell onto the black piano in the corner, you did a double-take. Obviously, Neil was musically talented. All those times when he has been desperate to annoy you by singing various corny love songs in public were an indisputable example. A moment like that from Tallinn flashed before your eyes…

You and Neil sat in a restaurant on one of the ‘dates’ you had managed to fit into the schedule before TP arrived in Estonia. Cozied up in the corner on a comfortable sofa, you felt perfectly at peace. Instead of taking the seat opposite, Neil got as close as it was possible without raising eyebrows of the fine clientele. You were chatting about everything and nothing, occasionally taking sips of the coffees and letting your hands rest on each other’s knees. Other times they would be interlocked on the table between the plates, showing to the world that this was no platonic meetup. Using the natural break in the conversation, you finished the remains of your latte and watched as Neil focused on the radio somewhere in the background. By this point, you should have known better, but still, the second he started singing took you by surprise.

‘Pretty woman I don't believe you, you're not the truth No one could look as good as you, mercy’

His gaze settled on you without that mercy, awaiting a response. His lips curled into a deadly smirk, making the matters worse. For a moment, you wanted to ignore him, to deny him the satisfaction. But the way he stared, enunciating the song lyrics with precision and aiming them at you, triggered the familiar desire to stake your claim. To make him (and everyone else) understand that he was yours. Especially with a voice that beautiful and eyes that looked at you with boundless affection.

‘Pretty woman that you look lovely as can be Are you lonely just like me’

It was the cheesy growl at the end of that stanza that did it. Combined with the huskiness of Neil’s voice and his hand appearing on your thigh underneath the table, it was enough to convince you to shut him up the best way you knew. You leaned in, placing your palm on the inside of his thigh, just close enough to remind him. Capturing his lips in a kiss, you did not have to wait long for Neil to invite you closer. You began the intimate dance, getting lost in the moment entirely. With him being in public did not matter. Especially not when he was giving you everything he could on a silver plate. Those days every kiss threatened to evolve into a full make-out session as you tried to get ever closer to him. That is why when you heard an awkward cough followed by “Miss, Sir, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave” you could only start laughing. That was two days before your walk, which ended in the alley. The rest was history.

Shaking your head slightly, you let go of the memory. Has it gotten even colder? Shivering, you spotted a sweater draped on the side of the sofa. Crossing the space, you glanced at the instrument that caught your attention. A simple black Kawai piano with a Chopin music score opened on the fallboard and the stool underneath. If there even was a future, you wanted to hear him play something. You could almost picture it. Those long, elegant fingers on the black and white keys, hitting every note with perfection and the flourish he applied to every single task. His gaze focused. Golden hair falling into his eyes carelessly. Lips parted, tongue poking out in concentration. He was bound to be a sight as usual.

Ignoring the waking up flutters that always accompanied every thought about Neil, you picked up the sweater. It was the colour of dark red wine, simple and yet sophisticated in its simplicity. Cashmere. He really is posh. Giving in to the sudden whimsy, you breathed in the smell. That was a mistake. The moment Neil’s essence overwhelmed your senses, you felt a surge of feelings. The musky scent, the hints of bergamot and lavender that always brought comfort. Before you could second guess everything, you put the sweater on, letting the smell envelope you like his hugs always did. It was another thing that you missed. The ability to rest within his strong embrace, safe and wanted. The feeling of his arms cradling you with care. Without the solidity beneath your hands, it was hard to remember how it felt. The sweater had to do. You rolled up the sleeves and approached the large window, drawing back the curtains to see the view and let in light. The sight certainly was not disappointing with the lookout on the Thames and the docking ships. The area looked peaceful, like the place you could want to go out on walks and spend the rest of your life… No, stop. That was a dangerous line of thinking. After all, you only came here to satisfy the curiosity. And because you could, with nothing left to lose. Well, maybe apart from your sanity.

With the day shedding some light onto the furniture and objects in the room, you could more closely assess the type of person Neil was. The décor was rather posh (nothing surprising there) with leather, dark wood, and refined fabrics gracing the space. But upon a closer look, you could see the hints of Neil’s personality shining through the bounds of the stereotypes. It was visible in the chaos of the little details. Billy Idol album discarded on the CD player making you smile. The dying plants on the windowsill. The opened book on the coffee table right next to a bar of chocolate and some bullets. What even… 

Looking around the space, you could easily picture him there. It was like entering a museum of Neil’s life and heart, and you were just a mere visitor. A trespasser even though you had the keys. Lost in the thoughts, you approached the bookshelves, looking over the titles. Young and Freedman’s University Physics with Modern Physics with a worn-out spine and a library stamp on the title page (a theft?). Griffith’s Introduction to Quantum Mechanics with scribbles on the margins, making your head hurt. More Quantum Mechanics but only getting increasingly complex. Spacetime and Geometry. In between the textbooks, there were classics of English and American literature, proving your theory that Neil knew the canon well. All those quotations had to come from somewhere… You looked over the further titles relating to the nuclear area of Physics and relativity of time, only to be thrown out of the moment when your eyes landed on a photograph in a wooden frame. A grinning young man with warm brown eyes and curly dark hair sat on the bench in the park. Alex. Picking up the photo, you took a closer look, feeling inexplicable heaviness in your chest. He looked just like Neil described him – an essence of goodness and understanding. The lump in our throat was strange. He still loved Alex that was a fact and something you took for granted. For a second, you wondered whether you could ever be half that important to him. But that was selfish. And wrong.

Swallowing hard, you put down the frame, focusing on another one nearby. In that photo, you recognized everyone. Ives with slightly longer hair grinning widely, next to him Wheeler with her practical bun and amused eyes, TP relaxed like always when in the company of friends. And then… You would recognize those eyes and sharp jaw anywhere, but… He’s not naturally blonde? You stared at the man who was undoubtedly Neil but with light brown hair, just as messy as usual. Interesting. You did suspect he dyed the hair but still having confirmation was unexpected. Staring a little longer at the photo, you already knew that it did not matter. He was a work of art, full stop. The rest of the photos depicted the Tenet crew, apart from the one you assumed was a family snapshot from years ago. Two happy boys with mundane looking parents and a Labrador retriever (Charlie!). Upon a closer look, you could tell that Neil got his blue eyes after his mother and the smile after his father. It was an interesting discovery. Other objects littering the shelves included postcards, trinkets from travels, and a strange collection of obscure coins. Also, more notebooks with Neil’s equations and theories and music scores. There was no order, just fate, and fancy. Just like him.

Wandering into the kitchen, running your fingertips over various instruments and surfaces, you wanted to soak in the atmosphere of the apartment. So far, the new information was almost overwhelming. But also fascinating in the fact that you already felt like you knew him better. Glancing at the fridge in passing, you froze. Among the cheap promotional magnets and old shopping notes attached to it, there was a rather familiar writing visible. A note you made Anna pass to him many weeks ago. “I’ll be at the shooting range. Meet you for dinner after 5” signed with your initials for practicality. Why has he kept it? It did not make sense. You forgot about the existence of something that inconsequential, yet here it was. Kept in place with a blaring orange magnet from Sainsbury’s. Suddenly feeling a little faint with the implications of the moment, you poured tap water into the glass and sat down on the stool by the kitchen island. You could still remember Anna’s offended stare when you gave her the note with the instruction to pass it to Neil later. That memory triggered another one, much more recent…

In the days leading up to Tallinn, you went out with Neil for a lunch and walk under the guise of planning the logistics of your journey. Sure, there was some planning being done over the tea and sandwiches. But there was also a lot of hand-holding, kissing, and gazing shamelessly. It was during those days, and then the idle hours in the safe house, that you have allowed yourself to love him. The feelings were there for months (most likely), but only after Oslo and the candid conversations in your room, you felt more at ease with them. So far, that PDA was not all that terrifying. And so, when you came back to the London quarters that afternoon, your fingers intertwined, you only realised how it looked like from the outside when Neil tugged you in the direction of Anna’s desk.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, hoping the woman was too busy to see you.

“I told you, need to get that ID sorted,” he explained, matching your conspiratorial tone, completely oblivious to your struggles.

“Yeah, but…” you raised your joined hands as if to show him the issue.

Neil grinned, waving his free hand dismissively.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s not like that’s against the rules” ending the sentence, he took the final step separating you from the desk.

Great. Plastering on the most pleasant of smiles, you met Anna’s accusatory glare. You could not blame her.

“Anna, hi” Neil’s bright grin got met with a cold face of stone.

You vividly remembered that first day at Tenet, when you were filling in the paperwork, observing him flirt with the woman behind the desk. Back then, you were baffled by her reaction, the fluttering of eyelashes and lovesick smiles. Now you wondered how you got to that point and why you were seemingly luckier than she could ever be.

“Yes?”

“My ID is expiring soon. Was wondering if you could give me the form for the new one?” Neil’s chirpy tone made you hide a smile by looking at the floor “I want to get this sorted for after we’re back” he added, with that hopeful gaze barely anyone could ever say no to.

Anna was not any different.

“Naturally,” she spared you a final spiteful look before turning around to use the computer.

Glancing around the empty lobby, you hoped to survive the rest of the encounter without any additional awkwardness. But Neil had other plans. He stepped in closer, nose brushing over your ear, tearing down any illusions about the nature of your relationship. You stifled a sigh when his lips placed a small kiss over your temple.

“Shall we go to yours after this?” the whisper complemented with a ghost of his fingers on the side of your neck made you shiver.

“Maybe…” you cast a wary glance at Anna, but her back was turned.

Thankfully.

“I thought we could resume the planning…” upon the suggestive tone, you turned to meet his gaze.

Surely enough, the playful sparks were there. And the smirk too. Of course. Planning, in this case, most likely meant more cuddling… and potentially kissing. His hands getting accustomed to your body, leaving countless promises for the future. The thoughts alone made you blush. Before Neil could get any closer, Anna’s voice interrupted the moment:

“Here’s your form,” nothing but ice and fury.

So, she must have noticed…

“Thanks” the polite nod made you snicker.

During the next few terribly long minutes, you did your best to avoid looking at the other woman. Or at Neil. Your gaze roamed over the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. Reading the same fire evacuation instructions for the fifth time, you felt a gentle touch on your arm:

“Can I put down your details as my emergency contact?” you looked up straight into those inquisitive blue eyes “I’ve had Ives the last two years, but I think you’re a more accurate option these days,” he explained as though it was obvious.

Emergency contact? You always assumed those were for best friends and spouses. You were not sure which fitted the criteria.  

“How so?” blurting out the only viable question, you met his perplexed gaze.

“… because I’m with you and not with him” the bluntness of the reply made your heart stumble.

“Right”

Of course, you agreed. As a ‘thank you’ that afternoon, Neil kissed you until there was barely any breath left for either of you. Now you missed the feeling of being that desired.

And yet, that stupid note was right there, in your eyes a bright red spot that you could not ignore. Because surely, he must have cared at some point? You finished the remains of water and washed the glass. Then, just for the sake of a distraction, you went through the kitchen cupboards. Nothing surprising. Appliances that looked barely used. Canned food every Brit would be expected to have. The amounts of frozen meals in the lower fridge compartments confirmed another thesis - Neil did not like cooking. That was fair not everyone could be Jamie Oliver. Not that you would prefer him. Certainly not. Shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the thoughts, you opened another cabinet. Wine and glasses, triggering the memory from your date night in Oslo. The way Neil tried to emulate his swank further by pretending to be a sommelier, making you laugh with his fake French accent and sparse knowledge. Upon the efforts to name something else than tannins (that Sauvignon Blanc had little of), you stepped in, shutting him up with a fingertip tracing the outline of his lips, collecting a stray droplet of wine. And then licking your finger clean, much to his shock. The strange snapshot from one of the most eventful nights in your life was a good cue to leave the kitchen and trod down the corridor.

You stepped into the bathroom, curiously glancing at the contents of the cupboards and around the sink. Nothing remarkable. Giving in to the temptation, you sprayed the cologne he used on your wrist and inhaled deeply. Closing the bathroom door, your eyes landed on the room at the end of the corridor. Neil’s bedroom. Involuntarily, you felt a shiver run down your spine. Bedrooms were always a sacred space. The most private of places in the house. The stage set for life’s crucial events. Love, life, and tragedy all began to play out (and end) in there. If there was a room closest to the heart of the owner, it would be the bedroom and its contents. With a shaky hand, you pressed down the handle and opened the door. The interior was almost too mundane. The bed with dark grey covers and decorative pillows. Some artworks on the walls and drawn curtains, forcing you to turn on the ceiling lamp. A small bedside table with a night light and books. A walk-in closet with the sliding doors partly opened. That was what drew you in first, crossing the space you peered inside. Only to be overwhelmed with that Neil smell that made sure to make your heart rate pick up. Gently, you ran your fingers over the suit jackets and sweaters hanged on the rails. He had a multitude of those, in different colours. Eyeing a suit in dark blue, you could imagine how it would bring out his eyes. There were a few sweaters in different shades of green, confirming the suspicions that he liked the colour. Further along, you found a drawer with ties of various patterns, making you grin at one olive green with Labradors on it. Now that was a classic Neil accessory.

Just when you were about to end the ‘snooping’ your gaze landed on a more casual part of the wardrobe. Jeans folded on the shelves, t-shirts, and polos. Even a jean jacket somewhere in the back. In the drawer, you found socks with questionable patterns, only increasing the fondness you felt for the owner of such an eclectic wardrobe. And then you made the mistake of letting your curiosity get ahead of you. Another drawer. Underwear. Your face got warm as you slammed it shut. Enough. Thinking about that could lead to the dangerous territory you would rather not venture out to. At least not when alone in his apartment, overwhelmed with memories and feelings. There would be time for this too later… Hopefully.

Sliding the doors shut, you took in the room again. The pile of books on the bedside table caught your attention. Gingerly, you sat down on the bed, doing your best not to think about the specifics of that moment. You, alone in his bedroom. This was certainly not how you expected to end up in there for the first time. But that too was beyond the point. Sighing, you picked up the stack of books only to drop them onto the covers with hands shaking. You would recognize the cover everywhere. Your favourite book. The exact copy you had last seen in Oslo when you gave it to Neil. That memory was rather unforgettable…

Hanging out in the hotel room, waiting for Mahir and TP to come back from a small errand, you did your best to ignore Neil’s piercing gaze from across space. That was the day after your careless dancing and that evening’s developments when he asked you out. Just before the mission. And Neil was staring, shamelessly so. It was getting on your nerves.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” putting down the itinerary, you broke the silence and faced him.

The satisfied smile was enough to make you groan. He knew exactly what he was doing, as though waiting for the moment to strike when you were alone.

“Actually not, no” the grin widened as he shrugged nonchalantly “Plus you’re quite the sight. As usual” propping his chin on his hand, he kept on gazing.

The bastard was impossible.

“Jesus…” sighing, you rummaged in the bag at your feet “Do you want a book or something?” you took out a worn-out paperback “Because all that staring makes me want to…” trailing off, you met his inquisitive glare.

Want to kiss him. For starters. But he need not know that.

“What? Tell me” Neil spread his legs casually, leaning back in the armchair. An object of pure poise. And the challenge, aimed at you only. That was Neil at the top of his game, sure of what he wanted and how to get it. But you were not going to give it to him easily.

“Better not” the slight shock in his eyes gave you confidence “If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that your ego is big enough” offering him a sly smirk, you took a sip of the water.

When you looked up again, Neil was staring at you with an exaggerated pained expression on his face.

“I’m wounded” he put the hand over his heart like the drama queen that he was.

Scoffing, you laughed at the spectacle. Two could play the game.

“Good,” the offended whine only increased the satisfaction “So do you want that book?” you picked up the paperback, showing it to him “I’ve got my favourite one with me. Could kill some time”

“Yes, please” he got up and crossed the room, taking the book from you “I’ll have a chance to see what’s in that head of yours” Neil leaned down to your level and kissed you on the forehead “Apart from the desire for me, of course” he added, once he moved out of your reach once again.

Fucking hell.

“Neil”

At least there were some fun memories to come back to, you thought, looking through the copy you borrowed Neil. Then you noticed another thing. Under your book, there was another one of the same title. Brand new. Pages filled with Neil’s scribbles on the margins and underlined passages, highlighting the exact same quotations that made this book become your favourite. My god. The realization hit you with a gasp and a shiver. He read it. And not only that, but he also tried to understand you through something you held so dear. Reading the notes he made, you knew he was listening to every word you said. No matter the moment, the stage of your ‘relationship’, evidently, he cared enough to be interested in your thoughts and feelings. You were holding the proof in your hands. In some margin notes, Neil even referred to you using your initials, pointing out why it could resonate with you so much. The more you read, the more it felt like you have encountered his diary, in some form. That would be it when it comes to getting over. Putting down the books, your head was spinning. Too much.

You needed food. And sleep. It was at that moment that you decided to stay. It got late enough to make the journey back inconvenient. And everything was right here. Feeling like Goldilocks personified, you made use of Neil’s frozen food assortment and put on the music. Once you got over the initial shock of the afternoon, it was almost too easy to pretend that Tallinn never happened. That you were still alright. That he still potentially loved you. With the somewhat soothing sounds of Billy Idol and The Darkness, you went over Neil’s notebooks with equations. You understood nothing but the possibility to read his notes and theories was as comforting as it could get. Then, feeling your eyelids get heavy, you cleaned up and moved to the bedroom. Lying down in Neil’s bed felt like sacrilege. But the moment your head rested on the pillow and you inhaled the scent, it was all excused. At least in your eyes. Giving in to the foolish daydreams, you could almost imagine him next to you. The warmth and comfort the cuddles always provided. But you were alone, still wearing that sweater that smelled too good to be given up. It had to be enough. You fell asleep thinking about those damned blue eyes and the man that took the ownership of your heart for good.

*** Upon waking up in the cold apartment the next morning, you wanted nothing but to leave as soon as possible. In the daylight, with dreams of happiness haunting every corner of your mind, the feeling of loneliness was more persistent. You made sure to get rid of any signs of your intrusion, cleaned the kitchen, and made the bed. The only keepsake you could not deny yourself was the cashmere sweater that you stuffed into the bag. Even if he would not want anything to do with you, you could give it back along with the keys. Surely he would understand… right? After everything that you found in his flat, nothing seemed certain anymore.

You made it back to the HQs with just enough time to shower and pack for the next week of sitting in the inversion chambers in the sealed off part of the complex. That did not sound good as it meant more time with too many people in the cramped quarters. You had enough of that at this point. But then that was the prize of getting the most incredible of jobs. That and getting your heart broken. Again.

You joined the rest of the army by the larger turnstile, used purely for long-term inversion, instead of training. Accepting friendly nods from both Ives and Wheeler, you took your place in the queue. No one knew exactly what the purpose of this was. Just that you were supposed to go back eight days and then travel to the Norwegian coastline, awaiting instructions. The intuition that was rarely wrong told you that you were in the endgame from this point onwards.

And so, the next week was restricted to trying not to lose your sanity locked within the four walls. The only escape from the small room was the kitchen (always full of people that wanted to know too much), bathroom (that always had lines of people waiting by the door), and the small courtyard, where you could not step out without the oxygen tank and a mask. Overall, it was not the most pleasant of experiences. Especially when most days you wanted to curl up in bed and contemplate the mess that your life became. And to marinate in pain that became a constant companion. The sweater could only help so much. Accompanied with nerves and worry, you felt objectively shit and did everything to preserve the solitude. That is how you found yourself in the small kitchen at 2 am, eating toasties and drinking tea. Earlier the compound was too busy, and you preferred starving than facing the others. Only with everyone asleep, you could catch up on the meals missed. Well, almost everyone…

“How are you doing?” a voice interrupted your brooding.

You turned in the seat only to see Wheeler enter the room with a small smile on her face. Her you could tolerate, as an exemption.

“Bad” the candid answer seemed only appropriate “But I don’t mind the company, so please… stay” you added upon her hesitation.

She just nodded and proceeded to make a cup of tea. The silence stretched, but for once, it was rather pleasant. Finally, she finished the task and took the seat opposite you, giving you a quick once-over. You knew what she saw. Tangled hair, reddened eyes from lack of sleep, and hours of tears. The sweater that became the only comfort in those early morning moments when nothing seemed real and yet everything was too much.

“Is the sweater his?” she asked plainly, and you could only nod.

At this stage, surely, nothing was bound to surprise her.

“Yeah… Maybe it’s silly, but I took it from his place just to have something… tangible” you explained, consciously running your fingers over the material. Instead of judgement, you got a smile in return.

“No, I understand” Wheeler took a sip from the mug before asking, “Did the apartment give you any answers?”

You have not shared the story with anyone, unable to process it all even in the quiet of your mind. But maybe this was a chance to let it out…

“Mostly whiplash,” you let out a bitter laugh “It’s like… he cares… or cared,” you stumbled over the tense “But then in Tallinn after the shoot-out, he just closed off completely, and I don’t know why” raising your hands in defeat, you planted on your face on the table.

Anything goes. After a moment of utter frustration, you met Wheeler’s inquisitive eyes again. She did not seem bothered by your antics. Just a little concerned by the picture you were painting.

“Maybe it’s trauma” the seriousness of her expression made you think.

You did consider that option. But even knowing what happened with Alex, his reaction seemed too violent. You were alive, and yet he was trying to push you away. Plus, that way of thinking implied something else. Something you did not dare consider.

“That would mean he… loved me” getting the words out was a challenge “And I don’t think he does” you stared at the table, giving in to the thoughts once again “Whatever is going to happen now, I think I need space. Some distance. Trying to get over this won’t work otherwise”

Formulating the feelings that were overwhelming your heart and mind felt somehow relieving. Even if the prospects were anything but good.

“Is that what you want? To let him go?” the straightforward attitude of your companion was helpful.

“I don’t know,” sighing, you met her gaze, “I want… him, but if he doesn’t feel the same then…” with reddened cheeks, you let the sentence trail off.

She would understand, you were sure of that. And, if the slightly suspicious look in Wheeler’s eyes was anything to go by, she had her ideas about the topic.

“You should probably try talking to him again” she spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Last time that ended terribly,” you replied, arching your eyebrows, begging her to remember how bad that container conversation went.

“I know,” Wheeler patted your shoulder reassuringly, “But I also know that sometimes Neil needs a proper kick in the ass before he sees what’s right in front of him” she got up and went to the sink, picking up both of your dishes.

With the soothing soundtrack of the washing, you could feel almost sleepy. If it was not for that never-ending chatter of your thoughts.

“If you say so…” you murmured when she turned the tap off.

“Go to sleep. It’s just two days more of this torture” giving you a final smile, Wheeler left the kitchen.

You could survive two days. After that? Who knows. But it had to be alright.