#in this au he’s a bit more self deprecating but mostly in the sense of questioning his capabilities | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neko-naruto · 2 years ago

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I can take care of myself [don't let go]

Summary: Underfell is erased, mercilessly, and ruthlessly, Ink only manages to save Fell himself in the chaos of it all, until further notice he's placed under the care of the Dancetale monsters.

It's quite nice really, no one hates him, and he doesn't have much reason to hate anyone either.

Only problem is when he realizes he doesn't know how to dance.

Warnings: Brief discussion of depression, medication, some self deprecation, its mostly a fluff fic

Authors Note: So I'm sitting there going 'fuck' because Fell/Dance isn't a thing, and then I pull up a draft and start writing to fix that minor inconvenience, and here we are now, 18K words later and hoping someone else enjoys the notion enough to reblog it, and for those that prefer Ao3, the link

"Fell," Ink began cautiously as the monster in question tried to get a hold of his senses, having been dropped rather roughly into the antivoid.

"Yeah, asshole?" Fells snapped back, disorientation and confusion made his soul pound in his chest like hell.

"Error has just destroyed your AU, he specifically requested I save you as you're an honorary member of the Bad Sanses," Ink said, as soon as he was finished Fells pupils slitted themselves into slivers of crimson as he gripped the hollow casing of Inks soul.

"He did fucking what?" Fell snarled out as he gripped Inks soul a little bit tighter, the guardian winced, "no, more importantly ya didn't try and stop him?" The anger that resided under Fells confusion came across clearly.

"It was either I risk Underfell getting reset with irreparable damage, or save you and your memories," Ink explained, Fell halted his actions entirely, "I'm sorry, I couldn't save anyone elses physical form."

"Fuck, they didn't deserve to get erased, I hated the bastards but this? This is one step too," Fell said, he knew that if Ink did his job properly he could've spared a couple of souls in the carnage, but given Fells pristine condition, the chances are unlikely, "you go find Error and punch him for me, understood?" Ink nodded, he had more to say, his pupils shifted shape and color once again, this time to musical notes.

"I'll ask Nightmare, to do that for you," Ink said, he walked over to Fell who upon closer inspection was shaking a bit, even as his pupils rounded out to the usual shape and size, "I have a few AUs in mind you could live in until I figure out how to restore yours, and all the others we've lost."

"Which ones, and I swear ta fuck if you put me in Underlust again," Fell said, he didn't so much as despise Underlust, he was a semi-frequent visitor, he just, he couldn't handle staying there for more than a week; Ink shook his head, cracking a small smile.

"No, definitely not, you might get jacked up on the lust trait yourself if it gets reset, and I already have multiple Lustfell timelines to deal with," Ink explained, Fells shaking eased up an impossible amount, "I was thinking we send you to Underswap, Dancetale, Dancefell, Birdtale, or you could just bunk with the Bad Sanses."

Fell stayed silent for a moment, he would end up getting himself erased if he had to bunk with Error, "tell me about Dancefell," his tone had a slight quaver to it and was spoken on an exhale.

"It's a Dancetale timeline wherein a reset went awry and caused everyone to act more like they do in your AU, it's just Dancetale except Felled," Ink explained, Fell nodded along, there would be two of him (every AU he visited there was), and if it got Felled, that would also mean another Boss, and if standards are the same, he would be dusted in no time, "their Sans is often called Vermilion during multiverse meet ups."

"Right, and I would be cast out in Birdtale for not having wings, nobody wants me in Underswap," Fell said, counting up reasons of why he wouldn't be welcome in each AU, some he vocalized, others he didn't, Dancetale by far had the least, it was just Undertale but everyone could dance, to his knowledge at least, "I think I'll head on over ta Dancetale."

"I see, their Sans goes by Dance but you already know that," Ink said, holding out a hand for Fell to grip, the black and red counterpart took hold gingerly.

The world started to flip and fade out before they were locked in an abyss of darkness, he could feel the liquid slipping between his joints and hated it. He wanted to retract his hand from Inks grasp desperately, but was far too aware of the consequences that would await if he did so- who knows what AU he would wind up in, or if he would just be lost here forever. If anything his grasp tightens, using his other hand to grasp further up Inks arm for support, his eyes are closed shut and he doesn't notices the way the guardians expression simply lights up.

And as soon as it starts, its over and they're in Snowdin, there is no crunch when they splash up from the snow and Fell can barely gauge when its safe to let go and move until he opens his eyes. He's rather swift to jump away from Ink a little bit, kicking the snow with one foot, the entire place is empty, but he can hear the sound of music muffled by the walls of Grillbys bar. He's tempted to head on over, to investigate, he refrains from taking another step when the door swings open and a skeleton in blue walks out, that would be Dance.

He's laughing a bit and dismissing a conversation, his face is has a splash of blue on it, a deeper tone than most of the Sans counterparts, but there are still cyan highlights peppered amongst the navy tone. He goes to head back to his house, but he's quick to pivot on his heels instead and make his way over to Fell and Ink, he's heaving breathes despite not needing to. Once he makes it over to them he's grinning, drunk on adrenaline or alcohol, he still takes a pause before speaking.

"I'm taking a wild guess that you'd be the guy Ink wants me to take care of for the time being?" Dance asked, the way he phrased it made Fell want to tear his sternum open, take care of? He could take care of himself in Dancetale of all places, probably, he knows how to dance, to an extent.

"Yeah, that would be me, Dance," Fell spits the name with a bitterness to it that only makes Dance grin a little bit more.

"No need to be so bitter, I assure you, everyone here is fine having another Sans," Dance said, he put out a hand to shake, he wore fingerless gloves, Fell didn't reciprocate the motion.

"Fell, Dance," Ink said, gesturing between the two, "Dance, Fell," he gestured between them again, "I trust that you'll be in good hands Fell, don't worry about calling me up if you need to," Ink said, his pupils shifted to stars.

"I changed my mind, take me to Dancefell," Fell said, Ink shook his head.

"No can do, you're gonna be stuck here, if you're lucky a reset could go wrong and it might turn into a Dancefell timeline, but otherwise, you'll be living with Dance and his Papyrus," Ink said, Fell groaned a little bit, Dance only grinned, the blue on his face fading as the adrenaline wore off, he gripped Fells hand before the red counterpart could recoil, the strength in his grip was overpowering.

"You're stuck with me now fool, c'mon, Papyrus is dancing," Dance said, his tone was starting to come down from energetic to one much more lax as he dragged along Fell who begrudgingly followed.

Things would be better literally anywhere else, he wouldn't mind getting put in his place by a Papyrus again if it meant being anywhere other than this freak. A Sans that enjoys exercise? Unheard of in pretty much anywhere other than the Dance-verses, actually, that's a lie, everyone in Farmtale does their fair share of work to keep things in order. Fell still doesn't want to be here, even when he hears the music change to one that would be more fitting for a salsa instead of whatever style Dance uses, okay, maybe he's a little bit curious.

Dance releases his wrist when they arrive at the door and he pushes it open for Fell to enter, the red counterpart does so hesitantly, its so loud inside. Dance follows him in and leads him to an empty booth, Fell lets his gaze follow Dances, finding Papyrus on the floor, serving absolute cunt- he could hear when his heels hit the floor. It was definitely something that Fell hadn't expected to see, he instantly averted his gaze to the table, he never thought he would see any Papyrus doing such a dance. It made his soul ache in a way he couldn't explain, he'd only read of such dances, never seen it, it would be nice to dance like that. With anyone other than a Papyrus, obviously, they're still pseudo-brothers even if from different AUs, he could imagine doing such a dance with a Sans; not like any of them would know it though.

He was quick to try and find a way to distract because he didn't want to see it anymore.

"So, you can dance?" Fell asked, looking at Dance instead of the Payrus currently on the floor, it didn't catch the blue counterparts attention enough to drag his gaze back.

"Sure can," Dance said, he had to talk loud, the entire bar was noisy, he turned back to Fell.

"What's so special about it?" Fell asked, provoke an argument, a conflict even, anything to get his mind off of the noise and the sights.

"Got good reflexes, timing is on point," Dance continued to rattle off reasons, but most of them flew over Fells skull, "got good stamina-"

"And?" He said, interrupting Dances list, he got a lazy glare before something came out that caught his attention.

"And I am extremely flexible," Dance said, his tone was icy and it drew a bit of a reaction from Fell who paused before choking out a response.

"How flexible?" Fell said, his tone was a little bit strained, he was being talked into a corner, and the crimson rising to his skull was enough proof of that, it made Dance grin.

Dance leaned in a bit, resting his skull in gloved hands, "wanna find out?" His tone is far too sensual for Dance to even know how to achieve, Fell can't resist the small nod, he freezes up entirely when Dance stands up and offers a hand.

Fell doesn't even question taking it, more afraid of getting in trouble if he doesn't than interested in learning if he does. He's led out of the bar right as Papyrus finishes his performance, his collar feels far too tight around his neck. Dance leads him into the snow, its already been mostly compacted for the time being, he releases Fells hand and turns to face him.

He takes a few steps back before dropping into a few leg stretches, then he goes from a standing position directly into the splits, it shocks Fell because Dance doesn't wince. There's a spin and for a few seconds he's propped mostly on one hand, the momentum of his movement carries him into the next motion. It feels a little bit surreal for Fell, to see it all disjointed, slower than normal, but then again Dance is just demonstrating, not performing. The demonstration lasts only for a few minutes, Dance listing off the names of moves, and giving vague instruction on how hes achieving it as he does so.

Dance brings himself back into a standing position, "and that is how flexible I am," Fell can't tell he was acting like such in the bar just to fuck with him or this was part of a long con, the red on his skull still refused to die down despite how innocent that was.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind, but thanks for giving a demo anyways," Fell said, he rolled his eyes as he did so, Dances smile returns twofold.

The door to the bar opens and Papyrus walks out, Dance waves him over a bit and his pace picks up a little bit. Fell tries to repress the tense because this is a nice Papyrus, this isn't his Papyrus, this Papyrus wasn't prone to violence, no one in this AU was. They were only prone to the salacious temptations of rhythm and the dance floor, Fell still didn't understand what was so addicting to them in the simple movements. When Papyrus makes his way over the sprinkle of orange on his face is clear, he's still serving cunt in his outfit, but he was no doubt working his ass off dancing inside.

He heaves a breath, he doesn't have too, before speaking, "Sans, other Sans," Papyrus offers a hand to Fell as he speaks, "terribly sorry I can't remember your alias," the formality shocks Fell but he cautiously takes the tallers hand in a shake.

"It's Fell, or Red, whateva floats ya boat," Fell said, the way he guarded his tone, his sentence form, hell, even the way he held himself came across as afraid- Papyrus was kind enough not to mention it.

"Well then Fell, what would you like to do?" Payyrus asked, the question caught Fell off guard, he didn't know.

He shrugged his shoulders, Dance answered for him.

"We could go set up the couch for him, he'll be staying with us for a while," Dance offered, Papyrus gave a nod.

"Of course! Follow me, although, I suppose you would already know the way if your world is anything like ours," Papyrus said, his optimism was still held the same, but overall excitement dulled itself down, Fell played into it, trying to make a good impression.

"Heh, who knows how similar our AUs are," Fell shrugged his shoulders a bit, watching his pseudo-brothers excitement rise again as he led the two over.

Snow crunches underneath their shoes and no one talks, normally a silence like this would make Fell feel uneasy due to his previous living conditions, but here? He feels a little bit safer here with the knowledge that Error most likely won't touch this AU if he's here, or maybe this AU is next on the chopping block- he pushes the worries aside so he doesn't feel ill. This is his little safe haven until Ink figures out how to restore his AU, if even possible, he's been trying to do so for eons at this point and fails each time.

It'll be fine.

If Ink fails that is.

Everyone Fell has met in this AU has been nice to him so far, so what if he gets integrated during a reset and forgets, he'll survive, he'll thrive.

Dance placed a hand on Fells shoulder and the latter is pulled back to reality, they're at the door, "hey dude, you good?" The question comes across as sickeningly sincere and Fell gives a nod.

"Just thinking, s'all good," Fell answered with as Papyrus opened up the door and let them in with a bit of flare, Fell migrated to the couch instantly.

Dance sauntered over, he was a bit amused at how easily Fell acclimated to the couch, considering it had been voted most uncomfortable in recent polls. It really was interesting to Dance how Fell acted in this AU, they had met briefly once or twice before during multiverse meetups, and he acted very different there. Still, watching him prop his legs over the arm rest and curl into the back cushions definitely felt like it belonged. Dance dropped down beside him, only a few inches between hip and skull, Fell jumped a bit and Dance gave a small laugh before leaning over until there was mere centimeters between them, he was still smiling.

"So, like the couch?" Dance asked, Fell gave a bit of a nod, trying to shimmy away from the close proximity they were currently stuck in, Dance leaned back, "she's certainly a winner," how relaxed he sounded was off putting, he knew that Dance would be acclimated to some forms of physical closeness due to the nature of the AU, but jeez, that felt like a bit much.

"Shall I get you a pillow?" Papyrus asked, leaning over from the kitchen.

"Sure thing, Boss," Fell said, the title came out reflexively and he was quick to cover his mouth, he did not need to make that a thing for Dance to deal with, the blue counterpart quirked a brow and Fell scrambled for an answer, "habit."

"I'll be back in a second then," Papyrus said, his smile didn't seem to fade as he disappeared back into the kitchen leaving the two counterparts to their own devices, Fells face was peppered in red.

He simply lay with his skull in his hands, he eventually sat up heaving a sigh, he stared at the shoes on his feet instead of meeting Dances gaze. He didn't have the energy to explain anything inside his head now or ever, nor does he want to do so, Dance still places a hand on his shoulder. The question that Fell was dreading to hear doesn't come, instead he's greeted with something mundane.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch tonight, you can use my room for a bit instead," Dance offered, the concern in his voice is visceral, once again, throwing a curve ball at Fell.

Fell shakes his skull, "I'll take the couch," he looks up again, "I won't call him Boss again if that's what you're worried about."

"It'd be nice if you didn't," Dance said, "I got some ketchup if it'll help you settle into your new AU for who knows how long," Fell pauses before answering, watching as Dance stands up.

"I like mustard," Fell admitted quietly, he watches Dances expression go from concern to a mix of confusion and almost disgust, he shrugs it off.

"Gotta go back to Grillbys than," Dance said nonchalantly.

"I'll take the ketchup," Fell said as he stood up, following Dance to the kitchen, Papyrus is gone.

"Cool, we got all sorts of variety," Dance said, opening up the fridge as he did so, he pulled out the plain kind, a spicy kind, a mixed kind, and a couple others, it overwhelmed Fell.

"I thought there was only one ketchup...?" Fell murmured quietly as he slowly reached for the spicy one, Dance grabbed the regular and put the rest back in.

"Nope, I been getting into mixology lately, all of these are my own brew," Dance explained before taking a sip of his own, he watched his red counterpart intensely so.

Fells hesitance was clear but he bit the bullet anyways, the spice coated the inside of his skull but it still tasted nice, he could almost ignore the fact it was ketchup. He paused before going back for seconds, Dance considered it to mean that he succeeded with the spicy blend unlike what Alphys had said with it being too hot and Undyne saying it wasn't hot enough.

Dance smirked a bit, "hows it taste?"

"Like ketchup," Fell answered with, "what do you expect?" His level of snark makes Dance grin, he has to hold back a snort.

"Good point, good point," Dance said, the front door opened and Papyrus walked in holding a pillow, "where'd you get that one bro?"

"Places with pillows," Papyrus answered matter of factly as he made his way to the couch, dropping down the pillow, and a blanket he grabbed as well.

"You sure about that? Cause I'd say we have plenty o' pillows right here Paps," Dance said, Papyrus leaned back a bit just to glare at him, Dance gave a shrug.

"Sans, please, stop it with the puns, we have a guest over," Papyrus said, practically begging that just this once his brother wouldn't be making a total ass of himself.

"He has a point Dance, you don't wanna test my joke tolerance, some even say I can become pun-friendly," Fell said, smirking all the while, it garnered a bout of laughter from Dance while Papyrus groaned, he shoved his way into the kitchen.

"Everybody out! I'm cooking!" Papyrus snapped, waiting for them to move.

"Looks like you're just standing there to me," Dance said, that time Fell gave a chortle before the two were pushed out of the room instead instead.

There's a pause of silence, once again, Fell somehow finds it comfortable to just be standing there and doing, or saying, anything- it's unnaturally comfy, but he likes it. He isn't used to it, but he distantly hopes he can become used to it.

Dance gives a bit of a hum before speaking, "wanna head on over to Waterfall," Fell shrugs his shoulders, "cool, I know a shortcut."

"Alright, lead the way," Fell said, grinning as he gave a faux bow in Dances direction, gesturing to the door as he did so, Dance put out a hand.

"You might wanna hold on," Dance said, there was a slight crack in his confidence, but Fell doesn't pull it apart when he takes Dances hand before being led through the door.

It's dark again, but he anchors himself to reality with Dances hand, he follows his steps despite not being able to see in the ocean of navy blue tones, so close to black you can barely tell its blue. Everyones shortcut was different, this one felt a bit more alive than other ones Fell had been taken through, he couldn't pinpoint exactly why right away. Only once they were heading back to the light, where the navy became brighter did he realize it was because the shortcut was pulsing around them, thrumming in tune with them at that. It was neat, he barely caught due to how purposeful the beats were, in tune with his soul, or Dances, he would have to ask his counterpart how to do that.

Even when they had exited the door he didn't let go of Dances hand right away, didn't see a good reason to do so, it was nice, and Dance wasn't pulling away either. He only let go when Dance led him deeper into Waterfall, it was blue, every waterfall was blue, but the atmosphere of this Waterfall was different, it made sense. This one just had a pulse to it, each Echo flower had a rhythm and time to how fast and slow it repeated the message, like music.

"You have the lone bench in your AU, right?" Dance asked, Fell quirked a metaphorical brow at the question, "just follow me," Dance grabs Fells wrist this time and it causes the red counterpart to freeze up entirely, Dance lets go.

Dance leads the way again and Fell follows, its nice, listening to Dance rattle off little things about this AU that Underfell has, Fell chooses against bursting his bubble. That'd just be cruel, and he can't risk anyone hating him on a vitriolic level so early into the time he'll be spending here. He pauses when Dance crouches down and picks up a flower, it looks vaguely like a lotus, he grabs a second one and gestures for Fell to grab the other two; he does as silently instructed.

Dance places a flower in the water and pushes it across the still lake, it leaves ripples as it fades out of Fells view, "cool right?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper as he placed the second one down and pushed it over, "your turn."

Fell sits down on the mossy gravel beside Dance and pushes off a flower, this time he can see it when it stops moving, he adds the other and they all sprout up into a bridge, "I'll uh, I'll let you lead the way," Fell said, fumbling for an excuse, unskilled when it comes to walking across these flowers, more used to using shortcuts instead.

"It's easy," Dance said as he stepped on a flower, it didn't budge an inch under his weight, Fell followed his actions down to the wire, scared they would collapse if he stepped wrong, "don't worry so much," Dance offers both of his hands this time, facing Fell instead of the path ahead, "I won't let you fall in."

That does things to Fell, "I would hope so," he grasps both of Dances hands firmly, grip tight, he continues to follow Dances footsteps, staring at the ground below.

"Hey," Dances voice was soft as he slipped a hand from Fells grip and used it to tilt his skull up a bit, "just focus on me, not the water, might help your nerves," Fell does exactly that, watching Dance intently, following the gentle tug as he steps forward until they're on solid ground again.

Fell doesn't speak for a moment, face splashed in a deep crimson that matches his pupils, "thanks," Dance smiles a little bit, this time its sweet instead of smug or joking, Fell barely catches the difference because its so small, it makes his soul pound a little bit harder.

"Twas nothing my dearest damsel in distress," Dance said, adding on not nearly enough layers of dramatics to his spiel, Fell gives a bit of a grin as he takes a seat on the wooden bench, Dance drops down beside him, "wanna quiche?" The question catches Fell off guard, if he was eating something he would be choking right now.

"Fucking what?" Was all Fell managed to get out in his confused state.

Dance leans over and sits back up with a quiche in his hands, "a quiche, do you not have those in Underfell?"

"We have quiche in Underfell, Dance, of course we have quiche," Fell explained, he gestured a little bit, "I know how much teachers love ta say there's no such thing as a stupid question, but that was no doubt about it, a stupid question," Dance shrugged his shoulders as he tore it in half.

"I'll actually use my skull next time I even think about asking you a question," Dance proclaimed boldly, he took a bite of quiche before spitting it out, "don't eat it."

"Watch me," Fell said, he took a bite, chewed and swallowed, just to spite Dance, it tasted disgusting, clearly stale.

"If you get food poisoning, it's on you," Dance said, watching as Fell went back for seconds just to prove his point.

Fell choked down another bite before throwing the quiche into the still water, it made a small splash sound that a nearby echo flower reverberated, "I know," his voice came out a little bit dry, the quiche in itself absorbing what little moisture lay along his throat and digestive systems, if he even had any, he wasn't quite sure how it worked himself.

"Dude, as your host in this AU, I hereby ban you from doing dumb fucking things," Dance said, Fell snorted.

Fell sent a smirk in Dances direction, "I'd like to see you try."

Dance quirked a nonexistent brow, "I'm sure you'd love to get pinned to the floor by none other than moi," the retort catches Fell off guard, his skull heats up again, Dance either doesn't notice or chooses not to bring it up.

---

A few weeks have passed and Fell is realizing that he doesn't know how to blend in with the local monsters because he can't dance, can't count complex music, he can't even sing- he's screwed in in simpler terminology. He knows just enough to survive, he knows just enough to pass, and he knows that he can say he's from out of town but he prefers not to do so. He tries to pick it up, tries to follow Dances movements, but he can't quite get his joints to work miracles like Dance has managed to do so. He's been brought to Mettaton for tips, he couldn't catch on properly, he tried to learn Capoeira from Undyne, but it cut to close for comfort.

He's running out of legs to stand on in an attempt to get good, he can't learn anything that anyone can teach, and even this Undergrounds influence doesn't want to help him. He's heard stories about how every human that's fallen down has gained a style to dance by, its simply unfair that he can't figure it out- he's tried everything he can think of. He's getting tired of walking around and finding that everyone around him can do what he can't, even if he could just walk to the beat this universe sets he would be fine, but he can't.

Dance still treats him as an equal, but it's clear he doesn't like the fact that Fell doesn't know how to simply dance, in any style, 'he's like an uncle at a wedding' as Undyne helpfully put it. Fell still tries to compensate for the fact he can't, he picked up an electric bass he found in the garbage during a dumpster dive with Alphys (he's never doing it again (he's done it multiple times)). He's trying to learn it, picking up sheet music whenever he finds it, learning some chords and notes, the amp he has to use now isn't very good, but Dance seems to appreciate waking up to a horribly tuned rendition of Hot Cross Buns every other morning.

Here he sits on the couch, propped against a pillow, one leg crooked the other with his foot firmly on the floor as he holds his bass, today he's hesitant to play. He's trying a new song, a complex one, he's sure he'll lose count somewhere along the line, but he starts to strum despite that, he promised himself he'd learn at least one song for every monster in Dancetale. He's starting with a song for Papyrus, it's a bit slower compared to what he usually hears Payrus dancing to, but, it'll have to do until later. The sheet music rests beside his music and he presses down on the strings and starts to strum, he counts aloud instead of in his head.

It sounds good enough at first, the count is stable, the slip ups he makes are minimal, and it manages to draw Papyrus from upstairs, that starts to chip at Fells confidence and focus. Now he has an audience, an audience listening very intently and even trying to make something work alongside the basic chords he's producing. Mistakes start to slip in with how frequently he's looking up from the sheet music for validation of whether or not Papyrus seems to be enjoying himself- he is. The stress is causing his soul to thrash against his ribs when Dance makes his way down the stairs and joins in, he focuses on the sheet music for as long as possible until he looks up and simply stares.

He didn't know that their styles could blend, it looks like an awkward mix of the two extremely different styles of dance, but they make it work. Fell keeps strumming away until he's finishing the song, before that Dance does a small pirouette out the door just cause he can and Fell is enamored at how swiftly Papyrus' dance changes back to his original style. He looks a lot less winded than when he performs at Grillbys or on Mettatons show, or with Undyne, he looks thrilled instead.

"That was magnificent!" His voice is full of joy and Fell can swear he hears how rapidly his soul is beating in the silence of the room.

He takes a moment to form an answer, "thanks, I uh- it'll only get better with time," Fell gave a couple experimental strums as he spoke, he'll work on Mettatons song next, "soon enough I'll be playing for royalty."

"Absolutely! I'm sure the king would love to hear you perform," the excitement in his pseudo-brothers voice doesn't falter in the slightest, but it's said with such earnest it makes Fell feel a little bit warm and fuzzy inside.

There's a knock on the door and Fell pulls off his bass, saying he'll get it as he reshuffles his sheet music and places it all in a pile before making his way to the door. He pushes it open gently, his mood immediately drops when he sees that it's Ink. He doesn't know why his good mood decides to take a hike when he realizes that it's Ink whose standing expectantly at the door with starry eyes. He isn't even sure what he's supposed to say, this probably means he's getting moved before he could master even one song; he gave himself a job and he's going through with it for once.

"Hi Ink," his voice is a lot quieter coming out then he had planned, Ink lets himself in.

"I have great news!" Ink exclaimed, he sounded really excited and it dragged down Fell more than expected.

"Lay it on me," Fell said, concealing a sigh with what he saying.

Ink pauses before speaking, as though to steady himself with the excitement coursing through him, "well, Error has apologized for destroying your AU, and I've cobbled together a makeshift placeholder for Underfell that you can live in," Ink sounded happy, proud of himself even, but Fell didn't answer right away, "do you not want to go back?"

Fell pauses, leaning to the side a bit, forcing his hands in his pockets as he searched for the words he needed, "not yet at least, I told everyone down here I would learn how to play for 'em," he explained, Ink didn't respond right away, Fell filled the silence, "I made a promise, don't really wanna go back on it just yet," Ink gives a nod of understanding.

"Of course! That makes zero sense for you to do all things considered, but I'm still happy for you!" Ink said, his emotions were fake this time and he was putting it on way too thick for it to even mimic a semblance of real emotion, he wanted things to go his way and they weren't.

"Sorry to put your work to waste, kinda," Fell said, glancing to the side, his gaze rested on his bass, he had so much work to do, so much time he could buy with that instrument- this AU was better than any variant of his own and everyone knew it.

"No, no, it's perfectly fine," Ink turns to the door, he waves off both Fell and Papyrus who had migrated to the kitchen, "I'll check in again after a few months your time."

Fell didn't dignify Ink with a goodbye, he wouldn't do so unless the guardian did so first, he didn't. This was the first time in hundreds, if not thousands of resets that Fell has felt secure not only in his own body, but the AU itself, and safe with the monsters around him. Yet Ink still has the gall to try and take that security away so he can 'go home' even though this feels much more like home than Underfell ever did. It makes sense that Ink wouldn't get it, that won't stop him feeling sour about it.

He walks back over to the couch and grabs his bass, he starts playing, he doesn't quite know what it is he's playing, but he is certainly strumming out some tunes. It sounds angry, it sounds scared, it all sounds raw and unfinished, he isn't even sure what chords he's playing to some extent. When he's done with it he tosses it to the ground and storms out, dropping into the snow to try and cool down one way or another; he pulls his hood up.

He hears the door open and close, Dance sits down beside him, Fell doesn't even bother questioning, he knows he took a shortcut.

"So," Dance begins, dragging out the 'o' in his sentence, "Papyrus told me 'bout what Ink said, sorry for bailing on ya and not sticking around all day, had some 'dogs to sell, you know how it is," Fell gave a pause, Dance waited for an answer patiently.

"I sell chimichangas," Fell said, he almost sounded nervous as he watched Dances expression go from concern to confusion.

"Of course you don't sell hotdogs," Dance murmured to himself, barely loud enough for Fell to hear him say it, "whose song are you gonna do next?" The question is abrupt enough to catch fell off guard.

"Probably Metattons, get some more salvaged sheet music from Alphys, ya know?" Fell said, he wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Good luck with that, we only have a few pieces of sheet music for the stuff he likes listening too," Dance said, Fell gave a bit of a nod, that piqued Dances curiosity, "you feeling alright?"

Fell heaved a sigh, "is it wrong for me to want to stay here even though I can take care of myself and go back to Underfell?" His questioned sounded painful, and Dance took a moment to think before answering.

"Not really, I don't mind having you around, I don't think anyone wants you out," Dance said, he wrapped an arm around Fells shoulders, he let go on the tense he received in response to the action, "besides, it isn't like it's really your Underfell, it's just some shoddy replica," he added, "so long as no one wants you out we'll be holding onto you whether you like it or not!"

A grin returns to his face as he pulls off Fells hood, pulling him into a faux headlock, it catches the red counterpart off guard. He gives a prompt exclamation of annoyance but settles into the touch rather fast, gripping Dances forearm to prevent real harm. There's a bit of laughter shared between the two before Dance lets go of Fell.

"For real though, you're welcome in Dancetale whenever you please, you bring a certain... Pizazz to the place we don't really got," Dance explained, during the pause he gestured with his hands a bit, trying to articulate his point, Fell nodded.

"Alright, I hereby promise I'll drop in and give ya some lessons of 'pizazz' every now and then once I'm well on my way," Fell promised, Dance let go of him but he didn't move away from his blue counterpart instantly, "could ya try teaching me to dance again?"

"We both know how that'll end up, ask Papyrus instead, he'd be pleased as punch," Dance explained as he stood up, Fell followed suit, he was tempted to reach out and grab Dances hand but he refrained, "'sides, I got some apostrophe-apostrophe-dogs to sell," Fell quirked a metaphorical brow.

"Apostrophe-apostrophe-dogs?" He asked, Dance grinned as Fell had just opened up one of his favorite spiels.

"Yeah, apostrophe-apostrophe-dogs, short for apostrophe-dogs, which is naturally short for," Dance left it open, watching Fells expression shift as he put it together, "I know how much you love having me at your side, but the monsters of Hotlands can't get enough of me; go ask Papyrus for help."

"I guess I have no choice but to do exactly that," Fell said dramatically as he made his way to the front door of the house again, he heard Dances 'goodbye' and returned it as he propped open the door.

He was skittish, he still walked up to Papyrus who was currently cooking, he got the day off today. He's humming a tune and even doing a bit of a dance on spot, envy strikes Fell like lightning, he can't even do the bare minimum of that. He props himself until he's leaning on the counter, Papyrus still focuses more on the food than Fell being there until he speaks up.

"I need you to teach me how to tango," the question is demanding and it gives Papyrus a bit of a shock.

Papyrus gives a hum as though playing with the thought, "what for? Everyone loves you even though you can't dance,"

"Because I'm boring everyone, I can't speak the language that everyone else here can," Fell explained, he sounded agitated as he did so, he was hesitant to continue as Papyrus waited to hear more, "I think tango would be best to tell my emotions and all that," that piques the interest of his pseudo-brother.

"And who might this lucky monster be? Now I'm curious brother," Papyrus sounds beyond desperate to learn more, but he doesn't give Fell a chance to spill his soul, "no need to worry, I'll gladly teach you how to tango, with the promise you don't come crying to me if they misinterpret."

Fell doesn't understand that, how do you misinterpret a tango, "you can't really not understand what a tango conveys Paps," the explanation comes off as deadpan, "a tango is... Romantic, its sensual, plain as that," Papyrus quirks a brow.

"That may be how it works in your AU, but it works differently here, dances have no set meaning Fell," Papyrus explained as he took hold of Fells hands, leading him out to the living room and twirling him as he did so, he nearly lost balance entirely, "in your AU, where a motion like that could be romantic, well, it depends entirely on how the dancer feels, how much of their soul they're throwing into it."

"So, nothing can be taken at face value?" Fell asked, Papyrus nodded, Fell walked over to him, holding out his hands, "I still want you to teach me," he never thought he'd find himself saying those words so easily to any Papyrus.

Papyrus took his hands, "gladly, now, just mirror my movements," he took a step to the side with his left, Fell followed, trying to keep his head up, "you can look at your shoes if it helps," Fell did so instantly, he mumbled a 'thanks' before following each step.

He uh, he fucked it up, a lot, but it deterred him a lot less when he had Papyrus comparing his flaws to times others messed up even worse. He had a feeling Papyrus was lying to make him feel better, but it was working really well, he could ignore his screw ups easier if they weren't as bad as someone elses. He was taught the solo part, it was harder to learn that because instead of having someone to mirror he had to follow vocal instructions.

He made a lot more mistakes there, but Papyrus didn't point them out, or give comparisons, he let Fell think he was doing it properly, it would let something different bloom if he tried to tango with someone of a different style either way- if he tried to do so incorrectly? It would either end catastrophically, or beautifully, Papyrus was routing for something miraculous to happen by the end of it all, and he was almost certain of himself it would. Fell would no doubt get bold and try to show off to monsters like Undyne who would agree to a battle, and Fell would adapt, he's good at adapting.

When he finished the first practice, he felt good about himself, he waited for further instruction.

"Now," Papyrus began as he made his way back over to Fell, "let's do it again, but this time, keep your eyes on me, not the ground," Fell freezes up a bit, he isn't ready.

Fell paused before speaking, "you sure I can't have one more practice round?" Papyrus gave a nod in response.

"Entirely so," Papyrus held out his hands and Fell took them before beginning the dance.

He ended up stepping on his pseudo-brothers feet a lot, and the count he kept in his head of one to four wasn't doing much in terms of helping him keep time of when he was supposed to move. It gave him a sense of when to act, but Papyrus was moving swifter, and with actual, practiced skill behind his actions- not stumbling like a deer taking its first steps. When they split for the solo aspect, Fell lost his grip almost entirely, keeping his head up instinctively, afraid of consequences if he didn't. He didn't start to head back early enough, and he got multiple steps wrong as well, but he toughed it out until the end, the ending flourish almost caught him off guard but he still held the landing.

He was buzzing with excitement, he pulled it off (to an extent) for the entire dance, he could get used to this.

"I'm heading off to Undynes," was all he got out, he could feel adrenaline rushing through his marrow, but it wasn't fear fueled, it was just the good stuff.

Papyrus waves him off, "good luck," his voice is proud, and it makes Fell feel like he's bursting because he can't remember the last time any Papyrus was proud of him.

Fell pushes open the door and walks into his shortcut, it's completely empty as it always is, but it feels a bit less stiff, not to a very noticeable amount though. He can still feel it though, the ground has a bit of give under his weight instead of being stiff like wooden boards and the 'walls' of the void don't compress him till he feels like he's suffocating. He even pauses to look around finding that this time it has the faintest swirls of crimson here and there, the deepest of reds he can barely make out from the black, but it makes it feel alive, he feels alive just standing inside of it.

He steps out, he's smiling a bit, he ends up in Waterfall and he can water rushing almost instantly, and this time he can pick up the melodies of the Echo Flowers and their timing. He hums along to it as he makes his way from the Bird That Carries You Over A Disproportionately Small Gap to Undynes house, he can count it out, its four eighth notes in a bar. It's nice, it's easy, if he could freestyle some rhymes he totally would, he finds himself almost stepping with the rhythm.

He knocks on Undynes door, he can hear really loud, almost punky music through the walls- when she opened the door it gets louder. A towel is resting on her shoulders and she looks a bit winded, it takes her a second to look down and meets Fells gaze, half expecting Papyrus.

"Yo," she said, her tone is baritone, it'll never stop catching Fell off guard, she lifts a water bottle to her lips, "learn how to dance yet?"

"Fuck yeah I did!" Fells exclamation is full of life and Undyne grins in response, she grabs Fells hand and pulls him inside.

Everything is loud inside, Fell can almost feel the floor boards shaking under the music, "let's dance, punk."

Undyne starts to go at it almost immediately and Fell only has an instance to react, he drops down and goes to swing, but Undyne weaves out the way. She raises a hand and grabs his wrist, she twists it and Fell yelps before he tries to strafe and throw a kick, she dodges with ease and throws one that Fell tries to move around. He's suffering to keep in time with Undynes music, hers is fast, and loud, and heavy as fuck compared to music Papyrus dances to- her grin is sharky and she's spitting out a retort in no time.

"You call that dancing?! You're just throwing out punches and kicks! C'mon punk!" Undynes sharpness cuts deep and Fell tries to keep it up, "it takes two to tango don't it?!"

Fell takes a second to get out an answer in the midst of the dance he's been dragged into, "yeah!" He has to practically shout it.

"Then make me fucking tango!" It's a demand, anyone could tell that, and Fell tries to fall back into tango.

Key word being 'tries.'

He can't make Undyne tango, he really can't, all he can do is duck and repeat what Papyrus taught him when the moments open up, but slowly, Undyne starts to shift. She slows her pace, her motions become a bit more grounded as well, while Fells start to match her style a bit more as well. It's subtle, it's still clunky and clearly very different dances, but there's definitely blending going on between the two styles.

By the end of it all she's practically shoving him away only to drag him back with a hand, he gives a sweep kick and she glides away with grace. She throws jabs that match punches, but he slides along her arm until they're pressed flush against each other and he can spin her out only for her to flank him with ease. He's tempted to try and lift her but something tells him not to, instead she's holding him with her heel to his throat and he's managed to grasp her hand furthest away, leaning into it.

Undyne is smiling, grinning like she's won the lottery, she releases Fells hand and lowers he foot as he straightens himself up, Fell doesn't even realize it, but he's also grinning. She trots over to the counter as Fell drops onto the ground, she turns down the music before sitting down beside him handing over a bottle of water. He gives a prompt 'thanks' before guzzling it down, she does the same before playfully punching him in the shoulder.

"Dude! That was awesome!" Her voice is full of glee, "I haven't had that much fun dancin' since the last time Sans came over!" Fell feels his soul barely skip a beat at the notion of dancing with Dance, "we have to do that again."

"No shit suga' tits, that was great!" The nickname slips out and he didn't mean it but it draws a snort of laughter from Undyne, "never danced with someone 'n really meant it till now," Undynes laughter slows.

"Really?" The question is far too genuine for Fell to feel comfortable, but he nods, "that's gonna change real soon, especially when I show ya off to Alphys, you got skills punk!" Her vigor is back tenfold, "she uh, she could really use whatever it is you got going on, resilience, you've met her before though, you probably already noticed."

It cuts Fell deeply to hear that this Alphys needs resilience, he only gained his due to very severe circumstances, "I wouldn't mind dancin' with her if you think it'll help," Undynes expression softens before she drags him into a hug that squeezes his ribs together.

"Thank you," her voice is quiet, he's never heard it on any Undyne, period, she stands back up and holds out a hand before he can contemplate, "c'mon, her lab isn't to far away if you wanna head out right now," Fell gladly takes her hand.

"I'd love to," his smile is genuine and he follows her to the door before halting her, "I know a shortcut," she snorts back a laugh.

"Doesn't every one of ya know a shortcut?" Undye asked in response.

Fell rolled his eyes, "you wanna take a shortcut or not?" She gives a nod and cuts out her backtalk before they fall into the red void, ending up at Alphys' door swiftly.

Undyne barges in right away, although Fell is hesitant to do so, he follows without a second thought; this Undyne won't fuck him over first chance she gets, not many would dare. They end up finding Alphys hunched over at her desk, typing madly on some sort of project, she's so lost in her work she doesn't notice them until they're peering over her shoulders.

Fell speaks first, "classy, anime on work hours," she jumps so hard she almost slaps him in the face in shock, he leans back and laughs a little bit, "just teasing!"

Alphys gave a groan of embarrassment as she closed the tabs, she held her head in her hands, "did you bring him here Undyne?"

"What? Me? I'm hurt Alphys," Undyne said dramatically, teasing her girlfriend dutifully as she twirled her from her chair with ease.

Alphys isn't quite sure of how to respond, caught between teasing and truth, "I- sorry," she managed to get out, crushed like an insect in her confusion.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Undyne is quick to reassure, Fell feels envious of what they have, he knows that a lot of the Alphys and Undynes of the multiverse get together anyways, just seeing it up close makes him feel jealous, "and yes, I did bring him here," she gestures to Fell with gusto, he perks up a bit.

"Why?" Her question comes out quietly.

"So you can get some of his energy, might rub off on ya, he's got that resilience! Never gives up!" Undyne explained with much more explosiveness than needed, Alphys seems apprehensive, "you don't have to."

Alphys pauses, "I can! I'll totally dance with him if you want me to!" She sounds desperate for approval and Fell catches it, he hesitantly places a hand on her shoulder.

"I won't dance if you don't really want to," he puts as much faux caring into his voice as he can, but he's careful not to add too much, he tries to make sure a bit of genuine emotion is there, somewhere.

She gives a bit of a sigh, "thanks," she turns to Undyne, "sorry for letting you down," her gaze is swiftly averted to the floor and Undyne crouches down to meet it.

Fell makes a shoddy excuse to leave before the waterworks can begin and someone starts sobbing. His excuse involves stumbling for words and pressing his palms together as he makes his way to the door, they don't seem to mind.

Hotlands is colder in Dancetale than it is Underfell, not by much, but instead of making Fell feel uncomfortable it just makes him feel real, enough heat agitation so he feels like he's actually there. He walks along the ground, staying dead center in case his body decides to just quit on him, he'd rather wake up trampled then fall in magma. When he makes it to the elevator he half expects it not to work with how much time he's spent in Horrortale, but the doors slide open in welcoming and he walks in. He's raking his mind over the five buttons that lead somewhere else, which one would someone else he knew be closest too?

Elevator R2...?

Fell presses the button and hopes for the best, he hears the machine come to life, whirring and humming before he can feel it shaking in his bones. He knows he's felt it hundreds of times before, but it doesn't fail to make him feel disoriented despite that- he leans against a wall for support and closes his eyes. He waits until the door opens before he moves again, everything stops moving and making noise all at once and the doors come open smoothly. He almost stumbles, but he catches his misstep even though no one would catch him if he didn't, he makes his way to the left, the only place to go.

Relief washes over him when he sees Dance at his sentry station, yet another hotdog in hand, he has his feet propped on the counter, a bottle of ketchup is on it as well. He isn't quite sure he wants to walk over and interrupt whatever he's witnessing, this is what Dance is like in his natural environment, just like any other Sans, normal. It makes Fell yearn for a simpler time he never got due to the circumstances of his AU, but he wouldn't ever take that from someone if they had it, it would just be cruel. And yeah, he's been called cruel before, but taking away security from someone is beyond cruel even for him- he feels his chest start to constrict and red tinted tears start to pool up.

He chokes it back, he won't drag down Dance over some shit inside his head. He starts to walk over on over, calling the blue counterparts name, he perks up and grins. He doesn't quite move from his spot though, far too comfortable to do so, even for Fell, he tosses his hotdog behind him (it ends up in the magma). He looks really, really happy to see Fell, but he can't quite tell if its fake, he hopes it isn't, he can't find anything to start conversation with despite his days events.

"So, did you get Paps to teach you anything?" Dance asked, tossing the plastic bottle of ketchup between his hands as he speaks.

"Yeah, he taught me a thing or two 'bout tangoing," Fell explained, he opted to lean against the post of Dances sentry station, "how are the 'dog sales?"

Dance gives a small hum, "bad, want one? Free of charges because your a guest in my AU," Dance offered, his smirk was sly as he reached under the countertop of the station and pulled out a hotdog, it had mustard on it, not ketchup, real mustard of the yellow variety.

Fell wants it, desperately, he's not sure if he's allowed, "jeez, ya sure I can just, have it?" Dance nods and Fell grabs it, he takes a couple bites, contemplating the flavor and texture before answering, "it's acceptable, the best part is the mustard, where'd you get it anyways?" Dance pauses.

"Grillby happened to order one too many bottles and because I'm his best customer, I got the overflow," Dance lied, it was clear he was doing so with the faintest sprinkling of blue rising to his skull, Fell quirked a brow as he took another bite, Dance sighed, "I paid top dollar so it would feel more like home for you," Fell nearly chokes, he starts grasping for words.

"You didn't have to do that, this place already feels like home, better than home," Fell said, trying to reassure Dance whilst simultaneously shaming him for wasting money on a condiment, Fell could go without it, he didn't need to impede much further than physical space.

Dances switches how his legs are crossed, he glances to the side for a second and Fell barely catches the action, "what if I wanted to just cause I can?" Dances voice is a bit quieter than before, he sounds almost nervous, Fell realizes that the mustard is a gift, not just an accommodation, and he didn't receive it properly.

"I'd probably misinterpret what you're trying ta do, giving a gift to a fool like me," Fell said, he gestures a little bit with the half eaten hot dog, trying to fill airtime as though its getting his point across, "fuck, if you were to get me a bottle of mustard just cause, I would marry you on the spot."

"Then get out your ring," Dance answered without missing a beat, he catches Fells tense and the way red rose to his face, he almost gives a chuckle, "I'm just yanking ya."

"Yeah no shit," Fell barked, turning to glare at Dance who was still giving a smug grin, there's a brief pause where neither of them speak, "how long do you think it'll be before Ink comes back?

"You told him to leave for a month didn't you?" Dance asked, Fell nodded, "I personally place some trust into that guy because he hasn't let my universe get destroyed, so, I would believe him, you don't have to take his word though," now Fell felt uneasy, Dance noticed, "I won't get mad if you don't trust him, he is kind of... Off kilter at times."

"Okay good it's not just me who thinks that," Fell got out, words strung together like bullets and shot out rapidly, "but, my point still stands."

"Do you not want to go home?" Dance asked gently as he pulled his legs from the counter, Fell nodded.

"No, no I don't want to go back," Fell explained, there it was again, he could feel it start to build up in his eye sockets again, Dance stood beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "this is more home than anywhere else I've been in my life," Dance tilts Fells skull till there's eye contact.

"You're always welcome here," Dance reassured, gently pressing his side to Fells, it catches the red counterpart off guard but he leans into the touch, resting his skull on the dancers shoulder.

"Thank you," it came out too quiet for Dance to hear, but even if he did hear he wouldn't push Fell away.

When Fell takes a step back, he isn't actually quite sure of where he's supposed to go from here.

"So, did you get a chance to show off your skills yet?" Dance asked, it takes Fell a moment to realize what he means.

"Yeah, yeah me 'n Undyne did some dancin', it was fun," Fell explained, struggling to not break back into sobs, Dance was polite enough not to mention it, "said you used to dance with her," Dance tensed right away.

"That was in the past, I don't really like to dance a whole lot due to recent resets," Dance said, he redirected his gaze to the ground, he reached to pull his hood over his head.

"What about that first night I was here?" Fell asked, Dance shrugged his shoulders.

"Lost a bet with Papyrus, had to dance, he said it was for my own good," Dance explained, he sounded tense and he looked uneasy around the subject, but he didn't give enough time for Fell to stop him from continuing, "but whats the point if we're all just gonna die anyways? Frisk will just keep coming down here and play with our souls until they've finally decided to empty this hole for good," tears tinted blue start to roll down his face.

Fell takes a moment to answer, "the point is because something might change," his reasoning was true, but it didn't look like it was coming across clear, "you lasted this long, and look, now you got a refugee to take care of, that might change Frisks mind," Dance looks up from the ground.

"I guess so," his voice is full of disbelief, but, he still voices agreement because somewhere he knows its true.

"Good, because when I finish learning a song for you it'd be neat if ya danced to it," Fells confidence wears away the further he gets into the sentence and its almost endearing.

Dance isn't sure of himself when he speaks, "I'd love to."

---

"I need one more week," Fells demand comes out pleading, he sits on the couch while Ink sits on the floor against a wall, almost directly across from him.

"I can't give you anymore weeks, your brother needs you in the AU he chose to stay in after Dream restored him, you've been here for five months, you've completed your promises, it's time to go and that is final," Ink transitions from sitting on the floor to standing relatively close to Fell throughout his speech, his voice is dead, and his pupils are lifeless, devoid of color nor shape, "no one else has been this much of a pain when I gave them a second chance."

Fell stands up, "I need one more week," he presses a finger to Inks chest as he speaks, and this time his demand comes out a little bit firmer, Ink glances down to where the contact is.

"I'm running out of excuses for why you aren't able to go live with your brother in Fellswap, I couldn't give you one more week if I wanted to," He grabs Fells wrist and his hand is icy, there is no pulse of magic and this is the first time Fell noticed the lack of it.

The door opens and they both turn to find Dance walking in with a thin sheet of snow on his hoodie, he reaches to pull off his hood but only pulls it a bit tighter over his hat when he sees Ink. He's hesitant to walk over and dispute the conflict because he's afraid Ink will erase him and he knows Ink could if he wanted to- still, when he catches the way Ink drops Fells hand roughly he decides to walk over.

"What happens to be the problem, officer," Dance adds on 'officer' as a joke, but he's certain he'll regret doing so.

Ink closes his eyes reopens them, his pupils have a bit more shape this time, and there's almost a tint of green, "Fells brother is waiting for him in Fellswap, so I'm here to take him there until further notice," Ink explained, Dance took each word thoughtfully, he was beginning to understand why Fell didn't like this guy.

"Okay, chill," Dance said, Inks expression softened, "but," a small smirk was present on Dances face as he spoke, "I'll need him around for about two weeks, tops."

"Why would you want him around an extra two weeks?" Ink asked coldly, Dance gave a hum of thoughtfulness, it pissed off Ink even more, he forgot how agitating AUs could be when they get attached to each other.

"Well, for starters, he still has to play for Asgore, and with the king holding a ball two weeks from now it'll be the only time Fell gets a chance, I even convinced Tori to tag along," Dance explained, blending lies with the truth in the hopes it would make Ink decide to let Fell stay, the guardian seemed unmoved at the notions, "and I want him to stay until we get a chance to dance together," raw emotion is underneath the sentiment but he tries to keep properly hidden, Ink quirked a metaphorical brow, he caught it.

He smirks a bit before speaking, "I'm shocked you haven't danced yet, all things considered I assumed you two would've by now," Ink said, Dance and Fell can both pick up the venom in his voice, he was planning something, "tell you what, I'll give you the two weeks, no, I'll give you three and then I'll be removing Fell from Dancetale, permanently," the malice in his tone and the promise of never seeing Dance again makes Fell feel twisted inside, this was his home, this was where he best fit in, and Ink is dead set on making sure he can't return- does he even know?

Fell gives a sigh, "fine, I'll see you in three weeks, tell the Boss I got caught up in a reset and you're working on fixing up my memories or something like that," he was signing himself off on leaving this AU and never returning just like so, but, three weeks is better than one he supposed; Dance still looked shook.

"Yeah, we'll see you in a couple of weeks," Dance choked out, watching as Ink made his departure, sinking into the black ooze below him.

There's silence again, this time its agonizing- Fell speaks first.

"Thanks for buying two extra weeks of time," Fell said quietly, he raised a hand to rub his humerus, not sure what else to do, he glanced to the side.

"Least I could do for you, you're the best thing to happen to Dancetale in a long time," Dance explained, Fell didn't believe the compliment.

"Really?" The question is a little bit shaky and Dance turns from the trace amounts of paint Ink left behind to face Fell instead.

Dance doesn't know what exactly to say, "definitely, I promise," the confidence in his tone doesn't falter even if he wanted it to, "we should probably start practicing if we want to actually do a respectable job of playing in the kings court," Fell quirked a brow as he started to look for his bass.

"We?" He asked, Dance gave a nod as he started up the stairs.

"Yeah, we, I play trombone, and before you go saying 'I don't play trombone' I'm gonna guess, you play the trumpet," the accuracy of Dances assumption is startling and shows on Fells expression, "nailed it, I'll be down in a second."

Fell gives a prompt 'okay' before he takes a seat on the couch and shuffles up his sheet music, searching for anything that could fit a ballroom dance. He knows that the genre usually doesn't consist of bass and now trombone, but he'll make it work out, if not for the king then for how people will remember him here. If no one will remember him in Underfell than everyone will remember him in Dancetale, even when Ink never lets him return, he won't be forgotten.

He starts strumming blandly, achieving random chords until he feels confident enough to follow the sheet itself. He keeps his eyes on the sheet as he counts the music, its a lot slower than he's used to, but, he manages. Then he hears a sort of muffled noise from upstairs, its an instrument for sure, he doesn't stop playing until he hears something fall, followed by a brief exclamation of 'fuck!' then he puts down his bass. Before he start walking over and up Dance opens up the door, trombone in hand, prepped to play, waiting for Fell to start up the tune.

Fell almost laughs at the sight, he forgot how stupid trombone looks, solely the reason he chose trumpet instead. Still, he picks his bass back up and starts playing again, Dance tries to chime in with the music, but he's messing up pretty badly. Fell doesn't point it out though, almost afraid he'll stifle Dances enthusiasm if he does- he wants to duet with Dance on the stage, but the blue counterpart will no doubt end up on the dance floor instead. Still, they play the song out till the end and Dance is laughing at the end of it all.

"Man, I suck, how do you even do that?" Dance asked, he sounded winded and there was an air of joy on his voice.

"Practice," Fell gave a strum as though to prove his point with how smooth it sounded.

"I figured as much," Dance gave a sigh as he spoke, but he sounded enthusiastic when he spoke again, "I'm sure we'll be golden in time for the ball though!"

Fell gave a bit of a chuckle as he stared upon the strings of the his bass, they were different colors and thickness due to being salvaged from the dump, "definitely," he sounds a bit lighthearted, but what Ink had promised still rings in his ears and he's afraid of the three week mark finally coming to an end.

But nothing will stop him from enjoying it while it lasts.

Dance takes note of Fells silence and places a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry that I couldn't buy you more time here."

"You got nothing to be sorry for, I'll find my way back if I want to and Ink can do nothing about it," Fell said, Dance didn't look convinced.

"Fell, you really are the best thing to happen to me since Dream, well, since he gave me these," Dance grabbed a small pill bottle from his pocket and tossed it to Fell who caught it, "I don't want you to risk getting erased just to make everyone here happy," Fell glances over the instructions on the bottle and he can feel his soul ache, he could see the signs here and there, he just couldn't tell if he was misreading or not.

"You have depression?" Dance nods at the visceral thickness in Fells voice.

"Yeah, since you dropped by I haven't been taking 'em though, I've just been happier," Dance explained, he sounded pained around the topic, "Science says its a chemical thing and there's nothing I can do about it," he holds out a hand and Fell gives him back the bottle, he holds out his other hand and waits for Fell to take it, "so please, promise me that you won't get yourself erased."

"I really don't like making promises," was all Fell could choke out in the presence of new confirmed information, Dance sighed before giving a forced smile.

"Then promise me we'll dance at the kings ball before you go?" Dance asked, Fell nodded and Dance lifted his hand from Fells shoulder.

"Of course I will, I would've danced with you anytime, you just had ta ask," Fell explained.

Dance glanced to the side, "never found a good moment," he looked to the side, "you were always dancing with Undyne and Mettaton, or playing your bass."

Fell hesitantly lifts a hand and slowly tilts Dances skull until they're making eye contact again, "I would've dropped it to dance with ya," his voice is so genuine it shocks both of them a little bit, "to late for that though," Fell lowers his hand back down.

"Guess we'll just have to make it count at the ball then," Dance said, he's smiling a little bit, it's a real smile, not fake and Fell can catch the difference.

"I was heavily planning on making it count even if we'd danced a hundred times already," Fell said confidently, he takes note of the blue rising to Dances cheekbones as the blue counterpart stands up.

"Cool, I got to go though, sell some 'dogs, help Asgore set up," Dance said, grasping for reasons to leave before things got to be too much to handle without slipping up, "you know where to find me if you need me," and in an instant he's slipping out the door before Fell can speak up.

He's tempted to just rush after him, but he refrains, let him breath, give him some time, he's making the right choice doing so. He should be practicing with his bass, but in the same essence he also really doesn't want to make an ass out of himself dancing. He'd rather mess up playing music for the king he'll never see again than misstep dancing with the monster who owns the house he's sleeping in. He knows he won't get kicked out if he does, but he's still hesitant to actually risk messing up and getting booted into the snow for a few nights.

He won't mess up, he refuses to let himself mess up- he needs help from Mettaton as soon as possible.

He makes his way to the door and takes his shortcut, it's even more alive than last time, now it's full of swirling reds and he can hear his souls thrum echo around the walls. It even smells like something other than dry ice, he doesn't know what exactly it is that he smells on the air though. Still, stepping out of the darkness into the background of blues feels uncanny; he knocks on the door of the pink house he ends up in front of and Mettaton answers.

He's a mess, Fell must've caught him off guard, he doesn't seem to mind being caught with bedhead though, simply lets Fell into the palace of pink. He takes a seat on the table his TV rests on while Fell takes a seat at the edge of his bed instead, Fell doesn't speak at first.

"What's got you down darlin'?" Mettaton asked, Fell heaved in a breath, and then another before answering.

"I still don't know how to get across my point by dancing," Fell said, rubbing his vertebrae as he did so.

Mettaton pauses, "I'd say you get your point across quite nicely darling, you just haven't had a chance to get across a specific point yet, right?" Mettaton doesn't even need to make it sound like a question, he's already pinpointed the problem exactly.

Fell nods.

"Do tell what it is, I promise I won't tell," Mettaton did gave the undergrounds equivalent of scouts honor to prove his point as he smirked.

"I don't even know, I just, I really care about 'em, and I don't wanna leave, I just wanna be there for 'em, ya know?" Fell asked with a sigh, he had a horrible feeling Mettaton knew exactly who he was talking about, but he didn't wanna drop names for no good reason.

"I know exactly how you feel, I don't know if there's a lot I can do for you to be of assistance," Mettaton leaned on his glass tube TV as he spoke, he felt bad about not having much to help Fell, the times he would go on the air with him got amazing ratings, "just make a plan, write a speech, really speak with your soul."

"I've never had a chance to do that before," Fell said with a bit of a chuckle, "Underfell isn't to kind to showing emotion other than resilience and caustic hatred," Mettaton gave a small hum before reaching behind his TV, he pulled up an empty diary, it's blue.

He walks over and sits beside Fell, "I never used this one cause it didn't fit my style, but, use it to plan," Fell gladly takes the diary and opens it up, running phalanges along the pages, "write drafts, find good metaphor, anything that you feel about them, put in there- you'll come across what you need to say soon enough darling."

"Can I have a pen?" Fell asked as he opened to the first page, Mettaton hands him a page and Fell starts to furiously scribbling down word after word that the robot can barely make out, the ink is blue and glittery- the pen was a gift.

"You can have the pen as well," Mettaton offered, once Fell is finished writing he closes the diary and places both items in his pockets.

Fell takes a moment to answer, "thanks, I'll let you know how it goes once it's over," Mettaton starts to grin at that notion.

"Good luck darling!" Enthusiasm laces the robots voice as Fell makes his way back out of the pit of pink.

He doesn't make it much farther than just outside the door before he sits down on the ground and starts writing again. Most of what he writes is just nonsensical praise, but its not like anyone else is going to ever read it anyways. Some words come out more often than others, some are only mentioned once, but all of them tie into Dance, or, whatever Fell sees in Dance at least.

He'll find the right words before the ball, he has too- he should also say hi to this Asgore before he gets roped into performing for him in front of a crowd. He shoves the diary and pen into his pockets again as he heads to an archway, a door of some sort, and closes his eyes, swiftly walking through the shortcut. He just needs get things over with, a short introduction, say he can play a tune sometime after the ball, or for a smaller audience because he is not ready to play in front of the entire underground. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels grass of the throne room under his feet, he opens them to find the room empty, but he distantly hears speaking.

He follows the sound, when he was in Underfell he would run from sound, but its safer here. Sound almost never means violence here, it almost never means something absolutely traumatizing, sound means safety here. Sound means music, sound means singing, sound means dancing here, sound means everything but danger here- and despite knowing that Fell still feels hesitant. Once he can differ their voices a little bit more does his pace actively slow so he can hear more, pick up details he'd never hear anywhere else.

What Fell can pick up is lost on him because unlike what he thought, it wasn't Dance planning his public humiliation of having to perform and lose himself to nerves. No, instead it was just a regular conversation, talking about the simple things, the topic of the ball itself isn't brought up until Fells speech would be within earshot. He doesn't speak though, but he almost freezes up entirely when his name is mentioned but instead he picks up his pace a little bit so he doesn't hear something he isn't supposed to that could hurt him.

He clears his throat and they perk up from their conversation as he walks over. Dances pupils look larger, positivity, lots of it, he took one too many pills, or that was what the prescribed dose did, Fell didn't know and it made him feel uneasy. His smile looks a little bit drunk, a little bit fake, he is confiscating those pills (could he really?). He doesn't care if Dream prescribed them, that's clearly too much positivity for one monster to handle. Fell walks over and takes a seat with them at the table.

"You must be Fell, I've heard so many great thing about you!" Asgores happiness makes Fell feel out of place, but he tries to keep telling himself most Asgores are like this, happy.

"Oh? Dance has been lying again?" Fell asked in a faux manner.

"From everyone, although he was mentioning you wanted to play a song during the ball," Asgore said, Fells glance flickered over to Dances, he had his head propped in his hands, elbows resting on the table.

Fell takes a moment to steady himself, "I was wondering if I could chicken outta that, stage fright and all, I'd love ta play something for a much smaller audience than the entire Underground," Asgores excitement dulled just a bit but he still smiled softly and nodded.

"I understand, I was also told you'd be leaving in a few weeks," Asgore said, Fell nodded and grabbed Dances cup of tea, it was still entirely full.

"Yeah, the guardian of the multiverse ain't to pleased with me overstaying my welcome," Fell said, almost shamefully, he took a sip of tea, golden flower tea, he placed it back down, it was almost too cold to be enjoyed now, almost.

"Well, I do hope that my people have been good hosts during your stay," Asgore said in a bit of a hopeful tone.

"Of course they have- I'm more worried I haven't been a good guest," Fell blurted out, it escaped before he could stop the words from exiting his mouth, Dance spoke before Asgore could.

"You've been an amazing guest," Dance said, his voice was way too airy, way too happy, this was not the normal Dance, "I promise," Fell swears he catches Dances pupils try to shift shape, positivity overdose no doubt about.

"Are you okay Dance?" Fell asked gently as he nudged the cup of tea to Dance, he pushed it back.

"I'm fine," this time his voice sounds almost completely different than the last, but it's a lot closer to the one Fell is used to hearing.

"This always happens whenever he takes his medication," Asgore answers before fell can ask further questions, "I'm not quite sure why, but after this stops he's a lot happier," Fell nodded.

"Right," was all he murmured as he stared at Dance who stared back, his hood was down and Fell barely realized it, he reached to pull it back up, "I guess I'll be seeing you at the ball."

"You're still going to come?" Asgore asked, Fell could hear the lift in the kings mood in one sentence.

"Absolutely, I'll be making an ass of myself on the dance floor instead of on the stage," Fell said with a bit of a grin as he stood up and made his way to the door.

"Alright, see ya then," Asgore said, turning back to Dance and trying to keep him awake with conversation.

As soon as Fell was past the shortcut he started to worry. Dance said he'd stop taking those shortly after Fell arrived because he was feeling better, what happened? This could be an attempt at an acclimation period of having to go back on it. Fell understood that, but he still had three weeks before he left for good. He wasn't going to take them forever, first he needed to see the aftereffects of the buzz Dance was experiencing right now, to see just how much it changes him in the long run of things.

(He knows he would never actually take them away.)

He made his way over to the couch, grabbing his bass and strumming chords, trying to get across his point to no one in particular. It sounded off, his count was sloppy again, his worry and was that a bit of anger mixed in as well? Whatever it was, it screwed up his playing, his emotions muddied together and reflected in his playing but it didn't sound right. He was starting to get agitated with himself, this was his fault, if he tried harder, if he bargained better, if he just put a gun to Errors head and pulled the trigger none of this would be happening.

Ink wouldn't be repossessing monster from AU to AU, Dance wouldn't be hopped up on positivity, and Fell wouldn't be wasting everyone's time in Dancetale.

He threw down his bass with a prompt exclamation of 'fuck!' the neck of said bass easily split, strings curling in on themselves with a disturbing twang. He stares at the broken instrument, that was the only one in the dump, and Alphys said that they don't fall down very often, fuck, there goes his one way of compensating for lack of dancing skills. He crosses his arms over his chest and pushes himself further into the corner where the armrest meets the back of the couch, he closes his eyes and waits for something to happen.

A door opening, someone speaking, even distant music, just something to drag himself away from whatever's going on inside his skull. He slides off the couch with a drawn out groan, might as well pull his weight and clean up the remains of whatever it was he could do in this Underground. The wood is heavier in his hands than it ever was and the cord gets caught between the segments of his phalanges; chips of paint slip off the back of the neck where the wood was mangled into separation on impact.

He isn't even sure where he's supposed to go with it, what he's supposed to do with it, he's never broken an instrument before. He could bring it to Grillbys, wood feeds fire, and all, but he's not sure if it would be taken as an insult or a gift. So instead he heads to where Waterfall meets Snowdin, carrying his shattered bass with him on the way- he takes a seat on the ground with a sigh, its gravel and ice, algae is still trying to form. He knows this isn't how you dispose of garbage, and that Alphys will find it, but he doesn't know what else he's supposed to do. He shrugs off his jacket before leaning over the water, holding his bass gently as he lowers it into the water, it stays buoyant even as it makes its way downstream. He stares, there goes his last leg to stand on in Dancetale, now he really is worthless here. He pulls his jacket back on as he stands up.

He goes to turn but finds Dance standing behind him, he didn't even hear the footsteps.

"Hi," Dance managed quietly, his pupils were back to normal, he reached into his pocket.

"Were you lying earlier?" Fell can't stop it from spilling out of him.

"No, I just, need to get my body used to it again if you'll be leaving so soon," Dance said, "I should be taking it pretty often, but, Dream said nothing too bad will happen if I only take it sometimes," he pulled the bottle from his pocket and shook it, only a few left, "besides, that was just a buffer for when you have to leave, didn't mean shit."

Fell gives a small nod, "so, you're gonna be hopped on positivity for the next couple weeks?"

"Naw, they taste disgusting, I'll be fine anyways," he puts the bottle back into his pocket, "promise."

"Alrighty then, but, you'll take 'em every now and then right? I don't want you to dust after I leave because you took too many and couldn't take it," Fell said, his concern was thick and and endearing to Dance.

"I promise, I'll take 'em before I go to sleep so I'm not painfully high on positivity when I'm awake," he held out a hand as he spoke, "you trust me, right?"

Fell grabbed Dances hand gently before clutching him tightly, yanking him close enough that their ribs could grate against each other, "of course I do," his voice is low, barely above a whisper, and clearly meant only for Dance to hear, he pulls back slowly and carefully, "now, will you teach me how to dance?" Dances smile is lost on Fell who doesn't understand it.

"Maybe at the ball I'll teach you how to foxtrot, try at least," Dance glanced away from Fell and to the water instead, he barely caught a glimpse of the bass as it faded from view, "guess you won't be playing for me, huh?"

It takes Fell a moment to get the notions, "I got mad, sorry, I'll come back soon enough and play for you then, consider it a date," his confidence is unwavering and he's smirking a bit as well.

"I expect something phenomenal for a one man show then," Dance said, his expression almost mirrored that of Fells.

"I can promise soul but I can't promise skill," Fells tone was almost nervous, but it was genuine.

"Fine by me," Dance responded in a voice just as genuine and now its Fells turn to feel all warm and fuzzy inside, he can feel warmth wicking at the inside of his ribs, it feels nice yet foreign, "wouldn't have it any other way."

"Okay good, cause I'm bringing this rat named Neil, and we will be bangin' out the tunes for ya," Fell said, grinning as he did so, it draws a snort of laughter from Dance.

"Oh yeah?" Dance asked jokingly.

"Of course, we'll be performing classics such as Descend, Umbral Ultimatum, and many more," his sarcasm is clear but it still makes Dance laugh a bit.

"Amazing, just beautiful, I'm looking forward to it," Dance said with a grin on his face, a bit of a laugh was in his voice.

---

Dance is gripping Toriels wrist in one hand and has his other arm linked with Fells as he leads them both through the core, holding onto Toriel so she doesn't chicken out and Fell so he doesn't fall into a pit. His grip is gentle, phalanges getting caught in snowy fur, but he keeps Fell pressed so closely to his side they might as well be glued together- he really doesn't have too, Fell already knows how to watch his step, but, he hasn't gotten any objections so he doesn't stop. Fells just glad he's gotten better at keeping up with the pace this AU set, and beating down magic rushing to his skull.

"Sans I'm not so sure this is a good idea anymore," Toriel said, her voice held a hesitance to it, a breath of fear was evident.

"Relax Tori, you'll be fine," Dance said, he kept his voice easy, comforting in a sense, leading his guests across a turn, elevator coming into distant view.

"Alright, I believe you," she barely sounds confident in herself, distantly aware that something bad could happen.

"I could take the first dance if you want me to," Dance offered, Fell felt the slightest pang of jealousy shoot through him at the notion, but he suffocated the feeling before it could evolve.

Toriel gives a soft smile, "that would be lovely, but, what about your friend?" Fell perks up a bit.

"Naw, it's perfectly fine, I'm not that good at dancin' anyways," Fell said, deflecting to the best of his ability, he raised his free hand to assist in waving off the notion, "I'll probably get the second dance anyways," Dance doesn't respond instantly and his expression drops a bit, "right?"

"I usually don't dance after the first song," Dance admitted, he sounded bit nervous as he pressed the button on the elevator, doors closed the ground shook a bit before it moved.

"Okay," his answer is quiet and he loosens his arm from Dances grip gently, shrugging him off, trying to subtly step to the side.

Silence came to rest between the three aside from the hum of elevator taking its time to drift upwards to castle grounds. Toriel was nervous in the silence, she wasn't even between them, she felt like she had walked in on Asgore declaring war all over again- she wasn't supposed to be caught in this event. Dances grip on her wrist loosened and he opted to make his way over to Fell, gently grabbing his hands, he looked up reflexively.

Dance took a bit of a shaky breath, "I didn't say I couldn't make an exception for you," Fells expression lifts just a bit and he interlaces his phalanges with Dances.

"Good, cause I can't wait to make an ass of myself just for you," Fell said, he was smiling a bit as he did so, he stumbled when the elevator came to a halt.

Dance had to refrain from laughing at Fells misstep, "oh yeah, it's going to be magnificent," his voice is laced with sarcasm but he's smiling as he leads the two past open doors, gripping Fells hand tightly and not even bothering to grasp Toriels as she follows them down hallways.

She looks a bit downtrodden, she knew this place, she knew it so well, but it's a little bit different now, potted plants have been replaced- golden flowers are everywhere. She's tempted to stall so she can a get a better look at how things have shifted, she lived here once, but, its clear to see that she hasn't in a long time. She follows Dance and Fell down corridors with ease, but her thoughts and her gaze are stuck on how much happened in this place until the setting changes a little bit. It's still inside the castle, but now it's a ballroom, its cast in a golden glow and full of monsters already dancing to the music set in place.

Fell feels out of place, especially when Dance lets go of his hand, "I gotta go do this dance with Tori, I'll be back soon though," Dance is smiling a bit as he speaks, Fell nods.

"Cool, I'll be at the snack table," the shake in his voice is almost entirely concealed as he makes his way over to the table in question, watching as Dance leads Toriel into the mix of monsters, leading her in a dance.

Fell tries to not to stare, but he really can't help it, nor can he help the envy starting to bubble up. That could be him out there, swaying gracefully like swans across the golden draped hall, but it's not. Instead it's Toriel, and he can't blame Dance for that, he just feels a little bit left out- he'll be gone soon enough and Toriel will always be here, yet he still hasn't danced with him once. He forces it back down, he can come back to get a dance anyways, not like Ink could stop him even if he tried too. Sure, as nice as it would be to dance here, he would take dancing in a dumpster, or the depths of the woods, anywhere- so long as it meant getting one dance before he has to leave he would take it.

Maybe that's a bit selfish, maybe that's just adoration, he can't really tell because of how blurred the line is at this point. He grabs a can of pop and opens it, the fizzle of the carbonation drones in his skull as he watches. It's nice seeing Dance smile, nice being able to tell he's enjoying himself despite all odds- Fell can see himself in Dance during those moments, not by a whole lot, but just enough it makes him ache. He turns to leave, he isn't even sure where he's going, just leaving the area so his strenuous heartache can go away for one second.

The music gets more distant as he walks, not quite quiet for his footsteps to echo, he's thankful for that, it kind of annoys him at times. He doesn't know why he's thankful for something so small, maybe because that's the sort of thing he could be thankful about in Underfell- but here he's thankful about it because he can be. He doesn't have to be thankful over the little things here, like food on the table, seeing someone smile, a nice quiet, because those are common here. But he still is, everyone knows that'll be all he has left when he has too return to Underfell; or the caricature Ink has crafted in its place.

He finds himself pushing open doors and slipping further and further into the labyrinth that is the royal castle of Dancetale. Even if he had gotten a chance to explore the royal castle of Underfell, he's certain he still wouldn't know where he's going until he gets there. Not until he realizes his footsteps are landing on grass and flowers does he come to the conclusion he's lost himself in his own skull again. He heaves a sigh, taking a glance at wherever it is that he's at. Walls are behind him but not in front or to the side, golden flowers stretch from the garden beds into the grass, and in the distance he sees the glimmer of Waterfall. The entire room is quiet, it's just him again, birds don't even chirp, and flowers don't dare bloom- like he's a threat to their existence.

What better time than to practice his steps, not even a tango anymore, simply the amalgamated style of those around him. He slides around the open field, he finds Undynes style prominent, the gracefulness of her dance living through him with ease. He catches brief glimpses of what Mettaton taught him slipping in here and there the way he holds himself with confidence despite the fact their is no audience. He knows that what Papyrus showed him lays at the base of his dance, everything he's building off of returns to that simple tango he was taught all those weeks ago.

And he doesn't stop dancing because why should he, he knows he won't have anytime to dance in Underfell, he might as well make the most of what little time he has left. He's aware that losing himself in the royal castle isn't gonna raise his chances of getting one dance with Dance, but, what's done is done. He'll dance himself into collapsing if it means passing the time so he ignore the fact that it's Toriel that's having the dance that he deserves. When he brings himself to finish with a bit of a flair, his soul is pounding and his bones are beginning to ache, he hears a slow clap and whips his skull back to find Dance simply staring.

"I thought you said you were bad at dancing?" Dance asked, quirking a metaphorical brow as he spoke, Fell doesn't answer right away, "from what I saw, that was certainly something special- especially coming from a monster who doesn't belong in this AU."

Fell pauses to breath, "I thought it was kinda shitty, a hodge podge of everyone elses thing, ya know," his explanation was broken up by heavy breaths, Dance chuckled a bit as he walked over to Fell.

"It'll make it easier for other people to dance with you, if you're that adaptable, get it?" Dance asked, holding out his hands.

Fell let his gaze flicker between Dances eyes and his hands, "yeah, I get it," he grabs Dances hands, "care to show me the ropes on how you do things then?"

Dance grins before he starts to move, leading Fell through the steps, annotating the movements as he went. He seemed stressed, like this is new to him, like he's afraid of something that he couldn't beat nor avoid. He proceeds though, persevering if not for himself then so Fell would have something to remember him by until his memories were fully yanked from even the furthest depths of his self; a True Reset was really the only threat to any monster that wanted to remember. And Dance wanted to remember, he didn't want to forget Fell even if it meant making deals with demons like Nightmare and Error- he wasn't sure if Fell wanted to remember and that caused his trains of thoughts to collide and derail.

Putting so much effort into making sure he wouldn't forget when he might secretly want to, he feels almost hysterical when the realization of the notions strangulate him. He keeps dancing though because Fell is smiling, he snuffs out his worries and his agonies and his own personal problems because he absolutely refuses to burden a guest in his AU. Still, tears tinted blue start to well up in his eye sockets, he forces a dip so they can roll back into his skull, not seen not known. When they come back up from the dip Fell looks a bit puzzled and Dance steps back, releasing the intimacy.

"Pretty sure that whatever it was we were doing doesn't have dips," Fell said cautiously, unsure if he still wasn't well versed in the ever intricate map of dance styles or if Dance was the one who messed up.

Dance stifled whatever emotions were roiling up in the back of his throat before speaking, "I just, wanted to try something new," he was lying and Fell could see right through, "I haven't taught someone in a long time, just thought I'd fuck around and find out, not like you would be able to tell if it was wrong- turns out I was wrong then," there's a forced laugh and Fell hesitantly takes a step closer, "we can stop if that ruined the mood."

Fell gently placed his hands on Dances shoulders, lifting them to nudge off his hood, he expected recoil but was met with acceptance of the actions, "I said we would dance, I'm not breaking that promise even if it's the last thing I do," he gives a soft smile before dropping his hands down to meet Dances, "so please, I'd love for ya to continue."

"Alright, just follow my lead," Dance said, speaking softly as he did so, he raises their hands to proper positioning, "and don't be afraid to have some fun, we both know we'll start to diverge from the the foxtrot anyways," Fell gives a bit of a nod.

Don't forget, don't slip up, it's just a demonstration, how come he feels like he's dying, like he's floating on nothing. His grip on Fells hands is tighter than he expects it to be and he can barely catches the way Fells phalanges twitch under the pressure- he loosens his grip a little bit. The dance is swift, sashaying back and forth across the field of flowers and grass, veering from center to wall. Fell rarely trips over Dances feet, keeping up without much struggle even as the style devolves from a foxtrot to something a lot less calculable. Mixing in moves that require drops and lots of room to execute, slipping in techniques that press their chests flush against each other- it's a chaotic ensemble but it feels right.

It's raw and passionate and everything that Fell needs to get across his thoughts without actually speaking them, he just hopes Dance is good at interpreting. He gets the hang of it, control is split in twain between them, and with Undyne it felt like he was fighting for control, but here it feels like he's forcing it to Dance who shoves it back into his grasp again. His soul is simply pounding in his chest, he can catch the notes, he can count the beat, it matches Dancetales beat- it matches Dances pulse. He follows that beat, it's fast, but it feels natural, like it belongs exactly as it is, Dance follows the seven four beat, or what feels like a seven four beat at the least.

This time there's flaws in the movements, slip-ups here and there, but they could care less when contact is prolonged or balance is momentarily lost. This might as well be it, the last and first time they'll get a chance to dance together- why bother nitpicking over the details if they're never gonna see each other again. Eye contact is held throughout most of it and when Dance stops annotating and giving tips a heavy silence drops between them- only able to hear the soft sounds of shoes crushing grass and the pulse of their souls. It feels right, it feels so impossibly right, this is exactly where Fell wants to stay- here, in Dancetale, with Dance and just existing without constantly looming threats and fears.

Then Dance starts to cry, pulling their movements to a halt as he leans into Fell. Sobs shake his form and he doesn't let got of Fells hands, only grips them tighter because he's going to lose this anchor forever soon enough. A True Reset will take place and he'll forget entirely, his memories will be wiped down completely leaving him with a slate. Dance isn't ready for Fell to forget him forever, nor is he ready to forget Fell- he's fucked no matter how you look at things.

"Please don't forget me," the plead is barely decipherable from between hiccuping sobs and heaving breaths.

Fell roughly yanks one hand from Dances but wrapped it around his midsection tightly before the dancer could retract himself, "I couldn't forget ya even if I tried," the emotion in his voice is raw and burns like fire as it spills out and he can't stop it, "I promise, I will never forget you."

Dance didn't respond right away, only let go of Fells other hand and pulled him a little bit tighter, "I'm sorry, I don't- you don't have to remember me, I'm probably not a good memory right now-" Fell raises his free hand and uses it to cover Dances mouth before he can continue.

"I said I couldn't forget ya didn't I, I won't forget you, denial is my specialty, even a True Reset couldn't beat that," Fell explained, using 'denial' in the hopes that it could do even a fraction of the job that is shoving his emotions under a rug, he has an entire notebook explaining the hundreds, if not thousands, of thoughts running through his head.

Dance nods, "yeah, Gaster once-" Fell brought his hand to Dances mouth again.

"Let's not bring him into this," Fell said gently, awaiting a response but not getting one, he heaved a deep breathe, "denials not the word I'm looking for- hell, the words I'm looking for ain't even any languages thesaurus," he's stumbling over everything that's tearing through him all at once and it feels liberating to just get it off his chest.

Dance quirks a metaphorical brow, but he drops the smug look, "ain't that the truth?" Humor laces what he says and he isn't sure why he laughs a little bit as he speaks, he wants to let his gaze drop down but he can't, he lets his focus linger on how synchronized the thrum of their souls are instead.

The silence still stagnates uncomfortably around them and Fell speaks, "even if my Papyrus threatened to kill me if I didn't stop thinking about you, I still would. You'll never stop being stuck on repeat in my head Dance- even if there was a True Reset, doubt Frisk'll ever manage one in my AU, I would still remember you and come back to find you again," his voice was thick and the viscera in his tone stuck with Dance, caught him off guard if you will and it showed on his face.

Dance brought his hand to Fells and interlaced their phalanges, "cool, me too dude," again, there's a bit of a laugh to his tone but his words come out painstakingly genuine and it feels like he's pulling himself out of a quicksand pit by saying them, "so, do you wanna try that again?"

Fell releases Dance from his grasp, "depends, think you can keep up now that I'm thinking straight again?" It's a challenge, there's a bite of playfulness to his that Dance gladly relishes in compared to the contrast of the raw confessions laid down mere seconds before.

"Thinking straight after what you just said? Don't lie to yourself, you're thinking gay- let's dance," he's grinning as he speaks, yanking Fell into a spin that follows a heavy dip, leaving his spine arched against the only balance stability he can depend on, Dance draws his hand not supporting Fells back to pull his hand higher up and ou- Fells skull instantly washes over in crimson.

"Oh fuck me," it came out as a mutter, barely audible, and Dance had the guts to smirk.

He gave a hum of amusement, "maybe later," he speaks so nonchalantly it makes Fell want to scream, but he refrains, simply sliding along with the motions Dance sets in place.

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rupturedtaleblog · 2 years ago

Text

Anonymous Letter + Responses

”Hello! Hope you’re doing fine!”

Yello! I’m doing alright! I just checked the askbox and saw this, thought I’d give a few responses and clarify a few things given you went out of your way to type down all this.

“I’m just here to mention how much I love Rupturedtale! Well, I only discovered it yesterday, but it’s been a wild ride since then. I love what you did with the minor characters in the Ruins! I expected Napstablook to launch more self-deprecating non-jokes, but, meh, can’t all show random humans we’re depressed now, can we?”

The stuff with Blook was written a while back and I didn’t really have self-deprecating non-jokes in mind for them. I tend to not touch the stuff in general.

“It’s been an absolute (and delightful) shock when it was revealed the blue voice actually was Toriel. And the mercenaries, though KINNNDDDA annoying at first, became quite eandearing over time. Even though he’s kind of immature and uses bad language at times, I liked some of Madjick’s wording, ‘cause it really showed Monsterkind went through some stuff. I think I teared up when Jack visited Toriel’s bedroom. I didn’t get she actually was in his head yet xD”

Cursing was a bit more prevalent in earlier drafts of the AU, mostly in regards to Jack, given he’s meant to be an outsider and a moody teenager. It was toned down over the years as I’d rather it be used for the more “important” moments.

“Reusing the unused soundtrack “stars” for Knight Knight’s battle made it all the more epic. I really got into it, and kinda got attached to them.”

A lot of AUs tend to use Star for either Chara or Frisk, but given it was meant to be used for Madjick, I decided it’d ultimately be better used for The CORE Mercs instead. Mostly Knight Knight, all things considered. Given she’s kind of tall and imposing.

“Ah. And of course. G R A N D P A.”

Don’t wake him up.

“I must admit I couldn’t quite fathom having a friendly flowey in the beginning. But I came to understand that this was a “failed pacifist ending” and not a “leaderless ending” as I was speculating, which actually allowed what I thought were plotholes to make a lot more sense.”

All I can say without going into spoiler territory is that his behaivour is not without purpose.

“Snowdin, at its beginning, has been a real nightmare. :D Keep in mind I thought this was a leaderless ending. Seeing Sans acting like he did, like nothing changed at all, got me, uh, unbelievably angry.

Then it was made pretty clear a lot changed over time, and I got incredibly sad instead. :D

That talk in Snowdin he’s got with Jack, about hate being a cycle… made me realize he’s got time to carefully mull things over.

And me, I will never get over the fact that he’s now wearing Papyrus’ frigging old fedora. I’ve never seen someone able to reconcile heartwrenching and utterly hilarious so well. xD Fits Sans!”

Sans was kind of a nightmare to figure out how to write given the context of what occured prior to Jack falling down. But like with Flowey, I can tell you his behaivour is not without purpose.

I’m glad you like his fedora. Snowdin in general was meant to showcase various old concepts that didn’t make it into Undertale proper, like the 98 Robots and Papyrus’ old hat.

“THE ROBOT 98. WOW I LOVE THEM?! The Puzzle Punisher or whatever he’s called is by far my favorite I wish Papyrus met him I’m sure they’d find a lotta common ground. Well that’s maybe a lie 'cause my favorite is Ninety, or, since it’s Papyrus’ headcanon, Nintwo. I was very skeptical of him, but then he grew on us, I guess. His theme is awesome and his battle was too, and he and Dodge kind of remind us of Sans and Papyrus, but since they’re taking up their role in Snowdin that’s not much of a surprise. “

I’ve been told a lot of times that the 98 Robots are probably the most iconic thing in this AU, and I am not at all surprised to learn that.

I’m glad you enjoyed them as much as you did. The 98 Puzzle Punisher in particular is the best and most powerful character I have created for this AU. If there is a God out there He trembles in fear every time The 98 Puzzle Punisher is spoken of.

Jokes aside, I do not recall if Ninty and Doge being a bit similar to the brothers was done deliberately or if it was an accident on my part. At the end of the day you will find that they do not share the same ideals as them, which is what matters the most at the end of it.

“Oh my God, Jack crashing on Papyrus’ grave. This absolutely abominable act made my day. This is probably when I truly fell in love with this comic (hence the love letter.)”

Good.

“Visiting Sans and only Sans’ house was sad. It’s clean. The kitchen is empty.

…The sock is picked up.

That was all very wrong.”

“Oh also, let me tell you how much I love the OST! I already mentioned Knight Knight and 90’s one, which are my favorites, but I’ve gotta say the one that plays during Snowdin area, the “Home Of Papyrus” one, and the remix of Toriel’s OST are also huge hits in my heart at least. “

I’m glad to hear that. The soundtrack for this was something I wanted done for a long while now. You’ll come to find the future tracks even better.

“So. If I got all this right, Asgore is alive. I’m so glad he is, I love him xD I’m also sad because this means he won’t get into Jack’s head -._-. This is crushing all your fan theories that went like : “RupturedTale, the AU where instead of collecting dead human items throughout your journey, you collect dead monsters’ voices in your head.”

I was truly waiting for the point when Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, Asgore would have been commenting Jack’s every move with “helpful” remarks, though….

This sounds like a lightly complicated situation, doesn’t it?”

Having the entire cast of Undertale in my head sounds like a fate worse than death. Imagine the noise.

“Asgore is still in charge, the human attempted a genocide run and got stopped at Undyne, which makes for empty ruins, empty snowdin, and empty waterfall. From there, Undyne could have died alongside the human— but judging by the something’s presence it’s unlikely. Something must have happened, and Undyne got both herself and the human disabled somehow— one of ‘em, Undyne particularly, is probably the something, judging by the fishlike shadow we can see following Jack around. Maybe both of them. I don’t really think determination melts humans, though…..”

If only you knew how bad things really are.

“Obviously, at this point, it’s got pretty clear that what we thought was cold acceptance from Sans is anything but. He wants to “rat out” the something, particularly if it IS the human. He’s going to the extent of looking creepy and trying to “use” Jack to do so. This means it’s more of a priority to him than he lets it show.

Why is that? I couldn’t tell you: Asgore seeks it out too perhaps? …Or maybe he’s got something against this human. (How would I have guessed!)

Or does he simply just want to “see how it all ends?”

That’s some weird, cryptic, mildly concerning sentence. Particularly concerning the double meanings this statement has. That’s our Sans alright.”

You’d find that Jack is someone who, at the end of the day, get things done.

One way or another.

“Anyhow, MTT probably took the place of the CPTN considering his G L A M O U R O U S shows. I wonder what motivated him to expand the royal guard… Alphys’s death? Her connection with Undyne? MTT doesn’t hate Humans in the first place, does he? Is the CPTN actually some other guy?

What’s up with the capital? What’s up with Asgore? Can I hug Asgore? Will Sans ever give me his fedora, I want the same? Will freeing the amalgamates make Doge happy? I love Doggo, did he get a proper grave?”

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

“What would happen if someone went to Sans and said :

“Hey dude, y’know that human you’re sitting next to?”

“yup, i know him. we met a few hours ago.”

“Well, uh, actually, this guy’s possessed.”

*Sans remebers the time Jack screamed alone in the forest and threw a tantrum for stress relief.

“yeah, i know.”

“Huh, no, for real. There’s two people living in his head.”

“don’ worry, i suspected it went that far.”

“And those people are like, the most important people in your life that just died a few months ago and put you through a tumultuous period of constant changes, depression, and internal crisis. Every time you talk to Jack, they hear.”

“…huh. mind tellin’ me who those two people are?”

“Sans. Your dead brother is living, and talking, and sometimes even stress-cleaning inside the head of this kid that’s currently watching TV right next to you.”

Sans didn’t have much to respond to that. besides maybe, “…”

“And the old lady you spent hours trading jokes with, that just happened to be your closest friend? She’s also living inside this kid’s head.”

Sans looked at Jack’s coconut-sized skull.

“must be crowded in there.” “

That’s a hysterical visual.

Jack and his Monsterkind-shaped head:

“Love your AU!! Awaiting eagerly for the next part, more answers, and Jack’s sweet descent into madness as the voices take up most of his dominant personality. I’m happy each time they talk and give their wonderful advice and opinion.”

Thank you so much. I was delighted seeing this letter and the drawings amidst the sea of pretty silly asks. I hope you don’t mind that I responded to it. I’m truly touched to see someone talk about a story I’ve written like this.

As for the rest of this AU, while things are going to be a little different moving forward, I think you’ll very much enjoy what I have in store next.

Oh, and as always.

Embrace your ideals.

#undertale #undertale au #rupturedtale #submission #letter

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Text

Spotlight

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,707

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Modern AU in which the reader’s s/o is famous.

Author’s Note: My first crack at a modern AU and I enjoyed it immensely! My personal media of choice definitely came through in this prompt. I would now kill for Albedo to read Shakespeare. Also streamer Kazuha is an inspired idea, thank you anon for that! Not to mention musician Xiao, truly chef’s kiss.

Albedo

Albedo was a stage actor, both by education and by trade. Starting in high school he began in local productions, before entering into the Mondstadt Theateracademie. After appearing as Estragon in a filmed version of Waiting for Godot, he began to be scouted for various television miniseries, eventually becoming a well-respected film actor.

You arrived somewhere in the middle of his career. Working as a costume assistant at the Academie you had quickly fallen for the inquisitive and deceptively intense soul that exuded every color of emotion onstage, from raging anger to soft sorrow, before stepping into the wings and resuming an aura of utter calm. He had captivated you, both as an actor and as a human being; and when you learned that he had also become slightly infatuated with you, well, it was hard not to feel like you had stepped into a wonderful play, or perhaps simply a wonderful play had been brought to life.

The switch from theatre to screen was certainly a jarring one for both of you. When the first film contract was offered Albedo had stared at it for a long time, rereading it over and over again as the coffee in front of him quickly turned cold.

“Is there something wrong with the contract?” You had asked.

“No, it’s not that. It’s only…”

“Only?”

“Only on stage there is a single audience. You can feel their reactions, can measure their response. There is nothing nebulous about the people around you. But on film you cannot do that. You cannot adjust for time of day, or whether it’s a weekend or a Friday performance. You must let your lines out and hope that they land without even being able to calculate it.”

“It’s not a science experiment my darling,” you had teased.

“Maybe not,” Albedo admitted. Still he continued to read and reread, and it was only until the next afternoon that he had told you his answer.

Still, you had to admit that he made a fantastic actor. The naturally inward part of your partner’s personality, the part that always seemed to jump out the moment he left the stage, worked well to balance with the camera’s need for subtlety, unlike the projection required for stage plays. It was little surprise then that he should grow so popular. Despite all the worries about measuring audience response, there was no doubting the success of Albedo’s acting career.

Being a naturally withdrawn person Albedo mostly stayed off of social media. He had one private Instagram for friends – he didn’t post anything; one private Facebook for family – the only picture was one of you two in the mountains next to a particularly weird looking rock; and WhatsApp – which could barely be counted. Thus when he started blowing up on Twitter – a platform you had a mostly unused account on – the reaction was mostly one of “why are they talking about me?”

Not that Albedo minded fan enthusiasm, indeed when people started showing up in droves at the stage door for him he was always careful to thank everyone collectively and talk to as many people as possible, it just sort of confused him that so many people should take a vested interest in the actor and not just the character.

“It’s because they want to show you how wonderful they think your performances are,” you’d explained.

“I don’t have Twitter,” Albedo deadpanned.

Despite his protests though you sometimes caught him scrolling on your account, face slightly red at all the positive attention. His habit of internal self-deprecation had never truly gone away. That fact became slightly unfortunate in the face of hate comments. It was hard for Albedo not to take things personally. If someone said his acting was shit then you would catch Albedo reading the same line over and over again, as if to achieve mathematical perfection. It was a difficult urge to fight, and you were always careful to give Albedo plenty of reassurance when these things popped up, as well as surreptitiously blocking the trolls that wandered their way onto your dash.

This habit to take things at face value did not apply when you entered the mix. As far as Albedo was concerned you were his partner and no amount of complaining online would make him second guess that or second guess your worth. Even if you thought that you had a better hold on social media assholerly than he did Albedo would still make sure that for every hate comment that floated your way there were at least three compliments on his part. Mentioning you off-handedly in press interviews, saying that he had to go home to his partner, leaving small sketches on post-it notes scattered throughout your apartment, there were no lengths that Albedo wouldn’t go to assure you. And, if you had to admit, these things truly did make you feel better on the days when the small part of your brain said that this wasn’t mindless social media harassment.

Being an actor Albedo had an incredibly fine-tuned sense of the way that people responded to emotions, as if he were performing some grand sort of scientific experiment to see how many people he could sway with his gift. As of such he was always careful that, regardless of his success, things between you were never upturned. You were with him before he was really famous, and you would be there during and after. Albedo loved you deeply; though he often said that he hated romance plays for how sappy they were in his mind your relationship was the one, glowing exception – regardless of the other happy couples in the world. Though it was slightly idealistic, it was the kind of intensity that comprised Albedo’s personality, was the thing that had garnered him so much success.

Albedo loved you deeply, and no amount of surprise movie contracts would change that.

Kazuha

You had to admit that when you had met Kazuha you had no idea about his double life as a streamer. He was merely one of the many singers that came and went to the recording studios, all people eager to unleash their talent on the world. But unlike the rest of them, Kazuha could make you laugh.

Perhaps then it was unsurprising that Kazuha should be a popular streamer. Though his often florid talking style might seem on paper like it would be too grating for streaming, in reality his soft cadence combined with a dry sense of humor made him wildly popular. He rarely lost his temper, making him palatable to those who wanted to have a fun time without blowing their ears out, and when he did lose it his hyper-specific, often nonsensical insults were the stuff of memes. No, in retrospect it was not all that surprising that Kazuha was a beloved streamer.

At heart though, Kazuha had told you over coffee, the enthusiastic and earnest internet sensation was a poet.

“When you’ve had a life as dissonant as mine, how can you not be?” He’d joked. And indeed perhaps he was right, for Kazuha was as wonderful a poet as you had ever read. He was born to be a writer, you had told him.

You were also an aspiring singer, as well as a friend of the studio owner where you did your recordings. As such you had made it a habit to help around the studio when you weren’t also working or studying. As you and Kazuha were both students with intense side jobs, the good natured complaining of overworked students also made their way into you rapport, a friendship that grew day-by-day. Eventually it sprouted into love.

Though you knew that Kazuha was a streamer when your relationship started, in reality you hadn’t realized how truly popular he had become. The first time you watched one of his streams you were blown away by his popularity. Watching your first livestream only cemented that. It was hard to believe that your down-to-earth, slightly self-effacing, partner could have garnered such a large fanbase. Not that you didn’t think he deserved it. He absolutely did. However after seeing that you admitted you were a bit awestruck.

“Why? Am I not the same person on screen and off?”

“Of course you are! It’s just, well, my partner’s a celebrity!”

“I would go that far,” Kazuha laughed.

“Well you certainly are to me!”

Nevertheless your dynamic didn’t change much afterwards, besides the occasional teasing on both of your parts. Kazuha was after all Kazuha at the end of the day.

At the beginning Kazuha didn’t mention you much on stream, certainly not by name, you had to admit you were a bit intimidated by the idea of being recognizable on the internet, even if it was just by name.

“This is also my partner’s favorite map.” Had been his first mention, during a game of Mario Kart.

Despite this offhanded remark however the chat had almost immediately exploded, followed by the rest of the fanbase. Though there was, of course, some disappointed buzz – isn’t there always – the reaction was immensely positive. Positive, and curious.

After a while Kazuha started mentioning you more often in streams, especially after the two fo you moved in. Sometimes you would hear him as you passed him room – Kazuha liked to keep the door open – other times you would watch it on stream yourself.

“My partner hates this character. Too bad you can’t throw evidence.”

“Nobody tell my partner that I’m afraid of basements. I don’t need them to know that when laundry day rolls around.”

“Hey if you’re watching this dear, I promise that it’s not that much money. You don’t need to look at the bank account. Who am I kidding, this is why we don’t share one.”

“Hey, darling I know you’re watching this. Can you check and make sure I left my keys on the coffee table, they aren’t on my desk. Also can you make tea?”

Despite fans knowing very little about you, you were surprised by the amount of positive comments that flooded the streams. You had to admit that your initial expectations had been “people are going to find me annoying”. Instead funny comics of your voice drifting in from the other room popped up, along with a lot of waving and “tell your partner not to trust you with the keys” after Kazuha fell off a cliff one too many times. It was an odd experience, to be so happy about the comments of faceless people, people to whom you were also faceless.

Eventually Kazuha’s hardwork in singing paid off and his first single was recorded and given a deal. On the evening of the release livestream Kazuha set up in the living room, angling the camera so that you could sit on the chair just out of frame. You had talked about the release for months now, and a few weeks ago Kazuha had brought up the idea of a pseudo-stream reveal.

“I was wondering if you’d like to say hello to the audience or wave when my song is released. I understand that you’re hesitant about those sort of things, and I would never ask of you something that would make you uncomfortable. This relationship is the most precious thing to me, and I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or exploited in any ways.”

“Thank you for being so considerate Kazuha. I’ll think about it.”

Now you sat in the chair, fidgeting slightly, waiting as the countdown on his laptop reached one. You excitement certainly seemed matched by that of the fans, who were typing wildly in the chat.

Eventually the screen faded to black and the chatting quieted down. The first few notes of a wooden flute emerged, combined with the strumming of a guitar. As the familiar words began to echo through the laptop speaker you found yourself washed away. Kazuha was always enthralling when he sang. At the end of the song was a dedication, and though Kazuha had already alluded to it, the sincerity still took your breath away.

To my dearest partner. My compass and my guiding star throughout this realization of my dream. You are my sun and my stars, and I’m forever devoted to you. Thank you for sharing in this project, and thank you for giving me such love.

Perhaps it was slightly saccharine. Regardless you felt the sudden, uninhibited urge to cry.

“So, what did everyone think?” Kazuha asked into the mic, face reappearing on screen. He was slightly giddy, and you watched as his hand tugged on the fabric of his linen belt.

Immediately the chat exploded, as waves of “that was amazing”, “I’m crying now”, and “the end was so sweet!” flooded the screen.

“Thank you all for the encouragement!” Kazuha let out a laugh, one that you could tell was one of utter euphoria, and no little relief. “There’s someone else I think who would like to thank you.”

Who knew that a small sentence could cause such a splash?

You barely had time to let out a tentative “Hello,” before an immediate wave of excited screaming covered the bottom left of Kazuha’s stream. “Thank you for supporting Kazuha’s song. And thank you for always being nice to me.” With a tentative wave of the hand you collapsed back on your chair, slightly hysterical laughter rising inside you out of the relief that flooded through you upon seeing the enthused fan reaction.

Afterwards your voice became the occasional guest on Kazuha’s streams, always greeted with enthusiasm. Kazuha continued to grow in popularity, and his music continued to capture a larger and larger audience.

All throughout this you never felt a snag in your relationship. Kazuha may have been a big streaming personality, but he was also a kind and considerate partner, the best that one could ask for in a significant other. Kazuha’s love was never in question. And neither was yours.

Xiao

Sometimes you were a little self-conscious about the way that you met Xiao.

Though Xiao had definitely grown a following by the time you met – being the main pianist for a popular singer and a classical pseudo-prodigy in both piano and flute his own right certainly had roped him an enthusiastic fanbase – you had simply known him as “the guy who hogs the practice room”.

“I swear to the gods, how long can that bastard take to practice!” You texted angrily at your friend one day. Qixing Conservatory was the premiere music place in Liyue, but what should’ve been an amazing opportunity was being overshadowed by a practice room partner who appeared to not have a life, one who also had the obnoxious habit of playing the same damn thing over, and over, and over again.

“Playing the same piece as before?”

“Yes! Ugh I don’t even know what it’s called but I’ve heard it enough times to last a lifetime, maybe five!”

“Damn I’m sorry, what time does he usually end?”

“I don’t even know. Some time in the early evening. It’s obviously never gotten through to his brain that other people also need to practice. Or that hearing the same notes over and over while waiting makes me want to chuck my binder against a wall.”

“Lol. I kinda want to hear it now. Can you send a video, will the sound pick up?”

“I don’t know how it wouldn’t.”

“…”

“Holy shit! Okay, I need you to watch this video and tell me if you recognize the pianist.”

Safe to say you nearly fell out of your chair upon figuring out Xiao’s identity. Not that you weren’t already about to out of pure exasperation. Still, there was something much more intimidating about shaming a successful musician, and you no longer had the urge to glare at Xiao every time he left the practice room. Honestly, you would have been perfectly happy keeping your head down and never interacting with him at all.

Fate, however, has a sense of humor.

To be fair, some of it was your fault. You knew that Erlkonig was a massively difficult piece. You knew that you should’ve picked something else, knew that even Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata mvt. Three had to be less painful than the non-vocal arrangement you’d placed in front of your eyes. You were never trusting your music taste with your piece choices again. This was a terrible mistake.

“These stupid fucking running notes!” You let out, a groan of exasperation racing through you. Half slamming (you weren’t crazy) the piano cover down you swung the door of the practice room open. You didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Trying to ignore the embarrassment that rose up seeing Xiao waiting on a chair next to the door you went to walk down the hallway.

“You should work on it with a dotted sixteenth note pattern.”

It was the first time that Xiao had ever spoken to you.

Afterwards a rapport slowly grew between the two of you. Often Xiao said nothing as you passed, rarely you made a gesture of recognition when he finally reappeared from the practice room. However soon the occasional word or phrase of advice grew into longer sentences, later these sentences evolved into pieces of conversation. Soon enough you discovered, to your slight horror, that you found yourself yearning for Xiao’s company.

Almost as soon as you’d finally figured out your feelings you were hit with a wave of denial. You weren’t falling for Xiao? How could you fall for someone who got on your nerves so much? Sure he gave you advice, but what about it? You deserved it after having to hear him over and over again while waiting. Certainly Xiao didn’t seem interested in you, he barely talked to you! Yeah he was getting more talkative, but it’s easier to talk to people when you’re giving them advice. There’s no way you were in love with Xiao. And there was no way he was in love with you.

To say that Xiao’s career as a musician, never mind his genuine technical talent at two instruments, was a barrier would be an understatement. The moment you thought you were making some progress, finally admitting to yourself that this crush was, in fact, real, a wave of anxiety would pass over you. Xiao was too good for you, he was too important. Here was a man who had a successful musical career already up in the air while you banged frustratedly on the keys. Why would someone that successful be interested in you? Not to mention the fact that he didn’t seem interested.

Because, you had to admit, you did like Xiao’s music. Not just his classical repertoire, but his pop music as well. It was slightly jazzy, mellow and playful and utterly unlike the scowling musician behind it – something you secretly thought extremely cute and surprisingly charming. To him you were just a practice roommate, and you were sure he’d find the idea of dating someone who was more familiar with his public persona irritating.

So you buried your feelings, or tried to. Unfortunately like sometimes attracts like, and just as Xiao secretly had the emotional understanding of a teaspoon, you weren’t nearly as clever about things as you would like.

“Is there something on my face?” Xiao asked, his voice gruff and slightly reluctant.

“No, why would there be?”

“Because you’re staring at it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You let your head drop, looking intently at the ivories in front of you. Eventually there was a sigh.

“You don’t have to do that. I… I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! You staring down is weird too. Let’s, let’s just hurry up and do this passage.”

After that you became more aware of your staring habit. You also became more aware of Xiao’s own habit, leaning towards you. Sometimes you swore that you could feel the tips of his hair tickling your neck, light and feathery and stealing all your attention.

“Hey, Xiao, do you need glasses?”

“Why would you asked that!” Xiao flared up, face reddening. By this time you’d become more accustomed to these flareups of grumpiness, and ignoring it you pressed on.

“It’s just, you seem to be leaning forward.”

“I’m not!” Immediately Xiao shifted back, almost stepping away. Without thinking about it you reached to grab his hand.

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing!” You got out, before becoming aware of your hand grasping Xiao’s. The touch felt electric, and you were suddenly so very aware of everything, yet unable to focus at all.

“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Xiao grumbled.

Slowly the musician leaned closer to you once more. You had already half stood up and now you found yourself stepping closer to Xiao. The world continued to shrink until you were almost pressed together. Xiao was leaning forward, as were you, and the longer tufts of his hair were tickling your cheek, helped by the fan whirring away in the corner. Your hand was still in his, but all your thoughts appeared to have died away.

“Xiao?”

“Is this, too close?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Xiao?”

“What?”

“I like your music. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Why would it?”

“I don’t know. I just, I also like you, not just your music. But I also like your music.”

“I also like yours too.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic of confessions, but at that point you were far too carried away by the moment, or maybe by the fact that was the most sentences Xiao had strung together that weren’t about triplets. Regardless of the fact, you were suddenly seized by incredible happiness, as all appeared to right itself.

Afterwards initially little changed, Xiao was a gruff as ever, you were still itching to play in the practice room more. Nevertheless when you went to a concert of his for the first time and he let out a small, almost imperceptible, smile your way you knew things had changed. They would keep changing perhaps, or maybe they wouldn’t. After all, this moment was beautiful.

So much that you didn’t even mind the hours spent waiting for the practice room.

#genshin impact #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #genshin albedo #genshin kazuha #genshin xiao #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #my writing #scenarios

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ruthiswriting · 4 years ago

Text

heart line

mp100 | serirei, reigen arataka, serizawa katsuya, kageyama ‘mob’ shigeo, AU, 6k | on ao3

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

this is pretty fluffy, only real tw is some self deprecating depression thoughts from seri.

One day, when he comes into work, Serizawa sees Reigen industriously spreading a new poster on the wall, next to the monthly specials.

“Oi, Serizawa,” Reigen says, head half turning, first in acknowledgment, then in focused interest. “Come help me finish putting up this poster— I can’t get the last corner. Or well, I could,” he allows, stepping away from the wall as Serizawa approaches, “but I don’t want to get the step ladder out of the storage closet, it’s always such a damn pain to dig it out. You had really good timing, you know…”

Serizawa comes in at the same time every day, so he hardly thinks it counts as good timing, but he doesn’t say anything. Reigen passes over a thumbtack that he’s been holding between his teeth— a terrible habit, one that always makes Serizawa’s stomach start doing awful twists when he sees him doing it— and Serizawa takes it, stepping to the wall.

The poster’s half up already, it’s really just this one corner that’s a bit awkward to get to behind one of Reigen’s potted plants. He smooths the corner out, hesitant, and carefully pushes the tack in.

“A little up,” Reigen directs from behind him, and even though Serizawa can’t see him he can feel the way Reigen’s head tilts to look under Serizawa’s stretched arm. “It needs to be straightened out— ah, the other side’s falling out, can you get that too? Serizawa! The bookshelf, watch it.”

After a few more tweaks, Serizawa finally manages to pin it to the wall in a way that satisfies Reigen. Serizawa runs two fingers over the slightly wrinkled corner— he can’t remember if it was already slightly bent, and he swallows nervously. But if Reigen notices, he doesn’t say anything, humming appreciatively. “Right. This’ll be good, people will walk in and see it with the monthly specials.” He stops, hands drumming on his hips. “Unless it should go on the far wall, while they’re sitting during the consultation? It works well as an add on, so maybe if they see it there it’ll drive more sales…”

Serizawa’s slowly processing the actual contents of the poster as Reigen hems and haws to himself. The center of the poster’s occupied with a giant stock photo hand, with arrows helpfully pointing to different creases and hills in the flat palm. A nauseating array of colors pinwheel around it, making it difficult to look away from once your gaze has drifted to it. PALM READINGS, the banner across the top screams out. LEARN ABOUT YOUR LIFE, LOVE, AND FORTUNE. Then, explosions of price points decorate the bottom.

Belatedly, he realizes he saw Reigen working on the poster yesterday during a slow hour in the office— slowly dragging together clip art in a way that he found appealing. Serizawa had avoided asking questions, since Reigen would then want his opinion on the poster, and Serizawa didn’t have the slightest clue about anything to do with design. Now, he could actually understand the poster for what it was.

“No, better to leave it here,” Reigen decides, bringing Serizawa out of his reverie. “Now, I’ve just got to add it to the website.” He sighs, scratching his cheek. “Damn builder’s always so tedious to fiddle with.”

“I didn’t know you could read palms, Reigen-san,” Serizawa says, still staring at the poster.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I read a couple articles about it over the weekend,” Reigen says, starting back to his desk. Then he half turns back, adding, “when you get to my level, it’s easy to pick up this kind of stuff, you know— it’s good to buff out your skills, too. Sort of…” He spins a hand in the air as he thinks. “Expanding your resume.”

Serizawa nods. This makes sense to him. To Serizawa, Reigen’s never had much of a recognizable aura— or really, he thinks privately, any recognizable ability at all. But he has a very long list of clients, successful exorcisms, and the attention of the most powerful psychic that Serizawa knows, besides maybe the president. Not to mention the entirety of CLAW’s former 7th Division’s admiration and respect. All of those people can’t be wrong, Serizawa reasons, so it must just be something that he’s missing. Serizawa misses a lot of things. And as Reigen’s repeatedly told him, his powers are just more spiritual, so him picking up a new ability with some light reading seems perfectly reasonable. “One of my classmates talk about learning coding a lot, since that’s good to have on a resume,” he says. “So it’s kind of like that, maybe.”

“Well,” Reigen pulls a face as he drops into his desk chair. “That’s a different kind of resume.” He swivels to his computer. “While I’m updating the website, Serizawa, can you look at the client list for the day?”

Serizawa hastens to look at the digital calendar that Reigen’s set up on his phone. “There’s a consultation in the morning, at ten,” he says. “Two massages in the afternoon… An exorcism at four.” Serizawa will be gone by then. Kageyama will be assisting with that exorcism— Reigen’s marked that on the calendar too, although Serizawa’s not sure Mob’s once looked at the calendar Reigen constantly refers to.

Reigen’s practically rattling the keyboard with the force of his typing. “Plenty of down time today, then,” he said. “I’ll be able to get this set up no problem.”

“Reigen-san,” Serizawa begins, awkward. “Should I…” Reigen’s stopped his punitive typing to stare at him, which always makes Serizawa’s words begin to stutter. He clears his throat and tries again. “To better assist the clients. Should I learn about palmistry, too?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. Most of the questions he asks feel pointless as soon as he says them, and this one’s ridiculousness is heightened by the way Reigen frowns. “If you want to,” he says, tone implying he’s not sure why Serizawa would. “I was planning on handling it, since it’s mostly interfacing with the clients, and you’re still getting comfortable there, but I wouldn’t stop you.”

Serizawa can’t stop the way his shoulders sink, and hurriedly, Reigen adds, “you’re doing fine, Serizawa— I’m glad you’ve got the initiative to ask about it. But I know you’re busy with your studies, so I didn’t want to take up your time unnecessarily. You’re already a great asset to the business.”

Again, Serizawa wants to protest, to say that really he should be doing so much more for Reigen than brewing tea and exorcising stray ghosts. But he shouldn’t argue with his boss, so he just nods, swallowing all of his words.

It only takes a few days for someone to take Reigen up on new special— a jittery looking college student with spectacles twice the size of her eyes. She comes about a necklace that she inherited from her recently deceased grandmother. Serizawa can’t see anything on it, and Reigen smoothly steps in to handle it. As he shreds rock salt over it and kept up a stream of gentle questions about her grandmother, the girl’s eyes roams over the wall, and she asks about the palm reading. Within seconds, Reigen has the lights dimmed, incense candles in Serizawa’s hands that are apparently his responsibility to light.

Reigen sits on the edge of his seat, face serious as he looks down into her upturned palm. She watches him with wide eyes. “It’s not so much that your palms determine your fate,” he explains to her, voice taking on a knowing, mystic quality. “It’s more that they’re a microcosm of reality… The big’s encapsulated in the small.” He draws one of his fingers along a crease in her fingers, barely a ghosting pressure.

As Serizawa struggles with the candles, the match in his hand finally catches, and the light blooms across her face. The beginning of a blush is striping across her nose.

“This is your head line,” Reigen says. Then his finger moves across another web. “Your heart line. Your fate line. And your life line.” For this last designation, his finger curves across the base of her thumb and comes to rest against her wrist.

“The life line,” she says, eyes wide. “I heard once that if you have a short life line, that means that you’ll die young.”

Discreetly, Serizawa peeks at his own palm, but he can’t track what any of the mess of creases are supposed to be when transposed onto his own hand. “Not necessarily,” Reigen says, shaking his head. “Your life line has more to do with your vitality. If it’s short or shallow, that’s not necessarily bad, but it might mean you need to make a change.” Reigen’s mouth draws into a frown. “…Have you been feeling disconnected from the people around you?”

“That’s exactly it,” she says, voice a relieved rush. “It’s been so hard, ever my grandmother died…”

The conversation streams on past Serizawa. He watches as Reigen gives her advice, her hand still resting comfortably between Reigen’s long fingers.

The palm readings only happen occasionally, but Reigen seems satisfied enough with their performance— like he said, it’s a nice add on. But on days when someone asks for one, they cling to Serizawa’s mind the entire train ride to his night classes.

Regardless of Serizawa’s perception of Reigen’s aura, he proves himself as a natural when he sits down with a client for a palm reading. No matter what he says, they always gasp in shock at how accurately Reigen’s pinned down their life with just a few sentences. Then, he’s immediately pinwheeling into advice on how best to fix their relationships, their jobs, their life.

He doesn’t like it. The idea that, just by looking at his hands, someone can accurately judge everything inside of him. Reigen never says anything bad about the clients, of course, but he’s sure that he has to see it. All of Serizawa’s mistakes are surely reflected in the creases of his hand— and he’s made a lot of mistakes.

Serizawa spends a lot of time staring at his hands on the train. They’re square in shape, with short, blocked off fingers, and a tangled mess of lines and mounds— what Reigen calls the bumps of flesh on the client’s hands. He doesn’t know what any of it means. He doesn’t think it could be anything good.

The train rumbles under his feet, and hurriedly Serizawa tucks his free hand under his armpit. Like if it hand is out of his sight, the obsessive thought might be too. It doesn’t stop his eyes from ghosting over everyone else’s hands, that all surely say much better things about them than Serizawa’s.

He’s not doing a good job of not thinking about the hands.

Mainly, he keeps thinking about Reigen’s, which doesn’t bode well for Serizawa’s attempts at professionalism.

Serizawa realized fairly early on that his feelings for Reigen exceeded the typical respect one should have for an employer. It even went past the gratitude that one should have for someone who saved Serizawa’s life— because genuinely, Serizawa thinks that Reigen saved his life by giving him this job, when Serizawa didn’t even have a high school education or any practical experience beyond being a reformed terrorist. Even if Serizawa’s managed to stop referring to every manual of business practice as inarguable law, enough of them reiterated the extreme inappropriateness of workplace relationships that Serizawa figured it was a rule he should stick with. Their cautions at power imbalances, lack of professionalism, and the inevitability of messy breakups bang around in Serizawa’s mind every time he looks at Reigen.

Of course, it’s not like Reigen would want anything to do with Serizawa even without these restrictions. Reigen’s a good, helpful person, and he saw that Serizawa was in a bad spot, and wanted to do something about it. That was all. So, it’s up to Serizawa to draw a professional boundary. If he maintains a distance, that’s better for both of them— Reigen won’t have to deal with Serizawa’s messy, inappropriate feelings, and Serizawa won’t get hurt.

But the palm readings make that so much harder than necessary.

Reigen has nice hands, and he takes full advantage of them in every moment. They accent every word that Reigen ever speaks, making his case for him before he’s even begun a sentence. And when Reigen’s hands are making an energetic arc across the room, Serizawa keeps finding his mind going back to the dim office— the candles flickering in the dark, the sweet heady scent of incense. Reigen’s hands comfortably enveloping his hands.

Not his hands, really. It’s only Serizawa’s hands in his flushed, distracted imagination. He wishes, very desperately, that Reigen wasn’t so dedicated to the atmosphere of his services, but if he’s being honest with himself, Serizawa probably would have the same problem if Reigen conducted palmistry under the boring office lights.

It’s just Serizawa’s embarrassing personal problem. It’s something he has to deal with on his own. Another misguided crush on his employer— except he’s so sure that Reigen would let him down gently it burns.

It’s a slow day in the office when Reigen says, tone casual, “Serizawa, let me read your palm.”

Serizawa’s pen jags across the paper. He’s doing homework, which he always feels guilty for, even though Reigen’s repeatedly told him it’s fine, even offering to help him with any assignments he’s having trouble with. Now, he’s punished for slacking on the job by way of an unfortunate ink splatter obscuring a section of his notes. Serizawa feels a static charge draw up around his ears, and he takes a deep breath as he settles the pen against the page. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Serizawa says.

“Why not?” Reigen’s half out of his chair before he’s distracted by a loose set of papers about to escape his desk. He pins them down with a half full mug of tea, then continues his circuit around the desk. “We don’t have a client until later this afternoon, and it’ll be fun— enlightening, even. It’s a good team building exercise.”

He’s pretty sure Reigen just wants to put off the paperwork that he’s been complaining about the whole morning. It’s given him too much time to let his eyes drift across the room and watch Serizawa, probably monitoring any possible mistakes in his work. The palmistry poster’s right behind Serizawa��s head at his desk, so maybe that’s what made him think of it. Regardless, Serizawa does not want Reigen to be enlightened by anything about Serizawa. He clenches his hands into fists and sticks them under the desk, like maybe Reigen will forget about it if he can’t see them.

All the excuses collecting in his brain don’t make it to his mouth in time, and Reigen’s leaning against Serizawa’s desk. “Come on, Serizawa,” he entreats him, voice wheedling. “Don’t you ever unwind? It’s not bad to have a little fun when it’s slow.”

Serizawa can’t think of something less fun than his crush learning all of his secret and not-so-secret inadequacies while holding his hand. Plus, he’s sure that there’s something better both of them could be doing— that’s another thing the self help books harp on, that you can always find something to do to improve your workplace. But he’s not good at telling Reigen no. And so, in a matter of seconds, Reigen’s setting up the office as Serizawa watches, arms locked at his side.

“You don’t have to waste the incense candles,” Serizawa mumbles as Reigen energetically lights a match.

“It’s not a waste,” Reigen says firmly. “Anyway, I do my best readings when there’s a proper atmosphere.”

Since there’s no way to get out of this, besides maybe running straight out of the office and never coming back, Serizawa sits down at the table where Reigen always ushers their clients and waits. Reigen draws the blinds shut and then sits across from him, wiggling forward in his chair.

Reigen’s thighs sandwich the low table between them, pressing close enough for their knees to touch. Even though he’d dreaded the low lighting before, Serizawa’s abruptly grateful for the fact that Reigen can’t see the way his face heats in the dark.

And then, Reigen’s hands are taking his.

His hands are cool, maybe even a little clammy. They rest calmly against Serizawa’s over-hot skin, and Serizawa’s sure Reigen can feel the way that his pulse is rampaging in his wrist. Even before the palm reading’s begun, Serizawa’s hands apparently have the ability to betray him. He tries to swallow his nerves, again, force it all down. He can control himself, even if he’s feeling scared and lovesick. He’s not the person that he used to be.

Serizawa’s reminding himself of all of this, when Reigen says, very seriously, voice a low murmur, “you’ve got nice hands, you know.”

“What?” Serizawa blurts. “No, I don’t.” And then he flinches, immediately berating himself for contradicting Reigen.

Reigen’s eyebrows rise up, vanishing under his bangs. “Sure you do,” he says, insistent. And then, he turns Serizawa’s palm flat, running one electric finger around the circumference. “Square palm— short fingers. You’ve got earth hands. Means you’re reliable, Serizawa.”

Even though his brain is buzzing with this much prolonged contact— Serizawa’s not exactly had a lot of people spend extended time touching his hands, much less Reigen touching his hands— this sentence manages to drag him a little closer to reality again. Reigen just meant that comment in the context of palmistry, of course. He’s probably said similar things to his clients, even if Serizawa can’t exactly remember him saying them in this moment. He breathes.

After waiting long enough to realize that Serizawa’s not going to say anything in response, Reigen returns to tracing the lines of his hands. “Look here,” he murmurs, moving one finger down the center of his palm. “You’ve got a pretty pronounced fate line.”

And Serizawa knows, immediately, that that can’t be right. He’s heard enough of Reigen’s explanations to his clients to have learned that a deep fate line means you have control over your life— that outside actors don’t control your fate. Serizawa can’t think of something less likely to be applied to him. He feels his face sink, watching Reigen’s hand move, back and forth, over his own.

Reigen’s lying to him. He probably doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He probably wants to boost Serizawa’s abysmal self image, because Reigen’s good hearted like that. But it stings that he’d tell Serizawa falsehoods just to make him feel better, against something that demonstrably isn’t true. It calls into question every other good thing Reigen’s said about him.

“Aren’t you going to ask what that means?” Reigen’s eyes move up to look at Serizawa, burning holes in him.

Serizawa sucks in a breath that ghosts over his teeth. “Reigen-san…” He swallows, throat clicking. Every noise he makes suddenly feels so loud and over important when they sitting this close, without even the hum of fluorescent lights to drown it out. “I don’t really know if that makes sense, from what I’ve heard you say to the clients.”

Reigen’s eyebrows work together. “Your fate line can change over the course of your life, you know,” he says slowly. “Just like how you can change. It’s just a reflection of you.”

Serizawa lets his hand drop— it’s only Reigen’s interlaced fingers against the back of his hand that keeps his hand from knocking against the table. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, if I’ve changed enough to justify that.”

“You’ve made a lot of changes,” Reigen says, still insistently not letting go of his hand. His fingers interlace into a cradle, and Serizawa can feel the press of Reigen’s index finger on one knuckle. “You’re taking classes. You chose to leave a harmful situation, when it would’ve been easier to stay. You’re working here. Serizawa, you’re the one that’s taking charge of your life now.”

But even that’s a falsehood. Serizawa knows, deep in his bones, that he never would have left CLAW on his own. He never would have been able to see past the circumference of his umbrella and his own starry infatuation. The only reason he was able to leave at all was because of Kageyama, forcing him out of the fantasy he was living in, and Reigen, offering him a lifeline when Serizawa was sitting in the absolute rubble of his fake life.

“Serizawa.” Reigen’s voice is suddenly sharp. “Are you really going to doubt an expert spiritualist such as myself?”

“N— no, I didn’t mean—“

“Then accept it. You’re the only one in charge of your life. Let’s look at something else more interesting,” Reigen says, immediately shifting gears and ending the conversational thread. “Your heart line, it looks like it’s pretty—“

And this is something that Serizawa absolutely cannot handle. He yanks his hand out of Reigen’s before he can stop himself. “Reigen-san,” he said, voice climbing an octave. “I don’t know if that’s— appropriate.”

“Eh?” Reigen’s blinking at him.

“I mean,” he pulls his arms back, keeping whatever incriminating information is inscribed on his hands safely hidden. “Isn’t it bad to discuss… Relationships, in the workplace?”

Reigen tilts his head like Serizawa’s said something foreign. “It’s perfectly normal,” he says. “I help Mob with his relationships all the time.”

That’s obviously completely different, Serizawa wants to say, but the words won’t come. Suddenly, he’s seized with the idea— Reigen already knows exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. There’s probably a specific triangle of flesh on Serizawa’s hand that communicates, this person is in love with their superior, and Reigen’s seen it and knows. Serizawa feels the redness climbing all over his face. He can’t stop himself from looking down, palm turning up as he tries to find whatever betrayed him.

And immediately, Reigen’s grabbed his hand again. Serizawa feels his brain misfiring as Reigen yanks it closer. “Look,” Reigen says, eager. “Yours begins below your index finger, from the edge of your palm.” He indicates it, and Serizawa desperately wishes his heart would stop jackhammering in response. His pulse is loud enough to hurt his head, so surely Reigen can feel it pounding in his grip. “Means you’ve got a giving heart, Serizawa. It’s pretty short, so you’re introverted… But deep, so relationships are definitely important to you.”

“Aren’t they important to everyone?” Serizawa asks, floundering for any type of purchase in this conversation.

“Not necessarily,” Reigen says. “I mean, think about it— you’ve definitely met people who’ve put more work into relationships than others, haven’t you? But you value the people around you, so your hands reflect that. Maybe even…” His hand traces a crease, and he wiggles an eyebrow at Serizawa. “Value of a specific person? Someone you have in mind?”

Bone deep shame makes itself known from within Serizawa’s marrow. His fingers automatically curl inward, in an attempt to hide, and suddenly, without realizing, he’s holding the tips of Reigen’s fingers under his.

He expects Reigen to pull back, automatic, but Reigen doesn’t move at all. All Reigen does is go still, not meeting Serizawa’s eyes all of the sudden. His nose dips forward to look down at their hands, hovering above the table. It’s like he’s shy. Reigen is never shy.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” he says. “You’d be a good partner.”

He’s staring down at their hands, resting against the table, still not moving to pull his fingers away, or even to spread open Serizawa’s hand to continue his relentless assault of kind words. It’s like he’s perfectly content to rest there, long fingers trapped in Serizawa’s grip, which is probably too tight and not at all pleasant. Serizawa keeps waiting and waiting for Reigen to pull away, but he doesn’t.

Then, suddenly, the door to the office buzzes, signifying a walk in client. Reigen pinwheels away so dramatically he almost falls off his chair. A little pop of psychic energy spreads out from Serizawa’s feet, lifting everything in the office just an inch off the ground before it drops again. Serizawa stands, frantic, looking for something to do as Reigen hurriedly draws open the blinds.

It’s too late, though. The unexpected customer’s standing in the entrance, staring at both of them. “Um,” he begins, phone held lamely up. “I saw the sign outside, and I was wondering if I could ask about getting some spirit tags…”

Reigen recovers admirably, immediately pivoting into welcoming the customer and acting like it’s perfectly normal for both of them to sit around in the dark with only candles to see by. Serizawa guesses it’s not totally unreasonable— it is a psychic business, after all. You’d only know it was strange if you were a regular customer, and this man isn’t.

The only thing that betrays it as odd is the red blush that’s spread all over Reigen’s face, even staining his ears. It couldn’t be because of Serizawa, of course— it’s just that a customer caught him off guard. It has to be that.

Serizawa stares at the back of Reigen’s flushed neck, and wonders.

The rest of the day is tense.

It’s not exactly like Serizawa and Reigen sit side by side all day, but Reigen normally will get up and come see what Serizawa’s doing. He’ll hang over him as he supervises his work, or offer suggestions on whatever homework assignment he’s working on. In general, Reigen seems to dislike sitting still for long hours. He tends to pace about as he verbally puzzles through work problems to Serizawa, or Mob, or, probably, to an empty room. But after the palm reading, Reigen stays firmly confined to his desk, not saying anything at all as he still fidgets. Even when a client comes for an exorcism and he has to get up, Reigen maintains an exaggeratedly respectful distance between him and Serizawa.

The palm reading plays on repeat in Serizawa’s head, offering new mistakes for Serizawa to fixate on each time. The more they sit in silence, the more Serizawa’s completely sure that Reigen knows exactly how he feels. Why else would he suddenly become so shy? He wishes, fervently, that he’d just managed to keep it to act normally. Maybe if he hadn’t made such a fuss about the whole thing he wouldn’t have made Reigen uncomfortable. Now it’s even more obvious to Reigen where his feelings lie. It must disgust him, to have to deal with Serizawa’s sad, misaimed emotions— pathetically clinging to any basic kindness shown to him.

The whole afternoon, Reigen’s ears stay red as he works at his computer, only stealing glances at Serizawa when he thinks Serizawa can’t see.

He has to say something. He has to to apologize to Reigen for making everything so awkward. Maybe if he promises that he can control his feelings, that it won’t get in the way, things could go back to normal. Serizawa wishes the earth would swallow him whole. But it won’t— not without Serizawa splitting the earth open himself, at least. But if Serizawa wants to have any chance of reintegrating into normal society he has to deal with his feelings in an adult way.

Of course, Reigen beats him to bringing it up, as Serizawa’s dragging up the nerve to say something at the end of the day. He’s just stood, closing his laptop as he says, “Serizawa,” and pauses immediately, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, when you mentioned inappropriate workplace relationships—“

“I promise it won’t get in the way of anything,” Serizawa says in an explosive rush. “Please don’t fire me.”

Reigen stares at him, one hand still resting on the back of his neck. This is a look that Serizawa’s unfortunately gotten to know quite well. It’s the look that Reigen gives him when he’s said something unexpected. Serizawa’s begun to mentally mark it as a sign as conversational failure. “Pardon?”

Serizawa was really desperately hoping that Reigen wouldn’t make him actually say it, but that was looking less and less likely. “When you read my palm,” he stammers out, clutching onto the edge of his desk for dear life. “I know maybe not everything you saw was— appropriate, or maybe it showed something it shouldn’t, but I promise I won’t let it get in the way of working here. I can maintain professional boundaries, and… And…”

His voice trails as he dares to look back into Reigen’s face. It’s completely red again, naked surprise totally dominating his features. His hand’s gripping the back of his chair, like it’s stuck there. Reigen very rarely holds still, but in this moment, he’s completely frozen in place. By shock.

Abruptly, Serizawa realizes he was wrong. Reigen hadn’t seen his feelings in the surface of his fingers. But if he didn’t know about it before, he definitely, definitely knows about it now.

For a split second, Serizawa’s certain the office will collapse around them— his powers going rampant one last time to spare him this complete embarrassment. But all that happens is the furniture trembles, once. Serizawa supposes, under the part of his brain that’s screaming for death, that it shows he’s made good progress on controlling his powers.

He stands robotically. “I should go,” he says.

“No— no,” Reigen suddenly blurts, and he unsticks himself from behind the desk, racing across the office after Serizawa. “Serizawa, wait—”

Serizawa trips over his chair in his rush to leave, which gives Reigen the time to grab his arm before he reaches the door. It would be very easy to pull free and continue his frantic path onto the street and into the horizon, but the feeling of Reigen’s fingers digging into the side of his arm totally arrests Serizawa. He freezes, staring down into Reigen’s still beet-red face.

Reigen’s face is twitching in some kind of worrisome motion— he really looks like he’s about to have some kind of seizure, especially when his complexion is still so totally red. But finally, he manages to speak. “Our heart lines might not be so different, you know,” he says, voice wobbling just a little from— nerves? That can’t be right. Unless Reigen’s so totally disgusted by him that he’s nervous to be around him, now. But he’s holding on so tightly. Like he doesn’t want Serizawa to go.

Serizawa’s eyes slide away, not wanting to look at Reigen dead on, but then Reigen tugs his arm, insistent, trying to get his attention again. “Obviously, the qualities that we have, and the ways that we love— hypothetically— are very different,” Reigen says, voice gaining volume. “But, maybe similar things are revealed if you look closely. Just… A little closer.”

And then he doesn’t say anything, staring wide eyed at Serizawa. He’s clearly waiting for something, as Serizawa’s brain shudders to put the pieces together past every instinct that’s screaming at him to escape. Serizawa can’t conceive of a person being more different from him than Reigen. Any kind of similarity seems like too much to imagine. A similarity of the heart line? Maybe, Reigen has some of the good qualities he’s superimposed onto Serizawa, and that’s what he means. Or maybe— maybe—

Before he can stop himself, Serizawa’s hand slides up to grab the one that Reigen’s got on his arms. This time Reigen’s hand is damp with sweat. So is Serizawa’s, and he can’t imagine that it’s a pleasant experience for Reigen. Still, Reigen spreads his fingers, interlacing Serizawa’s fingers with his as they fall to the side.

“Just a little closer,” Reigen says again, voice almost a whisper as he steps into Serizawa’s personal space. The gap between their bodies narrows, and then vanishes, Reigen’s torso pressing against Serizawa’s.

It seems, impossibly, to be what Reigen wants. So before he can stop himself, Serizawa dips his head and kisses Reigen.

Reigen’s body leans up and into Serizawa, his free hand reaching up to touch his face. Underneath the fireworks happening behind Serizawa’s eyelids, there’s a moment of terror at Reigen touching his face— like he’ll find some patchy place where Serizawa missed shaving, or the pockmarked memory of an acne scar, and abruptly snap out of whatever insanity’s fallen over him. But Reigen touches his cheek gently, so, so, gently, and the fingers encircling Serizawa’s only tighten.

He’s sure, from any objective standpoint, it’s not a very good kiss— Serizawa’s never kissed anyone before, so his skills are probably awful. But it also means it’s the best he’s ever had. He never wants to come up for air.

Eventually, though, their faces break apart. Reigen’s face is still twitching a little, but now it’s up into an almost manic smile. Serizawa’s starting to wonder if the blush across Reigen’s face will ever subside. “This is,” Reigen begins, and then stops.

Reigen’s words rarely stop, and the silence stretches on for a few uninterrupted seconds until Serizawa realizes that genuinely, Reigen’s lost for words. A laugh threatens to break loose from Serizawa’s chest, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s laughing at Reigen. He only wants to express that whatever Reigen’s feeling, Serizawa understands. Completely and totally. It’s something he feels confident of when typically, Serizawa feels confident of nothing. So he just smiles, hoping that maybe, Reigen will understand too.

“I should have gotten into palmistry earlier,” Reigen says finally, and at that Serizawa can’t suppress his laugh. “Clearly I should screw around reading articles on the weekend more.”

“This wasn’t the reason you learned about palmistry,” Serizawa says, laugh still making his voice shake.

“Hell no,” Reigen snorts. “I just wanted to find another way to make a quick buck.” Then, immediately, he adds, “and also help our clients find out important truths about themselves, and the universe, of course—”

“While making a quick buck,” Serizawa says. It feels too joking, too disrespectful, but then, Serizawa’s just kissed Reigen. Reigen’s kissed him back. Worrying about professionalism seems suddenly pointless.

Reigen raises an eyebrow at him. “Sassy. Just don’t say that to the clients, Serizawa.”

His hand’s still clinging to Serizawa, gently swinging between them. Impulsively, Serizawa brings the hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Reigen’s breath pulls in, and Serizawa feels his face heat. He suddenly realizes that really, he has no idea what Reigen expects from this. They could be on completely different pages, Serizawa could be moving too fast, he could be doing everything all wrong.

But Reigen’s smiling at him. It’s a smile that he hasn’t seen before— totally unlike the dazzling grins that he gives his clients, and everyone he’s trying to convince to believe him. It feels different. The other smiles, Serizawa realizes, are something that Reigen puts on, in the same way that he puts on his tie in the morning. This one is real. This one is for Serizawa.

There’s a part of his stomach that’s still telling him this whole thing is a bad idea. Every chapter on workplace relationships he’s taken careful notes on is flashing on the back of his eyelids when he blinks. But, more and more, Serizawa’s realized that Spirits and Such is far from a typical office environment. Serizawa’s not a typical employee, and Reigen— wonderful, strange, perfect, Reigen— is not a typical boss.

When they walk out of the office, Reigen’s still holding his hand. Serizawa hopes, impossibly, that he never stops.

#reigen arataka #serizawa katsuya #serirei #mob psycho 100 #oneshot #fanfic

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kanri-tea · 4 years ago

Text

Ageswap! AU

Some headcanons for a HypMic ageswap! Au

Except everyone's ages are all over the place lol.

Ichiro is 32, Jiro is 30, and Saburo is 27

Samatoki is 29, Jyuto is 25, and Rio is 26

Ramuda is 30, Gentaro is 34, and Dice is 34

Jakurai is 14, Hifumi is 22, and Doppo is 22

Sasara is 31, Rosho is 31, and Rei is 16

Kuko is 32, Jyushi is 31, and Hitoya is 14

Otome is 19, Ichijiku is 26, and Nemu is 23

Buster Bros!!!

Ichiro is a bit of a mess, but he's getting better. He used to be pretty bad, working as a debt collector for Mozuku, doing drugs, and drinking, etc., but thanks to his brothers, he's gotten out and gotten clean.

Unfortunately, during that period, his relationship with his son, Rei, turned sour and Rei ran away at a fairly young age. Ichiro has been trying to repair his relationships, especially with Rei, but Rei isn't interested or receptive at all.

Jiro and Saburo live together, Jiro as a PE teacher at a middle school and Saburo as a white hat hacker/computer security stuff.

Jiro and Saburo's relationship with Ichiro isn't the best, but after Ichiro started getting clean and shaping up, their relationship has improved enough to form a team.

Jiro and Saburo are aware of Rei's existence but haven't actually met him before.

Mad Trigger Crew

Not huge changes here, Samatoki still works with the Yakuza, Jyuto is still a cop, and Rio is still Rio.

Jyuto isn't quite as experienced in being a corrupt cop as canon, so Samatoki makes sure to cover for him whenever he stumbles.

Samatoki is a big brother through and through, so he keeps an eye out for both Jyuto and Rio. His relationship with Nemu is okay, though sometimes she thinks he's the dumbest fool in the world.

Rio is more than well-aware that his survival cooking is not for the faint of heart. He finds it hilarious how Samatoki and Jyuto stutter and flinch whenever he brings it up, as well as how easily they falter under his puppy eyes.

Fling Posse

Ramuda deliberately makes sure as little people know his actual age as possible

It's one thing for a 24 year old to act cutesy and call girls "onee-san," it's a whole other thing when it's a 30 year old, no matter how cute and small he is

Ramuda finds Jakurai small and cute, so he sometimes goes and harasses coo over the boy, though, there have been times where the cops have been called for suspected pedophilia.

He's free from all the Project lambda stuff since it got exposed years ago and after a long hospitalization, he's completely healthy. You might even run into another clone occasionally, though they're all split to the four winds, each having chosen to pursue their own dreams.

Gentaro still is a writer, though he usually wears normal clothes. Honestly, he's way too old to continue to wear a kosode and hakama everywhere. It is way too hot out, plus he's not in his 20s anymore, when he thought it was cool and unique.

Dice is Dice. He's a gambler, though he does make sure to keep enough money around for rent and food. He's old enough that he's not so dumb enough to gamble away everything. Plus, he doesn't want to worry his daughter, Otome. She's already pissed at him enough.

Dice and Otome have a fairly good relationship, though that might just have been a result of Dice being an attentive and easygoing parent and never having to live with each other. Otome cares a lot for Dice, though she hates his gambling addiction.

Matenro

Everyone's pretty sure Jakurai is a mob boss or something. There's no way 14 year old should be able to live alone and be financially well off. Jakurai just smiles through everyone's suspicions, and since there's no proof, no one can do anything about it.

Jakurai acts like a literal angel, though, if you anger him, he might actually stab you (*cough* Ramuda *cough*). Jakurai, Hitoya, and Rei are friends, though no one knows how are when, they just are.

During the TDD era, Ramuda, Ichiro, and Samatoki acted a bit like pseudo-parents for him, though nowadays, while they do their best to keep an eye on Jakurai out of a sense of responsibility, Jakurai is content to ignore them.

Doppo and Hifumi are together and happily so. They still tell most people they're just roommates, due to Doppo's lack of confidence, but they're pretty content together.

Hifumi still works at a host club, though he does fumble sometimes from having less experience. Sometimes he doubts himself because he's not as old as his peers at the host club.

Doppo is just as self-deprecating as always, though there's a whole helping of fatalistic humor as well. His favorite way to relieve himself of stress is to hug Jakurai.

Both Hifumi and Doppo love Jakurai and really worry if a 14 year old living alone is okay. They like taking turns hugging and cuddling with the boy and Jakurai is somehow okay with it.

Dotsuitare Honpo

Sasara is in a pretty happy relationship with Rosho. They've moved past their issues in their youth and are now together.

They live separately, though that's mostly because of convenience for their workplace rather than because they want to

They planned to move in together soon, but their plans are put to halt when they meet Rei

Rei is a student at Rosho's school. He's not a bad student, just a bit inattentive and laissez-faire when it comes to others.

Rei helps them out of a bad situation and shows that he's good with a hypnosis microphone, but nopes out of the situation before either Sasara or Rosho can talk to him. He gets caught by Rosho the next day at school though.

Somehow, he gets roped into joining Dotsuitare Honpo, but there's a gleam in his eyes that tell Sasara that he's pretty pleased with the outcome.

When they find out that Rei lives on his own in a really rundown and small apartment, they freak out a bit and then try to make him move in with one of them.

It... kind of works? Rei still works on a near daily basis and insists on paying rent, but at least he's not living in a shitty apartment anymore.

Rei isn't used to people caring for him, having pretty much raised himself, and it shows. Any bout of affection is waved off with a laugh, light teasing, or a strained grin. When Sasara and Rosho find out that his dad is Ichiro, Sasara gets a little bit more than just mad at at his former teammate.

Bad Ass Temple

Kuko is a full-on monk at the temple, having taken over the temple after his father's retirement. He met Jyushi there, who was praying for luck for his next concert.

Kuko has calmed down a lot since being a teenager. There's still bouts of anger sometimes, but he's mostly exasperated, especially at Hitoya. Kuko is super interested in Jyushi, but not sure how to make his intentions clear without startling the other man or inciting Hitoya's ire.

Jyushi is still a sweetheart, though he's not as permanently attached to Amanda as before. He's a very popular idol/music artist, primarily is visual kei, though he does do other things.

Hitoya originally was a homeless kid, though he did occasionally crash at Jakurai's place. His pride wouldn't let him do it too often, scared of becoming too reliant on the other boy or showing himself as weak.

Jyushi met Hitoya when he was in Tokyo for a concert. Somehow, he convinced the boy to come live with him. He took him back to Nagoya and that's where he's lived since.

Hitoya is very, very protective of Jyushi. He thinks Jyushi is too naive and air-headed for an adult, so he does his best to protect Jyushi from his stalkers and any other people that could hurt him. He's a bit of a hothead and comes off as overzealous and even hissing at people who stand too close to Jyushi.

Jyushi is very patient with Hitoya and thinks he's the cutest kid in the world, an opinion that Kuko very much disagrees with.

Kuko sometimes feels like apologizing to his father after dealing with Hitoya, because damn, was he ever this bad as a kid?

Chuuoku

Otome is young, but she's not stupid. The world sucks and she's doing her best to make it a better place, especially for women. Being responsible for an entire country is overwhelming at times, so she's grateful for Ichijiku's help.

The men vs women agenda isn't quite as fervent as it is in canon, and Otome does her best to include all LGBTQ+ in her equality agenda

Ichijiku still hates men, but she softens a bit when it comes to Otome. The girl is young, but dang if she isn't doing her best.

Nemu willingly works with the Chuuoku, though she is very tired of her brother's dumbassery. Seriously, who actually calls themselves Mr. Hardcore without being embarrased?

Otome used to live with her mother, but she got sick of all the "being a lady" BS that traditional family spout and ran away once she was old enough. Dice being her dad, helped her settle on her own and sending whatever money has sometimes.

Once she overthrew the government, she has a steady home and paycheck, so she regularly sends money and visits him. Thankfully, the money is never spent of gambling because Dice finds it too precious to throw away like that.

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bytheangell · 4 years ago

Note

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?”

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

#herongraystairs #will herondale #tessa gray #jem carstairs #tsc #thanks to Jay for letting me play around with that prompt!#SORRY THIS TOOK A MILLION YEARS #making prompt progress between weekly codas and bingo fills slowly but surely #i hope you like it my anon friend!#elle writes a few deadbeat lines #anon glamour activated #ask rune #long post #elle talks too much

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years ago

Photo

richboy!seonghwa (part 28)

word count: 6k

angst

(part 27) (series masterlist)

you took the news of seonghwa's abroad opportunity as one would expect. with a sense of blame and guilt and overwhelming accountability. because you can't help but think that if you had never moved here in the first place, seonghwa wouldn't have considered it. he would've laughed in his dad's face at the prospect of going all the way to paris to end his senior year of high school.

yeosang informed you of the news the day after he found out, making you promise you wouldn't approach the boy or let him know that you knew. "he's telling the guys this weekend," he told you in the car, your hands intertwined as you stare at them sadly. "and he just told me to tell you, privately."

your eyes widen when you hear that, feeling a pang of hurt you know you don't deserve to feel in your chest. does that mean he doesn't even wanna say goodbye to you?

"w-when is he leaving?" you asked quietly, trying to contain the emotion in your voice. yeosang watches your lips tremble when he tells you next week, biting at your soft skin and squeaking out an "oh," that has his stomach sinking. because it's just a shitty situation all together, the both of you knowing you two have played a role in the boy moving away.

he told you how seonghwa had said his parents and family life had a big part to do with it, that he missed their company and wanted them to see him graduate high school. but the underlying sadness and tension that came from that dreadful night everything was revealed just gives everyone the sense that there's a little bit more to it.

"what?! is this because of yeosang and y/n?!" wooyoung boldly asked seonghwa over the weekend. he had gathered the loud mouth himself along with hongjoong and san to break the news, telling the three boys he wanted to talk to them about something.

"that's really the first thing you wanna ask, you idiot?" san whisper-yelled, smacking the boy upside the head.

"it's awfully suspicious timing, okay, he breaks down to y/n in a drunken stupor and-"

"wooyoung," seonghwa's deep voice says, his tone tight and serious but eyes dancing with the slightest bit of amusement; he could never genuinely be upset with the boy but fuck, does he never know when to shut his mouth. "thank you but shut the fuck up."

hongjoong snorts before he looks over the boy, asking him if that wasn't it, what were the other reasons? because leaving at this time seems like it had to have been something big. and seonghwa eventually told them the same thing he said to yeosang, about being lonely in his house and wanting to see his parents and thinking that a change in environment might be good for him overall.

"so it does have something to do with....everything that happened?" hongjoong asks lowly, not wanting to upset the boy but feeling something tight pulling in his gut; he hates to think that something as juvenile as that could've pushed the boy away. but he insists that there's more to it, that you, him and yeosang are on good terms and that he doesn't want any shit being talked to them when he leaves.

"we wouldn't do that," san assures quietly, liking you from the start but even more when you asked him to stay with seonghwa that night. it showed that you cared and were really looking out for him.

"yeah, no way," wooyoung agrees, doubtful looks from everyone being thrown his way. "what?!"

"anyway," hongjoong says with a smirk. "you'll need a going away party then, yeah?"

"this is it," seonghwa hums, gesturing to their four bodies in the living room. and after asking him one hundred times if he didn't wanna do anything more grand, before becoming a fancy european boy, they settled for pizza and video games and staying up until four o'clock in the morning the way they always did.

that next week of school, even given everything you'd been through, had been one of the hardest. because now, in a shocking turn of events, you were the one avoiding seonghwa. you kept your head down going to and from 4th period, kept your eyes trained on the board or notebook despite feeling his gaze on you at times; the one time he almost got you, you saved yourself with a tight-lipped smile and nod before awkwardly scurrying away.

"you're being a coward," mingi tells you at lunch that wednesday, watching your head snap back again at the sound of the library door opening.

you had told the boys of the newest seonghwa updates shortly after yeosang told you, both of them sad to hear seonghwa would be leaving; and bless their hearts, they hadn't even accused the reasons behind it on you. they wondered what could make seonghwa leave in the middle of his senior year, assuming his parents had something to do with it.

"according to yeosang, seonghwa said...we're a small part of the reason. but that he mostly wants to be with his parents and stuff." and whether the boys believed that or not, they'd never tell. but they would tell you that now, avoiding seonghwa before he leaves in three days, is-

"absolutely ridiculous, y/n, i have to agree," yunho says with a soft smile, blowing you a kiss when you pout at him.

"what am i even supposed to say?" you squeak, "happy travels, seonghwa! sorry my whoreish ways had to contribute to you moving all the way to france. but au revoir! enjoy the macaroons!" the blonde boy narrows his eyes at your self-deprecation, kicking you under the table harshly while the redhead shrugs his shoulder, lips quirked to the side almost like he's agreeing with everything you've just said.

"or maybe just like...thanks for being my first friend. hope to see you soon. good luck in a new country. if i don't talk to you, happy graduation. or maybe-"

"okay, i get it," you whine at yunho, knowing in your gut you're being stupid and annoying and very much like a coward, as mingi pointed out. but you know saying goodbye to him will absolutely end in tears and sorrow and you don't think he deserves to deal with anymore of that.

but he also doesn't deserve to start his new life with unresolved business. and maybe talking to him and saying a final goodbye could give you both the closure that you need. because through this all, you've realized just how much you pushed down your feelings for seonghwa. it doesn't take away or negate what you feel for yeosang, either, it's just something that you feel.

it's in the pit of your stomach and the center of your chest, how when you look at seonghwa you're reminded of how much he helped you. how he guided you and protected you and would've made you feel like you needed him to survive if you didn't have yeosang and the others to completely ground you.

these thoughts swirl through your mind for the rest of the week, friday night being one the worst. yeosang can tell you're distracted all night, eyes trained on the tv and food in front of you but just blankly staring. you smiled and laughed and kissed him but there wasn't your usual spark behind it.

your smile was dim and your laugh was forced and it was in the kiss he knew you weren't feeling right.

"baby, it's not your fault," he finally mumbled against your head, your cheek on his chest as you lay in between his legs. and stupidly enough, like this boy hasn't learned everything about you in these past seven months, you try to play dumb.

"what?" you mumble, not being able to see the way he rolls his eyes.

"you've been quiet tonight," he says, trying a different approach. but you only shrug your shoulders, nuzzling your face further into him as you inhale his scent. he places his lips on your head, humming against them and knowing exactly why you've been so out of it tonight.

because if seonghwa leaving wasn't enough, you refusing to talk to him was only making it worse. your boyfriend knows you want to, knows you're gonna need it to feel better about his departure and that you want to wish him well. he watched all week you become more and more tense and sad, the light in your eyes dimming every day.

"you didn't get a chance to talk to him, i'm assuming."

you only hum against his chest and it's taking everything in him not to be his harsh self and call you out on your shit. but he's allowing you to wallow tonight, for the next two minutes at least, because the news is hard for everyone. no one wants seonghwa to leave and live out the rest of his senior year with a group of strangers.

"did you plan too?"

you bite your lip so you don't snap at him to stop asking you so many questions, simply mumbling "i don't know," as you turn your head back to the tv. and with a hidden smirk, yeosang nods his head.

"hmmm. well he's leaving tonight."

"what?!" you squeak immediately, flying up from his chest to look at him with wide eyes. the amount of panic and regret that floods into your veins is almost all consuming. "i-i thought he was leaving tomorrow."

"parents changed his flight last minute," he tells you, "should've left an hour ago."

and then without much of a thought, tears start burning at the back of your eyes and you open your mouth but can't seem to find the words to come out. because you fucked up. you fucked everything up in the beginning and you fucked the ending up as well. you didn't get to thank him or see him or talk to him one last time.

"why didn't you tell me?" you ask him weakly, hoping the crack in your voice isn't as obvious to him as it is to your own ears.

"would it have mattered?" yeosang asks, "would you have gone and actually talked to him?" and with the sad look in your glossy eyes, teeth in your lip as regret and shame crosses your face, it appears you both know the answer.

you fall against his chest so he doesn't see your tear fall, his stomach knotting and heart sinking when he feels a wet spot on his shirt; now he feels bad.

"then how 'bout you go over to his house tomorrow, baby?" you hear him say, eyebrows narrowing at his suggestion; what use would that do? saying goodbye to an empty house would hardly help the pit in your stomach.

"why would i do that?" you sniffle against him.

he presses his lips into a firm line, bringing his hand up to run it through your hand gently like he's trying to lessen the blow of his next words. "because he'll be there. the flight wasn't changed."

you pull back to look at him again, the angry face you're wearing with tears in your eyes making him wanna laugh. because you look pissed but still so, so sad and he thinks maybe you'll find the humor in this one day.

"what is wrong with you!" you squeal, hitting him roughly in the chest before scooting over on the couch. "you're such an asshole sometimes!"

and because those are words that leave your mouth once a day, he scoots over and throws his arm around you. "but you felt pretty shitty thinking you didn't say goodbye to him, right?"

you shake your head as your eyes stay narrowed at your boyfriend, his eyebrow raised curiously only making your brows furrow more; because how is he always right? how does he always get you to crack?

(and once you're in the right frame of mind, you'll look back and be able to see how much your boyfriend had grown in only a few weeks. a blow out fight happening that almost had you breaking up, to him convincing you to go say goodbye to the boy he once felt so threatened by).

"you're mean," you eventually mumble, letting out an annoyed huff but leaning your head against him; it really did feel shitty thinking that. "you could've just told me to go see him tomorrow."

a tiny snort leaves his mouth as his lips quirk into a smirk, knowing yeah, he probably could've, but that making you see it yourself probably would've been more effective. "well yeah but when i told you not to see him, you went and did it anyway," he teases, pecking a kiss to the side of your head. "so you had to see for yourself anyway. cry baby."

you pinch at his sides roughly and mock his "cry baby," when he yelps out, pushing you on your back to tickle and really get you back. it's the first time your laugh tonight sounds genuine and for that he's grateful. because he really doesn't know how tomorrow's gonna go.

luna's tail smacking you in the face wakes you bright and early the next morning, a delicate meow followed by her purr successfully rousing you from sleep. you pad downstairs with her trailing behind, giving her food before stretching out your body as you watch her eat.

"did you really have to embarrass me like that!?" you exclaim to her, throwing her down the second you get in the house. "you know today is a big day for me, luna, i'm starting a new school with snobby rich kids and what do you do! you run out of the house and into the yard of the most beautiful man i've ever seen!"

and if cats could talk and make human like gestures, the look in her eyes just tells you she'd stick her tongue out at you and say "too bad!" she even looked proud of herself back there, wrapping her trail around the boy's pajama clad leg like he'd done something so special and unique to get her over to him.

"you're lucky i'll probably never see him again," you say, walking over and bending down to the cat's eye level. "because i don't know if my heart could handle it. did you see him!"

she meows at you in a way that makes you think she's actually responding, rendering you an official crazy cat lady who's first interaction with a person here was nothing short of a disaster. but then you realize her food bowl is empty and it's almost an hour past her normal breakfast time.

"oh, you're hungry?" you sarcastically whine to her. "maybe you should've asked that hot pajama model for some food." but then you realize the way you're babbling to your cat is gonna make you even more late for your first day of school, running around the kitchen before up the stairs to get ready. you slip your feet into your black flats, not realizing at the time just how much grief they'd give you throughout your high school career.

you shake your head from the memory, watching luna eat as you lean your head against the wall. your feelings that day were so strong and new, that sweet excited but nervous twinge in your chest that flutters around a boy you're convinced you love at first sight.

because when you see someone and they're so unbearably attractive, you think it's only natural to feel like that. but then once you learn how nice and caring and good they are, if they are, that feeling only gets stronger.

and that's exactly what happened to you.

so what happened then? when did everything change and when did you start straying away from seonghwa? because on paper, thinking back and laying everything out in the open, you really can't help but feel like it should've been him.

you push that feeling in the very back of your mind, knowing in your heart that you made the right choice. that you can't go say goodbye to seonghwa with these frazzled, rambled thoughts in your mind and risk blurting out something you know isn't fair.

his flight isn't until later tonight but your fingers start to itch to text him around 11, distracting yourself by doing homework and cleaning your room until all of the anxious energy is about to make you explode.

he answers your text after ten minutes with an apology, saying that he was in the shower and of course you could come see him. you borrow your moms car again and take the longest route possible to his house without getting lost. but it's not long enough because then you're sitting in front of his house and your heart is nearly about to burst out of your chest.

what are you gonna say? what are the odds you don't cry the second you see him? very low, you think, given your track record. but you're gonna try your hardest, nonetheless. goodbyes are hard though and you've always sucked at them.

so after a few deep breaths, you turn off your car and put on a brave face. you stand up on shaky legs and make your way up the stairs, looking up at the chandelier and smirking when you remember how confused you were to see one outside.

you knock on the door lightly and find yourself counting in your head, getting to 12 before you see him standing there; and just like always, he makes your heart stop. because he's just that handsome all the time, something as simple as his natural dark hair and a black sweatshirt looking exquisite on him.

"hi," you both say at the same time. awkward, choked out giggles follow and immediately the air is charged with an awkwardness. it's not tense or overwhelming but the hint of it is there. buzzing between the both of you with the knowing fact that there's a lot of things you have to say to each other.

but even with that fact, when you're sitting in his kitchen and he's over by the sink with his toiletries laid out, you find that words are caught in your throat.

"sorry about the mess, i still needed this shit so i'm rushing to pack it now."

"oh no," you giggle, looking at the expensive face washes and lotions and not all that surprised he has a skin care routine; you suppose you have to in order to look like these absurdly beautiful people. "it's okay."

he smiles softly at you, organizing them on the side when he asks if you wanna drink. you decline with a shake of the head, your quiet "no thank you," the only sound in the mansion.

neither of you know where to start or how to begin. he doesn't know exactly why you asked to come here, just that he was really happy and surprised to see your name on his phone screen. you don't know how to approach the topic, wondering if you should beat around the bush or just come right out and say it.

and after a few moments, you decide that you've wasted enough of this boy's time.

"so..." you hear your voice squeak, shaky and scratchy but at least you got the word out. "paris?" you look up when you hear seonghwa chuckle, smiling to himself as he continues to arrange his toiletries.

you and yeosang are similar in many ways. vulnerable and guarded but also extremely strong and blunt. it's what he admires in both of you, even though it's made him feel more inclined to protect and shield both of you. yeosang from his parents and you from...everyone, really.

"paris," he confirms before casually stating, "five thousand miles away, didn't know it was that far."

and for whatever reason, hearing it in those numbers makes your heart pang with hurt. how is it fair that he has to go thousands of miles away? away from his friends and classmates he's known his whole life while you get to stay here? you can't help the tears you knew would surface from stinging your eyes, the whole morning not being able to put off the sadness and anxiousness within you.

"but it'll be good. my dad's friend has a son named yeonjun and he seems pretty cool."

"oh..." you finally push out, wincing when you hear your voice starting to break already. "t-that's nice."

but it's not nice, it's so not nice. this is all so fucking weird and this is all your fault. he took you in, welcomed you into his life and friend group with open arms, defended you and helped you and proved time and time again he would've probably done anything for you.

but you did nothing for him, nothing but almost destroy a friendship and break him down to the point that he now has to go thousands of miles away. five thousand miles away with this yeonjun boy who's supposed to fill in for san and hongjoong and wooyoung and yeosang.

he looks up upon hearing your voice and his whole face drops when he sees you. because he's all too familiar with the look you get before you're about to cry, glossy eyes and trembling lips, and he hates that it's what he's seeing ten minutes into this conversation.

"why do you look like you're about to cry?" seonghwa asks, immediately moving his products aside. "i...hate seeing you cry, y/n." because he's lost count of how many times he's had to watch it happen.

"i'm sorry, seonghwa," you respond immediately, overwhelmed by how fast and hard the emotions are hitting you. but the talk of the distance and the new friends, it's quickly bringing all the reasons why this is fucking horrible to the surface. how thinking about all of this makes you want to ask him to stay. because you know things aren't gonna be the same for anyone. not for you or yeosang or the group as a whole.

"what are you sorry for?" seonghwa asks softly, eyes narrowed in confusion but also desperate to figure out what's gotten you so upset so quickly. and maybe it's because you knew from the second you walked in, the horribly selfish question was gonna leave your mouth and briefly make you hate yourself.

"i just-i shouldn't even ask this but-" your shaky breaths cut you off and you can tell even through your teary eyes that he's, both, genuinely confused and concerned.

"what?" he asks softly, moving around the sink and about to make his way over to you.

"i...do you have to go?" you squeak out quietly. and the second you say it, just like you knew you would, you know it's wrong.

his feet immediately stop, his sharp inhale going completely unheard due to the voice in your head screaming at you. he adverts his gaze to the floor, swallowing the lump in his throat. because of all the things he thought you were gonna say, it wasn't that. he was hoping that was the one thing you wouldn't say to him or ask.

"i..can't help but feel like.....this is all my fault. you helped me so much when i first started and were always there for me but...i don't want you to go." tears prick his eyes at seeing you so raw and honest, seeing you cry and ask him to stay but then not be with you. "you should still be here with everyone. with san and yeosang and hongjoong and wooyoung. you should be able to graduate with them and walk with them and have a big, expensive, stupid rich person party."

he's surprised to find himself letting out a short laugh, always impressed by your way to make him find something funny even when his heart is hurting. because that's always what he thought was gonna happen. he thought he was gonna have that very big, expensive, stupid rich person graduation party.

"it's so selfish, seonghwa," you say and he can hear the frustration and regret in your voice. "i really shouldn't even be saying this to you."

he allows the silence to linger before saying, the way he's clarified ten times this week, "that's not the only reason i'm going, y/n." because even though it's one of the reasons, yes, a slightly bigger reason than he's letting on to everyone, it's genuinely not the only one. "i could've been going regardless of any...circumstance."

you sniffle, wiping the tip of your nose with your sleeve and you hate that all of those words just poured out of you immediately. but it's like seeing him, talking to him so openly about it is bringing back every and any emotion you had during these past months. that you were both avoiding in the form of tight smiles and polite nods.

"i'm still sorry," you mumble out and he shakes his head at your apology

"it's okay," he says, a humorless laugh leaving his mouth because he can't believe you guys are really here, having this conversation. a silence stretches between you both for the next few moments, your sniffling and his fingers tapping on the counter anxiously as his body rocks slightly.

but then your next words, or the words you attempt, have him complete stiffening. because you knew the stupid, reckless thoughts you had when feeding your damn cat were gonna come back to haunt you. because on paper, thinking back and laying everything out in the open like how you are now, you really can't help but feel like it was gonna be-

"i-i just... i really thought...it seems like it should've been-"

you can't even get the last word out, lips trembling and voice breaking because everything about saying that is wrong. but the environment and feeling between you two is too much, knowing there's been so much left unsaid and that there's only a few hours left to get it all out.

it's why he doesn't think twice about walking over and wrapping his arms around you. and it's then that you lose your composure completely, slumping against him as tears leak from your eyes. your face is pressed into his shirt with a scent that seems so foreign invading your nose, something like a distant memory. something that brought you such comfort and warmth at one point, remembering the way you used to bask in this. but now it just feels like it's breaking your heart, reminding you of what you once could've had and wanted.

"it's okay," he mumbles against your head, his hand rubbing your back gently.

but it's not. he's not okay. he can tell in the way holding you like this is making him revert back to how things were before that movie night. how if you finished that sentence, he really wouldn't have been okay and all the progress he made in accepting your decision would be erased.

and that's why he has to go.

he's still not okay being around you, not okay seeing you with yeosang. not because it's his friend, it makes him happy he knows the man you're with and that you're in good hands; it's simply due to the fact it's not him. because he had pined and pictured it and also really thought it was gonna him, too, at one point.

"it's not, seonghwa," you cry against him, "this wasn't fair to you. we weren't fair to you and-"

"stop," he says softly against your head, letting his lips linger on you, his nose softly inhaling the scent of your hair, before he finally pulls back. he places his hands on your cheeks, wiping at your tears with the pads of his thumbs and you sharply inhale at the gentleness and familiarity; he's still so gentle and soft after all of this. "it's not about what's fair or unfair. stuff just...happened. and it all worked out the way it should."

"but you got hurt because of it," you whimper, "i hate that i hurt you, seonghwa."

"someone was gonna get hurt eventually, y/n," he says to you calmly, surely, because he's gone over this reasoning again and again these past few weeks as he contemplated everything. "and i'm glad it was me."

when you look up at him with a broken expression, like you think he's just saying this to make you feel better, he continues. "yeosang...needs someone like you. someone to tell him when he's being an asshole, which is more often than not."

he's happy to hear a short laugh leave your mouth, watching as you wipe at your wet face and he thinks, hopes, that the worst of this breakdown might be over.

"and he's good for you also," he adds quietly. "he always told me you were able to take care of yourself, that i never gave you the chance to."

you lick over your dry lips, tasting the salt from your tears and looking up at him. you can't remember the last time you guys were this close, just looking right into each other's eyes and seeing a flicker of every emotion in them. because it's so obvious right now that this is hard for both of you. but that it's also a necessary evil.

"and we probably wouldn't have worked anyway," he hums lowly, his eyes roaming your wet face.

that was the fact that probably took him the longest to deal with. because he thought his love for you was enough, the love that had such an unnatural abrupt start and only continued to escalate. "he brings out something different in you. i was always so desperate to help and protect you. but you're obviously more than capable of doing it for yourself."

you think over his words and find that perhaps he has a point. he did always save you and help you before you were able to build up the courage to snap and do it yourself. but of course you were gonna accept his help - who wouldn't? it made you feel cared for and doted on and loved.

"so you're saying you made me a damsel in distress?" you ask, humor managing to lace in your shaky tone.

he smirks at words, remembering all the times you two used that term. whether it was you knocking stuff down or getting stupidly bullied or getting lost in his backyard, it really had seemed as if that were the case.

"nah," he mumbles and his smile makes your pained heart lift. "but i liked saving you and you gave me a lot of opportunity."

another wet giggle leaves your mouth as you nod, wiping at your face before gathering the strength to look at him. your glossy eyes roam his face and his eyes could make you burst into tears again, soft and caring and maybe even a little sad himself. with a frown on his face, he lifts his hand to your cheek and rubs over the red skin softly.

"so we're okay, yeah?" seonghwa asks gently, an eyebrow quirked up. "no more ignoring each other? or...?" he mimics the tight, fake smile you guys have been throwing each other for month, a laugh bubbling out of your mouth that causes a real smile to spread on his face.

"please no," you say with a giggle, watching as his head falls from your face. "it's been so awful."

"yeosang kept calling me a pussy and i guess he's right," seonghwa says, narrowing his eyes when you bite your bottom lip to not laugh. "'cause moving my seat was a bit of bitch move."

"especially after you forced me to sit there!" you squeak, poking his chest lightly as you remember the way his deep voice demanded for you to sit in the back left corner. "and were soooo cryptic about your name."

a chuckle leaves his mouth as he shrugs, his soft eyes lit up with amusement before he makes his way over to the sink again. he insists that he had to keep up a cool image in front of the new girl, knowing full well his true self would show in a matter of days. you giggle as you watch him fumble with his toiletries, asking if he needs your help packing.

and thank god he accepted because what a mess his suitcase was. clothes thrown in and folded messily, soaps thrown in with his chargers as that thought of them exploding put you into a frenzy. he tells you the boys are coming over in an hour and asks you to stay, nodding at him with a smile before you two completely rearrange his suitcase.

the way you're talking and laughing now is how you wish you guys would've been these past few months. it's all so natural and easy, no hints of awkwardness or discomfort making you both weird around one another. maybe it's easier knowing you won't have to see each other again or knowing that you'll have some months to recover from everything.

but you hope that good things wait for him and that when he does come back, you'll be able to continue your friendship.

the boys come barreling through the door as you're sitting atop the suitcase, seonghwa pulling at the zipper and visibly stressed that you might fall over. "it's literally fine, just zip it!" you squeal, throwing your head back in laughter watching him tug with all his strength.

"i'm trying! it's harder than it looks!"

"oh my gosh, they're actually talking," wooyoung whispers to san.

"i know," san whispers back, feeling his heart lift at seeing you guys interacting so easily again.

"i think they would've been cute if it wasn't for-"

a smack on the back of his head causes a yelp to leave his mouth instead. "wasn't for who?" he hears yeosang ask, voice deep but filled with amusement. wooyoung turns to look at the boy, a guilty expression on his face the second he sees yeosang eye's narrowed sarcastically.

"well don't not finish the sentence on my account," he says when wooyoung just continues to stare guiltily.

"yay! we got it!" you squeal, clapping your hands before your head snaps toward the boys. you smile upon seeing them, waving happily and making sure seonghwa does in fact have it zipped before going over to say hi.

the six of you move into the living room, plopping down on the couch as you all enjoy the last few moments with seonghwa. they tell you about their first day of high school, what a complete and utter disaster it was because san and wooyoung had almost gotten kicked out before fourth period.

you text mingi and yunho to come over and say their goodbyes before he has to leave, the two boys barreling in twenty minutes later. you smirk at close their arms are pressed together, yeosang craning his neck so his mouth is right by your ear.

"they tell you they're together yet?"

"not yet," you say, watching mingi's tall frame wrap his arms around seonghwa; he had been his biggest supporter.

"wonder when they will," yeosang mumbles, pulling his head back to yelp "hi pretty boy!" across the room. yunho smirks seeing mingi's head snap up and turn into a sneer, throwing up a middle finger that the boy throws right back. "because it's so obvious they are."

the group gathered in the living room eventually travels out to the front, the feeling that everyone knew was coming hitting them the second they see the car pull up for seonghwa. you lean into yunho watching the boy's saying goodbye, san and wooyoung clinging to him tightly and whining. seonghwa looks like he's in pain as he stares at hongjoong and yeosang, the boy's shrugging and just telling the boy to endure it.

but when they don't let go, the two boys pry them off and give him a much less dramatic, parting hug. because while it fucking sucks, they're not overly concerned. they know they're still gonna talk to him everyday and that soon enough, they'll see him again.

yeosang turns to see your teary self leaning into yunho, walking over and placing his hand on your shoulder. "are you okay?" you ask him quietly, knowing that when he nods and looks at you, that he's not. but that's something for you to deal with when you get back to his house, for now taking a deep breath and walking over to seonghwa.

you can only look at him as more tears burn behind your eyes and he immediately shakes his head. "no more crying," he says, a frown on his face despite the amusement in his eyes. you let out a chuckle, nodding your head as you two share a gaze that says it all. that maybe under different circumstances, you would've loved each other the same way and the time after the ski trip could've gone completely different. that you're sorry for everything that happened but know it'll all be in the past soon, because you know the boy behind you is watching somehow came to be the one for you.

even with park seonghwa being a person who is as close to perfect as someone could be.

"make sure you keep yeosang in line, yeah?" he mumbles, looking at his friend who only rolls his eyes. and when you nod, he pulls you into one last hug that you immediately reciprocate. you rest your head on his chest as his arms wrap around your body, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your head before they brush your ear.

"he's gonna miss me, he told me himself. so if he cries, you gotta let me know, okay? i need something against him."

you giggle again at his teasing, smacking him on the back lightly before pulling back. "have a good trip," you tell him softly "and don't end up in anyone's backyard!"

a chuckle leaves his mouth as he shakes his head. "think that's only your thing."

you smile again, your eyes no longer teary as you look into his and it's something strange that calms him. that you guys have said goodbye and you're on good terms and that you walk back to yeosang who's still gonna have someone while he's gone.

and then with one last round of goodbyes, san and wooyoung being held back from attacking the boy again, seonghwa gets in the car and waves goodbye. tears pricks your eyes watching his friends look at the departing car, your stomach twisting in pain for them.

you smile sadly when hongjoong, san and wooyoung finally turn around, half expecting them to start reaming into you and blaming you. but they only walk toward you, yeosang and the two giant boys, all eight of you now standing outside of seonghwa's empty house. a house that holds a lot of memories for everyone that they hope, soon enough, they'll be back to.

"so..." san says, rocking back and forth on his feet at the sad, empty silence stretching between everyone. "now what?"

(part 29)

#luna is team seonghwa #thats all i gots 2 say #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa series #ateez #ateez angst #ateez series

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