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charnelhouse · 4 years ago

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Tell me, lover, are you lonely?

Pairing: Benny Miller x F!Reader Words: 4.48+ Warnings: Smut. PTSD. Depression. Substance Abuse. Oral sex(fem receiving). Angst. Fluff. Brief mentions of sex in high school but nothing graphic. Summary: You’re at a party you wish you weren’t. Benny takes care of you in the bathroom. A/N: Apparently I think the Miller bros fuck a lot in bathrooms. Title from Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Tell Me Baby”.

The first mistake people make about Benjamin Miller is that they pin him down as dumb.

A bumbling idiot. An air-headed jock.

You know differently. You know how fucking smart Ben is because you went to high school with him. He took every AP class. He played Varsity sports. He managed to do all of that and still show up to house parties. His skin turned brown from the sun as he peeled a calloused hand through his blond hair and smiled all lazy.

He never had a girlfriend - never a long-term chick. He’d always offer someone a ride home, though. He’d fuck those girls in his beat-up truck and drop them off, leaving them sharply branded in Ben because few boys ever compared when it came to his prowess. It’s not even like he was an asshole or a player. He just didn’t have the time for anything beyond a few hours in the back of his car.

At least - that’s what you had heard and high-school gossip was considered gospel when you were on the cusp of adulthood and saw Ben Miller as a God.

The Miller brothers were fucking legends in Amarillo.

Gorgeous. Hot-headed. Honorable.

Will went to war and Benny followed as he always did when it came to his brother. They returned decorated in medals and badges. They were written about in the city paper. You had only seen Ben a handful of times when he was on leave and you were home from college.

Once, when you were getting gas at the local Phillips 66, you had spotted him across the way at the other pump. His elbows were resting on the hood of his truck and he was pressing his face into his palms. He had stood there - like that - for what felt like a lifetime. His legs spread, his spine hunched over - the ridges of muscle in his shoulders and back bunching underneath his loose white t-shirt. Suddenly he had looked up - eyes far away - almost red - and when he caught your gaze, he smiled in a way that felt terribly forced. He waved once before sliding back into his car and speeding off.

His hands had been shaking.

The brothers left again and it was radio-silence. There were rumors - constant whispers whipping about the women’s book clubs and weekly poker tables.

June said her boys are still overseas. There’s bad wifi or something. I don’t think she knows a lot.

Or they just can’t tell her what they’re doing.

You don’t see them again. Not for a long time. Years. You’ve heard that they’ve been stationed at Fort Bragg. You’ve seen a photo here and there from their mother on Facebook. In truth, you forget all about Ben Miller because you’re too busy with your own lack of a life.

You’d gone to college. You’d gotten your degree. You’d moved to Dallas for a year to work in marketing. You’d done everything right.

And yet you were back in Amarillo. Your father was sick and your siblings were useless and your mother was in denial.

You hated it. You hated this town with its meat-packing plant and its cheap bars and the fact that so many people knew you. It had its niches of lovelies: art deco and Spanish revival buildings, the Route 66 Historic District with its doll-house structures and splashes of color and sepia-pressed nostalgia.

And then there was the weather - the unpredictable temperature changes and raging winds and ruinous hailstorms. Drought. Late frosts. Tornadoes. Dust-storms. Floods.

Your life had become simple. You attempted freelance marketing online, but most of your days were spent going on a morning jog, giving your father his meds, avoiding your mother, and spending hours at the local bar or drinking wine alone in your childhood bedroom. A room that was frozen in time with its hard-rock posters and Pepto-Bismol shade of paint and sun-bleached photographs of parties you barely remember. Prom. Homecoming. Old boyfriends.

You knew that you were falling - collapsing in on yourself. You knew that depression had sunk its claws into the meat of your head. Every morning you woke up and thought:

This is not my life.

This was not meant for me.

How did I fucking get here?

There’s a December storm - ice-slick streets that turn the asphalt to glistening obsidian. It’s brutally wet-cold. The kind that chips away at your lungs. The kind where it hurts to breathe - the kind that so often terrified you because your car would skid or you’d eat shit trying to walk to the store.

Old friends have returned for the holidays. Most of them knocked up or married or already getting divorced. Hannah - your high school best friend - tells you about a house party at Nathan Engle’s house.

“It’ll be fun,” she tells you - her voice doused in that kind of I can't wait to let loose and pretend that this town is my town again.

Of course - the dismal truth of that - is that Hannah will ultimately leave - go back to her apartment in Nashville with her adult friends and her adult job and her chunky J. Crew necklaces and oat-milk lattes and Soulcycle classes.

“Yeah,” you reply, scrubbing at your old eye make-up that’s caked across your cheeks - spidering along your skin. You’d forgotten to wash your face last night. “Okay. I’ll go.”

***

You first see him across the room. He’s got that blonde hair brushed back - fiddling with the cap on a handle of Titos. He’s in a dark shirt and blue jeans. Even in the dead of December - with everything encased in a thin layer of frost - Ben is golden-tan, most likely from Florida’s constant sun. His cheeks are flushed pink as he sips from a red cup, while a girl with a bleached helmet for hair talks his ear off. You think you recognize her from the grade above you or maybe she contacted you about Herbalife on Facebook.

Ben smiles politely - the sly reveal of bright white teeth as he bites on the rim of his solo cup. Jesus Christ - he is gorgeous. It’s like you’re transported back to high school and Ben is once again an untouchable figure. Someone you admired from afar - desperate to reach and stroke and feel the silk of that hair.

It’s not that you were ostracized in school. It’s not like you were a loner or incredibly shy. You had friends. You went to parties. You had boyfriends and clumsy make-outs in the backseat of cars on abandoned fields.

But Ben was Ben. You thought him too great - too ideal for you. You knew that if you ever became one of the girls he took in the bed of his truck, you’d never get over it. You’d fall in love and hold tight to it - never giving it up until he hopefully faded from memory.

He glances up and you catch his eyes. It’s a second. Brief, but jarring all the same. It transports you right back to when you had intruded on that very private moment at the Phillips 66. When you had watched him grieve over something you couldn’t understand. When you saw his hands tremble as they slipped over the handle of his car door.

You think of all the things he’s seen and done. You think of the places he’s been. You think of that young boy with his jawline and his uncanny ability at picking up languages - the surprising way he was able to speak so eloquently about Jane Eyre or Heart of Darkness during AP English. His flawless Spanish that made Señora Dolan titter from her desk.

He still looks young - boyish handsomeness that hasn’t faded due to time or what you believe was probably continuous devastation overseas. Constant danger. Stress.

His eyes rake over you for a few seconds - blue and bottomless - before they fall back on his cup of liquor. The girl continues to speak to him - nose nearly shoved into his ear.

You’re not sure how you look. You have good genes. You keep the sun off your face. You’re soft in places - harder in others. You think you look the same.

Maybe - just sadder. Less promise.

No promise at all.

***

You sit in the upstairs bathroom with a bottle of wine. You’re not drunk - just blown out with a strange combination of anxiety and boredom. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to talk to any of these people, especially the ones who had gotten out of this town, and like to emphasize the places they’ve traveled to and the worlds they’ve created.

You rest your back against the mirror, your legs splayed apart, heels kicking at the sink’s lower wooden drawers. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. You take a deep swallow of cheap wine - the acidic, sweet burn of it cloying in your throat. You’d have a hangover tomorrow - then again you’d been hungover every morning this week.

Not anything brutal - just your tongue chalky in your mouth - sour breath and a muddled headache. Exhaustion since alcohol rarely led to a good sleep.

You’re about to call an Uber when the door swings open. Fuck - you’d forgotten to lock it.

Ben strides into the bathroom, nearly knocking into your knees. He’s long-legged and broad-shouldered. His face is alarmingly handsome up close. He startles when he sees you, blue eyes widening as his palms fist into a defensive position.

You bet it’s instinct at this point. You bet that Ben has stumbled into a number of situations and been forced to put up a fight. A girl in a bathroom with a bottle of wine is the outlier for him.

When he sees that it’s you, he lowers his hands, straightening his spine while those pink lips curve upward. He’s tall - you’d forgotten how tall.

He doesn’t apologize or step out. He just leans back against the wall - arms crossed over his chest as he appraises you. You try to focus on anything else - the floral wallpaper with the corners peeling - the hideous wicker stool by the chipped bathtub - the butter-yellow hand towels. The little framed prints of water-color fairies.

But it’s like gravity - like kinetic energy - and your eyes return to those dark jeans - sweep up the tight black t-shirt before they land on Ben’s disarmingly amused face. A lock of hair falling across his brow.

“You were in my class?” he asks in a low voice.

You nod - tilting the bottle of wine in your hands - feeling your stomach collapses in on itself. “Yeah.”

“Like all of my classes, I think,” he adds.

You’re struck dumb. He had remembered you - noticed you then. It makes you feel warm - makes your cheeks heat up and you curl your fingers into a fist - letting your nails scratch into your palm to keep you centered.

“Yes,” you reply because you’re incapable of the human language. Your tongue sits fat in your mouth and your heart flutters. Your top is too tight.

He bites his lower lip, tilting his head thoughtfully as he just keeps staring like he’s trying to piece you together - trying to remember the parts of you that are more familiar to him. The younger you. The baby-fat or the really off-color eyeshadow - the cool cucumber body spray from Bath & Body Works.

“This party fucking sucks,” he finally declares and you laugh.

They talk for hours or god maybe it’s just one and they are stuck in a vacuum where every moment feels less real.

Ben - Benny as he told you to call him - is fucking funny. Not in a way that he’s obviously trying to be - just as himself - his dry quips or salty facial expressions when you bring up some chick he’d hooked up with a thousand years ago.

They discuss high school - they discuss the time after. You tell him about college and how you’d never been that happy you before - just you running wild on campus with no overbearing parents or people who knew your family name. No nosy neighbors who would run home to call up your mama and tell her that she’d seen you hanging off some boy who looked like trouble.

“Were there a lot of boys who looked like trouble?” Benny asks, sinking down to the floor - taking the bottle from you to sip, grimacing at the taste.

You shrug. “I’d say an average number of boys.”

When they talk about Benny, they talk around the war. He says that he made brothers for life over there - that he still has his core group and - of course - Will who apparently spends his days giving motivational speeches while Benny boxes.

“It’s stress relief, I guess,” he remarks - almost shyly as he peers up at you. “You need to find something to do to get rid of some of the stuff you see back there.”

You don’t ask him about “back there”. You’re sure you understand the gist. You saw him shoving the heels of his hands against his eyes all those years back with the flat plains of Texas riding out behind him - endless land showered in the red sun. Maybe he had seen another land - another country where he’d been forced to grow up in a way that hurt him - that bit him deep and didn’t let go. You saw his face screwed up into something broken and you know that Benny Miller isn’t who he was from high school. He’s been roughened - shattered in places and pressed back together in others with thin tape and glue.

You remember your next-door neighbor Mrs. Mackin - the way she’d talk about her son who went to Afghanistan at 19 and came back a different person. “The nightmares wake up the whole house,” she sighed, rubbing a knuckle across the newly etched lines at the corners of her eyes. “I-I just don’t think he’ll be the same - he’s not the same boy.”

Benny interrupts the dark hole you’re climbing down.

“So you came back here?”

It’s not like it’s coated in a taunt. No disbelief. But the reminder still pinches - still breaks across your back like a rogue wave - sending you headfirst into the muddy sand. You’re still here.

“My dad got sick,” you defend - narrowing your eyes in a way that should read please change the subject.

Benny’s expression stays the same - bright and bold and beautiful as he nods - as he slowly stands to pass you the near-empty bottle. “Sometimes you gotta be there for your family. No shame in that.”

It’s like he’s snuck his hand inside your ribs and snatched the tissue of your lungs. The word “shame” rolling off his tongue and that gruff man-voice being so fucking reasonable. You didn’t even say that you hated it here - that you wanted to be anywhere else. He must have read it off you - the resentment pooling slick over “sick” and “my dad”, while you spoke about life outside Amarillo with a dream in your throat.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “No shame, I guess.”

And then there’s silence - tense quiet as Benny fiddles with his hands - shoving them into his pockets before pulling them out.

You don’t even know how the rest happens - how the change between casual conversation ascends to something heated and raw. Maybe - it had been happening the whole time - maybe it’s been happening since you sat behind him in English and listened to him drawl about Bronte.

He moves toward you, shifting his hips between your knees. His face is tilted downward as he blinks at you. His gaze - those ice-flecked blue eyes - linger across your face - the bare skin of your sternum. His hands catch at your jaw, thumb sweeping over your warm cheek.

“I always thought about this,” he murmurs - his breath puffing across your lips. “I thought about kissing you all the time back in school.”

Your brain has flat-lined. You didn’t know - couldn’t have guessed.

“Really?” you exhale - your fingers curling around the thin material of his shirt as you tug him closer. “Why didn’t you?”

“I feel like I tried at a couple of parties. You’d disappear.”

Of course, you did. You knew yourself. You didn’t want to feel Ben Miller inside you and never get it again. You didn’t want a hit. You wanted the rest.

You had nothing to lose tonight. You had your shitty bedroom at your parent’s house and the promise of a hangover. You could have this even if you’d never get it a second time.

“I’m here now,” you sigh and then he pulls your mouth up to his.

It’s fucking good. The tentative slide of his lips, his tongue twining around yours as you cling to him for dear life. He tastes like gum and the slight damp of vodka. He smells like expensive cologne and a little sweat. You bet the Ben in high school would have been Axe body spray and cigarettes, but fuck you bet he still could have kissed like he was swallowing your heart.

It turns hot - his hands fisted in your hair as he drags his lips and teeth across your throat, lowering his chin to nip at the peak of your tit underneath your too-tight blouse. Your knees are locked around his waist as he subtly grinds against the center of your jeans and you feel dirty. His kiss builds into something frantic and he moans against the glide of your wet tongue.

He pops the button of your jeans. “Can I?”

You nod - seeking out his insistent mouth to kiss him again - to devour him down as you burn for him in all the ways you had hoped. He smirks before dropping to his knees - shucking your jeans off and your booties and your socks before he’s yanking your ass half-off the counter and pushing his face against the lace of your underwear and oh my fucking god -

“Ben,” you start, forcing yourself to concentrate as he brushes his lips across the seam of your inner thigh - his rough hands massaging your flesh. “You don’t - you don’t have to -”

“I want to,” he corrects - meaningfully - edged. “And it’s Benny.”

You slip back against the mirror as Benny leans down, hitching your underwear to the side and latching his mouth to your aching clit. Pleasure shoots through you - spiking your temperature and making you shudder as your thighs wrap around his head and your nails rake through his silky hair.

“Relax,” he urges against the wet slit of your cunt.

He draws tiny circles around the swollen nub, fingertips grazing your folds before slipping in just enough to make you jump. He changes direction - suctioning his mouth and branding patterns across the tip as he pulls the hood up so he can get even better access.

He rears back and there’s you glossing his lips and chin - captured in the blonde stubble across his jaw.

“You have a really pretty pussy,” he praises before he buries two fingers inside you, making you arch off the sink. His eyes are half-lidded - dark and hungry - as he watches the effect he has on your soaked cunt, his fingers curling and rubbing up against the soft tissue behind your clit. You can’t help yourself as you shamelessly grind against his hand, as he digs his other fingers into the flesh beneath your ass to keep you anchored. “You like that?”

You manage a whimper - something high-pitched and frantic. “Fuck -- yes - Benny - Jesus - “

His lips break apart into the smuggest smile you’ve ever seen. It gilds him - highlights his face like he’s proud of himself for making you an absolute mess.

“Good,” he husks. “I’m gonna make you cum.”

He scoots closer and drags his tongue down the center of your cunt before he licks back up, pressing it flatly against your swollen, spit-wet clit. You writhe beneath him, shutting your eyes as you try to keep from screaming. He sucks and licks and manipulates the pleasure points inside you, alternating between his tongue and his thick fingers. He twists his knuckles, blows cool air against the blazing skin above your mound - your folds - the pieces of you that are coated in a fine film of Benny Miller’s drool and your essence.

He keeps you balanced on the precipice - punching you forward into a near-climax before hauling you backward. He teases - playing your pussy just right as your walls pulse around his knuckles and his darting tongue. You’re ripping at his hair, running between making it hurt and combing it back - smoothing his wrinkled brow as he keeps his eye firmly on your face while he licks at your dripping cunt.

Sometimes he growls - his whole body vibrating with it against the clench of your knees - other times he moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. You suddenly realize why all those girls never got over Benny Miller fucking them once and then releasing them to their quiet, little homes as they snuck back into their frilly bedrooms while their parents slept soundly. If Ben ate chicks out like this then who would ever fucking forget it?

Although you have a feeling that this Ben is smoother - firmer in his resolve and experience. He’s seen shit - perhaps the worst of humanity - but still takes the time to make you feel good while doing nothing for himself except subtly grazing his hard-on against the cabinet.

“Benny,” you cry out as he forces you closer and it’s certainly coming as your lower muscles spasm and bear down on his face.

“Yeah?” he grunts - the word muffled in between soft kitten licks and deep plunges. “You gonna cum, darlin?”

He looks fucking gorgeous as his eyes slip over you - leaving their marks. Your lacy black panties hooked to the side of his damn cheek as he dips his nose to graze it over your abused clit. The intimacy of it leaves you devastated - nerves lighting up across the expanse of your body.

He removes his tongue before he suctions his lips over the entrance to your pussy. He sucks and sucks, pulling you farther off the counter, digging his fingertips into the flesh of your ass cheeks as he spreads you apart. It’s so much pressure, his mouth forming a seal over you and you’re splitting at the seams as you shake and crush his head between your knees - swallowing half a dozen curses as everything throbs and flutters before you feel yourself go slack and spill right into his mouth.

There’s sweat pooling in the divot of your lower back - your heart is pounding loudly - your ears buzzing. Benny keeps his mouth on you, gently probing his tongue deep as he nurses you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You peer down at him as he gently releases you, carefully gripping your ankle and pushing it back through your pant leg. He rucks your jeans up before standing to his full height so he looms above you, his damp fingers curl around your chin so he can tilt it up. He moves his hands to cradle your face - dragging your lips up to meet his. There’s the burst of you on his tongue - the salty musk of girl-sex and sweet-heat as he kisses you rough - his hands that are wrinkled with your cum are supporting you - keeping you from melting right off the counter.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks, nuzzling his nose against yours in an act that exceeds your expectations. It’s affection. It’s a far cry from the dirty, bathroom sex he’d just claimed you with.

“Yeah,” you answer in between heavy, hitched breaths. "Okay.”

***

It’s all black-glass outside. Frozen branches. Slick dark rivers for streets. The blanket of the sky is pressed down with tiny scattered stars. White-bright and pulsing.

Benny’s in a thick, wooly jacket that makes him look broader than he is. He grips your hand firmly as his long legs practically carry you across the sleet-soaked sidewalk.

There’s no one out here. Just parked cars and slumbering houses. Benny’s breath puffs smoke with each heavy exhale. There’s a comfortable silence between them. You can barely feel your feet and you’re still aching between your thighs - still wet and pounding, but also wanting for Benny and his fingers and tongue and cock.

He leads you to the main road where the world is more lit. Closed delis and open liquor stores and 24-hour laundromats and chain restaurants and bars.

“Wanna get pizza?” He releases your hand only to wrap a strong arm around your shoulders, tugging you flush against him. He smells like birch - like sex - like old textbooks and the high school library and ten years past.

“Pizza, huh?”

He smiles, scraping a hand across his jaw and chin in an act far too suggestive for your weak-ass heart. “Eating your pussy made me a little hungry.”

It’s delivered so frankly that you almost trip over your own feet. You initially think he’s being too smooth - too charming - before he grabs your wrist and yanks your knuckles to his mouth where he presses his lips to the skin there. Chaste.

You realize that this is simply Benny. No ulterior motives or unclear messages. Just brute honesty. After all - that’s the only thing the both of them have left. There’s no more time for run-arounds or underhanded moves. You want a future. You want something other than just your childhood bedroom and creeping depression and your mother reminding you of your promising future and career when you had come back for her benefit.

“Pizza sounds good,” you reply as Benny dazzles you with yet another movie-star grin.

Maybe, it’ll just be tonight. Maybe, you’ll go home and never see him again.

Maybe, you’ll spend the next decade of your life, sliding your fingers through your sex as you recall the exact sensations of his tongue.

“You know my parents throw this dumb New Years’ Eve thing,” he mentions, scratching the back of his head as he stares at the sidewalk. “You should come. It’s like a potluck or something. I don’t know, you don’t have to obviously if you have plans - “

Or maybe not

“Sure!” you chirp - pulling him close so you can press your mouth to the hinge of his jaw - tasting his stubble as it scrapes your bruised lips from all the kissing they’ve done tonight.

“Awesome,” he says as you both continue down the brightly lit street. The world in ice. The stillness of a town near sleep. The sensation of a snow-globe as everything floats to the ground like feathers - confetti. The question of there ever being an existence outside this glass - this perfect night.

There is a space in your chest - buried near the bottom - where all of your dreams used to live.

As Benny helps you through the pizzeria’s door - as his hand presses hot against your lower back, you crack the space open. You let it out.

***

Plz tell me your thots. I love the TF boys.

#Benny Miller x Reader #Benny Miller x Female Reader #Ben Miller x Reader #Benny Miller x You #Ben Miller x You #Benny Miller x Female OC #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier Fanfiction #Triple Frontier Fanfic #Garrett Hedlund Characters #Garrett Hedlund #Benjamin Miller

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peeterparkr · 3 years ago

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red; tom’s version|two.

chapter two: the lucky one. “You don’t feel pretty, you feel used”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship a month after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: bottle caps, a red scarf and two coincidences that probably mean something warnings: angsty a bit, cussing, word count: 6.7k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

Present day. One month after the breakup.

Tom knew he had to stay quiet. Or rather, there was barely anything he could say while he was plotting his next words. He could barely believe he had a chance.

Walking down the streets with her quietly as he saw her, arranging her own thoughts. She had agreed to listen.

And he knew it was because whatever they’d felt, it made it worth it.

Y/N was angry. Not sad, angry. He had expected her to be crying. He didn’t want to be the reason why she would and he tried thinking he wasn’t. Though, deep inside, he was perfectly aware that he would be blamed for the tears that she’d shed in the last few months.

He wasn’t proud of that.

Guilt blinds. And Tom was blind in an attempt to shield. It was easier to shield on his own excuses that would serve barely as a plea to forgiveness.

Glares were directed at him. Her jaw was clenched and she had crossed her arms. The moment she’d realized what she’d agreed to, she’d turned stiff.

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom had tried asking.

“I don’t wish to speak to you.”

Fair.

And it was the middle of the night once again, how many times had they not walked under the stars with barely a destiny to reach. And now he was walking to his doom.

Y/N was mental.

In a good way. But the girl had taught him how insane you can be when it comes to relationships. In the best way possible, not as an insult.

Tom knew that he had fucked up. And he had been in New York for a while, though he hadn’t spoken to her directly, knowing that approaching her would only wound her.

It was colder now, Christmas was barely around the corner. In any other circumstance, it would’ve added to the romance.

Here it was just a bad omen of whatever would come next. The lights flickered as soon as they were walking past them.

“Are—are we not going to talk?” Tom questioned anyway. “I thought—“

Y/N shrugged. “I’m still deciding it, you see, I don’t know if I want to listen to you break my heart in an attempt of forged honesty.”

Tom dug his hands in his pockets. “I genuinely want to apologize.”

“And I genuinely don’t like you,” she snapped. “You see my problem?”

Tom sighed. “Fine,” he gulped. “But you are cold, that thing isn’t covering your neck or chest.”

Y/N had gone for a rather inadequate option for a cold winter day. Though Tom would agree that the black dress had been yet another punch to his stomach, all of course with an attempt to make him regret it, it was still rather unsuitable for the freezing city. But she looked stunning.

Her coat barely covered her, and her crossed arms were probably more of an attempt to warm herself and it served as a clear exposition of her anger.

She didn’t answer, however.

“You could wear this,” Tom offered, showing her the red scarf that once belonged to her. Tom liked to think that it now belonged to them.

The red scarf that had become a token to their relationship. From the very first day.

Y/N looked at it, and reluctantly took it. “It’s only because I’m cold.”

But Tom wanted to think it wasn’t only because of that. Wearing the scarf meant she was opening a door for him.

Seeing her again had been quite different from what Tom had expected, her hair was different and her makeup too. Her gaze seemed lost.

Whoever was standing beside him didn’t seem like her. She was a stranger, a very familiar one. But there wasn’t that visible spark that he’d fallen for. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love the figure in front of him but he feared he was the reason for its disappearance.

“It smells like you,” y/n whispered as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.

Tom smiled, briefly. “I’ve been wearing it. Your own smell wore out,” he regretted saying that. “That sounded way too creepy or cheesy.”

“Both, somehow,” she agreed. “Don’t ever say that kind of shit again.”

Tom gulped a chuckle, “noted.”

There was still that y/n in there, the one that liked the kind of cheesy things that he could say. The ones that came up at the right moment. Though, there was still that y/n that didn’t take any bullshit.

Tom hadn’t gone exactly through diamonds and sparkles after the breakup. And the city was now quite different from when it had first received him. Now covered with dark smoke and trash, with only skeletons of trees.

Guilt drowns. And Tom was, undoubtedly, drowning in a drought. Everything had dried off yet he felt like he could barely breathe.

Knowing you’re the reason for someone’s hurt is no fantasy.

And he was broken, too. Very, very broken. However, he knew he was seen as the bad guy here and he wouldn’t call himself less, and he wouldn’t admit he was aching too.

So he was trying to ignore it.

Her apartment building hadn’t changed. Not that Tom had expected it to, but it was nice to come to a familiar place. He noticed the stairs were still rusty and unclean and creaked as he walked in. New creaks had come in that he hadn’t memorized yet. He hoped he would have the chance to.

Y/N stopped at her door, with more questions than answers to give him.

“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to him. “But I know that if I don’t give you a chance to explain yourself I’ll never forgive myself.”

“That’s fair. But…I’ll do whatever you want me to, but please let me explain it to you,” he begged. “I—If you want me to leave New York and never come again I’ll understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a red door that would open to memories he couldn’t quite forget.

“I already said I would listen,” she recalled. “But—“ her eyes met his, they looked tired. “I am having an inner monologue on why this is stupid.”

“Care to share?”

She took a heavy breath, “Well, you see, Tom, if that even is your real name…”

“Really? You’re—“Tom tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, my name is Tom.”

“Tom….”

“Holland.”

“Hm, interesting. Holland, I remembered it being something else. You’re a liar, just making sure,” she said. “I’m—I just feel stupid. Because I shouldn’t be feeling this way for such a short relationship, is that even—was it? Can we even call it that?”

Her words felt bitter to Tom’s own tongue. He understood why she was defensive. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, maybe we confused whatever we were feeling with love, or—“

“I didn’t—“

“Could be easy, Tommy, you’re an actor, actors, as far as I know, act, and man did you play such an amazing role,” she snarled as she opened her door, leading the way. “Be quiet, by the way, I don’t want to wake up Lula or Jules.”

Tom walked in into what seemed a messed snapshot of how he remembered the place. It was the same, in essence. But sadder. The apartment still had a few sweaters here and there, and y/N’s notebooks all over it.

He could see Lula’s leftovers in their coffee table and some candy wraps that Julia had probably been eating while reading her book.

He turned to that one corner and saw it, the jukebox that had been what had defined y/n’s and his relationship. He dug his hand into his pocket to search for the locket y/n had given back. Tom squeezed it as he searched in his pocket for something else.

Guilt kills. And Tom was dying.

“Here,” Tom said as he reached out for three beer caps in his pocket, “I brought these to you,” he offered them to her, knowing there were jars full of them.

Y/N collected them. Or rather, it was her latest collection that she’d later use for her art. Or whatever she was into at the moment.

The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms which they all shared. They’d rotate whoever had the luck to have the single room. So small. And yet it felt so big.

Y/n pursed her lips but then took the beer caps and placed them on the counter.

“We’re going to the roof,” y/n said. “I’m just getting us some wine—No,” she shook her head, probably realizing that having wine would make the moment a tad more romantic or cuddly than she expected it to be. “Make yourself useful and make some tea, I’ll go change myself, I’m freezing.”

She’d brought blankets and a hoodie he hadn’t remembered he had left. They didn’t have to go to the roof, Julia was staying with Matt and Lula was not back yet from wherever she was.

She had stayed quiet, for a bit. Cuddled up in the same couch where they—

“Do you like your tea?” Questioned Tom.

She looked up. “Yeah, you can add that to your many talents. Right before lying.”

“I make better tea than lies? Good to know.”

Y/N shrugged. “How long have you been here?”

“A… few days,” Tom admitted. “I have been trying to walk up to your door but I keep getting lost in the subway, and when I did come here I panicked and cried.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought I saw you, the other day,” she said.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you,” y/n confessed. “So I just yelled at a poor stranger. I—I genuinely feel sorry for him.”

Tom tried not to chuckle. “What did you yell?”

“I called him a bastard and asked what was wrong with him,” she scrunched her nose. “Not my proudest moment. I was kicked out of the bus.”

Tom gulped. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. “You can yell at me if that helps.”

She shrugged. “No, I think I’m good, I let it all out with him,” she grimaced. “But I might just—“she picked up a pillow and threw it at him with barely any energy.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “But I can be your punching bag, I deserve it,” he admired. “I see the jukebox,” Tom said, motioning to it.

She shrugged. “Yeah, would be stupid if you didn’t. It’s quite big. Barely any space left.”

Tom chuckled. “I meant—“

“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m trying to ignore it,” y/n admitted. “I notice it too, every day. Almost threw it away.”

Tom nodded. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s a very functional jukebox, the music on it,” she said. “It would be stupid to throw out something like that.”

Tom had expected a different answer, one rather more romantic. Like, that maybe throwing it out would’ve meant throwing him away.

“Right. I’m surprised the cops haven’t come for it.”

She smiled.

She… smiled?

She smiled.

Tom hadn’t thought he would see it again. So comforting. And genuine. Not forced.

“It’s not stolen,” she reminded him, “not really.”

Tom decided to smile back, but to himself. He couldn’t really look her in the eye.

“I guess I also kept it for the same reason why you kept that stupid scarf,” y/n added. Quieter now.

Tom took a deep breath. “It’s a fashionable accessory.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s been out of fashion for 10 years.”

“Trends come back.”

Y/N looked up. “Not when they're horrible, no,” she said with a heavy breath. “I don’t—“She shook her head. “No, we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tom questioned.

“Talk like you didn’t break my heart,” she snarked, gulping down her thoughts. “I always knew your heart never truly belonged to me, you know?” y/n said, holding to her mug. The tea was probably cold now. As so were they.

Tom was taken aback by that statement. “I—at the beginning—“

“No, it never truly did. Not completely.”

“I—“ but Tom didn’t have an answer to it.

The night was cold and New York was still awake. But it felt like it was them and only them even if they felt like oceans apart. He hated it. The first time he’d ever been truly lucky he had run out of luck.

Y/N watched him. “I always knew it was meant to be for a short time and I didn’t need anything more, I somehow knew that you’d hurt me,” she explained.

Tom had never meant to go this far. “I never meant—“

“Imagine if you had meant it though, how crushed would I have been. It wasn’t your intention, and yet I ended up crying on the floor,” she said, ironically

Tom couldn’t say more but an “I am so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said. “I hope you are.”

Tom stared at her, “I am.”

Y/N directed him a single glance. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This month has been the shittiest in my life.”

Tom didn’t have enough words to apologize. Or he had too many to say. Instead, he could word out anything.

“The worst part is that you also gave me the best fucking days of my life,” she continued. “So I’m at a crossroads here. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it was all bullshit and there’s also the part that knows it couldn’t be.”

Tom watched her. “It was not bullshit,” he said. “It was real.”

“That’s the worst part,” she pointed out. “I think, yeah, all of it being real then it makes it hurt even more because that means I lost the best thing to ever happen to me and you lost something so real.”

Tom nodded. “I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, too.”

Y/N was, without a doubt, the best thing he’d never looked for.

“Did you lose it because of me? Or did you lose me?” She quickly questioned, raising her brows.

Y/N was also a murderer.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, ignoring his sight as he was trying to know how to Answer. “You better start explaining yourself.”

“Before I—I… I… Right, well—Before I came here—I—Ella—“

She closed her eyes. “Actually, no.”

Tom paused, in fear.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we will….” Y/N tried arranging her thoughts. “Tell me from the moment you hopped on the plane.”

Tom stayed quiet.

“I need to know how it looked from the moment you arrived, not… before, although I’m risking the fact you’re an unreliable narrator.”

“I am a terrible narrator,” he admitted.

Two months before the breakup. Tom’s version.

Tom remembered how little it had taken him to make the decision to escape. He had decided to escape from what everyone told him he should love.

With a backpack, his passport and a half ass made suitcase, he had hopped on the first flight to New York. No regrets as it had taken off. Sweet Escape airlines had been so kind to him.

Not telling anyone about it. To their eyes, he probably was only late to a party, and they’d see him in a few minutes with an excuse of an apology.

Yet, he was on a plane. Escaping from the perfect life.

They always said how lucky he was. Didn’t they? How incredible it was to have what he had. Because he had everything.

And he was running away from it. He watched the people on the plane, his seat was unflattering, next to an old lady who seemed to be rather impolite.

He remembered when he had made the decision to run out, the night before, a camera flash had blinded him and time had suddenly stopped. Just a few hours before hopping on the plane. Everyone expected him to do something he was not ready for. Everyone thought it would come.

Even Eleanor.

Especially Eleanor. Ella was probably counting only the minutes for his arrival. He had promised her he would be there.

No one could ever judge Tom for the decision he had made. Well, everyone would. But Tom liked to believe they couldn’t. As a technicality, that is. That they had absolutely no right to do it.

His parents wouldn’t be proud of it. Too bad.

Tom was nervous, though. The decision had been, undoubtedly, rushed. He hadn’t shown up to that early brunch.

Still wearing a suit, with a white buttoned shirt unbuttoned on his neck. He had still almost gone to that brunch in that FancyAss restaurante.

A brunch? He thought to himself. How incredibly out of character it seemed, he had become a caricature of whatever they wanted him to be.

Did he have to apologize to Eleanor? He didn’t want to.

He really didn’t want to.

He looked at his phone, Harry was calling him. A few other texts from his mother, too. Two missed calls from Ella. Probably wondering why he was late. He hoped they didn’t wait for him, for he would never arrive.

New York was a bit far from it.

The whole flight had been him trying to figure out if it was a good choice.

But he was given an ultimatum, and when those come you have to decide.

His decision was to go to New York. And it was the best choice.

It was, of course, but it was alright to doubt it. It was not likely of him to simply run away.

He didn’t have it all figured out. And that’s why he was clutching his backpack. He was chasing a dream that he didn’t even know he had.

Maybe that’s why he was running away. He didn’t know who he was. But of course he had heard it, how he looked like a million bucks. And he had said it to everyone else the night before, how the stars looked like diamonds in the skies.

He was making a name for himself, he knew that. Or rather, they were making a name for him. And he didn’t know who he was.

The flight was rather short, or maybe Tom barely had any time to think about it.

Running away from his own country, from his family, friends and from Ella, whom he barely had a title for right now.

The city was quick to receive him with bustling crowds, people pushing and rushing. But also opening up as he was walking in. Dancing around him.

How magical. He thought to himself as he tried texting Harrison, hoping his best friend wouldn’t mind receiving him at his place.

Tom managed to get a taxi that was waiting right outside the airport.

He hopped in and grinned to himself proudly. He was there.

With a new city ahead of him and no one expecting anything from him. With no one telling him what to do, with no one giving him an ultimatum and no one with orders for him.

“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver, as he stared from the mirror.

Tom, though he was not proud of it, was having a moment. “I’m running away from my life,” Tom explained. “don’t you ever get tired of the role you’re supposed to play? Like you were not meant to play it but now you’re too stuck in it.”

“Man, I'm sorry, I ain’t got no time for that kind of poeticbullshit, I need an address.”

The moment ended quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’m an idiot… uh, it’s this one.” Tom had to look up for Haz’s address.

“Every time,” the driver sighed, chuckling. “Why do y’all think New York is some sort of magical city that will give you the answer to whatever you’re going through.”

Tom’s smile widened sarcastically, “Well, isn’t it?”

“Guess it is, in a way, but I’ll tell you something,” the driver stated, “whatever you think New York will give to you, it'll be the very opposite. It won’t be what you want but it might just be what you need.”

“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, “who’s the one with the poetic crap now?”

“No, I’m messing with you, damn all you tourists believe that kind of thing huh? New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of huh.”

“It’s what we’re sold,” Tom gave in.

“That sounds pretty, don’t it? To not get what you want but what you need.”

“It does.”

In a way, he was right. Tom would’ve thought he needed a break. To escape. That’s what he wanted right?

But what did he need?

The city welcomed him with a short rain, the water reflected the twinkling lights, as the shadows were reflecting the life he had left behind. The people rushed with their coats, as they were off to their lives. And it felt like he was finally breathing.

Although he would not share his thoughts with the driver again, Tom thought this was what he needed. A new start with no one that would judge him.

That’s probably why he’d chosen New York, the people are too busy living their own crazy lives to focus on someone so insignificant like him. He didn’t have to be whoever he was before, the pretty face, the cool guy everyone liked.

No, he was a guy in a stupid cab, and not to be worried if they said he hadn’t chosen a better ride, on a bigger car.

No, no announcement of whatever he was going to do on the papers because his dad had arranged it.

No, now he was but what he always wanted to be. One of those cautionary tales that they tell about people who go mad and escape and live.

He was a legend now.

Maybe they were right, he was lucky. He was lucky because he had finally made it out of there.

And he saw the lights, with Broadway shows waiting for him, with new adventures coming. With a new life that he wanted to create. The Broadway signs changed to Tom’s sight.

‘A very new life for the Lucky One.’ Starring Tom Holland.

A new beginning.

Maybe he was lucky. Though he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He constantly was, though.

Except, of course, for the fact that Haz hadn’t really answered his text the way he wanted to.

Haz probably didn’t believe Tom that he was in the city.

He would just knock at the door then.

“Well man, I hope whatever kind of role you want you get it,” the driver had said as Tom had hopped off.

Harrison’s building was far from fancy. Harrison had often described it as an ‘affordable pigsty’. Tom wouldn’t describe it as anything else.

But it was perfect. The perfect stage for his new charade.

Tom carried the now heavier backpack and suitcase up and was lucky enough that someone had entered the building so he could go up and show up uninvited to Haz’s apartment. If he could call it that.

He knocked, two times and Haz opened the door.

“Piss off, you’re not actually here!” Was the way Haz had decided to greet.

Tom laughed. “I fucking am.”

“You bastard,” Haz grinned before pulling his friend into a hug. “No way, I didn’t believe you. Man, I’m so glad to see you!”

“You too, man your place is…” Tom couldn’t finish.

“A pigsty but it’s home, I’ll make some place.”

And they had.

Haz had left a few years ago, with a dream in his head and a chance to make it. Or… a chance to get a chance to make it.

Leaving London had been quite such a simple decision for him. An inspiring actor that could’ve made it back at home but decided to leave for New York? It was stupid, honestly. Very anticlimactic of him.

But like Tom, Harrison had to escape before he was pulled in.

Just like Tom had been, tangled up. Tom’s ‘big break’ had yet to come but his family had managed to get him to the rising star he was.

He loved what he did, acting was definitely his true passion but not like this. Not buying his way into parts, not going out with someone so he could be considered. Hanging around with the right people just so they could get him a role.

Haz had gone for plays instead, and Tom knew he was fantastic. But he also had to get his big break. The industry had a funny way to say this.

“So, you just left?” Haz asked with a beer in his hand as he’d taken Tom to his favorite bar. Beers were cheaper there, and given that it was a Thursday, the happy hour lasted longer.

The bar was different from what Tom had expected. An old jukebox that was playing odd songs, colorful things. Very odd.

“I bloody just left,” Tom admitted. “What was I supposed to do?”

Harrison rubbed his face, “I dunno.”

“I couldn’t keep pretending,” Tom said, as he played with the bottle. “I—It wasn’t me.”

“But didn’t you just get cast in—something important?” He questioned.

Tom sighed, “Not for talent, no.”

He had seen a girl walk up to the jukebox and pay again to play “Twist and Shout” by The Beatles, she moved her head along to the song.

“Man, who bloody cares?” Haz rolled his eyes bringing the attention back to him. “You’re getting somewhere! You look pretty, you’re cool, and you’re getting somewhere.”

Tom knew where Haz was coming from. Things were going perfectly, one could argue. But it didn’t feel real. It was just a game of make believe where Tom had eventually been dug in.

“It wasn’t that,” Tom admitted. “Ella gave me an ultimatum.”

Harrison stopped, probably now understanding more why he had left. “And how do you feel about that?”

Tom stared at his beer. “Not how I’m supposed to.”

Harrison watched him. “One can only pretend for so long.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed as he undressed the beer bottle.

“Does anyone know you escaped?” Haz asked.

Tom grimaced, pulling out his phone, turned off. “No, well, Harry knows, I told him I had left but didn’t tell him where to,” he said before unwillingly turning it back on, to show the billion notifications popping up. Multiple text messages, missed calls. “I need a new phone so I can keep this one turned off.”

“I think you should tell someone, otherwise they’re going to call the police or something,” Haz suggested.

Tom sighed, “Before I do let me go get another round,” he said as he headed to the bar.

Though Tom should’ve known right then and there that his life would change, he was very oblivious as he saw a couple. The beautiful girl sitting right beside… some guy. The very same girl who had played ‘Twist and Shout’.

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tom could only interpret her stare as something unpleasant. The guy and her were both stiff.

Tom couldn’t blame the guy because he was often criticized for also being like him. Not being able to make the beautiful girl beside him smile. Not understanding her worth and brilliance as anyone else in the room did.

She had dressed up, it seemed, just for her very date and he was just… there. The guy was simply an unuseful accessory adorning her side. His eyes were glued to the TV on the bar, a program that seemed to be very uneventful.

Tom often liked overhearing conversations, and this time wasn’t an exception.

“I recently discovered my new collection,” the girl said. Tom noticed the scarf on her neck,“I will start collecting bottle caps.”

The guy looked over, “Is it going to be for your new project that you’ll never finish?”

“I will finish it,” she said as she took off the scarf, now playing with it, tying and untying it. “And I’m going to ask Ben here to save me as many as he can.”

“Y/N,” the guy said. Pretty name, thought Tom. Fitting. “You never finish them.”

“Art is never finished, William,” the girl, y/n, defended again. “It’s only… abandoned.”

“My point,” The guy, William, rolled her eyes, “You never get through with them.”

“I do,” she defended herself. “You just never pay attention to it.”

Tom watched her frustration. Even then the guy wasn’t really into the conversation. He didn’t blame him, really. But he was more on y/n’s side.

“I think you should pay attention to more important stuff. Instead of wasting your time doing whatever.”

“Art isn't whatever,” she sighed, and then frowned, noticing Tom was watching them.

“I’m not saying it’s whatever, y/n, but you’ve got to have other dreams rather than collecting beer caps.”

Y/N looked away, “It’s for a painting.”

“A painting you’ll get bored of eventually, it’s always the same, y/n,” the guy was still too busy with his own beer watching the TV.

Y/N clenched her jaw but then directed her glance at Tom, still intrigued by the conversation.

Tom cleared his throat as he finally got his beers, the guy opened them for him but Tom asked for the beer caps.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen,” Tom admitted before giving her the beer caps. “Good luck on your project.” The girl finally smiled as the guy accompanying her glared at him.

Tom shrugged and dedicated them both a smile before going back to Harrison. Had Tom been William he would’ve appreciated that someone made his girl smile, it was a waste not to share her smile with the world.

And Tom, out of everyone, understood what the girl had said, people bringing him down were always for him so to have genuine support from a stranger would help her. And him.

Yes never getting anything done but still having a passion for it was accomplishment enough.

“So what’s your plan?” Haz asked as soon as he was back. Tom watched the girl, still.

“I have none,” Tom admitted, watching as y/n and William were still arguing, probably now over the fact that Tom had left the beer caps. He didn’t feel guilty, even when both of them were pointing at him as the argument kept going. “I will just—Get a break for a few days. A well deserved vacation.”

Haz watched him. “Right.”

“You know, be a tourist,” Tom shrugged. “I—I dunno I just needed to get out,” Tom sipped from his bottle as his eyes were glued to the couple, now arguing loudly but not loud enough to be understood.

Haz followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Dunno, they’re odd,” Tom shrugged. But they weren’t really. He just saw his future, so uninterested to the girl beside him.

“Not really, you should get used to that,” Haz said. “But—You’re going to tell Harry, right!”

“Problem is,” Tom brought back the attention to Haz. “I don’t think Harry will be able to keep the secret.”

Harrison crossed his arms. “What are you really doing here Tom? You do realize that you’re hurting everyone—“

“Yeah, yeah fuck that, I know, I feel guilty. But—I can’t anymore. I couldn’t fucking stay there, not anymore,” Tom snapped. “It’s not Ella’s fault. Well not entirely but—“

“No, I know,” Haz rolled his eyes, “guess the perfect life can get boring.”

Harrison thought so too then. That Tom had the perfect life. How was it perfect? How was it really? Tom was not perfect. He was far from it, nothing about it was spectacular. He wasn’t living. Even though everyone around him thought he was having the time of his life Tom couldn’t help but feel miserable.

He wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. He didn’t enjoy the roles he was getting or the parties he was attending. He was far from what his dream was. And though his ‘breakout’ would come eventually and he’d have the chance to be who he wanted to be, it wasn’t coming any time soon and he doubted that he’d be able to be happy.

Or maybe he would be. He needed a break.

Tom caught up with Haz, his life, his misery and whatever the conversation led to, it’s fair to say that Tom’s head could barely pay any attention. His decision was sinking. He’d escaped his life.

He saw the girl from before leave, with the guy following her with frustration.

“They’re gonna break up,” Haz said watching them too.

Tom saw the girl had left the unfashionable red scarf behind.

He expected them to come back for them but they didn’t.

Eventually, Tom and Haz left. Tom picked up the scarf. He tried to say that it was a little reminder that he’d helped someone. He had actually been drawn to it. He couldn’t explain why. So he kept that idea.

Of course, he’d seen the red scarf and then regretted instantly taking it. Haz had judged him too.

“Why the fuck would you pick up a stranger’s scarf?”

“Because.”

The next day, with very little sleep and a bit of a headache from the jet lag and the beers, and after telling Haz he’d be productive, he decided he wouldn’t be and instead he wanted to visit a museum. Again, he was unsure as to why he wanted to go there. Lately he only followed his instinct.

But then again he had escaped so he could do whatever he wanted, and going to a museum seemed like something they’d never expect him to do. So that’s what he did.

But of course, he didn’t know much about art or anything so he decided he’d end up at the MET. Where else would he start?

He had planned getting on the subway but he decided he didn’t have time to memorize it and he didn’t want to look like an idiot so instead he took another cab. He didn’t tell the drivers this time any poetic bullshit.

When he got to the MET, he was immediately lost. Tom had this stupid habit of never knowing where the hell he was.

He didn’t mind this time. He would take the time to explore, to think to himself. To stare and read and to learn a little.

How ironic it seemed to be at the place where so many people were at. Basic, maybe but he was still enjoying it.

The big walls and endless exhibitions were making him feel small. And he hadn’t felt that way in a while. He liked that.

His path wasn’t being decided and he only followed his heart. He got to the musical instruments exhibitions.

A piano made him stop. It resonated with him. In some sorts, or it was interesting enough for him to make him stop.

“That’s the oldest surviving piano,” a voice mentioned from behind.

Tom blinked, realizing he had stared too long at it. “Oh?” He looked back at the voice and though Tom did not believe in coincidences he couldn’t help but think this was an oddly magical one.

The beer cap girl from the night before.

“Yeah, it dates back to 1538 and was created by—pardon my pronunciation—Bartolomeo Cristofori, the Italian man who is credited with inventing the piano,” she said, staring at it too. Her hair was slightly messed up. Wearing an overall that was covered with slight paint stains, a white cardigan over it.

“Oh, I would’ve never thought that,” Tom said. “It looks old.”

“Yeah,” she hadn’t looked at him, she was too entranced by it, her arms were crossed. “It's very old.”

Tom stared at her instead, how weird it was. He should’ve brought the scarf. No, that would’ve been weird, weirder than taking it.

“So you work here?” Tom questioned.

“No, I’m just incredibly good at lying,” she stated.

“Wha-what?”

“That fact I gave you, yeah that was a lie,” she grinned and finally turned to him. She tilted her head.

“Oh it sounded… very real,” Tom felt like an idiot.

“Yeah, I’ve worked on that for a while, lying to tourists, you’re my first one of the day,” she said. “So, a pleasure lying to someone with an accent.”

“It sounded very real,” Tom cleared his throat.

“I know, it’s a real fact, just slightly twisted,” she grinned. “I gave you the date wrong.”

Tom coughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and you straight up believed me,” she grinned. “The date is right there yet you listened to a random weirdo,” she grinned.

Tom blushed, “well, you sounded very—“

“No, don’t feel bad, it’s an art, lying to people,” she grinned.

He nodded in agreement.

She watched him curiously, “Do I know you?”

Tom faked to not recognize her. “I don’t think so.”

She narrowed her eyes, examining him head to toe. Then stopping at his face. “No, wait, were you at Bennie’s Beer Garden last night?”

She had recognized him.

“Uh—I was at a bar,” he decided to fake ignorance. “Oh—“he snapped his finger. “Wait are you—?”

“Beer cap girl, yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah, that was me, but I looked better last night.”

Tom smiled, “No, you look fine.”

“What a coincidence, thanks for the beer caps, by the way,” she chuckled. “How weird, and now you’re the first one I lie to.”

“It’s a pleasure, thank you,” Tom laughed.

“You must think I’m crazy, collecting beer caps and lying to strangers,” she blushed now, stepping back from him.

Tom did think that. In a good way. The girl seemed to be whatever he wanted to be: a fucking weirdo that don’t give two shits about anything in life.

“Surprisingly, no,” Tom shook his head. “I would lie to people instead if I was good at lying.”

Ironic, it seemed. Didn’t he make a living out of lying? Didn’t he technically lie his way through life?

“Yes, it's very tiring work, people say they don’t like being lied to,” she said. “I do, that’s why I love reading whatever is trending on twitter.”

Tom cackled, and turned his attention back to the piano.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” she mentioned casually.

“Tom,” he answered simply.

Y/N nodded. “So, Tom, what's your favorite lie supplier?”

“I watch movies,” he said, “or celebrity gossip.”

“A classic,” Y/N grinned. “Yeah, we all choose the lies we want to believe, I guess.”

“People like that, believing lies and feeling like they’re true,” Tom gave in. “Especially if they’re pretty. They help us escape reality.”

Y/N nodded slowly, and smirked. “We are getting deep now, huh?”

What the fuck did New York do to Tom that he randomly said poetic bullshit to strangers. He was embarrassed. “I—sorry.”

“No, no, I like that,” y/n was excited. “I guess you’re right. Lies are a way to cover something.”

“Yes, sometimes lying means protecting,” Tom bit his lip.

Y/N tilted her head. “Is it really?” She didn’t want to agree. “I would say lying is a way to actively hurt someone.”

“Well, were you trying to hurt me with your lie?” Tom challenged.

She licked her lips, defeated. “In a way,” she gave in. “I was trying to misinform you. So.”

“Well, what if the truth hurts more?” Tom questioned.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Then it’s a paradox.”

“Excuse me,” Someone interrupted them. “I’m sorry, y/n? I thought you weren’t coming today.”

Y/N smiled, “oh yeah, I wasn’t, I just forgot something in my locker and decided to walk around.”

The other guy turned to Tom. “Did she give you a fake fact?”

Tom chuckled, “she most certainly did.”

“Y/N, you can’t keep doing that,” the guy warned her. “You’re gonna get fired.”

Y/N grinned as she watched the guy go.

“I thought you didn’t work here,” Tom chuckled.

Y/N smiled mischievously, “I do, just another lie I said to you. You’re very lucky, two lies in one.”

Tom chuckled. ��huh. Yeah, lucky me.”

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me, little British man,” she grinned. “I’ll go lie to other people, nice lying to you.”

Tom grinned. “Yeah, yeah, nice… believing your lies.”

“Enjoy the Met,” she grinned. “Hope I get to see you again, thanks for the beer caps.”

“Thanks for the… lies,” he said, watching her leave. Maybe he was lucky.

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btsmosphere · 4 years ago

Text

Crossfire | KTH

Moodboard Masterlist

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 6.4k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, injury, dangerous driving, mention of drugs (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: I am actually super happy with this chapter, I hope you guys feel the same! Y/N and Tae go on a lil adventure... I also had to make up a name for a cartoon show for this lmao,, and as always, thanks for the love!!

Something was tugging you from sleep.

Softly, though, so you didn’t notice until it was already too late, and your senses were with you all at once. In one last protest against the waking world, you didn’t open your eyes, stubbornly lying there instead, your back to the side of the bed Taehyung used. Then the same something that had woken you up started again.

He was singing.

That was all it took, and your eyes were open, body stiffening. Taehyung, however, noticed nothing. His song continued, one you had never heard before, and his voice was beautifully soft and smooth, expressive even at such a low volume. Clearly he had been hoping not to wake you up.

Swallowing, you forced your eyes to fall closed again. After the initial shock, you soon found it easy to relax to his calming melody, the duvet and pillow enveloping you in combination with his voice. And despite the warmth in your little bubble under the covers, goosebumps rose along your arms.

You really couldn’t get your head round Taehyung.

Though you had seen him being silly, all that time at college you had spent at a distance from him, he had seemed cold, intimidating. It had been a shock to you when he had been so amicable those months ago, and that soon became the Taehyung you knew, but he was still a mystery… His singing had really thrown you for a loop, another puzzle piece thrown in amongst the jumble you were already trying to make sense of when it came to this boy.

All day, you couldn’t get his song out of your head. Specifically, his voice.

His voice. Singing his song.

Him, him, him.

Last night he had mentioned that the books he had brought you were some of his favourites. Another surprise: who would have known that Kim Taehyung, the king of bad reputation, had a hidden love of fashion, an inner art connoisseur?

Now the books meant something different.

You read them even quicker after that, drinking in every word as if there were a drought.

Perhaps there was.

When you finished the last one in the stack, you were instantly back to the real world within four walls. It was only morning as well, judging by the light. Brilliant. One whole day and nothing to do.

“Y/N!”

Obnoxious footfalls. Taehyung was taking the stairs two at a time.

The bedroom door swung open to a slightly breathless Taehyung, leaning his weight against the door handle he had yet to let go of.

“Sorry it’s so late. You okay?”

You were lying across the bed’s width, head falling over the end nearest him, hair brushing the floor.

“Yep. Do you want me to cook?”

He only frowned down at you for a second longer before continuing as if one member of the conversation wasn’t upside down.

“Ah, no. I didn’t get any food.”

“But we basically ran out yesterday,” you frowned.

“I know,” he said, “but today we are going to the food.”

Now that made you sit up.

“What?”

“Yep,” a proud smile made its way onto his face and he straightened up, “we’re going out.”

When your only response was a wide-eyed stare, he took it as his cue to elaborate.

“I know you’ve been going a little crazy inside, so I thought we could go for an adventure. Hobi’s racing tonight and he says we can join him.”

“Hoseok?” you questioned.

“Yeah. Sound good?”

It did. You knew it shouldn’t. You weren’t naïve – you knew what he meant by racing. Idiots breaking every road law possible for clout, or maybe money. It was precisely what you had always stayed away from.

But it sounded so good.

“Sounds perfect,” you grinned.

First, Taehyung helped you find the pair of his jeans you were most likely to fit into; since you had been at his, you had mainly worn sweats for comfort’s sake, but this occasion called for a change. Wearing a hoodie was non-negotiable though, to hide your face.

After rolling up the hem of his black jeans, you slung on the most nondescript hoodie he had. Shoes, however, were more of an issue, so Taehyung vowed to buy you some once you were out. Also wearing black, Taehyung looked much more stylish than you in cargo pants, a bomber jacket and a bandana.

“Did you take your painkiller?” was the last thing on the list before finally leaving, via the side door.

Night had descended completely by now, putting you more at ease. You walked far away from streetlights when you could, but as you drew closer to the city centre, that was the last thing on your mind.

Being outside was just what you needed. You breathed in the cold air and drizzle on your face, eyes following each car that whirred past and people’s boots splashing in puddles of melted neon. And what made it all the more thrilling was the knowledge that you were taking a risk.

So far, you had been clumsily walking around in Tae’s sliders, until suddenly a man came barging past you on the sidewalk. In your dash to dodge him, you tripped over the too-big shoes, barrelling straight into Taehyung’s stomach where his arms steadied you.

You barely had a chance to straighten before Tae had turned around, bent down and grabbed the backs of your knees, forcing you to fling your arms around his neck, shrieking as he hoisted you onto his back. Grinning while you complained into the back of his neck, he carried on, but soon he was dragging you into a store that was still open – though not for long – and you grabbed the cheapest sneakers going.

With that problem solved, food was the next priority. In the end, you chose a street vendor and headed to your rendezvous with steaming bags in hand.

Not far from the centre, once you wound through the smallest streets enclosed by the tallest buildings, you emerged onto a car park. It wasn’t as secluded as you had expected for underground racing, still lit up in colours by the signs of shops that backed onto it, the entrance opening onto a wide road.

Cars were lined up, one pulling up at the same time as you and Taehyung. None were flashy sports cars: instead the line-up came in various states of repair, altered by their owners with darkened windows, underglow, stickers, spoilers, you name it.

“Hoseok!”

Beside you, Taehyung shouted across the car park, waving an arm above his head. Then his hand wrapped around your wrist and he lead you through the thin crowd over to the older bangtan boy, who pulled his friend in and clapped him on the back.

Hoseok joined the two of you as you sat on the wall to eat, watching as the first few people showed off their wheel spins and donuts, revving engines mixing with whoops and yells from the spectators. Most were dressed in black like you. A handful of people came up to chat with the boys, with ‘haven’t seen you in a while’-s to Taehyung and offers of bets for Hoseok. Keeping your head well down, you just enjoyed your food, silently taking in the new environment.

The night had cleared up, the asphalt still shining from the earlier drizzle, but the puddles now lay still as glass.

Plenty of people had bottles in their hands, sitting around on the perimeter walls. In the opposite corner, those with hidden faces crowded together, almost hiding the exchange in their hands. Others sat on their bonnets, proudly talking to the interested huddle gathered around them.

“Right, I’m gonna get warmed up,” Hoseok dropped down from the wall and departed with one last wave to your well wishes.

As Hoseok pulled his car out of its spot, more followed. Rolling down his window, he rested his arm casually against the side as he guided his car round, revving here and there to elicit hollers from the crowd.

Laughing in the driver’s seat, he hit the gas, putting on a spurt of speed and skidding round in a perfect one-eighty. A cloud was thrown up by his back tyres, glittering as the droplets fell back down.

By now, you had finished eating and were anticipating some action. The buzz among the spectators grew more as each driver messed about in the parking lot, until at last they were filing out, lining the empty road along an imaginary starting line.

“Can we go closer?” you asked Taehyung as people gravitated towards the roadside, disturbing your view.

A smile bloomed on his face and he jumped down, ditching his takeaway.

“Sure.”

Weaving in and out of the rabble to reach the front, you stood on your tiptoes to spot Hoseok’s car in the middle of the line. Taehyung stood just behind you, already speaking to someone. From your left side, a taller girl pushed past you, striding right up to the curb.

In a ripple, the pack quietened. The girl raised her hand – was that a gun? – and a bang sounded, drowned out instantaneously by the squealing of tyres and growling of engines. Within seconds, the cars had sped out of sight.

“How long is the race?” you turned to Taehyung, whose acquaintance had walked away again.

“That depends how fast Hoseok decides to go,” he murmured back, perching on the wall behind him and kicking his legs out, “they’re on one of the city circuits, main roads, so it’s just about acceleration.”

Nodding in what you hoped was a casual manner, you returned your eyes to the deserted road.

“So he’s good then, Hoseok?”

You hopped up onto the wall beside Taehyung, but it wasn’t his voice that replied.

“Oh, he’s the best.”

Your head snapped around, leaving you face to face with Yoongi. Leaning against the end of the wall, smoke swirling up from a glowing cigarette end in his hand, he looked right at home. How long had he been standing there?

“I heard you were here,” he directed a rare smile past you to Taehyung, “everyone’s wondering if you’re gonna go for a spin.”

“It’s been a long time,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Beck’s next up,” he said, as if that was meant to mean something. Based on Taehyung’s reaction, it probably did.

Shaking his head, he laughed, then bit down on his lip, still smiling, and stared into his lap.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Well you won’t have long,” Yoongi crushed his cigarette against the wall, chucking it carelessly to the ground. Sure enough, the screech of tyres and distant rumble of engines were once again becoming audible.

As Yoongi melted away into the crowd again, the sounds grew and you stood up again, craning your neck to see as far down the road as you could. Only seconds later, a pair of headlights blazed around the corner, drawing a line down your vision as the car flew towards you, followed by a tight group of others.

Stepping back, you watched as the first place car whizzed by, blowing your hair back and off your face, the rest piling across the line in a photo-finish a few seconds later.

While the cars slowed, drifting round to return to the car park and the assembled cheering crowd, an elbow nudged your arm.

“Do you fancy a ride?”

Your eyes slid between Taehyung and the cars re-entering the lot, quickly encircled by people.

What the hell were you thinking? Why were you even considering saying yes? This was crazy-

“Okay!”

Taehyung held you in front of him, shielding you as together you cut a path through the excited mass towards the victor of the last race. Hoseok was grinning from ear to ear, arms in the air, high-fiving people and showing off energetic dance moves in exchange for laughter and pats on the back.

Once again, Taehyung clapped his shoulder, this time leaning in to make his request. Hanging back, you were invisible in the crowd, your face obscured.

“Hey, everyone!” Hoseok shouted, causing a hush, “Taehyungie’s gonna do the next one!”

Cheers and excited applause erupted as Hoseok lifted Tae’s hand in the air. The older boy jumped around while Taehyung laughed, and before long the other drivers were back in their cars. Returning to the roadside, the crowd left you behind.

“Hop in,” Taehyung told you, making his way to the driver’s side.

Though not top-end, Hoseok’s car was not inexpensive. You slid into the leather seat and buckled up, Tae doing the same before gripping the wheel and getting it moving, out and onto the road.

“So where are we going?” you eyed the rabble from your window as you passed them, low rumble of the engine almost teasing given what was to come.

“Beck,” Taehyung replied, pulling into position, one hand staying loosely on the wheel, “it’s what we call one of the courses round the back alleys down by Beck square, and it’s sort of my speciality.”

You nodded, eyes falling back onto the wide open road in front of you. A few cars over, you saw the girl from before standing on the curb.

“You ready?”

A deep breath in.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

Bang.

Outside, the crowd blurred and disappeared, lights whipping past your window as you were forced back in your seat with the sudden speed.

Other cars encroached either side, penning you in but Taehyung kept his eyes ahead, locking the wheel all the way right to take you barrelling into a smaller road, with only one car ahead of you. At the back windscreen, purple headlights were bearing down on you, so close it was like a demon staring into the car.

Weaving, left, right, your car thundered after the red one ahead of you, but the gap only increased.

Snarling behind you, engine nearly as loud as your own, your main pursuer was on top of you. As you spilled out onto a wider road, it was gaining, crawling up your side.

With a glint in his eye, Taehyung took one look at the competitor, one glance to where the red car was turning the next corner some way ahead, and pulled the wheel.

Staring straight ahead, wheel at arm’s length, Taehyung pushed the car, the roaring engine riding a deafening crescendo as you powered ahead through the deserted alley he had taken you down. You winced as he rapidly squeezed past some industrial bins lining the wall, only grazing one with slight jolt – then it was a clear road to the growing exit.

Your car fired from the shortcut like a cannonball, Taehyung wrestling the wheel to bring the back tyres under control as you turned right, finding yourselves neck-and-neck with the red car from earlier.

Next, a drawn-out corner, and that was all Taehyung needed to pull away, expertly drifting around before flattening his foot to the ground, plunging into the darkest alley yet, lit only by your headlamps. But once you emerged, the wider road was back, shop signs and streetlights blurring outside.

Taking a glance behind, the red car was nowhere to be seen.

A laugh bubbled up from your throat as you fell back in your seat, exhilarated. And then there was the crowd, watching and waiting by the parking lot – you had won!

“Fuck me,” you breathed as Taehyung relaxed beside you, casually braking into a drift to turn around.

A hearty laugh returned from him as he pulled into the car park, soon getting swarmed. Exiting the car, you were both engulfed in the clamouring mass, though you managed to slip away to the midst of it. Everyone was the most interested in Taehyung.

At last, most had dispersed and only Hoseok and Yoongi were left congratulating Taehyung with hugs.

“Fun, right?” Hoseok smiled at you, inviting you into their conversation.

“Yeah.” Breathless as if you had just run the course, you laughed with them.

“Good job, you haven’t lost your touch,” Yoongi affirmed again as Hoseok left you to drive again.

By the sounds of it, the next race was a longer one. Bets had been made and you all held your breath as the cars lined up again. The starting gun did nothing to help your heart calm down after the adrenaline rush of Taehyung’s race, but you weren’t complaining. His face wore a similar joy to yours, the two of you happily sitting back after Yoongi left and laughing about the thrill of his driving.

“I dunno if I would have got away so well on the corner if Hoseok’s car wasn’t so good though-“

“Hey! Don’t downplay it, your driving was insane!”

“Maybe it was insane,” he looked down, bashful, but soon smiled back and shook his finger at you, “so don’t try this at home!”

But your laughter at his joke was interrupted.

Sailing over the buildings came the high-pitched wail of a siren. The group quietened. Listening. Perhaps it was unrelated?

A couple of people walked into the road, looking around to see if the vehicle was coming your way. It was definitely getting too close for comfort.

Taehyung stood, hand wrapping round your upper arm and lightly pulling you away from the front of the crowd, though both of you still stared at the road, hoping the sound would shrink again, pass you by.

Blue flashed against the rain-slick road, illuminating dark windows at the end of the street.

Bad luck.

“Run!”

Those who were standing in the road took off across it, away from the car park, while some scattered back to where they came from. The few cars left standing in the parking lot were starting up, leaving by the alleys. And in the middle of the crowd, you and Taehyung started running.

In seconds the parking lot had emptied, and now you were alone with Taehyung as other members of the party vaulted walls away from the sirens and shouting police officers, the slamming of car doors as they gave chase.

Air rushed in and out of your lungs as your feet pounded after Taehyung, going as fast as you could but still falling behind. Dark buildings either side of you were painted in blue as light fell down the alleyway from the cars that had scattered you. Up ahead, Taehyung rounded a corner, but it was lost in darkness and you weren’t sure which one he had gone down.

You didn’t stop running.

“Stop there! Police!”

A woman yelled from the other end of the street, making you push yourself harder.

Just then, Taehyung skidded back around the corner you had just reached and grabbed your hand before you could think, and now he was pulling you away, taking turn after turn through dark streets you had never seen before. Stumbling after him, you clutched his hand, your lifeline.

You must have lost them by now. No blue lights could be seen, no sirens or shouts heard, no other footsteps but your own.

You hoped you had lost them by now. Your heart was beating out of your chest and your head spun, lungs failing to cooperate, evicting air in heavy bursts, taking it in too slow. In your side, the pain couldn’t be masked by the painkiller anymore, pinching mercilessly with every step.

You had to slow down.

Legs failing you, you finally gave in to stopping.

The sudden tug and then loss of your hand in his made Taehyung turn around, finding you doubled over, panting and pale in the face. Eyes scanning the street beyond you for danger, he moved forwards, hands gripping your arms.

“Hey, Y/N, can you keep going?”

Only your hyperventilating answered him.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Trying to pull you up to look at him, he was only met with your body going heavier in his arms, forcing him to scramble to wrap his arms around your back as you went limp.

Cursing, he lowered you to the ground but didn’t let go. Not taking his eyes off your face, he caught the moment your eyes opened again once you were leant against the wall.

A short breath escaped him, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you managed, breathing more even now, “my side…”

“It’s alright, you can rest for a bit,” he assured you, finally releasing you and sitting back on his heels.

One more check up and down the alley.

“Were we seriously just running from police?” you laughed slightly, bringing his attention back to you.

“First time for everything,” he mused, sitting down beside you.

“I guess,” you chuckled, still a little breathless, “so is the racing over?”

“For tonight. It gets busted occasionally, so when the others get back and see everyone’s gone they’ll know what happened.”

“Is Hoseok going to get arrested?”

“Shouldn’t do. He’s had plenty of practice evading cops.”

Nodding, your eyes returned to the ground. It was easy to forget how much experience Taehyung and the other bangtan boys had in all this; you were just here for the ride.

“You had your painkiller, right?” Taehyung broke the brief silence.

“Yeah, I did,” you quickly confirmed, “and I feel better now, I just, I dunno what happened…”

“And your iron pill?”

“Hmm? Oh, the red ones… no, I-I don’t think so.”

He clicked his tongue.

“That’ll be it then. You’re taking one as soon as we get home.”

Despite feeling a little like you were being scolded, you smiled, about to respond when a scuffle from the end of the street made you both turn your heads.

As you watched the dimly lit space, a silhouette ran past in a blur, followed by a slower figure, wearing an unmistakeable bulky police vest. They jogged past the opening to your street, but soon their outline reappeared, empty handed.

Breath catching in your throat, you went obligingly with Taehyung as he stood silently, his arm guiding you behind him without taking his eyes off the cop. As quickly as you dared, you both retreated, wincing at each slight crunch beneath your feet. In the silence, the crackling of a police radio, though incomprehensible, was clearly heard, and the officer mumbled back into it.

Spying an opening to hide you from view, you gathered this was your target. Holding your breath, you approached it, swinging around the corner at the first opportunity with only one glance back.

One glance that showed the cop’s head turning towards you.

This alley was much smaller than the other, and you found yourself facing Taehyung in much the same way you had in his hallway when you first came barging into his life. Searching his face, you wondered if he had seen what you did just now.

“Tae-“

His lips formed around a shushing sound that barely left his mouth, and in one small step, he was up against you, a finger steady on your lips to silence you. All you could do was hold your tongue and stare as he looked past you, tentatively dipping his head out of your hiding spot, never lowering his finger.

“They’re gone,” he spoke, voice still impossibly low.

Swallowing, you removed your eyes from his face, glancing up the alley you were now on. It was a dead end, home only to a large dumpster surrounded by smashed glass and needles. You couldn’t leave this way, which would explain why you needed to wait here, in case the cop was still close by.

What it didn’t explain was why Taehyung was still so close to you.

Although his hand had now lowered, you could feel his body heat from this proximity. The zip of his undone jacket brushed against the front of your hoodie.

Your tongue ran across your lips. Eyes finally diverted from the potential dangers outside, Taehyung was now looking at you.

“Uh…” you cleared your throat, regretting opening your mouth. You had no idea what you had planned to say.

Luckily, you were startled from the situation as a chiming ringtone broke through the moment.

Scrambling to scoop his phone from his pocket and answer it, Taehyung stumbled back, eyeing the alleyway outside in a panic. Thankfully, no one had heard. Better get moving.

“Hello?”

Not even getting a look at the caller in his rush to pick it up, Jungkook’s voice answering him was a relief.

Mindlessly grabbing your hand in his, Taehyung started walking with you beside him as he listened to the younger member. As you passed through the end of the street, he took a look both ways before leading you the opposite way to that the police officer had taken.

Holding Kim Taehyung’s hand was something you had never seen coming. But here you were.

You didn’t complain though. His grip was firm, comfortable, and walking with him this way felt… normal. How that was even possible, you didn’t know, and you blamed it on your lingering light-headedness – of course you would want to feel grounded.

But somehow, far away from all you knew in backstreets you had never seen before, after a very illegal night, with a gang member talking in serious tones over the phone next to you, you felt perfectly at home.

“Cheers, Kook. Night.”

Taehyung shut off the call, tucking his phone back into his pocket. By now you had reached more well-lit roads that you imagined would be busy by day. Now, of course, you were the only ones here. God knew what time it was.

The only light brighter than the streetlamps was the interior of a 24-hour convenience store, a good indication that it was by no means a civilised hour. Still without letting your hand go, Taehyung led you inside.

Standing in front of the wall of fizzy drinks, he ordered you to pick one before swiping a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar. The teenage cashier didn’t look you in the eye once as he rung you up, and then you were on your way. Only now did Taehyung drop your hand, passing you the chocolate with a command to get your sugar up and himself tearing into the crisps.

When you had worked through the first row, he spoke up.

“Jungkook was on the phone about your dad.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, having just put another square in your mouth.

“Well he’s okay. He hasn’t been hurt, but as you know, Shinhyuk’s forced him to hand over your apartment for the gang to use. He’s forcing him to work for him, full-time, with the threat of harm to you if he doesn’t… Apparently he was accused of stealing drugs from a deal and that warrants all this – though it’s probably baseless. Shinhyuk had his eyes on your place already.”

You watched your feet as you listened. It had been easy to put your dad out of your mind for the sake of your sanity, the not knowing taking you round in circles, but hearing that he was still alive took a weight from you.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung said, greeted with your silence, “we’re fighting against Shinhyuk, and we’ll try to help him. Try not to worry about him losing his job, I mean-“

“Worry?” you looked up at him, “He’s alive! There’s nothing to be sorry for! Can you thank Jungkook for finding this out?”

A small, relieved smile crossed Taehyung’s face.

“Course I can,” he grinned, then held out your Fanta, “now don’t forget about your sugar.”

After this, the walk home was surprisingly short. Given how lost you were, you had thought you were half the city away, but in next to no time you turned onto recognisable streets. Strolling through the dark eating sugary snacks, it felt as if you were coming home from the movies, or any venture more innocent than your night of racing.

As the pair of you were climbing Tae’s front steps, he offered to make tea to warm up. Needless to say, you were fully on board with the idea.

He set to work, the kitchen lit dimly by lights tucked underneath the cupboards.

However, leaning against the wall waiting for the water to boil, you began to feel just how tired you were, both physically and mentally. But you could sleep later: you didn’t want the night to end yet. Deciding on a middle ground, you gave in to sliding down the wall, seating yourself on the floor. Not a move you would have chosen at your most alert moments, but it couldn’t be helped.

At your downwards movement, Taehyung spun around, dropping the teaspoon with a clatter.

But then he saw you staring back at him in bewilderment, and his eyes closed as he huffed in equal parts relief and frustration.

“God, I thought you were passing out again,” he grumbled.

Soon the bag of red pills landed in front of you on the tile. Sheepishly smiling, you gulped one down, and then a mug of tea filled its space.

“Oh, we don’t have to stay here,” you frowned at Tae as he sat down opposite you on the kitchen floor, leaning his back against the cupboards as he cradled his tea.

“Nah, it’s a unique perspective,” he said, “I’ve never sat here before and it’s my house.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your kitchen looks super different from down here,” a smile threatened to break your baffled frown, though you did pick up your mug, breathing in the inviting steam rising from it.

“So was tonight okay?” Taehyung smiled over his mug, eyes creasing a little as they watched for your answer.

“Mmm, yeah,” you swallowed your first sip of tea, “I’ve never… done anything like that before. But I thought it was really exciting! Hoseok is so nice too, letting you drive his car.”

Tae let out a short laugh, eyes disappearing for a moment.

“I practically learnt to drive in Hobi’s cars.”

“Wait, cars? As in, cars, plural?”

“Yeah,” his wide grin stayed on his face, both rows of his teeth visible in the low light, “tonight was just small races, he didn’t get out the big guns. You should see his Bugatti.”

Your eyes bulged from your head.

“I’m not even going to ask where he got the money for that,” you mumbled, still in awe.

“He didn’t,” Taehyung smirked. Rolling your eyes, you breathed a laugh, soon diving back into your tea.

“Was it alright with Yoongi there?” he asked next. His eyes were wider now, curious, smile dimming, “I know he hasn’t exactly been…”

“No, it was fine,” you assured, “I get that he doesn’t like me, but he seems to tolerate me now, so I won’t push him.”

“He did sort of beat you up before, though,” Tae pointed out.

“I nearly beat him up back!” you joked, admittedly motivated by genuine defensiveness, “I could have handed his ass to him any time I pleased, but I chose to give you the satisfaction of saving me instead.”

Taehyung responded by snorting into his tea.

“You are so rude,” you tipped your foot over to playfully kick his thigh as you both laughed.

“Honestly, I’m glad you’re not too bothered by Yoongi,” Taehyung said once the laughter had passed, though his smile still lingered, “he looks so tough, but he’s a massive softie really.”

You simply raised your eyebrows.

“You’ll see,” he smirked.

“I’ll wait,” you scoffed, “although I don’t find him scary exactly… he sort of reminds me of that evil magician from Archie-wizz- did you watch that?”

“Yes! I used to watch that every day after school!”

“Yeah, so you know the one I’m on about, right? He was always lurking around corners, like, the camera would turn around and there he was, like he’d been there the whole time. That’s Yoongi!”

Tae barked a disbelieving laugh.

“You mean Count E. Vil? Yoongi would flip shit if he heard you compared him to a cartoon.”

“Count E. Vil? That was his name?”

“Yeah, and every time he appeared, Archie was like ‘didn’t see ya there!’”

“Yeah, yeah it is that one,” you laughed at the memory, “was that seriously his name? I must have forgotten.”

“You know, the more I think about, the more I can see it,” Taehyung was laughing too, “you just turn around and he’s like – bam – looking all cool…”

Taehyung schooled his face into a death stare just like Yoongi’s to demonstrate, making you crack up even more. He didn’t last long before the act broke down, laughter creeping into his poker mouth and now the both of you were bent over your knees with tears in your eyes, wheezing with the kind of infectious laughter that is most at home after lights out at a sleepover.

“Not a word of this to Yoongi, understand,” Tae joked when you had both calmed down, voice worn out from the laughing fit.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Comfortable silence warmed the room for a moment as you both drank more tea. Odd though your little scene was, with you both sat on the floor, legs outstretched in the middle, it was cosy. The glow of fading LEDs that barely lit your faces separated you from the darkness of the outside. In all the world, it felt as though you two were the only ones, safe in your unorthodox sanctuary.

“How…”

You spoke before you had figured out how to phrase your question, but now Taehyung had lifted his eyes back to you.

“How did you… Who started, I mean, with bangtan…”

“How did we get together?”

You gave a small nod.

“Some of us go way back,” he set his tea down, “I mean, I went to high school with Jimin. And Yoongi’s from the same city as me, and we used to know each other when we were tiny. His family was connected to Namjoon’s, and that’s where it started – their families started the whole crime thing, and they started training together.

“We all sort of fell together, I think Jin’s family needed help from Namjoon’s and he stayed on; Jungkook knew Jimin from childhood, and he showed up asking for help when we had already started; Jin found Hoseok at college. I started, and Jimin came along too, because Yoongi wanted me. We had been out of touch for years, but I still knew who he was.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

“It’s sort of complicated, I know,” he directed a shy smile at his cup.

“Well, that’s life,” you said quietly, “but you guys work so well together. I guess you got lucky.”

Taehyung’s nod was solemn.

“Yeah. But it’s more than just working – they’re my brothers now.”

Tilting your head as you listened, you believed him.

“You guys seem to understand each other so well.”

“We do – we always have each other’s backs, you know? I wouldn’t stick around in this for just anyone.”

“By ‘this’, do you mean…” you rested your chin on your knees, still listening intently.

“Everything we’re known for: drugs, fights, racing… I never intended to get into all that. I try to be careful, and moral, about it, we all do. But I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”

“Do you think you’ll stay in a gang forever?”

By now you were both talking in hushed tones as if you were huddled under blankets.

“No, I don’t think so,” he pondered, “I’m not sure what I want to be, though.”

“How about your art?” you smiled, “or fashion. Those books you got me were really interesting. Or your music? You’re a good singer-“

Cutting yourself off, your eyes widened. Taehyung had been nodding along, considering your options, but now he stared straight back at you.

“You heard me singing?”

“U-uh, yeah, I did,” you stammered, heat glowing in your cheeks, “I was half asleep, but I thought you were so good.”

“Thanks,” Tae’s voice was lower in pitch now, and he swallowed and looked down, his dark hair obscuring most of his face so he almost melted into the darkness. He cleared his throat, “I’ve never sung to anyone else before.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly sing to me,” you spoke softly, reaching a hand to his knee, “but it was amazing anyway. I mean it.”

You were glad to see a genuine smile blooming on his face as he looked back up again.

“Anyway,” he shook his head, “I’m not gonna leave the boys. Even when I’m not in a gang, they’ll always be my family. I’m not letting that go.”

“I understand.”

You really did. Your only family was across the city, torn from you and forced to work for Shinhyuk.

Hesitantly, you drew your hand back from his knee.

Draining the last dregs of his cold tea, Taehyung let the silence settle.

“I miss college,” you eventually confess into the quiet room, “I hope I get to go back.”

“Even Professor Han’s class?” Tae’s low voice joked.

“Oh, I don’t think I miss it that much,” you smiled, though it was overtaken by a sigh.

“You’ll go back,” came the reassurance.

A pause.

“We… we’re hoping we can beat Shinhyuk in this whole thing. We’re sort of working on a plan.”

Instantly intrigued, you stared expectantly across the kitchen at Taehyung, who heaved a sigh and began to explain.

“Shinhyuk has his weaknesses, and thanks to Jungkook we’ve found the worst. He works differently to us. He doesn’t care for anyone in his gang, and they don’t care for each other. Like your dad, he keeps most of them there with blackmail, so we’ve been trying to pick people off. If we can infiltrate well enough, guarantee his members a safe escape from the gang, or find some blackmail of our own to get them, we should be able to weaken him and catch him off-guard when his safety net isn’t there to catch him anymore…”

“Is it going to work?” you breathed into the still air.

Taehyung pursed his lips. You were very conscious of your breathing as you waited for an answer. In. Out.

“It has to.”

I will love you forever if you reblog! Comment or message me to be added to the taglist!

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elnierah · 4 years ago

Text

Valentine’s Day Short

I decided to write a little Shukita short for Valentine's Day! I know I haven't released anything for a long time, so hopefully, this shows I'm still working! I've just been extremely busy lately, so apologies for that!

Please enjoy!

NSFW-ish!

____________________________________________________________

The sound of footsteps, chatter and busy hands filled the exhibition room as each and every prepared the gallery for view. With a clipboard in hand, Yusuke instructed his employees on their tasks, ensuring his perfect vision was met. While it wasn’t his first attempt at an art exhibition, it was the first he organised on his own, without the help of managers or the restrictions they imposed. All of this, from the stress of directing others to the burden of advertisement, was the fruition of his dreams, even if it, unfortunately, landed on another day of importance.

“Yes, please place that over there,” He gently ordered, gesturing his hand to guide. “Oh, that? Just over there is fine.”

Various voices sought his guidance, wishing to complete their tasks with the utmost efficiency. Yet, one was unalike the others,

“Kitagawa-san, it seems you have a guest.”

“A gust? If the wind is a problem then please curtain the-” His words tapered off, slowly realising what his assistant meant as his eyes shifted towards her. “A guest…? Why would someone come here now? The exhibition isn’t finished nor is it the proper date.”

“I-I’m not quite sure. He just requested to see you.”

“He…?” At the consideration of whom it may be, Yusuke released a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Let him in.”

The assistant gave a quick nod and scurried towards the main door, beckoning and permitting their ‘guest’ within. With a bouquet of flowers far too large, Akira, his lover, stepped inside and approached the moment their eyes met.

Abashed by his sudden appearance, Yusuke sought a minute of respite. “Please, excuse me for one moment.” He then quickened his pace, meeting his partner halfway. “W-What are you doing here…?”

As usual, his words were met by a warm smile.

“I apologise for dropping in so suddenly, I just wanted to see you.” As if he realised, Akira perked up and offered the bouquet. “Oh, and to give you these.”

Inspecting the flowers, Yusuke sensed they were a custom request as the colours and breeds harmonised in a way he preferred and often painted. For his partner to be so attentive, even on a day they couldn’t celebrate in its entirety, touched his heart and warmed his cheeks. However, despite his adoration, he had an image to maintain and a job to resume.

“Akira… I am working.”

“I know, but does that really mean you cannot accept my gifts of love?” With a curious tilt of his head, Akira revealed a heart-shaped box of chocolates in his other hand. “I also bought you some designer chocolates too, blended to your exact preference.”

“...” As a glimmer of warmth flickered within his eyes, Yusuke glanced around to witness some of his employees watching on, giggling amongst themselves.

“It seems there is a man out there capable of melting Kitagawa-san’s frozen heart.”

At the sound of their gossip, a smirk curled Akira’s lips, making it quite clear he intended to tease.

“...Come with me.”

Reaching outwards, Yusuke grabbed his partner’s wrist and dragged him towards a storage room. Once inside, he slammed the door shut.

“You truly love embarrassing me, don’t you?” He exhaled and averted his eyes as a faint blush enveloped his cheeks. “It’s a shame it works every time...”

“It’s not my fault you’re so cute when flustered.” Akira chuckled, emphasising his ulterior motive even more. “Plus, it’s not like I came here just for that. I did truly wish to see you.”

“...” Further abashed by his tender words, Yusuke chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I am...touched, however, we agreed to celebrate tomorrow due to my exhibition. Why couldn’t you have simply waited until then?”

Stepping closer, Akira narrowed his eyes in a seductive manner. “Because I really wanted to see you, Yusuke.”

“N-Ngh…”

A slight sound of discomposure slipped from Yusuke’s lips.

“Did you not want to see me too?”

Taken aback, Yusuke blinked in surprise and met his gaze. “O-Of course I did…!”

“Hm~ That makes me very happy.” Glancing around for a moment, Akira placed his gifts down upon a table and leaned even closer, causing Yusuke to press against the wall. “May I touch you…?”

Gulping down the temptation, Yusuke gave a meek nod. “...O-Only for a short while, okay? I must return to work, after all.”

“I’m not sure if I can accommodate that, but I can at least try~”

Despite the spoken warning, Yusuke didn’t think twice and pulled Akira into a kiss via his shirt, their warm lips desperate for the touch of one another. Soft fingertips caressed and explored, growing more adventurous as their hot tongues intertwined, rubbing together in a feverish desire.

Clothes rustled, unbuttoned and exposed skin to the cold air as their reason resigned, enticing them both to cross the line.

~~~~~~~~

The storage door creaked as Yusuke and Akira snuck out of it, an air of shame lingering around them.

“W-Well, I’ll let you get back to work now.” Akira gave an awkward grin and slid his foot backwards. “I’ll see you later tonight, right?”

“Y-Yes, later, not now.” Yusuke stammered, attempting to hold his partner’s gifts as he corrected his clothing. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”

Akira just chuckled and waved. He then headed towards the exit, blowing Yusuke a final kiss.

“...” Yusuke simply sighed, his cheeks still flustered, and sought his assistant. “Umi-san.”

At the sound of her name, she perked up and approached.

“Y-Yes, Kitagawa-san?”

“Could you please ensure these are kept in a safe place?” He asked whilst offering the bouquet and chocolates. “I won’t be able to carry them and work at the same time.”

“O-Oh, of course!” With an attentive nod, she carefully grabbed them, then allowed her gaze to roam. “I don’t mean to pry, but...you took quite some time in there. Did something perhaps happen?”

“W-What? No! Of course not!” Fumbling for an excuse, Yusuke brushed his hair aside. “He can...just talk a river to drought, and I didn’t wish to be rude.”

His assistant remained silent, prompting him to attempt eye contact, yet all he witnessed was her staring at a particular ‘bruise’ on his neck.

“Umi-san.”

“Ah! Y-Yes...?”

“Let us return to work. We have a schedule to maintain, after all.”

“R-Right… I’ll go find a spot for these.”

An awkward aura pervaded within the air as his assistant walked away, determined to find a safe location for his gifts.

With a prolonged, embarrassed sigh, Yusuke pulled his collar up and resumed the preparations of the exhibition, even if it meant warding off thoughts of forbidden acts for the rest of the day.

#shukita #persona 5 #p5 #valentine's day #yusuke kitagawa #akira kusuru #yusuke x akira

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livinglifebehindthemask · 3 years ago

Text

The Chosen

Based on the book The Selection by Kiera Cass

Pairing: Magnus/Alec with a small side of Helen/Aline and Reyhill

Rating: M for Mature

Word Count: ~24,000

Art: @flynnifox

Beta: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myblackeyedboy

Summary: In a land where your place in society was decided long before you are born, Alec Lightwood spends his day as a farm hand for a local family. His family is just above the poorest in the country. The most he can expect in life is to die early from stress like his grandfather before him.

But this year everything will change.

The only son of the King of Edom has come of age. There will soon be a lottery between the counties and twenty-three young women will be picked to try and win over the heart of the beloved prince. However, this year will be different, for the first time ever men are allowed to enter as well. Will Alec risk the shame of coming out for a chance to meet his childhood crush, that is if he is chosen.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33675712/chapters/83691226

The sun was just rising when Alec awoke. The Lightwood household was still quiet, but not for long. Soon the rooster would caw and the whole house would rise. Alec leaned back in his small bed. Across the tiny room was his brother, Max. The poor little boy had soot still on his nose from helping their dad clean the chimney of the main house.

A bird started cawing outside of their window and Max stirred. Time to get up and get ready for the day. There were three children in the Lightwood household. The Lightwood family were Sevens. They were just above the homeless untouchables and people didn’t hesitate to remind them of this fact.

The Kingdom of Edom had eight class levels. Ones were the royalty and magical mystics. The second level were the models, actors, soldiers, and politicians. The Threes held most of the everyday jobs like teachers, doctors, lawyers, writers, and inventors. Fours were the farmers, chefs, and business owners. Fives were the artists. Singers, musicians, and dancers filled this level. The Fives were on the cusp of poverty for more than half the year. Sixes and Sevens were similar in that they were mostly servants, wait staff, secretaries, housekeepers, factory workers; however Sevens worked outside. They were also similar in pay. While their jobs were needed they were barely paid for their work. Eights were the lowest class, made up of the homeless. Traitors and criminals were among their ranks and they had to beg for food or steal.

Alec’s family lived on the Herondale family farm. It was steady work, but not well paid. The five Lightwoods did most of the upkeep needed on the farm. While the Herondale’s ran the business side of the farm. The Heriondales were only Fours, three levels above the Lightwoods, but they never treated them as anything less than family. However, even the Herondale’s were not that rich.

Max rolled over in his small bed and resumed softly snoring. Shifting out of his bed and pulling on his threadbare socks Alec pushed his feet into the worn out shoes and quietly shuffled out to use the bathroom. Alec splashed water on his face afterwards to wake himself up more. He heard a rooster and knew that everyone else would be getting up soon too. Down the hall from the bathroom was his parents room and his sister’s room. Izzy had a room to herself, but it was not much. It had been a place for storage once upon a time, but when Izzy got older they took her bed and squeezed it in the small room. It was big enough for a small bed, side table, and a chest at the foot of the bed. Still it was her little sanctuary.

His mother was already up, fixing food. He leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek before pulling on his overcoat and heading outside. His first task of the morning was to milk the cows. Once he did that he had to make sure they were fed and comfortable. The chickens would be next.

The wind chilled him to the bone. Fall was not far off and winter would quickly follow. The crops would be harvested soon and the land left barren for the season. It had been a hard summer. The drought had lasted too long and their yield was not going to be as much as previous years. There was a possibility that the Herondales might have to let them go. This was the only home Alec had ever known and he didn’t want Max to grow up in this uncertainty.

The only way out of your level was marriage for women or being drafted into the military for men. At nineteen, men were randomly selected for the draft. For some it was a way out of poverty, but it also brought on more danger. Men that went to the front in the war with Diyu rarely came back. Still if he could get drafted and stay alive for at least a few months then the money he earned could help his family. One more year and he would be old enough for the draft. There was, however, an exception to the marriage rule.

Male pregnancy had always been the stuff of legends, but after the king's mystics found the proper mixture of spells and potions men were able to carry children to term just like women. While only Threes and up had enough money to pay for magical potions and spells, the lower levels didn't. Fours on down were more traditional. Men married women and had families.

"Hey." He turned to see Jace, the oldest Herondale son. Jace was about a year younger than Alec, all blond hair and muscles. The Lightwood and Herondale children had grown up together. There were five Herondale children: Jace, Sebastian, who was two years younger and a year younger than Izzy. Aaron was four years younger and the closest to Max's age. Then Layla and Dylan who were the only girls, twins of about five years old.

"Hey." Alec smiled back as his heart sped up. Alec was not like most men, he was in love with a man. Well two men. His place in society meant he could never have what he truly wanted.

"Need any help?" Jace was still rubbing his eyes.

"You can take that bucket back to my mom." Maryse, Alec's mother, and Izzy worked on the dairy side of the farm while at the same time Robert, Alec, and little Max did the tilling of earth. Jace nodded and walked, grabbing the full bucket and taking it back to the house. Alec sighed as he watched the man leave. He needed to snap out of this. Besides, Jace already had a girlfriend. So Alec being in love with his best friend was completely wrong. There were a handful of Twos and Threes but most of the province of Idris' residents were Fives on down.

The second man Alec was in love with was even more unattainable. Magnus Octavioasn Aemilius Bane was the crown prince of Edom, but Alec felt like he knew him after watching him grow up on the public access channel. He had copper skin, just like his mother, raven hair that was always perfectly coiffed, and honey gold eyes, like his father.

Alec sighed as he finished up with the second bucket. Why was he attracted to men that were so unattainable?

Later after the eggs had been collected and his mother had gotten the milk, he sat down for a simple meal of porridge and day-old bread.

"How is the harvest coming?" His mom asked his dad.

"Better than we had expected but nowhere near enough. Stephen said they will try to make a good profit on what they have but there will not be any left over." Robert sighed. The drought had really hit Idris hard. Fellow farmers didn't have any room for extra workers. The dairy would keep them going through the winter but Alec knew his father was already looking for other work.

“I can go into Alicante and see if anyone needs help.” Alec offered. His father had been looking too tired as of late.

“You are needed here, Alec.” His father sighed.

“After the last of the harvest. Maybe I can get enough work before the snow starts to fall.” His father would not say no to any work and Alec was the same way.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Izzy came into the boys’ room after dinner. Max was taking a bath so Alec was alone with his thoughts for a moment.

“Alec.” His sister walked over and sat beside him. “I just delivered some milk to the main house and I heard Mr. and Mrs. Herondale talking about the Prince. His birthday is soon.” Alec nodded as if trying to follow along but he was lost. Izzy sighed. “When a prince of Edom turns 20 he is deemed marriageable age.”

OH. It was time for the prince to find his spouse. Daughters of the King were usually married off to foreign leaders to secure bonds, but sons always married a daughter of Edom. Soon letters would be going out to every female between the ages of sixteen and twenty to be placed into a lottery and see which would become a part of the chosen few.

“Then you will be able to enter.” Alec said with a small smile. If a girl became a part of the chosen few her status was automatically upped to a Three if she was not a natural born Two or Three. Even if she went home the very next day she would still retain that level. Izzy deserved a better life than the one she lived.

“I was not finished,” She admonished. “They said that rumor has it that the Prince is bisexual and might be looking for women and men.” Alec’s head spun for a moment. The Prince was...how...no. It had to be a rumor. That was it, just a silly rumor.

“Ssso?” He hated how his voice slipped as he tried to sound confident.

“So, I will not be the only one that can fill out the form.” Alec shot up from his bed and stuffed his feet back into his worn out shoes.

“I forgot to check the hen house.” Alec nearly ran out of the door just to get away from her. No, absolutely no one knew of his feelings toward men and yet Izzy had pretty much spelled it out. Alec made his way over to the hen house knowing fully well he had locked the gate and nothing could get in or out.

If the Prince wanted a male spouse...it was not unheard of in the upper levels, however, as long as he could remember Princes married daughters of Edom, not sons of Edom. Tucking that thought away, back where it belonged, Alec walked around for a bit before he was sure Izzy would be in her room so he could sneak back in without encountering her knowing smile.

Alec wiped his brow before the sweat could fall into his eyes. It was nearly noon and the harvesting was almost done. His father was right, it was not going to be enough to make a decent profit. Alec had already decided he was going into town the next day to look for work. Neither his father nor little brother were looking particularly well lately. Max had always been a little sickly, but Alec feared it might be stress for his father. Roberts' own father had died around the same age from a heart attack. So had his father before him. Working all day outside in the heat and the cold for very little pay would be stressful for anyone. Alec was not going to let that be the fate of his father, not if he could help it.

Later after a small dinner the family traveled up to the main house to watch the weekly report. No one missed a report, ever. Even the homeless could find a store front to watch the report from. It told the people of Edom everything they needed to know from prices of produce, to the war. Tonight was going to be particularly special. This would be the night they would announce the Prince’s birthday and the Chosen guidelines.

When they got to the Herondales' they found that Dylan and Layla were already in Jace’s lap, each one occupying a leg of their favorite brother. Aaron and Max went to sit in a corner, probably going to play with cards or bottle caps. They didn’t much care for the report. A bunch of boring updates that never had anything to do with two lower class boys. It would be a few years before they started to take notice.

Izzy sat next to Sebastian, who was sitting next to Jace, and Alec took the floor in front of her. For the past year both mothers have been trying to push the kids together. Izzy could marry into a higher level and get out of the hard labor. Lower levels tended to marry early as premarital sex was punishamble by banishment or death. Most people married within their class and it was rare that a boy from a high caste would marry a level beneath him, not to mention three levels.

Jace already had a girlfriend, a little fiery red headed Five. Clary Fairchild lived in the middle of town, above a bookstore. Her past was a sordid one. Her mother used to be a Five, a painter in Alicante. A neighbor boy, who was a Four, had gone to a school far from Idris. One vacation he brought his new friend, a Two, to visit. Jocelyn fell for the charismatic Valentine Morgenstern.

They married and Jocelyn left Alicante for the capital. Unfortunately Valentine was caught in a plot to overthrow the king, along with his son, Jonathan. Jocelyn was innocent in the plot and in exchange for testifying against her husband she was able to go back to her hometown and became a Five once again. Clary was the younger child and only eight when all this happened so she went with her mother. The demotion from Two to Five must have been hard for Clary, who was used to such a grand lifestyle as the daughter of a politician. But she was a natural Five, being as good of an artist as her mom.

But if the weather didn’t get better both unions might have to wait. There might even be a possibility that Jace or Sebatien would be forced to marry a wealthier Four bride. Love was still the primary reason that most lower level couples married for, but in the upper levels connections took precedence over emotions.

“There he is!” Izzy cheered. She didn’t need to be so loud, but nonetheless Alec turned his head to the TV. King Asmodeus and Queen Annisa walked in, hand in hand with Magnus on his father’s other side. Magnus walked with grace and beauty. The raven haired man had his head held high. A streak of blue running through his perfectly quaffed hair. Being from the Bane family the Prince knew magic and knew how to change his appearance and he never missed an opportunity to make a statement.

Izzy squeezed her brother’s shoulder as Jace tried to calm the girls down. The report would start with the Edom national anthem, led by the royals themselves. Then advisers would stand one by one and give a brief update of issues around the kingdom. Only after that would the talk turn to the Chosen.

As the program went on Alec found his heart was beating faster. Why did it matter? Even if he did enter he would never be chosen and then he would bring shame to his family. He was expected to marry within his class, not above it, and to a woman.

Both families listened to the reports with the kids zoning in and out of listening. Max and Aaron were still playing in the corner, Dylan had settled down but her sister was still a ball of energy. Finally after the last governmental report, the one about the farms, the attention was turned to the master of ceremonies, Simon Lewis. His dark curly hair was perfectly styled and he held a microphone to match his magenta suit. Simon bowed before the King.

“Thank you, Sire. It is an honor to be a part of this historic choosing.” Alec felt his breath hitch for a moment. Historic, so it was true. The rumor was true. “Prince Magnus, might you join me down here.” The Prince stood from his chair and gracefully walked down the few steps and over to where Simon and a small table and two chairs waited.

“Thank you very much, Simon.” The Prince and the MC sat down.

“It is I that should be thanking you. Life is never boring around you.” Magnus chuckled.

“That is very true and soon it will be more chaotic.”

“Speaking of, how are you feeling about this year's choosing? Twenty-three young women chosen to come vie for the Prince's attention?” Simon wiggled his brows. “Must be quite a task.”

“It would be, but I have decided to take it a step farther.” Magnus turned to the camera and spoke straight to the people. “I am opening the Chosen to the sons of Edom, not just to the daughters.”

Those words buzzed in his ears loud enough that Alec didn’t hear anything else. Sons of Edom.

The news exploded through all twenty-three provinces of Edom. The local province registration offices were flooded with people, both male and female, all trying to get their chance at this lottery. In Alicante most of the men that signed up were Threes or Fours. No men from the lower levels were seen near the office. Even the Fours signing up were risking everything.

Robert had forbidden Izzy from signing up. “If he is that much of a deviant then we don’t need our family dragged into that.” Of course he had only said that within the confines of his small home with his family present. But that didn’t stop Alec from wanting it. He wanted to sign up and even made up his mind to walk the five miles to the office, twice, before he chicken out.

As the days went by Alec filled his time with finding new work to offset the cost of winter. He had found a few construction jobs along with cleaning up a couple abandoned plots of land. The money he brought home was well worth it. He had even started to forget about his own wishes until the night Max came down sick.

Max had never been that healthy, but most of the common remedies for colds kept the sickness at bay. He was not to work in the cold and rain, but being on a farm he often had to help his father and brother. The weather had started to turn cold when Max woke up one morning with a headache and he looked as white as a sheet.

Unfortunately they couldn’t send for a doctor, that was just too expensive. Even the Herondales didn’t have the money. Maryse sat by her son’s bed and tried to make him as comfortable as possible.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Izzy pulled Alec into her room and closed the door. “What do you want?” Izzy had been trying to get Alec alone all day, but there was work to be done. Finally after dinner she was able to corner him.

“Here.” She handed him a small white envelope. Alec looked at it and then back up to his sister. “Open it, you idiot.” She said, exasperated. Alec rolled his eyes and sat on her small bed to open up the envelope. The moment he read the first sentence of the form he knew what it was. It was the Chosen form.

“Izzy, no.”

“Alec, yes. This could be your only chance at real love.” That was if the Prince even chose him, which he probably would not. He would want some handsome Two or Three that knew poetry and how to model rather than when to plant the next crop or how to clean a chimney in under an hour.

“And what if it gets back to mom and dad? They can not afford the shame.”

“Alec.” Izzy took his hand in hers. Both of them worked hard but Izzy still had softer hands. “We are one step above the homeless. We live in this hell of a level because of our ancestors. That does not mean we should not want more. You don’t want to waste your life working outside on a farm, marrying someone you don’t love, and then possibly dying early from all the hard work?”

Alec looked back at the form. If the people of Alicante found out and refused to employ him...he could move to Brooklyn, thirty miles to the east, he reasoned. The city had more opportunities and maybe he could bring back a lot of money, but was this worth all that effort?

“Try, Alec. If you are picked then the family will get a stipend for your absence. That money could be used to heal Max. It could keep us in this house for another winter.” Izzy was right. If he was chosen his parents would get money and Alec would be elevated to a Three. Even if he was shown the door the first night he would have a different level that would allow him to be a teacher or a writer or anything else really.

“Ok, Iz. I will try.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

The next day before anyone had gotten up Alec rose from his temporary bed. Alec had given up his bed so his mother could sleep near Max in case he needed her. Alec took the worn out couch in the living room as his bed.

Going to the bathroom he combed his hair and washed his face. After everyone had gone to bed the night before Alec had looked over the form. It was said that pictures were taken when the person turned their form in. So much for it being a random lottery. Still Alec wanted to look his best. He had borrowed a shirt from Jace, not exactly telling him why he wanted it, but the light blue shirt looked newer than his brown or grey ones. It made his blue eyes pop and that was more than he could hope for.

Back out of the bathroom he stuffed his small satchel with his work shirt, the form, and some food before leaving a note for his parents. He was planning on finding work after he put the form in. It would give him an excuse as to why he had left so early. He would not turn any job down, no matter what it entailed.

It was early morning as he walked across the fields to the road that would lead him into Alicante proper. Alicante was a small town with a main street full of little shops and then homes surrounding it. The registration office opened at eight and he still had over two hours before that. He could take this walk at a leisurely pace. He didn’t want to be muddy or sweaty when he got to the office.

As he walked he tried to think what it would be like if he was chosen. There would never any be a chance with Jace. He didn’t favor men and only had eyes for Clary. Like Izzy said, this could be his only hope at a relationship with a man.

Slowly the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. People started to open their businesses as he passed main street. He would be back soon to see if anyone needed help. The business owners were always so nice to him and his family. Turning off main street he headed for the edge of town. The registration office was right across from the train station on the edge of town. He stopped by the station to see the price of a ticket to Brooklyn. If everything went south he would need a way out.

There was already a small line in front of the office. Two more days and the registration would be closed. It seemed he was not the only one that wanted to get their pictures taken early. There were a handful of girls with their mothers who looked like they were on their way to work. Probably Sixes going to work at local factories or maybe even bookkeepers.

The group looked at him for a moment as he stood behind the last woman in line. Even if he flushed with embarrassment he refused to turn around. He was here and he was going to put his form in.

Within twenty minutes of standing in line and a few more people joining the line the office opened. This gave Alec time to wipe his face of any dirt or sweat he had gathered from the trek. The wait was short before he was allowed in the building. The woman at the front desk looked him over before asking for his form. Most government office workers were Fours so he was pretty sure this woman looked down on him.

Taking out the form from his bag he handed it over. Where girls might have been able to put skills of cooking and sewing down Alec only had one skill, archey. He hadn’t even done it in years since Jace’s bow had broken in their early teens. Still it was better than any other skill he could think of.

“Alright, Alexander Lightwood?”

“Alec.”

“Alec. This way to the photo booth.” She motioned into a small room. Inside was a photographer and his assistant. Alec swallowed his embarrassment and walked inside.

“Come over, my son. Getting your picture taken for the choosing?” The man didn’t bat an eye at him. He must not be from Alicante.

“Yes sir.” Alec put his bag down on the floor near the door and walked over to where the man pointed to. Once he sat down the assistant made a few adjustments to the lighting before going behind the camera with the photographer.

“Alright, son. I want you to think of your happiest memory. Hold it close to your heart and smile. One.” Alec thought of a time when Jace, Izzy, and himself had played near a brook, acting like they were pirates that wanted to take over the world. “Two.” He remembered being chosen to be Jace’s first mate and how much pride he took in that job, mostly “swabbing the decks.” “Three.”

Alec smiled brightly as the flash went off. He hoped he looked as happy as he felt from the memory.

After Alec left the office he hid in an alleyway and changed his shirt. Stuffing the nicer shirt back in his bag he set off back down the street towards main street. That day he was able to scrape enough money together to save some for his train ticket plus a little more to bring home.

It had been two weeks since he put his form in. The lottery had closed and soon the Chosen would be picked. Even though he felt like he had changed, no one else seemed to notice. No one turned him away when he asked if there was any work he could do. That made him breathe a little easier.

So far he had brought in enough money that his parents could get medicine from the store to help little Max. He still was not better, but he hadn’t gotten worse. There was no way that in the next few months he could get enough money together so they could visit a doctor. If Max didn’t get better on his own there might only be four Lightwoods left.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Alec sat his pack down at the door and stretched his back and neck. Today had been a hard day. Only a few people needed help in the town. It was still another week until people started to winterize their homes. Both Robert and Alec had clients lined up starting the next Monday.

“Hey, Alec.” Izzy was in the kitchen stirring something over the stove.

“Please tell me you didn’t make that all on your own.” He ducked as a towel sailed towards him.

“It’s one of mom’s stews so no it will not poison you, but I might.” Izzy was not the greatest cook, mainly because their mom never let her help. Maryse wanted to be in control of everything in the kitchen but now with Max sick, she couldn’t.

Their father came in moments later. He looked paler than usual. The partiach had been working twice as hard the past couple weeks. They were both trying to make as much money as they could.

“Food will be ready soon, Papa.” Izzy said as she moved to cut up some bread. Alec went to the bathroom to wash up, followed by his father. They didn’t speak, both so tired, but they had to conserve their energy. The weekly report was coming on tonight. As Alec exited the bathroom it struck him tonight the twenty-three people were being picked. His heart beat a little faster as he walked himself back to the kitchen and sat down at the small table.

“Alec?” He looked up to see his sister placing the food in front of him. “You look spaced out. Please tell me you have not been working too much.” Alec shook his head and opened his mouth to answer but their mother walked in.

“Is the food ready? Max said he wanted to try it.” Their mother seemed to have aged several years in only a few days. Izzy dished out some of the stew, more liquid than solids. Their mother took it and turned back to the hall. Their parents passed each other sharing only a quick glance.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Robert, Izzy, and Alec were the only ones to make the trek up to the main house. Maryse refused to leave her child behind and Max was in no shape to walk up.

The Herondale household was more subdued than it had been a few weeks before when the Choosing announcement was made. Dylan and Layla still sat near their favorite brother but neither were very talkative. Aaron sat against the wall with his legs drawn up to his chest. Sebastian sat beside his brother with Izzy and Alec on his other side. Robert sat in a side chair while Mr. and Mrs. Herondale shared the other side chair.

The report started. The King and Queen walked out with Magnus beside them. His suit was made of deep green velvet with gold buttons. While he did look dashing Alec didn’t have much enthusiasm in him. They would announce the Chosen and Alec would not be one of them. No Seven had ever made it to the Choosing, not once in over two hundred years. They would not start now for a male.

The announcements were made but they barely listened. His father was staring into space either in deep thought or just too tired to focus. There was nothing particularly interesting about the announcement. Nothing they had not heard before. Finally Simon Lewis took the stage with an electric blue suit jacket.

“He has interesting style choices.” Izzy commented to no one in particular.

“And now the moment that I am sure everyone in Edom is waiting for. Prince Magnus, would you join me?” The Prince moved from his throne down to where Simon stood with a handful of cards. “Now, your majesty, I am told you did peek at a few of the pictures of applicants.”

“Yes. I was only allowed a few minutes to look through a few profiles, but everyone I saw looked stunning. I would be lucky to have any of them as my spouse.” Simon chuckled and pulled up his cards.

“Alright, then let’s get this started. In no particular order let’s see who the lucky twenty-three sons and daughters of Edom will be.” The first picture that came up was a blonde woman with a dazzling smile. “Camille Belcourt, Two.” Of course. “Merlion Knight, Two.” The next picture was a dark haired man with a slight smile.

The next few came so quickly. They were all beautiful people. Two more Twos and three Threes.

“Helen Blackthorn, Three.” Another blonde but her face was softer than the first blonde. “Lydia Brandwell, Two.” They had yet to give any below a Three. They might throw a Four or Five in there for good measure but that would probably be it.

“Andrew Underhill, Four.” A picture flashed of a joyous man with blond curls. Two more Threes and then their first Five “Maureen Brown, Five.” She looked more like a child than a woman, if she was sixteen it would be a miracle. More names rolled past but Alec had lost count. They had to be coming to an end soon. Izzy reached out to take his hand and he looked at her out of his peripheral vision. She was not looking at him but she was here for him.

Two more Fives, another Four, another Three, another two Fours, another two Fives. “And last but certainly not least.” Simon said before the last photo flashed up on screen. “Alexander Lightwood, Seven.”

Idris was a wash with activity. It had only been two days since the Chosen had been announced and the Lightwood family had had many visitors. They all wanted to congratulate a Chosen son of Edom. At first Alec’s family had been surprised. When his name came up on the television along with his glowing photo, Alec had froze up. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he could ever make it.

Izzy had jumped up from the couch yelling and dancing around. This seemed to lighten the twin’s moods and they got up to dance not knowing why. Alec felt all eyes on him but his eyes were still on the TV as the Prince thanked all the Chosen and wished them safe travels to the capital. Then the national anthem played again before going to snow.

After the TV was switched off there was no sound but the girls asking why they were celebrating.

“Home.” Was the only word their father said before standing up and leaving the room. Alec and Izzy followed close behind knowing an explosion was going to happen as soon as they made the walk down to their house. Maryse was in the kitchen when they came back, pushing her soup around. She was not all that hungry but needed to keep up her strength.

“Sit.” His father’s voice was clipped and both Lightwood siblings sat down at the table.

“What is wrong, dear?” Their mother asked.

“Alec entered the Chosen.”

“And won!” Izzy snuck in before her father glared at her.

“Alexander...” His mother started with sadness in her voice.

“You entered that lottery without a thought of what it could do to your family. We are nearly destitute, Alexander.”

“I know, Father..”

“No you do not! We will lose jobs! Everyone now knows you are a deviant. You will never be able to marry a good girl...” Alec slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

“I never wanted to marry a good girl! Father, I am gay. I have known for some time.” He knew since he was young when he developed his crush on Jace. “And I did think about the family. You will get a stipend for my absence. That will more than pay for the lodging over the winter and get a doctor out here to see Max.” Both of his parents sat stunned at their eldest son. “If I had not won then we would not have had to worry. No one at the Government office has said anything.”

As he ended his speech he felt himself slightly weaken and sat down. Izzy reached across the table to take his hand but he pulled them back into his lap.

“And how long do you think you can stay?” His father asked. “Once you are thrown out you will have nothing and neither will we!”

“I will be a Three.” Alec said. “I will be able to get a better job, one where I don’t break my back and die at 40.” This caused his father to pale. Most Lightwood men only make it to 40 or 50 if they were lucky. Life was just too hard. Finally his father sat down at the table with his family.

“The damage has been done. You have made your bed, Alec, now you must lie in it.”

It was the very next day that a few local workers stopped by to bring some food for the family. The next visitors were a few businessmen from town. They talked with Robert and offered him some work for a good price. They must have told a Doctor because the very next day Dr. Hodge, the local physician, showed up to examine Max. Finally something was getting done.

-=-=-=-=-=-

On the third day a Mr. Victor Aldertree knocked upon their door at two p.m. The dark skinned man looked out of place in the Lightwood home with his beautiful three piece suit and top hat, though the man didn’t exactly look like he wanted to be there to begin with.

“May I speak with Mr. Alexander Lightwood?” The family brought the man into the kitchen and sat around the small table. Izzy was pleased to be a part of all this. Alec felt sick.

“Now, Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, I have a few questions that need to be asked of you and of young Mr. Lightwood. Some of these questions are of a sensitive nature. I feel that it might be best if your daughter were not present.” Izzy gave an indignant sound and stormed off. Alec would fill her in later.

“Alright, Alexander, I need you to answer all these questions as truthfully as you can. If at any time we find out that you have lied you will be reprimanded and thrown out of the Choosing. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Alec nodded.

“First question, when was your last physical exam?” Alec blinked as he couldn’t remember.

“I do not remember.” They didn’t have money to go to the Doctor that often. Aldertree marked something down.

“Would you be willing to get one, paid for by the Crown.” He added.

“Yes.”

“Very good. Now sexual orientation.” Alec flushed bright red. “Would you consider yourself hetreosexual, bisexual, or homosexual?”

“Hhhomosexual.”

“Have you engaged in any sexual activity with a member of the opposite sex or the same sex?” Alec felt like his face was going to burn off from the heat of embarrassment.

“Nnno.”

“To which one?”

“Both.”

“Very good.” The man wrote something else down before moving on to less sensitive questions. By the time Aldertree was packing up Alec could feel a headache coming on.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, Alexander. Someone will be in touch with you shortly about the trip to the capital and a schedule for a physical examination.” The man exited the house and put his hat back on. “Good day to you all.”

It was a Thursday when he would finally leave his family and journey to the capital. Edom City was named after the country for which they resided in and was the main headquarters of the royal family and the military. From what Alec had read about when he was younger there were buildings so high up you couldn’t tell where they stopped and the sky began.

There was not much for him to pack. His family had used most of their money on a new outfit for him. The palace would be taking over his wardrobe once he got there and most of his clothes had more holes than a beehive. He was taking only his small satchel filled with a few trinkets.

Max had given him a wooden horse that Jace had carved for him one year. “It will keep you safe.” Izzy gave him a small book that she had purchased a few years back. Alec loved to read but he had neither the time nor the books to actually read. “When you have time between kissing the Prince and talking to high society you can sit somewhere and read.” His mother had given him a handkerchief that she had embroidered his name on. “I hope you will be happy, dear.” His father, however, didn’t give him any trivial trinket. He was not a man that was sentimental. Instead he gave a few words of advice. “While I do not like this, you are the first Seven to ever be picked. Head up and chin out. Show Edom that a Seven is not as lowly and weak as they think.”

The day before Jace and Alec had sat by the river and briefly talked. Saying goodbye to his best friend was not as hard as he thought it would be, but he knew once he got to the palace he would miss Jace terribly.

“I think it's really cool you went for what you wanted, Alec.” Alec looked over at his blonde friend.

“You don’t mind me being...”

“Nope,” Jace said, shaking his head. “I kind of always knew. I don’t know, like this feeling.” Alec found himself blushing and looking away from the other. “I mean, if I was like you, I wouldn’t mind having you for a partner.” That caused Alec to blush even deeper. They didn’t say much after that, just sitting by the river listening to the water.

When they got up to leave Jace reached in his pocket and pulled out a small bracelet of colored beads.

“I had Clary make this for you. I know it's not much...but I don’t want you to forget about me.” Alec felt tears in his eyes when he pulled Jace into a tight hug.

“I could never forget you.”

The car arrived to take him to the station. Once on the train it was a straight shot to the capital but they would be making a few stops. After Idris they would be traveling through the Undying Lands, the biggest farmland in all of Edom and the richest. First stop would be Winter Vale where they would pick up Helen Blackthorn. Alec had done very little research on most of the other Chosen but since the Undying Lands were so close he looked up the three people coming from there.

Helen’s family were from level Three, being mostly lawyers and educators. She was actually going to become a lawyer when she was chosen. Now that Alec had become part of the Chosen he had ascended to the rank of a Three. Maybe he would become a teacher or librarian. He did like books and to be surrounded by them would be wonderful.

Six and Sevens attended a mediocre public school. They learned only the basics and were done by the time they were sixteen so they could get out and start working. They didn’t need much more than that. If you worked in a factory or out in the sun why would you need to know complex chemical formulas or the history of Edom before it was called that. Alec smiled slightly, he would never have to work out in the sweltering heat ever again.

After Winter Vale would be Spring Dale, where they would pick up Meliorn Knight and Annabelle Powerton, both Twos. Meliorn’s father had been drafted into the military when he was nineteen, he was already a Two so his status wouldn’t change. Apparently Merliorn did not want to follow his father into the military and the man had never held a job in his life. Being at the high end of the age range maybe he was just hoping to become the spouse of the next king of Edom. Annabelle’s father was a politician and very trusted by the people in the Undying Lands. She was a pretty girl, petite with chin length brown hair, and a tiny waist. Any one of the other Chosen from this area would be better suited for life in the royal palace.

Alec had never been on a train so when he was shown where the car the Chosen would be riding he jumped as the train started to pull out. Sitting in one of the oversized chairs he looked out as the land whipped past. Soon he would be out of Idris. The farthest he had ever been from home. After the Undying Lands was the county of Adamant Citadel, where the military trained, then on to the capitol. The trip should take around four hours, at least that was what he had been told.

There had not been any big send off for Alec. Anyone who was anyone had already wished him good luck. He had said goodbye to his family at their home. The Herondales had come to see him off and Alec’s heart ached to hug Jace goodbye. His first crush. It all seemed so long ago. Now he was on a train headed for his future, whatever that would be.

-=-=-=-=-

At their first stop Helen Blackthorn was brought on. She was a tall, thin woman with blonde hair that was pulled back from her face, and blue-green eyes. She wore a black long jacket over a tan pantsuit and tall heels that made her much taller than Alec who stood at 6’1”. She was nice but a little aloof. They spoke for a little while before their second stop.

As they pulled into the Spring Dale station, Alec could see from the train all the fanfare that the next two Chosen were getting. A man with long brown hair, half tied up, was waving and carrying flowers. He had on an all white suit that Alec wondered how he kept clean. By the time the other Chosen had got on and came back to the car Meliorn had ditched the flowers. From what Alec could see now Meliorn was not wearing a shirt, just the suit jacket.

Annabelle was walking behind him looking a slight bit mift. Oh dear, drama and they had not even got to the capital yet. Annabelle came up to Helen’s midriff, she wore a short pink lace dress and black shoes. She had a small bag on her left arm that looked no bigger than an envelope.

Meliron sat across the aisle from Alec and Helen and took out a grey box and started pressing on it. Annabelle sat next to Helen, who was across from Alec. She didn’t even look his way. Helen had been nice, but no doubt Annabelle didn’t want to associate with anyone that used to be a Seven. Sighing he turned back to the window.

After Spring Dale was miles and miles of farmland and forest. Some later they entered the Adamant Citadel countryside. No more farmland, but flat, lush greenery around small bunches of trees. They sailed through only one town. It had been a couple hours and Alec was getting tired of looking at fast moving scenery when a voice came from the ceiling.

“We will be arriving in Edom within the hour.” A jolt of excitement went through the four Chosen. Annabelle was getting out a mirror and some makeup from her tiny purse. Helen also opened her satchel to take out a mirror to make sure her hair was still in place. Meliorn was sitting up and straightening his jacket before taking a cloth and wiping down his shiny white shoes. Alec just pushed some of his hair from his face, behind his ear. Why did he need to look good anyway? Prince Magnus’ eyes would overlook him for someone like Meliorn or Annabelle.

It was not much later when Annabelle squealed and pointed out the window. Turning in his seat Alec saw the great city of Edom. There were many greyish buildings all clustered together. The sun shone brightly on the buildings and windows. It looked beautiful but so different from the county of Idris. It glimmered in the distance like a beacon. They passed the treeline right before they entered the station. From what Alec could see there were no trees or plants of any kind. Just cement and steel.

The train started to slow down as they went through some sort of tunnel. Out of the window all he could see was concrete until the tunnel opened up. Beyond the train was a bustling station with people moving too and fro. Some sat on seats and looked at the same box that Meliorn had taken out. A wall hid his view of the other patrons. When it opened up again he saw that his area was not crowded. There were only a few men in uniform waiting.

The train slowed to a stop. As the Chosen exited the train for long black cars, Alec realised how lonely and far from home he was. “Head up and chin out. Show Edom that a Seven is not as lowly and weak as they think.” Alec took a break and closed his eyes. He might have been a Seven but he had been through more than anyone else in the Chosen. Opening his eyes he stepped into the black car, his blue eyes shining with determination.

Alec rode to the palace in the back of a long black car with the rest of the Chosen. Annabelle was going a mile a minute about everything around them. Meliorn was fixing his hair for the third time and Helen was just nodding along to whatever Annabelle was saying. Alec on the other hand was just holding his breath. His last boost of confidence had left him feeling better but he still knew he was out of his element. While Helen had been nice to him, neither Annabelle nor Meliorn had spoken one word to him.

Instead of focusing on that he looked out the window at the large grey building that seemed to be spurting out of the ground below them. What struck him as odd was that there was no greenery around. No plants, trees, or shrubs. This was unlike anything Alec had ever imagined.

“Why are there no plants?” He found himself wondering out loud, then felt utterly embarrassed.

“The soil here is unusable. The country before Edom didn’t care about their land and piled waste anywhere they could.” Helen explained in a soft voice. “Now the ground can not grow as much as one weed. The royal family has been trying to reverse the effects of the toxins, but the mystics have not found a way yet.” Ah, that made sense, although it didn’t sound familiar so that must have not been something they were taught in school. History of the earth would not be high on the list if your only duties were only following the directions of your superiors. Still, it saddened him. He had never lived without greenery in his life. Even with all the work he had to do there was never a day that he didn’t get out in nature.

The palace came into view between a row of buildings. It was like the city parted for them as the road led up to Edom’s royal palace.

As soon as they got out of the car three people, two women and one man stepped up to them.

“Good day, Chosen. My name is Iris, this is Victor and Jane. We are part of the public relations department here at the palace. Each one of you signed a contract to not disclose anything that might make the royal family look bad. We know this was not an easy adjustment for some of you, but now that you reside in the castle you will make the monarchy look good. As such we are here to remind you and wish you a pleasant stay. Just through the doors you will have the chief maid and she will direct you to your rooms.” With that Lanette was done talking to them and moved to the side.

Had he signed a contract? He didn’t remember, but he was pretty sure when he had signed his name back at his home that one day he had pretty much sold his soul.

They trudged up the stairs to the large double doors which were opened for them and a woman with dark brown hair tied up in a nice updo welcomed them.

“Hello, chosen few. My name is Imogen and I am the chief of the attendants. If there is anything you need don’t hesitate to ask. Now let me introduce you to your maids.” Each Chosen got a set of maids or butlers in Meliorn and Alec’s case.

“Miss Blackthorn, these are your maids. Lucy, Aline, and Donna.” Helen curtsied to her maids, which seemed to be flustered with her movements. They must have not been curstiesed to very much. Annebelle was next and then Alec. “Mr. Lightwood, these are your attendants, Will and Jem.” The two men bowed slightly to Alec. No one had ever bowed to him him, a worthless Seven. Well he was no longer a Seven, he was now a Three, but it would take a while to get used to it.

“May we take your things?” Jem asked, his arm already stretched out. All Alec had was the bag on his back.

“I can carry my things.” Alec said nervously. The men looked at each other as if they were trying to communicate with only their eyes. The rest of the Chosen had already started to move farther into the palace. “I only have this bag.” Three sets of eyes looked at the small bag.

“Alright, Mr. Lightwood, please follow us.” Will said, motioning for Alec to follow them. Will had coloring like Alec; dark hair and blue eyes. His face however was full of more color than Alec’s pale skin. Jem had the same type of looks as the prince. Thinner eyes but warm brown irises.

They went up one set of stairs and then another. At the top of the second set of stairs they made a left down a long hallway and then another left only to turn right and then left until they were in a little alcove with a single door. Alec couldn’t help thinking he was being shut away from the rest of the Chosen. He didn’t see Helen, Annabelle, or even Meliorn.

Jem was the first to the door and opened it. Inside was a room roughly four if not five times the size of his own home. It was like a dream. Walking into the room he took in the balcony and the large four poster bed. The canopy was a soft cream color tied back with little silk ties. The bed was decked out in all manor of pillows and lush fabrics.

“Does it suit you, Mr. Lightwood?” Alec blinked and looked back at his three attendants. Suddenly he felt very small. This had been a dream less than a week ago but now being here, inside the palace he felt...wrong. A Seven didn’t belong in a palace, even if he were to work there. He would just soil the place with his filth. “Mr. Lightwood?” Alec could barely hear the name past the panic and rush in his ears.

“I’m fine.” He felt everything but fine. “May I have a moment?” The three attendants looked at each other in that same wordless communication.

“Yes, Mr. Lightwood. We will be just outside the door if you need us.” Quickly the three men disappeared leaving Alec alone in the huge, unfamiliar room. Falling to his knees Alec buried his face in his hands and cried. It was the soft, barely there cry he had felt so many times in his life when he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t belong here and by the end of the day he would be the first sent home.

It was nearly six when his attendants came back to get him. They brought in a beautiful suit of silvery grey. In the time they had left Alec the young man had cried out all his emotions, leaving him feeling numb and drained. He had splashed cool water on his face from the bathroom and at least looked more put together than he felt. He didn’t even mind the men helping him dress in the beautiful garment.

Dinner was served promptly at seven thirty. That was a little later than they ate back at home, but when you worked all day outside with only a meager sandwich for sustenance you tended to be starving after work. Dinner would be the first chance any of the Chosen would meet the Prince. It would be informal, a quick smile and hello. The next day, however, would be the make or break day.

From what he had gleaned from a bit of research was that the Prince would be expected to cut at least five members of the Chosen within the first week. King Asmodeous had cut seven girls the first day. His father, the late King Modomus had cut about the same amount and the Prince's great-grandfather had cut the competition in half by the third day.

Alec expected to be one of the few to be cut early. He was nothing like Meliorn, sleek and graceful or like that Camille woman he had seen on tv. She had the air of a princess even from just the brief smile he had seen.

“Mr. Lightwood?” A Gentle voice broke through his thoughts. In the mirror he could see Jem looking back at him as he fixed his collar.

“Yes?”

“Be yourself. Do not let them scare you.” Alec wondered what he meant but Will was interrupting them to attach silver cufflinks.

“I will be back shortly with your shoes.”

“Do I look alright?” Alec found himself wondering aloud, looking into Will’s blue eyes.

“You look breathtaking, Sir. The Prince will surely notice you first.” Alec didn’t know if the man was just placating him or he really thought a Seven could stand up to a room full of the elite. He had to remember that even his attendants were above him. Working so close to the royal family and inside the palace meant they were Sixes, yet they treated him as if he was so far above them.

Will returned them with immaculately polished shoes so shiny Alec could see his own reflection in them. Once he was completely dressed Jem showed him down to the dining room. The room was already half full of Chosen contestants. Panic gripped at Alec’s heart as he took in the variety of dresses and suits.

“Breathe, Mr. Lightwood.” Jem told him with a smile. Another servant appeared to take him to his seat. Thankfully he was seated between Helen and another woman named Maria. Maria was a talkative girl. Within a few minutes he knew she was a Four, her father owned a leather making business near the capital, she had three younger sisters and no brothers. She liked to sing but that was just a secret between them and the rest of the table. She made Alec feel so much better. A couple more people joined their table as Maria chatted up a storm. A Three from the outer county of the kingdom named Jessica, another Four named Xander, a Two from the glittering capital aptly named Duchess and last was a familiar face from the broadcast, a Four named Andrew.

Andrew was the last to take his seat at their table. He wore a sleek navy suit and tie. He looked a little flustered and apologized for being late.

“My attendants could not decide what suit to put me in.” Maria started asking about his wardrobe up until the point where a servant loudly cleared his throat and announced the royal family. All of the Chosen stood as King Asmodous and Queen Annisa came in, arm in arm followed by the Prince.

The Prince glittered like diamonds in his nearly all white suit. A few girls at another table nearby nearly swooned and even Alec felt himself flush slightly. Once the royal family had made their way to the head table the Chosen were permitted to sit. The Prince was the only one that stayed standing.

“Thank you chosen few for making the long arduous trip to our fair capital.” The Prince started, thanking them for coming. “Tomorrow I will have a chance to thank each of you in person, but for now I wish you would enjoy the selection of foods from around the country. Eat and be happy, without a care in the world. Thank you again.” With that the Prince sat down and the food was brought in.

There was so much that Alec scarcely knew what to eat first. Many of the foods he had seen on TV or for sale in Aleconte’s marketplace, but he had never had the pleasure of tasting. Most of them he didn’t even know the name of. No day old bread, porridge, watery stew to be seen.

“Helen.” He asked in a quiet whisper as Helen put some sort of fluffy white food on a plate. “What is that?” Helen just gently smiled and passed him the serving bowl.

“Potatoes.” Potatoes? He had never seen such white and creamy potatoes in his life. Taking a spoonful then passed it to Maria who was talking to Xander about the many foods from her province. After most of the food was passed around, from which Alec had taken a little bit from each, he started to eat along with the rest of his table guests.

The food seemed to melt upon his tongue. The flavors exploded across his palate and at one point he even moaned aloud at the taste. He had never seen so much food and the variety was amazing. Potatoes so fluffy and white like little clouds. Meat so tender he didn’t have to cut it, it just fell apart.

“Oh yes, you are a Seven, are you not?” Jessica asked from across the table. “I supposed this is the first time you have ever seen such food.” It was a backhanded way of calling him poor, but it was true.

“Yes and I intend to enjoy it.” He was a Seven, but he had done more in his short existence than that woman would ever do in her whole life. She may have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but Alec had had to work for every scrap of food he got.

“Even in my family we try to eat more meagerly.” Helen said, taking a bite of meat from the end of her fork. “My family tries to give as much spare income as we can to charity. Some of these dishes I have never seen, but they are all delicious, wouldn’t you say Maria?” That pulled Maria into the conversation which effectively ended any tirade Jessica might have. The blonde girl smiled at him and Alec felt that amongst this sea of sharks he at least had one friend for now.

After dinner came dessert. Miles and miles of pastries and sweets, things that would make his brother’s mouth water and his sister jump for joy. Sugar was so expensive, so they rarely had anything sweet. Only on the new year would they get a small toffee that Alec was sure his parents saved up for all year. He couldn’t decide on what to eat first. Helen took a slice of some sort of cake. It was red in color with white icing.

“You must try this, Alec.” She said, gesturing to her slice. “Red Velvet is my favorite cake.”

“Does it really have velvet in it?” He asked, taking a small piece with his fork. She laughed.

“No, but it is so smooth and feels like velvet.” Alec took a bite and found it entirely too sweet for his liking. The flavor was good but the amount of sugar was too much.

“Is there something not so sweet?” She smiled back and then turned to look at the selection of food.

“Excuse me.” She said calm and sweetly to one of the servers. “Do any of these have less sugar in them?” The servant looked shocked that he was being addressed but then nodded. He grabbed a plate of three dark balls of something covered in brown powder and surrounded by raspberries.

“Dark chocolate truffles, Miss.” He gave her the plate which Helen then passed to Alec.

“Dark chocolate has less sugar added to it. It makes it a bit bitter, I have never liked it, but maybe you will.” Alec nodded in appreciation. He took his folk and cut one in half. It was soft and as easy to cut as butter. Taking one piece he placed it in his mouth. It was bitter but it still had a smoothness and not too much sugar.

After he swallowed, he nodded. “It’s good.” She smiled back.

“It is also one of Prince Magnus’ favorite dishes, I believe.” Alec found himself looking back at his plate with a blush. Chancing a glaze towards the head table he could see Magnus talking with his father and mother with a truffle on the end of his fork.

After dinner the Chosen were taken back to their rooms. At least one of their attendants was there outside of the dining hall to greet them. Alec and Helen were speaking about the foods they had never had before when they heard a scoff. Turning they both saw an extremely beautiful blonde woman in a red gown, but whatever beauty she held on the outside certainly did not match her inside.

“I thought it was a joke, but they were serious about letting a Seven inside the palace.” Alec found himself looking down, it was what he had been taught. “You aren’t even fit to shine my shoes. But I suppose that is why they put you over in the west wing. No one ever goes there. Come servant.” She swept up the stairs with a maid following swiftly on her tail.

“And that would be Camille.” Helen said. “She may have been the queen bitch back home but I am sure Magnus will see right through her.” Alec hoped she was right.

Back in his room Alec had to convince his attendants that he didn’t need their help getting dressed for bed. He could do all that himself.

“We are here to serve you, Mr. Lightwood.” Will said calmly.

“I don’t need servants!” He yelled so fed up with everything. “Look, you are Sixes and I am a Seven. We can do things on our own.”

“You are now a Three, Mr. Lightwood.” Jem spoke up.

“Please call me Alec!” He was just so tired and worn out from everything. “Please, just leave me.” The men nodded at him and left. Looking in the mirror of his vanity he saw the poor level Seven boy that tilled land and feld trees dressed up like something he was not. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in this suit. Jessica and Camille were right. He would be gone by tomorrow morning.

The longer he stared the quicker his breathing came. Standing up he took off his jacket, tearing the cufflinks from their spots on the jacket. He pulled at the tie and unbuttoned the shirt. He still couldn’t breathe. Running to the window he tried to open it but found it bolted shut. He needed air, he needed freedom.

Out the window he could see a vast garden. The soil might be toxic around the city but it seemed that the royal family had their very own piece of paradise. Gasping he turned from the window, ripped open the door and ran as fast as his feet could take him. He found the grand staircase and nearly jumped down all of the steps to get to the first floor. Looking around he saw that to the left of him was a large doorway open to the night air and to the garden.

Making a break for it he didn’t even hear the guards telling him he needed to go back to his room. All he saw was air and grass and trees bathed in moonlight. He did feel one of the guards grabbing him none too gently.

“Sir, you need to get back to your room.”

“No, I need….please!” He felt like the world was spinning.

“Sir!”

“Let him be.” Came a voice from beyond the doorway.

“But your Majesty.”

“I said let him be.” The guard let Alec go and he stumbled before running head long outside into the cool night air. There was a distant smell of exhaust that he had first caught at the train station, but for the most part it was clean, fresh air. He fell to the ground putting his hands in the earth, feeling the grass move as he shifted. His toes dug into the cool dirt. By him was a rose bush and farther out were rows of yellow flowers. He had stopped hyperventilating and panicking, breathing in the floral scents all around him.

“Do you feel better?” Alec whipped his head around at the voice. Not two feet away was the Crown Prince. He was no longer in his white suit but some sort of leisurely button up and grey slacks. Maybe to the Prince this would be dressing down but to a Seven it looked just as fancy as the suit had.

Dropping his eyes he nodded. “Yes, your Majesty.” Then the Prince did the most unbelievable thing. He sat in the grass next to Alec. The dark haired man felt his jaw drop. Did the Crown Prince of Edom just sit on grass next to a common Seven?

“You are Alexander, are you not?” Alec must have looked like a fish out of water before he pulled himself together and sat fully on the grass. This would probably stain his suit, crap, he had forgotten about that.

“Yes, your Majesty. Most people call me Alec.”

“I see. Well then, Alec, you may call me Magnus. At least while we are alone.” Alec felt a blush on his face as he looked away. It was dark and there was no other light besides the moon. The light from the door was too far away to illuminate anything.

“I couldn’t. You are the Prince.”

“And you are one of the Chosen. That makes you something special as well.” Alec was flushing again.

“Thank you for talking to the guards. I know I should not be out here.” Magnus waved that off.

“You needed to come out here. I saw your face and heard your voice. You were panicking.” Alec was ashamed that the Prince had seen him like that. He would surely be sent off in the morning. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.” Magnus said as if reading his mind. “It happens to many people. Even I have felt it.” Alec looked back at the prince.

“How...you always look so calm.”

“I am for the most part, but there are times I am overwhelmed and need a break.” That did not sound like the Prince Alec had seen on the television all his life. Magnus had looked like nothing would phaze him, even at seven when he was finally presented to the people.

“Well thank you. I did need this.” Being stuffed inside a building for most of the day and almost, well actually it had been too much.

“Tell me, Alexander, how are you feeling about being here in the capital?” Looking back up at Magnus he studied the man but he gave nothing away. What answer was he looking for?

“It is an honor to be here, your Maj-”

“Magnus.” The Prince cut in.

“You called me Alexander.” The Prince chuckled and nodded.

“I did, but your name is much too special and beautiful to be shortened to some mere nickname.” Again Magnus was making the dark haired younger man blush.

“Well, it is an honor. I never knew Edom was so vast.” He had seen a map of the kingdom at school but that had been years ago.

“And being in the castle?” Now that was a little harder to comment on. He was a minnow in a sea of bigger fish. What was even harder was that he didn’t have his family’s support here. “Is there...anything a miss?” Magnus sounded a little lost.

“No. It is just...so different to my home, that is all.” He remembered what Camille had said.

“Your Highness. It is time to come in.” A guard called from the doorway. It was getting late. Standing up Magnus reached out a hand to help Alec up. The instant their hands touched it was as if a shock went through their bodies that left them both looking down at their hands.

“Thank you for letting me come out here, Magnus.” Finally they pulled their hands apart.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this. I am not supposed to meet with the Chosen, formally, until tomorrow. Besides, I want this just to be between you and I.” Magnus stepped closer to him and Alec felt his heart beating fast.

“Your Highness!” Magnus actually growled at the guard’s insistence.

“Coming!”

Back in his room Alec stripped out of his soiled clothes and folded them neatly. He would have tried to get the stains out but he was not sure the beautiful suit could take the scrubbing needed to take the stains out. But, as he slipped into bed after a short shower the thought about his meeting with the Prince and a smile crossed his face. Even if he was sent home in the morning he would have the memory of meeting the Prince and touching his soft hand.

Jem was not happy with the stains but he would help Alec to keep his secret of sneaking out to the garden. However, Alec had not told him about meeting the Prince. That was solely a memory just for him.

After he had been woken up, early the next morning he was dressed in a day suit. It was not as fancy and intricate as the suit from the night before. It was a light grey with a light blue shirt and no tie. Will had explained to him as they dressed the young man that the royal family always dressed up for dinner. That sounded so unpleasant. What if you spilled food on your priceless clothes?

“Today the Prince will be cutting some of the Chosen.” Will said as he stepped back looking at the shirt. “Take off your jacket, please. Jem, get me the medium blue shirt with the subtle diamond print.” Alec quickly took off the jacket and unbuttoned the shirt.

“Does it not look good?” He asked. It was probably just that Alec looked horrible in the color. His mother had said that wearing blue would only draw attention to his eyes. A Seven was not to be seen nor heard from. They were just supposed to do their job.

“It does not make your eyes pop. On second thought, get the violet shirt.” He called out to Jem. “Purple will make your eyes pop. We have to make you stand out.” Stand out, meaning he had to catch the Prince’s attention. After the previous night he was sure that would not happen. Maybe Magnus would let him at least have breakfast before he sent him packing.

Giving the blue shirt to Jem, he took the purple one. It was a beautiful color. Buttoning it up he slipped the jacket back on.

“Yes, that is it.” Will said.

“You are so good at matching.” Jem complimented his friend.

“An artform that I have cultivated over years of working with the royal family.” The three men chuckled for a moment before helping Alec finish up.

The Chosen were gathered in a salon off the great hall. When Alec arrived there were only a couple of people. Two men and one woman. Each one looked beautiful in their day outfits. The woman, who had red hair, was wearing an emerald day dress. The sleeves were short and off the shoulder. Her hair was done in waves and curls that made it looked like a waterfall. Both of the men were in day suits. One was a cream color with a bright red shirt. This man had slightly longer hair. It was gathered loosely at the nape of his neck and curled slightly. The second man had a dark grey suit and blush pink shirt. The front of his dark hair was combed back into a high curl over the rest of his hair.

As the other Chosen started to appear Alec took in all their clothes. Each one was dressed better than the one that came before them. Alec felt very plain in his grey suit. His hair had not even been fixed like other men. It was allowed to go in its tousled state. The only part that was taimed was his darn cowlick.

“Alec!” Helen came walking over to him with a gentle smile on her face. Her blond hair was tied up with a few tendrils framing her face. Her light blue day dress looked wonderful on her slim figure. Annabelle was behind Helen in a long buttercup yellow dress. Her hair was down but curled.

“Helen, Annabelle. It is good to see you.” Not so much Annabelle but Helen was a welcome sight in this sea of strangers. "I like your hair." Helen smiled with a little flush.

"Aline did it. Isn't it pretty?" She turned around so Alec could see the back. Her hair was twisted in braids. There were little gems stuck in parts of her hair.

"Aline?" He didn't remember anyone by that name.

"One of her maids." Annabelle added.

“You look great, Alec. That purple makes your eyes stand out.” Helen said quickly to change the subject. At least Will would be happy.

“Thank you.” He flushed a bit. “I was not sure...everyone else looks so much grander.”

“Nonsense.” Helen brushed off. “You look just as handsome as the rest of the men. Right, Annabelle?” The blonde turned to her companion, who just nodded. Alec gave her a small smile. At least she didn’t tear him down.

“Move!” The three of them looked up to see Camille walking in. Her bright red dress was skin tight and backless. Apparently she didn’t get the memo that this was breakfast and not a ball.

“Ugh, you’re still here.” The woman turned up her nose at the sight of Alec. “At least your outfit is as boring as you. Better for me to stand out.” Helen was the one to step up this time.

“Yeah, because I heard Prince Magnus really loves stuck up bitches.” A hush went over the room. No one spoke or even breathed. But Helen was not backing down. She was not afraid of this spoiled child.

“Why you-”

“Breakfast is ready.” Rang out a servant’s voice, telling them it was time for them to move from the sitting room to the dining hall.

Breakfast was pretty much like the night before. The Chosen were seated around tables in front of the main table. The royal family would then enter, while the Chosen stood, and then bid the rest of them to sit. Next came the food. Even more wondrous than the night before.

There were fruits, tarts, breads, bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, anything anyone could want. Alec again tried a bit of everything. This was a far cry from his usual meal of porridge and maybe stale bread. If only he could pack up some of this food and send it to his family.

“Ladies and gentleman.” Once the meal was over Magnus stood up and spoke to the Chosen. “I have decided to kick off this Choosing with some one on one time. Each one of you will meet with me. I will be able to get a better sense of you. For now I would like Miss Hannah Whitman to stay. The rest of you please adjourn to the sitting room and wait for our meeting.”

A woman to the right of Alec's table, in a light green day dress, was the only one that continued to stay seated while the rest of the Chosen stood up and left the room. They were taken back to the sitting room where they had waited before. Most of the Chosen started to gossip about meeting the Prince, one on one. A few girls even giggled and squealed.

Alec on the other hand was not that excited. He was sure Magnus would tell him that he would be leaving within the hour. A strong man like the Prince didn’t need a spouse that had a panic attack over something as silly as not feeling the earth beneath their feet. Although, the idea of Magnus ending up with someone like Camille irked him. Said wolf in sheep’s clothing was sitting with a couple other girls as Camille told them loudly how she would win the Prince over.

As if.

Slowly the group of twenty-three men and women started to shrink as they were called to talk to the Prince. Annabelle and Helen had already been called when Alec was finally summoned. He had been talking to Andy, a Four from a county far from Idris, about the farming they were missing. Andy’s family might have been Fours but they were poor and could not afford extra help.

“Alexander Lightwood.” Both men turned their heads. By now only a few Chosen were left.

“Good luck.” Andy smiled at him and it felt genuine. Other than Helen, everyone else was out for blood. They wanted to be the spouse to the most powerful man in the land. Yet in the sea of man eating fish Alec had happened to find two good people.

Alec was taken to a side room just down from the sitting room. Inside was a small table and two chairs. Magnus beamed brightly when he saw Alec.

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Lightwood.” He said formally as he stood up. Alec nodded and sat in the seat across from him. When the servant finally left Magnus seemed to relax.

“How was the rest of your evening? No more panic attacks I presume?” Alec shook his head.

“No, your Majesty.”

“Magnus, remember?” Alec flushed and nodded. “I am glad to hear that, Alec. The last thing I would want is for you to feel overwhelmed and I was not there to help.”

“Thank you again...Magnus. It was very kind of you.”

“Any true man would have done it.” But they both knew that was a lie. While Alec might be a Three on paper he still had the stench of Seven on him. Magnus was a good man and he would be a great King. A kind King that loved all his subjects. “We talked about what you like here at the castle, but what of your family? Do you miss them?”

“Yes.” He said at once. Alec missed playing with Max on the rare breaks from work. He missed gossiping with Izzy and imagining a life away from all the hard work. He missed the warmth of his mother’s hugs and the gruff voice of his father as complained about the crops. He also missed Jace… He loved the man with all his heart but being here made that love seem different somehow.

“They must be a wonderful bunch.” Alec blinked as he was pulled from his thoughts.

“What?”

“The emotions that went through your eyes. You miss them very much. Please tell me about them.” It seemed that was all Alec needed as he started to describe his family.

He spent the most time talking about his sister and brother. Just talking about them made him feel home sick. He missed them a lot. While he missed his parents too he missed his partners in crime more.

“I wish I could share the food I have enjoyed with my family. It might even help Max. My little brother is always getting sick. I hope the money being sent to him means that he could go to a Doctor for once.”

“What do you mean ‘for once’?” Magnus looked confused.

“Your- Magnus, I am Seven or I was. I have not been to the Doctor since I was a baby.” The only time he was seen was just after his birth. His parents had to save up the money for their first born. They wanted to know their child was healthy.

“You don’t have money for Doctors?”

“Or medicine.” Magnus looked floored. “You don’t know what Sevens go through, do you?”

“I didn’t know...is it like this everywhere?”

“Most Sixes and Sevens barely have enough money to live. Fives are not much better, but they do get more pay for their art.” The raven haired Prince was leaning back in his chair and looking hard at the table.

“My people can barely live yet I have never wanted for anything.” Silence filled the room. Alec felt bad at being the one that showed Magnus the truth.

“Magnus-” But he was interrupted with a hand held up. Finally Magnus looked back up at him.

“You are amazing, Alexander. I have only known you for less than a day but I am sure I would love to learn more.” Leaning forward the Prince took one of Alec’s hands. “Be my prince, my future husband.” Now it was Alec’s turn to look floored.

No. Magnus did not just say that. He did not just ask a Seven to marry him. No. Alec had used all his luck just getting here. There was no way Prince Magnus Bane wanted lowly Alec Lightwood.

“You must have others to see.” Alec pulled his hand back and stood up so quickly he nearly turned the table over.

“I don’t care about them. I only want to know you.” Magnus also stood up. Thankfully the door was right behind Alec. Turning he rushed to the door before Magnus’ voice stopped him. “I will wait for however long you need.” With that Alec opened the door and closed it behind him before rushing back to his room.

He was dreaming, he had to be.

It had been almost a week since Magnus had proposed. For the first couple days Magnus would try to win over the scared younger man, but every time Alec would change to the subject. It was a joke, it had to be. Soon Magnus would get tired and choose someone that would actually be a good spouse. They went from seeing each other everyday to once in a while.

At dinner after their first official meeting Helen had told him that Magnus had cut the group down to only fifteen people. Of course Camille and Meliorn were a part of that group. Either one of them would be a better Queen or Prince Consort than Alec.

The next day the smaller group started etiquette lessons. Thank whatever Gods there were out there that they were split into two groups. Males and females, each one having their own etiquette teacher. The seven men left were given their lessons by one of the King’s royal advisers, Lord Lorenzo Rey. The man was also one of the few mystics employed by the Kingdom.

The man was intolerable. Everytime Alec misstepped or made a faux pas the man was quick to correct him, loudly and somewhat cruelly. It was as if Alec was being singled out. Even Andy did just as bad a job as he did and yet the mystic kindly corrected him. To say the least Alec’s life was turning into a living hell.

Camille took every chance she could to tear Alec down. Most of the words he ignored until the bitch started to talk bad about his family.

“If only the Kingdom had a way to get rid of Sixes and Sevens. The Kingdom would be less polluted with worthless rabble.” Alec immediately stood up and walked out of the room. Later when Jem and Will found him Alec had been crying, his eyes red. They both helped him back to his room and got a cool cloth for his puffy eyes.

Soon things went from bad to worse. While the first couple days Magnus had little mini dates with Alec, usually to the garden or the library, he had been choosing others. Each time he was in the sitting room with the rest of the Chosen and one of the other men or women were Chosen he could feel himself die a little inside.

He tried to tell himself that Magnus was quickly realizing how bad of a choice Alec would be. He tried to hide it from everyone, which worked for the most part, but it seemed that Helen, Will, and Jem could read him too well. Helen tried to pull Alec into little card games she played with Annabelle, Andy, and a few others. She pulled Alec’s mind away from the Choosing and onto something fun. Once Alec went home, aside from Magnus, Helen would be one of the people he would actually miss.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Alec was wandering around the halls of the palace. It was raining outside and Magnus was on a date with one of the Chosen. He couldn’t escape to the one place he felt safe in this foreign land. Turning the corner he found Andy on the floor, knees nearly up to his chest and his hands in his hair. It almost looked like a panic attack but he was not breathing hard.

“Andy?” The curly haired man’s head went up and he was surprised to see someone had found him. “Are you alright?” The man sighs and nodded but then shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He said. Alec walked over and sat on the floor near him. “Do you ever feel...like you don’t belong here?” Andy asked. “I don’t know why I was kept here. I have nothing to give the Prince. Our dates feel...mechanical. Like he is just going through the motions.”

“I am sure it is not that bad.” Alec tried to comfort his friend. He was not as close to Andy as he was with Helen, but he still understood the feeling of not knowing why he was still here.

“Yet I don’t want to go home.” He said under his breath, which Alec could barely hear. “I don’t understand why you haven’t been on more dates with him. All he talks about is you.” Alec felt himself turning red.

“I think you misheard.” Andy chuckled.

“I didn’t, Alec. The Prince holds you in high regard. I don’t mind, like I said, I don’t feel anything between us.” Alec’s head was spinning, Magnus talked about him on his dates with other Chosen?

“What does he...say?”

“He talks about how kind and caring you are. About how much you care for your family. He also talks a great deal about changing...” Andy looked around to make sure no one was near before leaning in. “About changing the level system.” A couple times Magnus had talked to him over the past week he had said something about the levels and how he hated it. Magnus must have done more research on the caste system in Edom. He was a smart man, it was only a matter of time before he learned the truth.

“It would be nice...but I don’t think it would happen. Some people would not be happy.” Mainly the Twos and some of the Threes, the upper class.

“It would be...I always dreamed of working for the people. Being a politician of some kind...” Andy shrugged. “I’m a Three now so I suppose I could teach.” That has been Alec’s plan too.

“To be honest, I never had a dream of what I would be. I knew I would work in the fields like my dad and granddad. Now I have a chance to think about it and I still don’t know.”

“We have all the time in the world, Alec. We can now have further education if we wish. We will find our place in this world. Me as a teacher and you as the future Prince Consort.” Alec flushed and tried to back track and talk his way out of here only for Andy to laugh at him and get up.

“Thank you, Alec. Just for being here and listening to me. There are not many people I can vent to.”

“My pleasure, Andy.” Alec got up with the help of the other man. “Now let’s find something to do before we both die of boredom.” Both men laughed and headed off to the sitting room to see if there was a card game already going on.

It was the day before the national broadcast when Magnus finally called upon Alec. They would have a picnic the next afternoon. The rest of the day Alec spent his time with Will trying to pick out the perfect outfit that was not too casual but not something he would regret getting stains on.

“Personally, Mr. Alec, I believe the cream shirt and the tan trousers are the way to go.” It had taken Alec nearly a week to get Jem and Will to call him Alec, although they both still preferred to use “Mr.” along with his given name.

“What about grass stains?” Alec worried about making even one little stain on his new clothes. They were so nice and expensive. It felt wrong to treat them with such disrespect.

“I am sure the Prince will have a blanket for the two of you. You should not worry, besides Jem knows how to get stains out of clothes.” The dark haired servant looked over to his friend.

“I do, but I prefer not to scrub too hard. Though, I agree with Will. The cream shirt and tan trousers are the best.”

That was how Alec found himself the next afternoon. Will had rolled the sleeves up on the shirt and left the first two buttons open. Alec was thankful his chest hair was thin and sparse or it might show with how low the shirt was. Well it was low for Alec.

“Alexander.” Alec turned to see Magnus walking toward him. The man was breathtaking in his simple outfit. He had on light grey trousers, khaki shoes and a muted dark teal shirt. It was all tailored specifically to him, as if painted on his body.

“Your Highness.” Alec bowed slightly.

“Come, I want to show you something.” Magnus held his arm out for Alec. The dark haired man flushed, but took the arm. They walked out into the warm sunny day. “I want to show you the maze. My great grandmother had it installed to honor the gardens of her youth.”

“Maze? As in...we could get lost?” Magnus chuckled.

“I could get to the center and out of the maze blindfolded. I have been playing in this garden since I was a child. Do not worry, you will soon know your way around the garden.” Magnus took them into the maze. After a few twists and turns a bit of backtracking they found themselves in the middle of the maze. There was a water fountain with a marble mermaid atop a marble shell.

“Beautiful.” In front of the fountain was a checkered blanket and a picnic basket. “Magnus...this is too much.” Magnus shook his head.

“This is what you deserve. All this and more.” They sat down on the blanket and took off their shoes. In the basket were several little treats. Mini sandwiches, bite sized tarts, a variety of fruits and cheese, along with two bottles of something dark.

“Magnus, what is this?” Alec asked as he picked one up.

“Soda. It is a fizzy drink from the old Kingdom. My great uncle found a recipe and tinkered with it until he got it to his liking. It's rare because it takes so much effort.” A fizzy drink? What was a fizzy drink? Magnus took the bottle from Alec’s hand and a small metal object and popped off the mental top. It made a sound and bubbles rose to the surface. Giving it back to Alec he warned that the bubbles might feel like they burned the first time he tried it.

They did. The first sip felt hot but it was not painful, just strange.

“Thank you for sharing this with me.” Magnus smiled and picked up a fruit.

“You are welcome.” They continued to eat for a little bit longer before Magnus spoke again.

“I want to share a lot more with you, Alexander. Like my future.” Alec flushed and looked away.

“I am not right for...”

“Me? The Kingdom? No, you are perfect. You care about the people that no one else does. You have been through so much and yet you are not bitter. You do not hate me for what my family has done.”

“Magnus, your family has not done anything.”

“Maybe not this generation but back in time they made your family Sevens based on how much money you had. That was not right, Alec. This system is not right.” Magnus sat back. “I knew it was not right but I also didn’t know how to change it so I tried to block it out and worry about what I could control. Then you come here and open my eyes to people like you, my people. The people that I swore to look after, yet they toil to death with no one to turn to. A family should not have to choose between food and healing their child. It is unacceptable.” Magnus was not wrong. Life as a Seven was hard. Alec knew this. It took such a toll on his father that they might only have a few years left with the man before he joined his own father in the ground. Izzy deserved more, Max and his mother deserved more. They all deserved the right not to worry.

“I am a Seven. You should marry a Two or a Three.”

“The spoiled children of the elite? Then I would only perpetuate the cycle further. I do not want my child to think it is their right to lord their position over the people. The Bane family is here to serve the people, not the other way around.”

“I don’t know how to be royal.”

“Then I will help you. I will be by your side, along with Will and Jem.” Alec looked at him. He knew his servants by name? “They used to be my servants. When they were dolling out servants for the Chosen, I had Will and Jem assigned to you.” Moving closer he took Alec’s hand. “The Choosing is not as random as most think. Only about a third are random. Most are hand picked by their profiles. I was allowed to look at the profiles and choose two. Looking through the profiles I saw your bright smile. You looked so happy. You were my only choice. I wanted to get to know you from the moment I saw you. I had Will and Jem placed as your attendants because I trust them with my life.” Magnus ended his little speech with a kiss.

The press of lips against his made Alec relax into Magnus. It just seemed so impossible that someone like Prince Magnus wanted him just from a single picture. His class had meant nothing. A warm hand cupped the back of his head as Magnus opened his mouth. Alec was not sure what to do so he just followed Magnus’ lead. His first kiss was in the most special of places.

“Prince Magnus! Your Majesty!” The call from the guards caused the two to pull apart. They could not see anyone but that didn’t stop Alec from turning his usual shade of red.

“I never can have a moment's rest.” Magnus said with a sigh. His hand had slid from Alec’s head down to hand. “Yes!?” Magnus yelled back.

“Your father needs you.”

“Can it wait?”

“I am sorry, but it can not.” Magnus sighed again. “I finally get you all to myself and it is cut short.”

“It’s alright.” Alec brushed off.

“No, it is not.”

“Your Majesty?”

“I am coming!” This was the first time Alec had heard the Prince snap at anyone. “Apologies.” Magnus looked sheepish as he stood up. Putting his hand out he helped the other up. Pulling Alec close to him, Magnus kissed Alec once more. “Until tonight, Alexander.” With that Magnus navigated them back out of the maze.

They split at the grand staircase as Magnus traveled down a side hall that led to the King’s office. Alec stayed at the bottom of the stairs for a moment just looking off into the distance. For a moment he could see himself at Magnus’ side. He could see the man that Magnus would become. A smile crossed his face as he started up the stairs. He needed to talk to Will about his outfit for the broadcast that night. He wanted to stand out and shine, for once in his life he wanted to be the center of attention.

Unfortunately Alec had not been looking where he was going, and his mind was still focused on Magnus. His foot landed on the third from the top step when he felt a hand at his shoulder. Starting to look up, Alec noticed he was falling backwards. His arms circled in the air as he tried to right himself but it was too late. He felt his head hit one of the stairs before flipping backwards. When he finally stopped at the bottom of the stairs he looked up only to see something pink move too fast for his disoriented eyes to catch. Pain and sickness washed over him. Rolling to the side he threw up what little he had eaten before passing out.

Magnus walked as quickly he could without running. The day had been perfect with Alec. His sweet innocent boy had tasted as sweet as the tarts they had eaten. Magnus had wished they could have kissed for longer. Maybe he could have kissed other places to see what reaction they gave. Unfortunately his father had called for him.

There were problems brewing in one of the southern lands. Ever since her husband had died Lady Lilith had taken more control of Talto. The province might have been small but it was an important one. Not only did it have the biggest depostest of adamas, the metal needed for the Edom Military weapons, it was also the border between Edom and their enemy. If Diyu was able to capture Talto it would be disastrous, but Lilith didn’t seem to care much. The woman was leaving the mines barely guarded.

After the talk with his father they would send down a couple mystics to make sure the mines were protected by magic and if need be, remove Lilith from power. Once back in his room Magnus’ attendants started to dress him. They were not as good as Will and Jem, but he trusted them. The suit they had picked out for tonight was deep royal blue in color. The stark white shirt made his skin pop. He thought about Alec and smiled. After the broadcast he would get Alec alone to propose again.

Reaching into his side table he found the Bane family signet ring. Once this was placed on Alec’s finger he would be known as his intended fiance. By the end of the night, if Alec said yes, Magnus would be sending everyone else home.

There was a tap at the door. A servant peered in and told him it was nearly time. Thanking the man, Magnus straightened his suit coat before leaving.

He should have known something was wrong when he entered with his mother and father and he could not spot Alec with the other Chosen. What had happened? The broadcast had already started and the young man was nowhere to be seen. Magnus tried to keep his panic down as Simon, the master of ceremonies, asked him a few questions.

“You cut down the Chosen to only a chosen few, pardon the pun.” Simon chuckled. “But just between us,” His voice went lower but he still held the microphone close. “Is there anyone that stands out?” Magnus smiled slightly.

“There is, but I do not want to talk too much about them at this moment. I am still trying to win them over.” Simon chuckled again.

“You are the Prince, you could win over anyone in this kingdom.”

“Maybe, but this person is special.” Simon tried to get more out of him, but Magnus gave nothing away. The broadcast soon ended. Once the cameras were turned off the Chosen started to gossip but Magnus couldn’t hear anything as he went to his father.

“Alexander Lightwood was not among the Chosen tonight. What happened?”

His mother looked grim as he took his hand. “The boy fell down the stairs this afternoon. Your father didn’t want you to know until after the broadcast.” Magnus shot his father a seething look. The Kingdom always came first, even at the price of love. Turning from his parents Magnus strode out of the room.

Alec had been taken to the infirmary. He had been found not long after his tumble. He had been out for hours when Magnus finally came to see him. Jem and Will were by his side. The two men looked pale. They cared too much sometimes. That was why he had sent them to be attendants of Alec’s. They would help him in this strange world.

Magnus found the medic on duty and asked about Alec’s condition. “He has a suspected concussion, but we will not be able to make sure until he wakes up. His left wrist is sprained, but thankfully not broken. He must have landed on it as it was under him when he was found. He also has three bruised ribs.” Alec was very lucky. But how did Alec fall down the stairs? Not that it was impossible, it just didn’t sound right.

“When will he wake up?” The medic shrugged.

“We were hoping he would wake up within a couple hours. If he does not wake up even a little within the next 24 hours he might never.” Magnus grabbed onto the doorframe to keep himself up. No. He would not lose Alec so easily. Alec was a fighter.

“Thank you.” He said before slowly walking to Alec’s bed. Jem vacated the seat next to the bed for Magnus. “Thank you for staying with him.” The men nodded. Will looked as if he had been crying not too long ago. His eyes were slightly red.

“I don’t think he fell on his own.” Jem said, his voice low. Magnus looked up at the man. Their mothers had come from the same province so they had similar looks. Jem had sharp, angled eyes. Magnus’ were not as angled because of his father’s rounder eyes. They had met when they were still children. Instantly, Magnus had been drawn to the boy that he had called brother at times. Magnus never had any siblings so Jem was the closest thing he had to one. Unfortunately as they grew up Jem was put to work in the castle just like his parents before him. Yet Magnus never treated him any differently. Jem was still his little brother.

“I was thinking the same.” Magnus voiced. “He was happy when I left him.” Leaning over he took Alec’s hand in his. It was still warm even though it was limp.

“Alec is not well liked by all the Chosen. Some believe he should have never been chosen in the first place.”

“Then there was that altercation with Ms. Belcourt.” Will piped in. “I found him in his room crying once. He didn’t tell me why, but I am sure the woman was the cause.” Magnus nodded. It was all hearsay. They would have to wait until Alec woke up to know for sure. “Tell the medic I will be staying with him tonight.”

“But your majesty...Magnus,” Jem whispered his name. It had been beaten into him at a young age he could not call the man by his name. He was just a servant and Magnus was royalty. The Prince still hated that he could not do anything to have stopped that. “You have so much to do tomorrow.”

“They can all wait. I am not leaving him until he awakes. Let my father be furious, I don’t care.”

-=-=-=-=-

Elsewhere in the castle two other lovers were about to take a forbidden step.

Andy was placing down his journal when he heard a small knock on his door before it opened. The night had been a whirlwind. Alec had never shown up to the broadcast and the young man had seen the Prince’s eyes looking for someone that was not there. It was painfully obvious to Andy that the Prince and Alec were meant to be, if only Alec would just let himself accept it.

It was so late at night that Andy’s attendants had already gone to bed. It had taken a lot to get the men to leave him at night. He didn’t need someone at his every beck and call through the night. He could get a drink or use the bathroom without needing help. It was ridiculous, but he also had another reason for shooing the men away.

In the mirror of his vanity he could clearly see Lorenzo as he closed and locked the door behind him. The blonde’s breath sped up. Lorenzo always had this effect on him, even when they first met. “Lord Rey, what do I owe the pleasure of your company so late at night?” A smile spread out across Lorenzo’s face.

“Must I spell it out for you?” He snapped his fingers and the lights lowered. It hid the blush that crawled over the blonde’s fair skin. The man walked slowly up behind him. Andy turned his head slightly for the mystic to grace his neck with a gentle kiss. A shiver went down his spine.

If they were caught they would both be sentenced to life as eights for treason. For Lorenzo it might even be worse. He might lose his life, but neither of them cared at this moment. In all the craze of Prince Magnus trying to find his mate, two unlikely men had happened upon their own love story.

Gentle hands ran up Andy’s sides and under his sleep shirt after Andy stood up.

“Lorenzo.” He breathed out. They had touched before, it had been brief but the feeling had lingered for hours after the man had left Andy’s room.

“I love when you say my name like that. Like a prayer from the mouth of an angel.” Gentle lips touched his neck again.

“Someone had been spending too much time with his tomes.” The blonde finally turned around in the man’s grasp to plant a deep kiss on the lush lips of the mystic. All he wanted to do was be with Lorenzo, only Lorenzo.

“I speak only the truth.” The older man said with another snap of his fingers. This left them both naked, bodies intertwined. Andy moaned and tried to kiss him again but the other man twisted them around and pushed him back on the bed. “Are you sure, Andrew? After...there is no going back.” Andy nodded. He knew what he meant and he didn’t care.

“I know Magnus loves Alec but Alec does not know if he wants to be Prince Consort. I will not be Chosen. When I go back home after this I want to at least have the memory of this night.” There would be no way that Lorenzo could ask for Andy’s hand. Mystics were not supposed to marry outside of their station, it kept the pool of magic from growing into the general population. Only mystics and the royal family could have magical powers. Even if they never planned to have children it was still forbidden.

“Then you shall have anything you want.” Leaning down they pressed their bodies together again, kissing and touching.

“Please don’t tease.” Andy whispered against his lips. He was already too wound up. He needed Lorenzo to do something. Suddenly slick fingers were gently pressing against his hole. How the man did magic was one of the things Andy liked about him. Magic amazed him, but Lorenzo enraptured him.

He whimpered against the other’s lips as fingers pushed into him. “Lor...enzo...” He whispered.

“Slowly, my love. I will not hurt you in my haste.” Leaning up Lorenzo got on his knees between the other’s legs as his slick fingers kept thrusting gently into him. “In all my years...I have never seen something more beautiful.” Andy slapped his arm with a giggle before it changed into a moan as the mystic pressed something inside him.

“If you don’t...get inside me now...I might come...” With a chuckle Lorenzo leaned down and nibbled at his ear.

“Go ahead, my angel. It will not be the last orgasm you experience tonight.” The press of his finger against the spot was too much for Andy. Lorenzo covered his mouth with his to smother the cries as he felt over the edge. Lorenzo was correct. It was not the last time he came that night.

It was the middle of the night when Alec finally woke up. His head ached and his vision was blurred. At first he just laid there and didn’t move. He could not remember what had happened. The bed did not feel familiar. It was soft but nothing like his bed at the palace. Then again it was not the cold hard mattress of his home. Finally as he woke up more he noticed there was something warm near his arm. Slowly turning his head he saw a dark figure slumped over in a chair near his bed. Blinking, he recognized that it was Magnus. The Prince was slumped in a chair, his hand next to Alec’s. His mind was slowly trying to process what was going on. Why was Magnus here when he had a nice bed in his own chambers?

Moving slightly was enough to wake the Prince up. His eyes looked around before they landed on Alec.

“Thank god. You finally woke up.” Reaching forward Magnus cupped Alec’ cheek. “I was so worried.”

“W-why are you here?” Alec’s voice was deep and thick as he tried to speak. How long had he been out?

“Where else would I be?” Magnus asked, confused.

“Your bed.” That made the Prince chuckle.

“A bed would be better, but while you are here, this is where I will be.” Magnus took Alec’s hand and pulled it up to lay a kiss on the knuckles. “I love you, Alexander. I think I have since that night in the garden.”

Alec flushed and looked away. “Why would you want to marry a Seven?”

“Because I would be marrying the one I love. I don’t care about your number or station in this world. I only care about you, about Alec Lightwood.” Alec turned his head back and smiled.

“I think...I think I love you too.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

After Alec had woken up and they had time to talk, Magnus fetched the medic. The medic looked over Alec and confirmed that he had probably had a concussion but he seemed to be doing well. His side and wrist still hurt so the medic suggested Alec stayed for one or two more nights. Medicine and bindings would help. Begrudgingly Alec agreed.

Even though Magnus wanted to stay with him he was called away shortly before breakfast. The Prince still had to make an appearance. He promised to return later and left his love with a kiss. This left Alec alone with his own mind. What had happened the night before? He remembered the wonderful picnic and the kiss they had shared, but the rest was foggy. The only thing he did know was he didn’t fall on his own volition.

Thankfully it was not much longer before Helen came to visit him and brought a treat from breakfast. He was not terribly hungry, but he thanked her nonetheless.

“The Prince told us you fell yesterday and are recuperating, but I don’t think you fell. I think you were pushed.” She said after asking how he was.

“I don’t remember. The medic tells me my memory of that event might never come back.” Alec rubbed his temple. It had been hurting ever since he started trying to remember.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to press you.” She said concerned.

“Don’t worry. My temple has been hurting since I woke up. Must be the leftover concussion.” He placed a hand over the other’s. “Please don’t worry about me. You need to focus on you. Didn’t you have a date with the Prince today?” Helen just looked at him in amazement. The boy was absolutely blind.

“The Prince will not be choosing me, I know this. He is just waiting on you.” Alec flushed a bright red.

“Mag- the Prince deserves...more.” He had to catch himself from not calling Magnus by his name.

“He deserves to be happy and so do you.” She said, squeezing his hand.

“What about you? You deserve happiness.” Sighing, she nodded. “Do you have someone at home?” Most chosen that might have had a romantic partner back home had broken it off with the chance to be crowned king.

“No. There is no one at home that holds my heart.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

~*Earlier that morning*~

Helen sat in her seat at the vanity that seemed to be in every Chosen’s room. Her maid, Aline stood behind her braiding her hair. Breakfast was soon and Helen needed to hurry, but she didn’t want to. It was only in moments like this that she truly felt happy. Helen had grown up in a very forward thinking family, but even they would not approved of their daughter favoring the fairer sex. Thankfully Helen found herself attracted to both genders.

However everything had changed when she came to the palace. She had been given three maids, like the other female Chosen, while the male Chosen were only given two attendants. Among her maids was Aline. She was a pretty and spunky girl of only seventeen. That made her two years younger than Helen and closer to her brother Mark’s age.

“Your hair is so pretty and light.” Aline had commented the first time she brushed Helen’s hair.

“It becomes very frizzy if I don’t put product in it.”

“Better than my thick, dense hair.” Aline had beautiful hair. It was long and jet black, but like all the maids she kept it tied up in a bun under a small hat.

“Is there something wrong, Helen?” The darker haired woman’s voice broke through Helen’s thoughts.

“No...why do you ask?”

“You look a bit sad.” Her time in the Chosen was coming to a close. She knew that. It was only a matter of time before Alec said yes to Magnus. Then Helen would have to leave. She did hope Alec was alright. He had not shown up to the broadcast the night before and that worried her.

“I do not wish to leave you.” Helen said, looking at Aline’s dark eyes in the mirror. They had become friends so fast that when they started to fall for each other they didn’t even notice until that one kiss. The kiss they had shared two days ago. The kiss that changed everything. It might have been easier to leave a friend but to leave a love? But even if magic could help men conceive it would not help two women.

“You will not leave for long. Mr. Lightwood cares for you. I am sure he would have you visit often.” It was a weak excuse but Aline was used to disappointments in her life. Her father had left her and her mother when Aline was just a child to run off with some other woman. Her mother tried to support them as well as she could but in the end it was too much for her. Even as sickness took hold of her, Jia Penhallow was still able to find work for her daughter in the palace before her passing. It was a prestigious job indeed, one that any Six would kill to have. Now Aline had found someone that she cared for as much as she had her beloved mother.

“I wish I was not a part of the Chosen.” Helen said, grief in her voice. Then she would not have to make such a choice to leave. Moving around the chair, Aline knelt beside Helen.

“If you had not I would never have met you. That would have been the greatest tragedy.” She took the other’s hands in hers. “My mother once said that people come into our lives for a reason. We might not know why or for how long, but we are better for having them with us.”

“Aline, you are too wonderful for the life you have.” The dark haired woman shrugged.

“I am content where I am and I intend to enjoy what time we have left together.” Leaning up, Aline pressed a quick kiss to Helen’s lips. “Now let me finish with your hair. You can not go to breakfast with a braid half done.” They both chuckled before hugging each other.

“You mean the world to me, Aline.”

Alec was finally allowed to go back to his room two days after his accident. His ribs were doing fine and his wrist barely ached, as long as he didn't move it too fast. All in all he was feeling much better. It didn’t hurt that Magnus had visited him quite a few times. Alec knew he should not be feeling this way, Magnus needed someone that was Prince Consort material, but he could not deny that he had been imagining their life together.

Once back in his room, Jem and Will were very attentive. They had Alec stay in bed and not move, even though it was his wrist that got sprained, not his legs. Still Alec did as was asked of him. He let the two cater to him. It was nice to have been missed. Most people of higher class levels would not have cared if the ‘help’ missed them. But Alec was different. Will and Jem were different. Alec could see why Magnus trusted them so.

Towards the evening there was a knock on the door. It was just after dinner and Alec had eaten in his room. Tomorrow he would go back out and meet the rest of the Chosen again. He was scared of what might happen but he was going to hold his head up high. Whoever had caused this was not going to get the satisfaction of keeping him down. Will opened the door to find Magnus there, a small white box in hand.

"Will, it is good to see you again. You too, Jem." Magnus smiled as he walked in.

"It is nice to see you again, Sire. Under better circumstances this time." Magnus nodded to that. Smiling, he turned to Alec who was laying in his bed with a couple books around him.

"How are you, Alexander? I see Will and Jem have made you stay in bed so they could make sure you didn't get hurt again."

"I let them." Alec said, but they all knew the truth.

"I wonder if I might have a little bit of your time. Would you mind, Will? Jem?" Neither man said anything to the contrary. The attendants knew what might happen but they also knew that in the end Alec would become the Prince Consort. They were made for each other.

Quickly the attendants bid them both good night before leaving.

“What is in that box?” Alec asked, finding himself eager to see.

“Chocolate truffles. A little bird told me you fancied my favorite sweet treat.” Magnus came over to the bed and sat down before handing over the box. There were four dark brown powder covered balls of chocolate.

“I was not used to eating something so sweet. This was the right amount of sweet for me.” Magnus brushed his hand through Alec’s hair.

“Was sugar something else you never had?”

“Not never, but usually baked into something or used in jam.” Alec took one of the small balls and bit into it. The powdered chocolate landed on his bedding and he got scared. “I didn’t mean to.” Uncultured.

“Do not worry, my dear.” Magnus plucked one up and popped it whole into his mouth. “It can be cleaned.” Alec ate the rest of the truffle. Suddenly Magnus’ face changed. He looked...serious? Maybe even a bit...determined? Leaning in Magnus wiped a bit of chocolate from the side of Alec’s mouth. Then his lips descended upon Alec’s.

It was similar but also different from the kiss before. It made his body tingle in all the right ways. Magnus had been his first kiss and he couldn’t imagine anyone else. He tried to chase the man’s lips when the Prince pulled back.

“I do not wish to injure you farther.” He whispered. Alec licked his lips, still tasting the chocolate that could have come from either of their lips.

“I like kissing you.” Alec admitted.

“Oh my dear, sweet Alexander. There is more I want to do to you than just kiss.” Alec found himself blushing down onto his neck. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out.” Magnus started to pull back from the other, but Alec grabbed his arm.

“I know we shouldn’t...but...I may never get this chance again.” Then the Prince laughed so hard that it made Alec jump.

“My dear, my love. I do not plan on spending the rest of my life with anyone but you.”

“Magnus-” The Prince placed his finger to Alec’s lips.

“I will be there every step of the way. Jem and Will can also be of help. Alexander, please, make me the happiest man that ever lived and marry me?” The darker haired man was silent for a long while. Could it just be that easy? Magnus deserved more, but even as he thought that he could not stand another person having Magnus. “I will wait for as long as I need to.”

“Jem was telling me earlier that you cut the Chosen down again. There are now just five.”

“Yes. It is unfair to them to get their hopes up. Not when my heart is not mine to give anymore. I know you are fond of Helen and Andy so I kept them around.” Alec smiled. At least he would be able to say goodbye to them.

“Who else?”

“Meliorn Knight and Camille Belcourt. They are the favorites of my father.” Something pink moved too fast for his disoriented eyes to catch Alec rubbed at his temple.

“Alexander, are you alright?”

“I am a horrible choice, but...” He stopped Magnus with his hand. “To be away from you might be a fate worse than death. You must promise me that you will always be with me. I need your strength and guidance.”

“Yes, always. I will be there for you, always.”

“And one more thing. If you choose...later on to take another to your heart-”

“There will never be another, Alexander. You will be the only one I need.” They both smiled before Magnus leaned back in for a kiss. “You didn’t answer me, darling.” Magnus whispered against his lips.

Alec laughed and then nodded. “Yes, Magnus. I will marry you.” Magnus smiled as he pressed a kiss to Alec’s lips.

It was supposed to be slow but neither of them could hold back their pasion. Not now, not after they had declared their love for each other. Magnus helped Alec back on the bed and pulled his covers back before climbing on top of him. Alec flushed and tried to look away, but Magnus cupped Alec’s face.

“I do not wish to go all the way. I do want to save that for your wedding night. However, there is something I have been dying to see.” One hand left Alec’s cheek and traveled down his neck and chest, catching on a nipple that made Alec gasp.

“What?” He finally asked as Magnus’ hand moved closer to the hem of his nightshirt.

“The look of pure pleasure.” Magnus' hand slipped between cloth and skin before wrapping around Alec’s nearly half hard cock. He gasped and arched only to wince. His ribs still hurt.

“I am sorry, my love.” Leaning down he kissed Alec as his hand started to move. This way he could keep Alec from arching up again. Alec was lost in the current of pleasure. He had never really touched himself before. He never had time living with his family. He had attempted once or twice when he bathed, but he felt too guilty to continue. What a fool he was.

“Magnus...” He breathed when Magnus pulled back to give them air. Reaching down he pushed Alec’s pants down slightly, enough to uncover his cock. Alec made the mistake of looking down and only groaned. The head was starting to leak and Magnus’ hand looked so good around him.

“That is the picture that has been playing in my dirty mind since I first met you.” Magnus kissed his cheek. “Even better than I thought.”

“Magnus...” Magnus pressed a thumb to the slit of the head. Alec’s eyes rolled back in his head, briefly.

“Let go, my love.” Magnus kissed along his neck as his hand started to move faster. Any chance Alec had at lasting a while longer flew out the window. The intense pleasure was too much.

"Magnus!" This time the Prince’s name was said like benediction instead of a plea. His vision whited out for a moment as his pleasure cascaded over his whole body. He felt it everywhere, even in his toes.

When Alec came back to himself a moment later he noticed Magnus was rubbing his lower half against Alec’s leg, his head in the crook of his neck, until he suddenly stopped and let out a quiet, strangled noise. At that moment he knew that Magnus had just reached his peak.

Hot, quick breath was the only sound he heard and felt against his neck for a moment. Then Magnus turned his head and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, my love. For sharing in the first of many firsts with me." Alec smiled.

"I can't wait for more."

Magnus stayed for a little while, cleaning them up before Alec finally fell asleep. He kissed Alec and got up out of bed. As much as he wanted to sleep beside the dark haired man, he had something else he needed to do. With a quick trip back to his room to change, Magnus was headed down stairs.

Magnus knocked on the door to his father’s study. While he had asked Alec to marry him, now three times, he still had not told his father. Asmodeus didn’t have the last say in his choice, but that didn’t mean that he would not try to influence it. The man loved his son but he also saw what the politicians wanted.

“Come in.” Magnus opened the door and walked in. It was late at night but his father, the King, was sitting at his desk reading over some royal doctrine. Magnus never understood how his father didn’t get a headache from all the reading. After two hours Magnus needed a break while his father could continue for an hour or so more.

“Father, I have made my choice.” Asmodeus looked up from his papers before sitting them down.

“Have you? That is very quick. You just culled them yesterday.” Magnus came over and sat in the chair directly in front of his father.

“I choose Alexander Lightwood.” He noticed the twitch of his father’s brown. The King did not approve.

“Why him? If you wish to marry a man then why not Mr. Meliorn Knight? His father was once a great general. There is also Ms. Camile Bellcourt.” She had been Asmodeus’ top pick because of her father. A top politician would influence a lot of people. As much as the Morgenstern betrayal still hurt, Asmodeus was practical. They needed more support.

“Why did you pick a mere painter?” Magnus countered. “One with a history of fertility problems?” Magnus’ own mother had been a wonderful painter, which she still did, but being one of only two Fives in the choosing meant she was the odd man out. Yet she survived until the last five girls. With her Choosing she became the next Queen of Edom, but her family history was not what the crown needed.

Asmodeus had been the only son of four children. Each one of his sisters had been married off to secure alliances, however, being the only son Asmodeus was expected to marry well and have an heir and maybe even a spare. Yet he married Annisa Sari who was an only child herself. Her mother had given birth to two stillborns before Annisa and then passed with the birth of her fourth and the child followed not long after.

Asomdeus sat back in his chair and gave a small chuckle. “Because I loved her. I didn’t care about her background, all I wanted was for her to be beside me for all our lives.”

“I only want what you wanted, father. I want the love of my life to be beside me.”

“Has he said yes?”

“Yes. He fears the life of a Prince Consort, but he does want to be with me. I just need to give him the ring”

“Then I give my permission. I always assumed you were more your mother’s child. You show her gentle and thoughtful nature, yet you take decisions head long. You weigh the options and take the one that speaks to you. You will be a great king someday, my son.”

“Thank you father, but there is one last thing I would like to speak with you about.”

A special TV broadcast was arranged for the next night. Magnus did not want to wait until the following Friday to put a ring on Alec’s finger. He wanted it now. However, he had to find the person that caused Alec’s fall first.

Who would want to kill a Chosen and in such a public area like the grand staircase. Someone should have seen it. The obvious answer was another Chosen. Now the question was, did they cause it themselves or pay someone? Magnus didn’t even pretend to know all the servants in the palace but he felt like he knew a good lot of them. Rumors flew around quickly among the servants so Magnus enlisted the help of Jem and Will.

It would take some time so Magnus went to see Alec and spend a little time with him.

“Your highness.” Magnus had not even noticed that he was not alone in the hall anymore. Ms. Camille Belcourt had just come out of a side room. She curtsied for him, a little deeper than need be but he was pretty sure the woman was trying to show off the plunge of her neck line. Camille was a beautiful woman, but she was not what Magnus wanted in a spouse.

She cared only for material things. On one of the few dates they had she had spent the entire time talking about the parties that she had at her home. How lavish they were and offering to show him around her city. While Magnus had grown up to be Prince his family was not as posh as it looked. Personal family meals were not taken in full dressed attire, that was only for show.

His father liked her because of her father. Reginald Belcourt was a well known politician in Little Paris, one of the largest cities on the east side of Edom.

“Hello, Ms. Belcourt.”

“Oh, you can call me, Camille.” She said walking closer to him. “We have not had a date in a while. I hope that is not an indication that you are bored with me.” The woman pouted, but it was just too much.

Will had said that Alec had an argument with Camille. Could she be the type of person to try and kill the competition? Maybe. He was about to find out. Putting out his arm for her the woman took it as they started to walk.

“I have called a special broadcast for this evening.” Magnus started as Camille looked startled.

“Why? I will not have enough time to get ready.” She actually looked worried.

“I intend to announce my engagement to one of the Chosen.” This caused Camille to nearly misstep. He wondered what was going through her mind right at that moment. She probably thought it was her.

“Then I need to pick out a dress.” She started to pull away but Magnus stopped her.

“Why?”

“Well if I will be on TV tonight I need to look my best.”

“Only my fiance will be on the stage with me.” She smiled, a sickening sweet smile reserved for a simple child that did not understand.

“Oh course, Prince Magnus, but my dress-”

“I will not be asking for your hand.” She stopped dead in her tracks.

“WHAT?!” The beautiful woman beside him let out a screech like he had never heard before. “Who would be a better queen than I?! We are made for each other!” Magnus finally pulled his arm away.

“No. No we are not.” Then out of nowhere the woman slapped him across the face, her long nails leaving redden marks on his cheek. Reaching up Magnus touched his cheek, but thankfully there was no blood.

“Ms. Belcourt, you hit the Prince. That was not a very bright idea.” His voice was calm and measured.

“I am supposed to be the Queen!” Then she must have thought better of herself. “I do not know what came over me. Apologies, your highness.” But the apology fell on deaf ears. “I just don’t want all my training to go to waste.”

“Training that did nothing but make you an evil jealous creature that would dare to try and kill another Chosen and then strike the Prince of Edom. Guards!” Magnus yelled.

“Did that little stoot brush tell you I pushed him down the stairs? He wouldn’t know class if it came up and slapped him across his dirty face.” Magnus was seeing red. He knew the little terms that higher levels called the lower ones. His mother had talked about them. Fives were painted prints or song stealers, depending on the type of artist they were. Sixes were rags and Sevens were stoot brushes. Thankfully the guards appeared at that moment.

“Take Ms. Belcourt to her room so she can pack.”

“No! Magnus, please. We belong together!”

“My dear, unlike the man I want to marry, you belong in the cold palace you came from. Away with her.” The guards dragged Camille kicking and screaming from the hall. He was positive that she was the one that tried to kill Alec. Even if he couldn't prove it he at least got her out of the palace.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Alec stood behind the curtains. His stomach was in knots from the nerves. Any moment the curtains would be pulled back and he would be presented as the fiance to the future king. It was almost too much. His hands traveled down his blue suit as if trying to straighten any imaginary wrinkles. Something caught the light and he looked down at the ring on his finger. Not an hour ago Magnus had gotten down on one knee and asked Alec to be his Prince Consort.

Magnus looked a bit flustered when he came to Alec’s room. Will and Jem were finishing up on his suit for that night’s special broadcast. Alec turned to look at Magnus and noticed two red marks on his right cheek.

“Magnus, what happened?”

“Just getting rid of a nuisance.” Magnus waved off and then walked over to Alec. He placed a kiss on the man’s lips as the attendants quietly made their way out of the room to give them time. “I love you, Alexander Lightwood.” The Prince said as he pulled back from the kiss. Alec was so dizzy from the kiss that he barely followed. Then Magnus knelt on one knee.

“Oh my god.” Alec found himself breathing as the Prince pulled out a small box with the Bane family seal.

“At the end of each Choosing, the Prince in question would give the family signet ring to his chosen spouse in front of everyone.” Magnus started. “But you are a private person who does not want others to look upon him. So here, in your rooms I want to ask you, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, to be my Prince. Be the one that makes me strive to be a better person. Help me teach our future children that levels do not matter, what matters is what is found inside a person. Be the one I grow old with, be my everything.” Alec was crying by this time. He couldn’t even say yes through the tears but he did nod. That was all Magnus needed. He pushed the ring onto Alec’s finger before standing up and pulling him into another slow, passion filled kiss.

“Welcome honored guests to a special broadcast!” Simon Lewis’s voice broke through his thoughts and brought him back to the present. Just remembering how thoughtful Magnus was to make that moment just about them gave him enough strength to stand still. “Now, a little birdie told me, Prince Magnus, that you have a surprise for us.”

“Yes.” Magnus said, his voice calm and smooth. Alec smiled. “I do have a wonderful surprise. People of Edom, my people, I have come to the decision as to whom I will be marrying. It had been a fast and whirlwind romance, one for the books I am sure. The moment I met this person I fell for them. They were so raw and open with me and I couldn’t see a day without them in my life, but they needed some convincing.”

“You did say that before. Who is this wonderful person that has captured the heart of our marvelous Prince?” Simon asked. He was sure everyone was wanting to know, but as usual Magnus was building up the suspense.

“This person never expected to be picked for the Chosen in the first place. They never thought they could have what they wanted because of their level.” A hush went over the few people in the audience for the broadcast. They were mostly journalists that wanted the first taste of a story. “That is also something that I wish to talk to my people about. These levels, the ones that have kept all of you in place, will soon be ending.” Suddenly the journalists gasped and tried to ask questions before they were hushed. “That plan is in motion, but I am sure you are all wanting to know who I choose.”

The curtain opened and Alec stepped out. He didn’t look like a level Seven boy from a small town. There was no dirt under his nails or bruises from hard work. No, he looked like a Prince Consort and for the first time he felt like something special. Magnus stood from his seat and walked over to Alec as flashes of lights went off. Taking Alec’s hand he pressed a kiss to his hand.

“This is my chosen. Alexander Lightwood. Formerly a Seven and one of the best men I have had the pleasure to meet.” With that, the Prince of Edom leaned in to kiss his Prince.

And they lived happily ever after.

The End.

#shmb2021 #malec discord server #fanfic #malec #shadowhunters #royal au #au non magic #reyhill #heline

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the-kaedageist · 4 years ago

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2020 Creator Wrap: Favorite Works

Oops this has been sitting in my drafts for a few days...lol. Tagged by @mithrilwren and @ariadne-mouse! 😘

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I produced more in 2020 in terms of number-of-fic-wise than I did ever before (although NOT in terms of wordcount, haha). Let’s see what I’ve got here!

Also, warning: I wrote a LOT of romantic fjorclay/cadwulf before the Caduceus-is-aro reveal and I’m not going to shy away from linking it here, so if that is something upsetting to you, please do any skipping this post/avoiding those links that you need to in order to be kind to yourself.

1. no man is an island (but we sure are on one): my absolute favorite fic I wrote this year after a YEAR fanfic-writing drought. This was written during the hiatus and it’s absolutely whimsical and delightful and everything I wanted from fjorclay at the place where it was left. I still love this fic dearly, and it makes me sad that nobody reads it anymore, although I completely understand why. It will always have a special place in my heart!

2. the people bowed and prayed (to the neon god they made): this fic was written in an absolute fever dream after the Lucien reveal, and I LOVE everything about it even though a lot of it has been retconned now. This was everything I wanted from a Lucien arc summarized in 5k words, and it delights me that despite it being absolute gen (with HINTS of widomauk) and being completely AU at this point, it still gets kudos here and there. I’m so glad people are still interested in my interpretation of what could have been. Canon has even delivered on a few of the things I hypothesized, although Lucien having Molly’s memories and just being a different person is not one of them. It was SO fun to write in this verse though.

3. fools give you reasons, wise men never try: ah, remember the Cadwulf three weeks when we all dove head first into this ridiculous pairing? This was my offering to those moments, and I had SO much fun exploring a romantic interlude between these two. One of the best things about this fic is although I didn’t disclaim that I’d headcanoned Cad as gray ace (and used this fic to explore my own relationship with romance a little bit), a commenter replied and said it was so familiar to their experiences being ace as well. What a compliment! Even though I know it’s disrespectful to continue to write alloromantic-ace Caduceus, I’m so thankful for the months I had to explore my own experiences through this amazing character.

4. Ersatz: this was Widomauk written for @ariadne-mouse and I had SO much fun with it. This was written before the Lucien reveal, and I really enjoyed exploring Molly’s feelings of disconnect from the present M9 and how he used unhealthy coping mechanisms to deal with that. Something about this was just a really interesting premise to explore. (This entire list just makes it really obvious that I’m a big ol’ Taliesin Jaffe stan).

5. The fifth item hasn’t actually been posted anywhere yet because I’m still working on it! But I’m in the middle of writing a really cool Jester/Astrid fic (currently at ~3k as of the new year) and I’m really excited about it. However, I definitely need to flesh it out a bit more before posting. Stay tuned!

Everyone who I would have tagged has already been tagged by one of our mutuals I believe, so go wild, anyone who wants to do this!

#writing #fanfic #questionnaires #me #my fics #critical role #fjorclay #cadwulf #widomauk #lucien #jastrid #jestrid

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serararku · 4 years ago

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Back from the Black

Giggles whispered in the wind. Soft voices mumbled amongst each other. In the hot dark Era felt things touching her face, but she was powerless to stop it; her arms and legs were bound, and she was drifting, spinning, spiraling onward into the void again. Not that it mattered to her anymore… all she wanted was to be in his arms again, to feel his breath on her neck, to hear him tell her everything was going to be okay. But he was gone. They all were. Lost their lives in the sacking of Ul’dah, their peaceful eternal slumber cut short by the will of a necromancer. “I will avenge you all…” She thought, writhing and wiggling in her invisible cocoon. “I will kill that creature and put you all back to-”

Era opened her eyes to sudden blinding sunlight and three pairs of big bright eyes. “EEP!” The kittens shrieked, leaping a dozen ilms off the ground as their stubby tails bristled. Yuun suddenly snapped awake as well, rising from her seat with fury burning in her eyes.

“You little brats! I told you not to touch her!” Her mother grabbed the closest thing she could- a makeshift broom, and gave the fleeing children beatings they wouldn’t soon forget. Era winced at the glare of the sun, but when she tried to roll over, she found herself swaddled tightly in blankets- just like she was when she was still a misbehaving kitten. “Era honey… are you okay?!”

“Euugh…” Was all she could manage. Her head ached, her mouth was dry, and she was sore from teeth to tail; but something about the concern in her mother’s face and the soothing warmth of the sun helped convince this was real.

“Don’t try to move… here.” She sat down beside her and pulled her head into her lap. Era’s ears perked when ice cold water touched her lips. Gulp… gulp… gulp… “Slowly, Era… I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”

“Guhh… a… again…?” She repeated, trying to catch her breath with lungs that weren’t ruptured in a body that wasn’t torn apart by wolves.

Yuun closed her eyes and slowly nodded. “I thought I knew them. The Elders… they’re supposed to be the bridge between Azeyma and her children. But once that accursed cave was discovered a few moons ago, they’ve done nothing but devour strange foods and hallucinate, and they’re taking more and more of our tribe down with them. When I heard the Elders had summoned you, I thought… I would lose you.” She opened her eyes and began wiping away the ‘art’ those three kittens were drawing on Era’s face. “The next time Grandmother puts her vile hands on you will be the last time she has hands.”

Now that she had birthed five daughters, one for each astral moon in accordance to Azeyma, Yuun was officially recognized as a Matron when her last daughter and final kitten was born two years ago, and therefore was under no obligation to mate with Vahli or any other Tia that would eventually take his place in the years to come. Following closely behind the spiritual leadership of the Elders, and the military prowess of the Nunh, the Matrons represented the third pillar of the Zu Tribe, providing guidance to the kittens and new mothers alike. Thanks to the combined tragedies of the drought eight years ago and the addicts in that ‘sacred’ cave, Yuun was now the only Matron left. And she took this responsibility very seriously.

“Ahem…” Vahli cleared his throat loudly outside the tent, making his presence known long before he revealed himself. “Yuun, good morning. May I speak with Era alone?”

“Of course.” Her mother planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling a corner of her blanket out of its knot, unraveling Era and setting her free from her prison. Their Nunh took her offered hand when she rose to her feet, and lightly kissed her knuckles on her way out. Era remained quiet, awkwardly laying on her back, waiting for him to say something. For a long time he simply stared off in the distance, before crossing his arms and sitting down beside her. “I’m sorry for sending you to the Elders.” Vahli was reluctant to speak; apologies must be a rarity for such a proud and accomplished man. “They told me they could help you. I should have asked for details.”

“It’s not your fault.” Era assured him. “I planned on speaking with them the day I decided to return to the tribe. Though… now knowing what happened... and what the search party had to do to me...”

“It was for your own protection.” He explained, finally glancing down to meet her gaze. “Your mother demanded I stop the Elders from influencing you. Once I formed a party to storm the caves, you were already gone. It took us… a lot of time and effort to comb the surrounding lands.”

Era didn’t like how vague he insisted on being. “How long was I missing?!”

“Three days.”

That knocked the wind out of her lungs. She felt like she had been trapped in that hellscape for almost a full year, but to know she was hallucinating for just over half of a week…

Vahli wasn’t finished. “We found you out in the wastes, completely naked and covered in blood that wasn’t yours, dancing alone in the middle of nowhere... laughing, crying and screaming. We thought you were possessed by an evil spirit, or worse… suffering from the salivating sickness. Everyone feared you would need to be put down… myself included. I’m glad I was wrong.”

Era didn’t want to think about that nightmare any longer than she had to- that trip was not something she would ever endure again. “So I’ve snapped out of it… what’s next?”

Her Nunh leaned against a post and furrowed his brow. “Some of our youngest are scratching at themselves enough to remove hair. Others aren’t able to hold solid food down for long. The mothers insist they’re sick and they don’t feel safe with the Elders treating them. I’m at my wits end.” Slowly he rose back up to his feet, and began pacing nervously. “I know the tribeless cities may have the solution we need. Can I count on you to be our emissary?”

“Yes…!” Era answered quickly, jumping at the chance to be with Zevi again. “I know just the woman who can help them! I won’t let you down!”

Vahli pursed his lips disapprovingly at her sudden enthusiasm. “I’ve heard of the tribeless cities and their… vices. Make sure anyone you bring back to our lands is dependable… and willing to adhere to our way of life.” He paused for a moment before adding, “No witchcraft. Thanalan suffers enough already.”

“I understand…”

“Do you?” Vahli began to pace back and forth. “My instincts are telling me to keep you here. That sending you off to those havens of heresy is a grave mistake. But… our kittens need your help. I need your help.” He stopped near the entrance and placed his hand on the drape. “Come back to us. I know you’ve spent a lot of time out there… but your place is here. With me.” Era’s ears drooped as she slowly nodded. When she rose to her feet, and her blanket slipped from her body, Vahli couldn’t help but stare at her scars again.

Unable to stand this awkward staring contest anymore, Era scooped the spare change of clothes waiting for her in the corner to cover herself and assuredly muttered, “I won’t abandon my family. Not now… not ever.”

“Good.” Once her body was covered and her scars were out of sight, her Nunh blinked away his stupor and left without another word. Era was left alone to put her clothes on in silence.

The intense Thanalan sunlight began its ruthless beating the moment she stepped out of her tent. The glare from the morning was not doing Era’s headache any favors- it was difficult to focus on just about anything, and she was still disoriented and uncharacteristically clumsy. That bitter soup the Elders gave her had surely run through her system by now; if any one of these side effects became permanent, she could kiss her training goodbye. Hopefully Zevi wouldn’t mind shouldering their financial burdens if she was left unfit for wor-

"BLOOD SPEAKS TO ME!"

"BWAH!" Era leapt a full three fulms into the air before she was snatched up and pulled into a strong hug; the side of her face was smashed against the coarse beak of a zu skull, and her blood ran cold. There was only one woman in the entire tribe that would even wear a skull outside of an actual battle.

Yhaba the Undying. The leader of the Zu Tribe’s warrior clowder, and top contender for the most deranged and bloodthirsty Miqo’te in Thanalan. To call this woman a lunatic would be an understatement. She was as unpredictable as she was ferocious, and amidst the chaos of battle, she had no equal. Drenched in the blood of her tribe’s enemies was perhaps the only time she ever felt truly home. She had lost her tail ages ago along with most of her fingers and toes, but she could eviscerate and disembowel a fully grown goobbue patriarch in a matter of seconds. If she wasn’t so good at killing, she would have likely died a long time ago.

"Yhaba…! Unnf! You're c-crushing me…!" Era squeaked out, before being suddenly released and dropped into the dirt. She stopped herself from gazing up into that skull, clutching at her pounding heart while gasping for breath. Only a fool with a deathwish would provoke Yhaba’s malignant barbarism; as a result, no one truly knows what she even looks like under her bone helmet anymore. No one that lived to tell about it at least.

"Mountains watch us. Wait for us to die." Yhaba mumbled, scratching at the scabs on her arm. "The green speaks of buckets filled with tongues. Don’t open your mouth if you see them."

"R-right… I'll be careful…" Era slowly rose to her feet, more than eager to give this psychopath a wide berth before her mere presence set her off.

Yhaba watched her turn and leave in an unsettling silence before she opened her beak and said, “You hear the ringing? Feel the seething sickness? The voice telling you to paint with blood?”

Era stopped dead in her tracks but she didn’t turn around. “How do you know this…?” She demanded indignantly. “How could you know?!”

“I hear them too.” Yhaba pulled an ear from her necklace and held it to her temple, as if she was listening to something. “Silence loves to talk. Don’t answer when they call your name. Fly away little bird. Go where the mountains can’t watch you.” She took a few long strides toward Era and grabbed her by the wrist; she then pushed a small linen sack into her hand, and refused to let go until she closed her fingers around it.

“What is this…?” Era meekly asked, fearing it was a small bag of ears.

“Eat when the ringing returns.” Yhaba began slinking back toward a shady nook in between two tents. “Then you will never die. Spite the mountains.”

Then she was left alone, standing under the pummeling sun with more questions than answers. Era slowly opened her palm and hesitantly opened the small sack- the substance closely resembled fine red sand, or perhaps even cinnamon. A cautious sniff revealed nothing, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to taste it; that would make it the third time she ate something given to her that she shouldn’t have. Instead the woman tucked it into her pocket for safe keeping, and aptly decided to put this strange encounter behind her.

The fastest way back was the same route she took reaching the heart of her tribe’s territory; through the air. Nossk took her up into the sky to soar high above the barren wastes again, only this time she did it by herself. With the wind in her hair and the sun tanning her skin, all she could think about was leaping into Zevi’s arms again. A relief washed over her when she saw Ul’dah emerging through the brown dusty haze, glad everything was going better than she expected; one slip up and she would have had to choose between her lover and her family. She wasn’t exactly out of the woods yet, but the hardest part was behind her. Now she could just lean back, close her eyes, and let the wind pass across her face as this giant zu cut down her return trip by over half of a day.

It was evening by the time she felt safe enough to fly over the city. Using the cover of night, Era remained far and above, partially hidden between the sparse clouds, before identifying the Goblet and diving earthbound. Nossk opened his wings last minute, swooping down through the canyon along the border of the residential district to avoid startling any guards. As silent as the grave it soared below, slipping beneath two bridges before spreading its tail feathers and tilting up toward the ledge; his long curved talons easily shattered the stone railing, crumbling it into dust beneath his weight.

“Crap…!” Era squeaked, hoping no one heard that. She slipped from his back and wrapped her arms around his jagged beak to press her lips atop his head. “Go home, Nossk…! I’ll see you soon, okay?” The bird clicked his tongue against his beak a few times before spreading his wings wide. Era made the horrible mistake of stepping back to let him take off, thinking he would follow the same path they took to get here.

He didn’t.

Nossk launched himself high into the air with a single flap of his mighty wings, and almost scraped against a nearby tower as he made a bee-line back toward Valhaas Barrow to the southeast. Era’s ears flattened when she heard the startled screams of Lalafellin residents having heart attacks at the sheer size of Nossk soaring above their heads. He was certainly fast enough to escape before the Immortal Flames could organize a task force to shoot him down… hopefully he doesn’t stop on the way home to snack on any fleeing citizens. Instead of waiting around for a passing guard to start asking questions as to why and how that railing got destroyed, Era slipped through the main gate of the estate and quickly stepped inside.

She heard familiar voices singing an unfamiliar song. Hurrying down the steps, and through the large sliding doors of iron, and across the metal grated rafters, Era finally reached the last flight of stairs that led into the basement bar.

“Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog! The bog down in the valley-o! Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog! The bog down in the valley-o!” K’thalen still had his pipes, with his boisterous singing echoing off the walls and carrying far throughout the whole of the estate. Mizuna was sitting on the piano bench with her back turned to the expensive instrument, clapping in unison with the rhythm and singing along in her own shy way. A Lalafell she didn’t recognize was doing a hearty jig in the middle of the group, his tiny legs kicking and twisting faster than she expected; the room was fairly crowded with faces she didn’t recognize, in fact. But sitting alone on the opposite side of the room, invested in the party but barely involved, sat her best friend and lover. R’zevi was nodding his head to K’thalen’s catchy song and half-heartedly clapping his hands together to the tune, but he looked like he was struggling to stay awake.

That is until he locked eyes with S’era, and his face lit up like a Starlight fireworks show.

---

Mentions: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv

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wonjaekook · 5 years ago

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Red Ocean, Black Sky

A/N: Is that enough warnings to turn people away who don’t want to read something like this? Hopefully (lol). I haven’t posted a fic for almost two months now, so hopefully this will make up for the drought. I guess you could call this a labor of love because I reaaaally didn’t intend to make it this long. If you have any feedback or feel like I should add a warning or anything like that, my ask box is open! Anyways, enough of that - enjoy :)

21 Tropes: 9. Organized Crime/Gang/Mafia-esque AU + azure w/Yuta

Description: One incident changes your life, pulling you onto a path of blood and death that you don’t understand. You’re afraid of what Yuta has brought you into and, maybe, with time, you’ll stop being afraid for long enough to ask the right questions.

Word Count: 18k Genre: angst, thriller (is that what you call it? adventure?) smut (barely, check the warnings), fluff (kind of? if you really squint?)

Warnings: violence (gets pretty graphic), blood, death/murder, lots of cursing, alcohol, somewhat sexual/suggestive language, relatively undetailed smut that you can skip (it’s obvious enough when it’s about to come up and starts with the line “The danger of him...” and the clean paragraphs start again with “You wait for the regret...” if you don’t want to read it; it’s only about two paragraphs long)

“Did you hear about what happened to that lady?”

“The one who sings at Kim’s Bar? Yeah, it’s awful.”

You try to make a point of not really listening to your coworkers’ gossipings. What they talk about is never good news. The first girl, Haneul, loves to run her mouth nearly as much as the second girl, Jooyeon, does. You’d think they would have learned better by now, with what all of you do, but they still speak much too freely for your taste.

“Heard they weren’t even after her. Was her brother they were after, but she was just in the way,” Haneul continues.

“Do you know whose side they were on?”

Sometimes it’s hard to block out the chitter and chatter.

“My ma said they went after ‘em because they were affiliated with the Neos.”

“Shit, best not be-”

“Shh!” Jinah, one of your more senior coworkers hisses at the other girls to be quiet when the front door swings open with an inappropriately cheerful chime, revealing three men. You keep your eyes down, not daring to look at their faces. From what you can see of their feet, the one in the middle steps forward and appears to represent the group. You can hear the fake smile in Jinah’s voice as she greets him. “Hello, sir. How can we help you?”

“I’m here to make use of your services. My shoulders have been hurting like hell.” You nearly let yourself relax when you hear what he’s here for, but immediately tense up again when he continues. “Keep this on the downlow.”

Jinah freezes before regaining her composure. “Sir, we don’t offer… those kinds of services until later in the evening. If you wish to partake, we-”

“I’m not here for that. Are you listening to what I’m saying? I’m here for exactly what I asked for.” The impatience in his voice has you clasping your hands together tightly to stop them from shaking. You think you would be used to these kinds of men by now, but you aren’t. Each new person that steps through the front door is a new danger. You can only hope-

“Ah, I understand. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, sir; we’ll get you taken care of right away.” She pauses, turning to you. “Y/N, prepare a room for this gentleman.”

You can only hope you don’t get chosen. But, here you are. Somewhat stiffly, you turn around, stepping out of the reception area and towards an unoccupied room.

“Y/N is one of our best masseuses, sir. She’ll have that pain gone in no time at all. While we’re waiting, we can discuss payment...” You hear Jinah explain to him as you walk away, her voice drafting away as you close the door behind you. You almost wish you’d looked at his face to get a judge on his character, but you also know that you’ve met plenty of deceptive faces before. It’s better that you don’t see him. People can ask less questions that way.

Once you do all of your preparatory work, setting out oils and water, anything else you might need, you steel your nerves, twist the handle of the door open, and step out of the room. You stand in the entryway between the reception area and the back hallway, head bowed. “Everything is ready, sir. Please follow me.”

All you see are the tips of his surprisingly well taken care of shoes, a polished black, before you turn around, hearing his footsteps behind you as you take him to the room. Once the door to the room closes, he makes quick work of taking his upper layers off, handing you his jacket and button down shirt when you stretch out your hands for them. You’re about to instruct him to lie down, but he beats you to it. “I’d prefer to stay sitting upright. I’m sure you understand?”

The words are a threat but not quite a threat, so you simply respond with a quiet, “Yes, sir,” and fix the arrangement of the table. After he sits, his back to you, you finally look up farther than his feet. On his back, his skin illuminated by some of the dim light in the room, is a great work of art.

You pretty quickly recognize the work tattooed across his shoulders as a rendition of The Great Wave Off Kanagawa. Except, where there should have been azure tattooed into his back, there’s only red. An entire ocean, dyed red. You’re too afraid to ask what it means. You’re paid to keep your mouth shut, so you do.

But, you’ve heard about him. Of course, he doesn’t tell you who he is, but you know he’s a big name. Still, you try your best to keep steady enough, beginning your work on his shoulders and back. His skin is smooth and muscled under your touch and his sleek, collar-length black hair is tied up, away from his shoulders. Looking at him from behind, in the flickering ambient light of the room, you try to remind yourself that he’s just a man. A dangerous man, but a man nonetheless. He has skin and bone and muscle just like you. Skin and bone and muscle that have probably taken lives far more significant than your own.

“Your hands are shaking,” the man says, not even glancing over at you.

“My apologies,” you say quietly.

“Are you afraid?”

You don’t stop working, your hands moving over his shoulders, though the air between you seems to still for a moment. You try to stop your voice and hands from shaking, pressing a little harder on his muscles as a result. “No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You don’t respond. You don’t rush your work, either. You give him exactly what he paid for and, after he’s pulled his shirt and jacket back on, you finally have the courage to look at his face.

You nearly let the shock appear on your face when you find that he’s actually quite handsome. He tips you well, giving you a dangerous, knowing smile, and you think that’s the end of it. Of course, it isn’t.

The gun to your head and the knife pressed to your side seem a bit like overkill to you, but if you die like this, then you suppose it would be fun to have it be an interesting death.

“Tell us what you know.”

“I don’t know anything.” It’s the truth - you really don’t have any idea what this man is talking about, and the weapons pressed against you aren’t bringing any particular memories to mind. Your mind, overloaded with fear, is nearly blank.

“Lying whore, you think I won’t cut the truth out of you?” The man’s breath reeks of cigarettes and general garbage and you nearly gag as he spits his words into your face.

“I’m telling the truth.” You answer through gritted teeth.

“Bitch! Tell me what you know about the Neos now or I’ll start cutting! One,” he pressed the blade deeper, “two,” you can feel the metal begin to dig into your skin, “three-”

He doesn’t get to finish the threat. Gunshots ring through the alleyway as the man threatening you and his backup all go down quickly and easily. You feel the bullet wizz past your head, barely brushing your hair as it nails him in the head. Thankfully, a dead man’s reflexes aren’t good and the gun and blade in his hands fall to the ground with clinks. You know the other men drop with him, but you can barely focus with the adrenaline and pure fear pumping through your veins.

You soon join them, falling to your knees as your shaky legs give out under you. Your breathing is uneven and quick and you don’t look up until a shadow falls over you.

It’s the man from before. The one with the wave tattoo.

He tugs down the black mask covering his mouth. You see his lips move. You don’t comprehend what he tells you but, against everything reasonable, you take his hand when he offers it to you. A familiar face in all of the bodies piled around you. Your body almost moves on its own and you let the man wrap an arm around you, a warm, almost smoky scent surrounding you from his jacket and muting the sharp metallic tang in the air. The other men who came with him are inspecting the bodies, but you don’t want to look at the reality of what just happened. You almost died. That could be you on the ground, your blood soaking into the cracked pavement of the alley. Your heartbeat nearly drowns out what the men are saying, but you catch snippets.

“Blue Veins. Haven’t fucked with them in a while.”

You dully register hearing one of the other men who had come with him curse. “Fuck. This one is a Rusher.”

“Blues and Rushers working together? Not in-”

“We need to get out of here,” you feel the chest of the man holding you rumble as he speaks, the same serious tone that you heard when he had been in your massage parlor, “and figure out what to do with her.” His eyes dart down to you and then towards the other end of the alley. “Shit.” Flashes of light appear at the entrance, the one you had been forced down and the opposite of the way they had come from.

The others seem to see the same thing. “Let’s get out of here.” From what you can see of his face not covered in a mask, he has a scar cutting through one eyebrow and his hair is a deep red. He’s the one who talked about the ‘Rushers’ a moment before.

“Can you run?” Though he directs the question towards you, he doesn’t give you much time to answer, only waiting for a stiff nod before he’s tugging you along behind him. Your legs try to keep up, but the only thing that lets you keep pace with him is his hand in yours. Somehow, the grip is comforting when you had been so afraid of him not even six hours before. Before you know it, you’re shoved into a sleek black car, breathing heavily in the backseat, wedged between the long-haired man and the third who had run with you, a thin brown-haired guy.

“Step on it, John,” the red haired man growls from the passenger seat, glancing out the window. One gunshot, then two sound as the man who had been waiting in the driver seat presses hard on the gas. You don’t hear bullets hit the car, but you instinctually duck against the long-haired man, who puts a comforting hand on you. Though the driver, John, is still going at a fast pace, a sort of silence falls over the car.

“Fuck.” The other man next to you curses loudly, tearing off his mask and revealing an angry expression that doesn’t match his youthful face. “Blues and Rushers? Couldn’t get any better, could it?”

“We’ll discuss it when we get back. Give me a minute to think.” The red-haired man also takes off his mask, sighing. In any other situation, from what you can see of his side profile, you would’ve considered him to be extraordinarily handsome.

The long-haired man turns to you, trying to give you a somewhat reassuring look. “Y/N, right?” You nod. “My name is Yuta. Are you okay? Not hurt?” You shake your head. “That’s good. I know it’s a lot. How do you feel?”

“I want to go home.”

He stays silent for a moment, the sympathy fading from his eyes into a more serious look, before answering. “We can’t let you do that. It’s not safe.”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, the entire experience beginning to hit and overwhelm you as your adrenaline rush dies down. “What’s happening? I swear I’ve never seen any of those men before in my life, and I...”

He doesn’t reach out to try and comfort you this time, his eyes cold. “We’re called the Neos.” Your breath stops in your chest. You had been right when you thought he was a big name. This is Nakamoto Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta who walks away from fights without a scratch on him, who stepped into the city of Seoul one day and instantly made a name for himself - a very blood name. Your eyes shift around the car, trying to place every person as he continues. “When you come face to face with a Neo, it’s a death sentence one way or another.”

“Not a reputation we’re terribly happy about, but it exists.” The man in the passenger seat, with the red hair and scar, speaks and you put the pieces together to identify him as Lee Taeyong, their leader. There’s a rumor that the closest anyone ever got to him put that scar through his eyebrow and put them in the grave. Never in your life did you think you would ever come face to face with the leader of the Neos, but life has been full of surprises as of late.

“Since you met Yuta earlier, you’re as good as dead without us, now,” the brown-haired one says, looking out the window and not at you. If you were to take a guess based on his looks and how fast he worked to take down the men in the alley, you would place him as Mark Lee - young ace of the Neos.

The driver, from what you can see, has a dark and handsome look to him. “Sorry, babe. You’re stuck for now. Might as well enjoy the ride.” The flirting and subtle hint of an American accent - Johnny Seo. Playboy and drag racer before he somehow got involved with the Neos. From what you’ve heard of girls in town complaining, he doesn’t mess around anymore. Too risky.

You’re almost proud you can identify all of them - maybe listening to your coworkers gossip at work had its benefits. “My coworkers? Are they going to be okay?”

“They’re going to be fine. They’re not after them,” Taeyong says.

“Though, one of them is a rat,” Mark mutters under his breath.

“Shut it.” Taeyong and Mark make intense eye contact for a moment before Mark tears his eyes away, looking back out the window. You decide that it’s best if you don’t ask anymore questions.

Before long, the car slows to a stop in an area you don’t recognize and you’re ushered out of the car. You follow Yuta and Mark trails you. Like they’re expecting you to run away. Like you’re some sort of prisoner. The first floor has an open layout and you spot some tables, chairs, and boxes scattered about. One of the handful of men standing around makes eye contact with you, but Mark nudges you, pushing you to keep walking. You break eye contact and lower your head.

Taeyong diverges and gives orders to the few that are loitering. “Meeting, now. Get everyone over here.”

“I can handle her on my own, Mark. Join them,” Yuta says over his shoulder, eyeing you. Mark seems to hesitate for a moment before breaking away. Turning back around, Yuta keeps walking, leading you up to the third floor of the building. He takes you into a long hallway with many doors - mostly shut - before opening one and gesturing for you to enter. “Stay here. You’ll be safe.”

“I-” You try to say something after you step in, but he simply shuts the door. There’s a single click after he shuts it. A lock. He locked you in. A prisoner.

You look around the room. He’s right - you’re safe from the other gangs here. But you’re in danger in a whole different way. It would be stupid to try and escape now, but you can’t help and look at the window. It’s boarded shut. You observe the rest of the room. An old bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a mirror hanging on the wall. If worse came to worst, you could smash the mirror and use a shard as a weapon. You don’t want to trust the Neos. You can’t trust the Neos. Though they haven’t hurt you yet, they even saved your life, you know their reputation. You know they very well could hurt you. And you don’t want to take any risks getting comfortable.

You groan when you remember that your phone, wallet, and everything else you were carrying had been knocked out of your hands back in that alley. If you had just remembered, then maybe you’d be able to call for help now. Then again, you don’t think the Neos would be stupid enough to let you keep your phone. With a sigh, you walk to the dresser and start opening drawers. When you find them empty, you slam the last drawer shut and move to the nightstand. There, shoved in the back of the single drawer, is a pen. It’s a cheap plastic pen and definitely won’t do much damage if you have to use it as a weapon, but it’ll have to do. You slide it into your sleeve.

After thoroughly searching the room, you settle onto the bed, sitting and staring at the cracked cement floor. With the sparse furnishing and the locked door, the room feels like a cell. You wait and wait, mulling over your circumstance, until, finally, you hear the latch on the door click again and it opens. Yuta stands in the doorframe. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

“Will you let me leave yet?” You don’t hold back the snapiness in our tone - whatever your fate is to these gang members, it’s already been decided. You stand, no longer quite so afraid.

“I already told you it’s not safe.” His eyes follow you calmly as you walk towards him.

“You claim to be protecting me when you’re treating me like a prisoner.”

He scoffs in response. “You’re not a hostage and you’re not a prisoner.”

“Then why did you lock the door?”

“Why were you digging through the drawers? Looking for a weapon?” With a quick step, he moves forward and grabs your wrist, twisting it. A sharp pain runs through your arm and the pen in your sleeve slides out and clatters to the floor. “It’s going to take a lot more than just a pen.” He drops your wrist. “Come on.”

Obediently, you follow him. He takes you back to the first floor where quite a few more men are gathered than before. Looking at them, some are far too young to be called men: they’re much closer to boys. You can’t help but wonder what happened to get them involved in a group like the Neos. All of their eyes on you are sharp, cautious. Like Mark, all of the younger boys look like they’ve seen too much and the light of youth doesn’t shine as brightly in their eyes as it should. Almost like a scene out of a movie, they’re gathered around a table, Taeyong bent over a map that’s spread over its surface. He looks up when Yuta guides you over. “Any trouble?”

Yuta’s eyes flicker over to you before they move back to his leader. “None.”

Taeyong nods. “Alright. Y/N,” he says, looking at you, “you probably never thought you would hear this, but welcome to the base of the Neos.”

“Sorry we didn’t give you the warmest greeting. Strangers and all that.” The man you had first made eye contact with when you entered the building speaks up from next to Taeyong. He has a barely noticeable accent and seems to command nearly as much power as Taeyong - maybe one of the Chinese members of the Neos?

All you can manage is a nod in response. Taeyong continues. “Do you have any family in the city? Someone that can be used against you?”

“...no. I’m not from the city.”

“Easy enough to tell with that accent,” one of the younger looking members says from the side.

“Funny coming from you,” you snap back, almost instantly regretting it. To your surprise, you’re met with some snickers from the group.

“Hey, you think-” “Donghyuck, knock it off.” A sharp order from Taeyong cuts him off, but he continues to glare at you. Taeyong remains focused on you. “No one? No boyfriend, close friends, anything?”

“No,” you answer quietly.

“Best goddamn news I’ve heard all day. That means no one else is at risk. But,” he says, pausing, “we still can’t let you go back to your normal life.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“If we were going to do that, don’t you think we would’ve done it already?” Another guy you don’t recognize. He has a low, even voice and his brown hair suits his well-defined face well. “We’re not here to kill innocents.”

“We’ll help you get out. We just need time,” Taeyong says. “In the meantime, you’ll just have to lie low with us here. Got it?”

“I…” What they’re saying is being processed slowly by your brain. They aren’t going to kill you? They’re going to let you go? “What do you mean get me out?”

“Do you really think it’s safe for you in Seoul anymore? You have a target on your back now. With enough time, we’ll get you away from the city. You’ll have to start over somewhere new, but it’s better than being dead.” Taeyong is firm, but you have more questions.

“Why are you helping me?”

Taeyong’s eyes shift over quickly to meet Yuta’s, just for a moment, before he looks back at you. “Like Jaehyun said, we don’t kill innocent people. We’re here to get rid of the festering that’s happening in the city, not add to it.”

Silence spreads between you. From next to you, Yuta finally speaks. “I know it seems bad, but you’re not a prisoner. We’re doing everything we can, so just work with us.”

“I… okay. Thank you.” The room seems to relax as you say that, many of the boys looking noticeably relieved.

“One wrong step, one thing to show us you’re not innocent, and you’re still dead, though.” Donghyuck, the boy from before, says quickly, all signs of joking gone from his voice and expression.

No one corrects him.

Trying to break the tension, Taeyong gives you a tight smile. “I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Taeyong, but I’m sure you figured that out by now.” After you nod, he looks back at Yuta. “Yuta, show her around. She might as well be comfortable while she’s here. Everyone else, you’re dismissed. We’ve said all that we need to tonight.”

You quickly realize, as you’re being led around and shown different areas of the building, that Yuta is essentially your caretaker and there’s no real chance of you escaping. Not that you would want to escape, by the logic they provided. Soon enough, you also realize how tired you are. You left work maybe three hours ago by this point and the exhaustion is catching up to you. Yuta seems to notice as well, but you miss the somewhat fond smile he gives you. “We can continue this tomorrow. Let’s go back to your room.” With a nod, you follow him back up the stairs. As you walk through the long hallway filled with doors again, Yuta explains that they’re all the different members’ rooms. “I’d recommend not trespassing. For multiple reasons, one of which is that some of them couldn’t keep a clean room if their lives depended on it.” You give him a weary smile, appreciating the little attempt at making you more comfortable with him. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to trust him, but you’re too tired to be afraid at the moment. He leads you back to the room you were in before. “If you need me, I’m in the room right across from you.” He turns around, but looks back at you over his shoulder. “And, Y/N. Don’t be afraid.”

You enter your room and shut the door behind you, hearing his door close a moment later. Making your way to the bed, you sit on the edge, scrubbing at your face with your hands. You’re confused and upset and tired but, somehow, you’re no longer afraid. Though every single person in this building is capable of killing you, you want to believe that they won’t. Perhaps that’s part of the illusion. Perhaps they really are trying to help… somehow. Perhaps-

You’re torn out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. “Come in,” you say quietly.

The door opens and Taeyong is there, a large stack of clothes in his hands. “These are for you.” He crosses the room in a sparse few strides and hands them to you. You accept them graciously, giving a quick bow in thanks.

“Taeyong, thank you… where did you get these? Whose clothes….?”

He gives you a slightly pained smile. “They used to be my sister’s, back when she was here. I’m glad to see them finally get some use again.” He’s out of the room as quickly as he had entered, the door shutting behind him. You know it’s best not to press anyways. It’s strange to see such pain on a gang leader’s face, but you have the impression the Neos are different. While any other gang would have left you to die on the street, they saved you and are offering to help you. You don’t know what to think anymore. With weary bones, you change into some of the clothes that Taeyong brought and tuck yourself in, sleeping quickly and dreamlessly.

You’re awoken by a quiet knock on your door. For a moment, you panic at your surroundings, the cement walls and cold air unfamiliar to you, but you remember pretty quickly where you are and what happened to you. There’s no clock in your room, so you don’t know how long you’ve been asleep for, but sunlight streams through the gaps in the boards over your window, so you assume it’s been awhile. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and attempting to smooth back your hair, you call out to the person knocking. “Come in!”

The door opens and a shy face appears, a tall, lanky boy entering your room. His bangs sweep right above his eyes, showing that he’s in need of a fresh haircut, and he seems nervous. You vaguely recognize him from the gathering the night before, one of the boys who has probably seen far too much for how young he is. In the small amount of fresh morning light coming through the boards over your window, he seems much more youthful, thankfully. “This is for you. Yuta-hyung told me to grab some for you, so...”

In his hands is a metal bowl and chopsticks, a lid keeping in the heat of the food and making for easier transportation. He also carries a red apple. You get up, walking over to him to take the food. “What’s your name?”

He shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “Jisung.”

“Well, thank you, Jisung. I’m Y/N.” The tips of his ears turn slightly pink when you smile and thank him and he gives you a quick bow before scurrying off.

The metal bowl contains some rice topped with bits of fish and vegetables that lets off some steam when you remove the lid. Your heart warms a bit at the sight of some normality - a taste of home - and you dig in, not having realized just how hungry you are. After last night, it seemed your body forgot about some of its needs like eating and sleeping until they suddenly struck. With some food and rest in your system, you finally have the mental capacity to consider your situation.

You’re in the Neo’s headquarters, eating their food and sleeping in one of their rooms. They could have left you to die on those streets, hell, you don’t even know how they found you, but you’re alive and they brought you back here and are offering to help you out if you just give them a bit of time. You’re not sure how much you should trust them, but with the way things are going, it seems like you don’t really have a choice. You don’t doubt that they’re right that the other gangs are after you now that you’ve been with them for as long as you have.

With that conclusion, you get up, grab a change of clothes, and try to find your way back to the bathroom that Yuta had pointed you to the night before. After a successful shower, you set your mind on your next goal: washing the dishes that Jisung had brought to you. It’s the least you could do to acquire some normalcy and make less work for them. Sneaking down the stairs, you think you’re safe from running into any of the members, but when you turn the corner, you nearly lose your balance when a man nearly walks into you. He tries to steady you by grabbing your arm and you quickly regain your balance. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”

“I didn’t see you either, no worries.” When you look at him again, you realize he’s one of the ones who had spoken last night, the one you had first made eye contact with and had the slightest accent. He appears far less serious now than he did the night before, which seems to be a running theme, though he still has a strong presence. He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “I never got a chance to introduce myself last night. I’m Qian Kun.”

Notorious boss of the Wei Shens. You’d heard about him, only because a girl you had as a client once complained about how he wouldn’t help her group with something. There were rumors they had joined with the Neos, more of your coworkers’ gossipings, but you didn’t think that had actually happened. It’s safe to say that whisper is confirmed now.

“I’m Y/N,” you say before realizing that he probably very well knows who you are. “It’s… nice to meet you.”

He nods his head in acknowledgement before eyeing the dishes in your hands. “Do you know where you’re going with those?”

“I…”

“Kitchen is the other way.” He jerks his head to the opposite side of the stairs you had turned off of and gives you another small smile. “At least you’re making somewhat of an effort to keep clean. It’s appreciated.”

After making that comment, he continues past you, going up the stairs. You’re slightly bewildered by the interaction, but go in the direction he had indicated, finding yourself in the kitchen. You clean up after yourself and put things into the proper cabinets, which takes a lot of opening things and guessing, before you start to head back to your room. On the way, you spy a small bookshelf and grab the first book with an interesting title that you can see. You might as well amuse yourself doing something. Who knew that gangsters read?

You don’t know how long you spend reading before you look up when your door opens, no knock this time. Yuta leans in the doorframe, his arms crossed. His hair is tied up away from his face and the tank top he’s wearing makes you wonder how he’s not cold in the uninsulated cement building. “You don’t have to stay in here all day, you know.”

You shrug. “Nothing else I can do, really.”

Though he had been the first one you met, you’re wary of him. After all, he had threatened you in almost the exact spot you’re sitting in now. Despite that, something about him draws you to him. Maybe it’s the fact that he saved you. Maybe it’s because you saw his tattoo and helped him relieve the pain in his shoulders. Maybe you’re just fooled too easily by a handsome face. Either way, your mixed feelings about him confuse you.

He steps into the room and walks towards you, plucking the book out of your hand. When he sees the title, he smiles. “This is a good one. One of the first books I read after I got to Korea.” After he says that, he pauses, trying to gauge your reaction. You don’t know what he’s looking for, so you just look at him weirdly in response.

“So, this is yours, then?”

He clearly doesn’t find what he’s looking for, so he tears his eyes away from yours. He sits down next to you anyways “Yeah. Mark gave it to me. I read it more times than he ever did, though. He’s more into music.”

“Who isn’t into music? You don’t listen to any?” You tilt your head, giving him a questioning look.

He scoffs in a way you interpret to be joking. “Of course I listen to music. That kid is crazy about it, though. I think he wanted to be a singer or a rapper or something before he got tangled up in all of this.” Yuta pauses, thinking for a moment before he continues. “He has this old guitar in his room that he plays all the time. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him playing it last night, he does that when he gets stressed. I think it was one of the only things he brought with him here.”

“I guess I was too fast asleep to hear it,” you say quietly, thinking about Mark’s story. You can’t help but wonder how he got here. How Jisung got here. How Kun got here. How any of them got here. “Yuta, why are you here? How did you get involved with the Neos?”

He chuckles, but it’s not a happy chuckle, nothing like the way he had scoffed a minute before. It’s a sad sound, something that makes you want to know more about him. “That’s a story for another time. I’m far too sober to talk about that right now.”

“Will you tell me about the others, then?”

He tilts his head and smiles a little. “I suppose I could. Not too much, though.”

Through Yuta’s stories, you learn a little bit about each of the Neos. With each story, you think you’re learning a little bit about him, too. Finally, after he tells you about Jisung, the youngest of the Neos and the one whom you had met earlier, he stops, turning the question towards you. “I’ve told you about all of us. Tell me about you, Miss Masseuse.” He leans forward, resting an elbow on his leg, supporting his chin. With his position, part of his tattoo peaks out from behind his shirt, showing you a flash of red. You try not to stare at it.

“I’ve only been doing that for two years. I’ve been ‘Miss Pre-Med’ for longer.” He seems slightly surprised at your words, eyes widening slightly, looking for a story. For some reason, you feel comfortable talking to him about three years ago - a time you would sometimes rather forget. “In my third year of undergrad, I had a professor who hated my guts. Maybe because I actually read the textbook and corrected him when he was wrong. Maybe he hated how well I did on his tests. Don’t know, but, one day, he snapped and reported me for cheating, saying he saw me looking at another student’s test. He’d been at the university long enough that there was barely an investigation before it went on my record. That one offense was enough to get my scholarships taken away, so I had to drop out.”

His eyes darken with anger. For a moment, it seems as if he isn’t really speaking to anyone but himself. “Corrupt university. One part of what’s wrong with this city.” The darkness fades slightly and he refocuses on you. “And you stayed here and started working in the seediest part of the city? Didn’t move back with your parents?”

You smile bitterly. “My parents basically disowned me when I said I was going to university in the city. They wanted me to stay back in our town and help them run our store. I have enough siblings that it shouldn’t matter, but they refused to let me leave. But I wanted to be a doctor, so, when the time came, I left. There’s no going back to that.”

You aren’t looking at Yuta anymore, just staring down at the forgotten book lying on the floor. You realize for the first time that on the cover of the book is a beautiful depiction of azure blue waves. Your attention shifts back to Yuta when he begins to speak lowly. “We could get rid of that professor for you, you know. One name and he’s dead.”

You swallow hard. You know he’s serious. They could get it done in one night, it’s not like he’s hard to find. The darkest parts of you want to agree, to give Yuta his name and let him take care of the rest, but you know you shouldn’t. It would go against everything you strived to achieve by wanting to become a doctor. “You don’t need to do that. Revenge won’t fix anything now.”

“It’s not just about revenge,” he growls, more than serious now. He’s almost scary. “It’s about all of the other people he could fuck over with that kind of power. Do you think you’ll be the only one?”

You meet him with equal seriousness. “Yuta, I’m not going to tell you to kill someone.”

“Sometimes it’s the only way.”

“There’s always another way.” The dark look in his eyes shows you something. Something about the reason that he’s here, with the Neos. The difference between you and him and the rest of them. A part of life that you’re not sure you want to see. A desperation that, despite everything, you’ve never reached.

He looks like he’s about to say something back to you when there’s a knock on your doorframe. When he had entered, Yuta had left the door open, and a thin man with jet black hair stands there. “Yuta, it’s time to go. We’re ‘meeting’ with the Rushers.”

“Coming, Doyoung.” He stands, casting one look back at you before he follows Doyoung out. You know enough to figure that more blood will be spilled before the night is over. When you glance at the window, no daylight shines in the cracks between the boards. You spent nearly all of your time awake with Yuta. Just when you had thought you were getting to know him, you find that he’s more of a mystery than ever before. You think that, even after all he told you about them, the others are just as much of an enigma to you as he is. You don’t understand and you’re not sure if you want to.

He and the others that he had gone with aren’t back by the time you decide to go to sleep. You don’t know how much time has passed when you’re awoken by shouting outside of your door. You quickly get up, throwing on some more appropriate clothes and pushing your hair out of your face before you open the door, seeing Yuta’s door thrown open across from you. Leading into the room are small pools of blood. Inside of his room, several of the members are inside, including Doyoung, Mark, Kun, and Taeyong. When you step closer, in the dim light, you see someone’s figure on the bed, blood staining the sheets of his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that it’s Yuta and he’s bleeding from a gushing wound just below his left shoulder. Even over the cloth Mark presses over the wound, blood quickly soaks it and drips onto his arm and chest.

“Put pressure on it, dammit!” Taeyong barks and Yuta groans when Mark puts more of his weight on his wound.

“What happened?” You say, trying to shoulder past Doyoung to get closer and see.

“Shot by the damn Rushers. Dumb bastard made it worse by running after another one,” Kun says, tearing the wrapping off of a roll of bandages.

“Stop talking and help him!” Mark says, glaring at both you and Kun. You put a hand over the bandages Kun is about to start using, stopping him.

“Wait, let me help,” you say firmly, trying to step forward farther.

“Fuck off,” Mark growls, pressing down on the wound harder. More blood spills from the wound, dripping down Yuta’s skin and into the bedsheets.

“I was pre-med for three years and shadowed in hospitals! If you don’t listen to me and let me help him, you’re letting him die!”

“Mark, let her in,” Taeyong commands, making his decision instantly. Mark hesitates for a moment before quickly getting up, letting you in closer to look at Yuta. You see him watch you through hazy eyes, likely not comprehending who you are or what’s happening. You peel back the blood-soaked cloth Mark had been using to staunch the wound and see the ugly place where the bullet had entered and where the skin and tissue had been damaged further by him overexerting. Running through everything you had learned in your time at university and in your shadowing, you assess him the best you can before turning to the boys, rattling off a list of things you need to help him. They quickly turn and run to get the items and you shout after them. “And grab some rubbing alcohol and clean those off if you care about his wound not getting infected!”

The experience of removing the bullet and stitching his wound closed is a blur. The sharp metallic smell and slick warmth of blood fills your every sense and you can barely keep your hands steady enough to sew his wound shut. He eventually passes out from the pain at some point. Though he lost a decent amount of blood, you’re praying it’s not so much that he needs a blood transfer. If they could have brought him to a hospital, you assume they would have.

When you’re finished doing all that you can for him, you get the boys to help you change out the bloody sheets. You nearly collapse into the chair Kun drags over for you, exhaustion filling every bone in your body. Looking one more time at Yuta, you sigh. He’ll live. Hopefully. You want him to live, desperately.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Taeyong says softly, resting a hand on your shoulder. You bob your head up and down in response before reaching up to wipe the sweat off of your forehead. You had never had a direct hand in a procedure like that before, but you think your experience paid off.

The boys take care of the cleanup before leaving you there to sit in the chair by the bed and stare at Yuta. He looks ragged, but slightly better than he did when he was first brought in. His breathing is more even and, though he’s a bit pale, his face is relaxed. You’re startled when someone taps on your shoulder.

When you turn to face them, you see that it’s Mark. He holds a water bottle in his hand, which he offers you. “Sorry,” he mumbles, head hanging low and avoiding your eyes, “for earlier.”

“It’s okay. I know you care a lot about him.” You accept the peace offering from him, taking the bottle.

“Yeah, it’s just… I can’t lose him. He’s one of the first guys who welcomed me when I got here and-” Mark starts to ramble a bit, staring at Yuta’s sleeping figure, but he stops himself. “I’m going to bed. Tell me if anything happens?”

You nod and he leaves, leaving you alone with Yuta once again. At some point, you doze off, slumping over onto the edge of his bed. Soft mumbling wakes you up. From what you can tell by the lack of light coming through Yuta’s window, which is also boarded up, it’s still night. Trying to blink the haze out of your eyes, you sit up, looking at him. He shifts slightly in the bed, his lips moving almost soundlessly. Confused, you lean closer to try to hear him. From what you can decipher, his mumbling is entirely in Japanese, so you don’t understand any of it. The distress in his voice is clear, even at the low volume and with the language barrier, and his face scrunches in what almost seems like pain. You don’t know what else you can do, so you gently take his hand, whispering back.

“It’s okay, Yuta. It’s okay.” Your thumb strokes over the back of his hand and you feel the veins and small scars scattered on his skin. You don’t know what he’s been through, why he came here, but you have to believe that he doesn’t deserve to be going down the path he’s found himself walking on.

When you try to let go of his hand, he grips yours. You watch his eyes open, half-lidded, his gaze unsteady on you. His lips barely move, his words mumbled, but you hear him clearly.

“We’ve met before.”

Of all the things you were expecting to hear from him, that was not one of them. You have to believe he’s delirious, so you just give him a confused smile. “Of course we have, you came to Park’s Massage and-”

“On the train.” His lips barely seem to move, but you hear him loud and clear. The last time you had been on a proper train was five years ago when you first arrived in Seoul. He couldn’t-

It’s a blurry memory, a distant set of circumstances that you had nearly forgotten. It didn’t seem important at the time, but you remember now. Back then, all those years ago, you stepped off of the train into Seoul and the paperwork you needed to turn in to your university flew out of your hands as the train departed. One of the documents, one that could have prevented you from even attending if you didn’t turn it in, had almost flown away, but a man who had stepped off of the train behind you a moment before grabbed it. A man much like Yuta. His hair had been shorter then, his body less worn, a little more innocence in his eyes perhaps. He didn’t say anything to you, just smiled when you thanked him profusely, before he walked off, going who knows where. You think you know where that is now.

“Yuta, I…” You don’t know what to say. By grabbing that paper, he had kept you steady on your course to university, from university to the massage parlor, and from the massage parlor to here. You’ve met him again. He single handedly changed your life two times now.

His eyes droop closed and his grip on your hand loosens. You stay there for a couple minutes longer, feeling the weight of his hand in yours, staring at his face in the dim light of the room. Quietly, you slip your hand away and stand up, hesitantly returning to your own room.

It’s a few hours later when you go to his room to change his bandages and it’s about half a day later when he finally wakes up. He lets you worry over him, making him drink water and eat some light food. What he had told you weighs on you slightly, but you try to push those thoughts away and focus on helping him recover. When you peel back his bandages again, he hisses in pain. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“It would hurt less if you weren’t such an idiot last night,” you say back, changing his dressings. He chuckles slightly at that.

“So, when am I going to be back in action, Doc?”

“When your wound is healed enough and when I say so. You really messed yourself up, Yuta.” You glance up at him before looking back at your work. “Maybe three weeks.”

His eyes widen. “No way I’m staying out for three weeks. I’m staying here one week, max.”

“Not if you want to tear open your wound and make the damage permanent, you won’t.” The wound is still ugly, but it looks significantly better than it did when it was gushing blood and he had a bullet lodged in his flesh. It might actually be a bit less than three weeks, but you’re not taking any chances right now.

You feel his eyes watching your every move and you try to not let it bother you. His voice is soft when he speaks again. “You were really meant to do this kind of thing, weren’t you?”

The edges of your lips raise in a sort of half-smile. “I’d like to believe that. The universe seems to be against it sometimes, though.”

“Maybe you coming here was some sort of sign.” This time, you really look up, meeting his gaze. You think that he’s telling you to stay. You don’t know how to feel about it, but you can’t deny that part of your heart wants to stay. You have so many differences with them, almost irresolvable differences, and you know they won’t change just because of you either, but they saved your life. You feel like you owe them at least something.

Silence falls heavily between the two of you again as you finish up your work. When you’re done, you wipe your hands off and put them in your lap. “Yuta,” you say quietly, “do you remember what you told me last night? About the train?”

He appears confused before realization dawns in his eyes a moment later. “Ah. I wasn’t going to tell you about that yet.” His eyes meet yours and then flicker away. Your eyebrows furrow and you lean closer to him in response.

“Why not? Don’t you think it’s incredible that-”

“That we met again? I guess so. But it makes it seem like we were targeting you this whole time. That’s not the way the Neos work. You…” he trails off, sighing softly. “...you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time this time around.”

There’s regret in his voice, so you reach out for his hand. “I’m glad I met you then. Did you know you saved me that day? I couldn’t have gone to university if you hadn’t grabbed that paper for me. I think that it’s just the way the universe works that we’ve met again so that I can help you. Repaying you, in a way, I suppose.”

He stares at your hand in his and smiles ever so slightly. “That’s a very optimistic view.”

“I suppose it is. But, being in the medical field, I guess I have to keep some of that optimism. It’s what makes it worth it.” You squeeze his hand once before standing up. “I’m going to go tell Mark you’re awake. He nearly murdered me last night because I wanted to help.”

“He’s a pretty sensitive kid, he just doesn’t show it a lot. I owe him a lot.”

“He feels the same way. He opened up a little after you were fixed up last night.” You don’t say it, but you feel like there’s a lot more to the Neos than they’re usually letting on. “I’ll check up on you later.”

Mark is gone from your eyesight and rushing out the door as soon as you tell him Yuta is awake. Through the day, you’re certain that nearly every member of the group goes in and out of his room. Yuta isn’t happy being stuck in his bed, but is wise enough to listen to your advice and stay and rest. You’re changing his wound dressings again at night when he groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “This is going to be the longest three weeks of my life.”

“I’m also stuck here with you, you know.”

“I guess you’ll have to be my entertainment, then.” His tone completely changes and he catches your chin with his hand, tilting your head up. The smolder he meets you with sends a pleasant, anticipatory shiver down your spine. This is certainly not a side of his personality that you’ve seen before. Where did this come from?

“I hardly know you,” you breathe out, “and you’re injured.”

“Most of me is perfectly fine.” His hand shifts from your chin, slipping back to stroke over your hair, but you catch the way he cringes slightly when his wound is disturbed by the motion. A short laugh escapes you at his attempt to be sexy while in pain.

“You’re an idiot, Nakamoto. Maybe another time.” You stand up, stepping backwards towards the door of the room. “Get some rest.”

With not much to do except spend time together, you get to know Yuta well over the next few weeks. You find out especially well that he’s a horrible flirt. Not horrible in the sense that he’s bad at it, he’s actually quite good, but he spends almost as much of his breath flirting with you as he does being serious. In the spaces of time where you get to know each other, he doesn’t tell you much about his past, still insisting that he’s far too sober to speak about it. The two of you keep well enough away from the topics of life and death and morality, but it can’t help but be brought up sometimes. You don’t know how high his body count is, but you’re starting to get an idea.

In the time you’re not with Yuta, you get to know some of the other members more through wandering around the building and tending to minor wounds. Some are friendlier than others, but they’re not nearly as serious around you as they were at first after a little while. You’d like to believe they warmed up to you a bit. You also find that the building has roof access. The door is usually locked and barred shut, but you go outside just to get some fresh air because you can’t leave otherwise and the windows are all boarded up. The Seoul sky is almost perpetually cloudy and dark, so different from where you grew up. Even with that twinge of homesickness, somewhere along those days, you stop waiting to leave and just focus on your time there. Before you know it, the end of three weeks approaches. The final night, you peek into Yuta’s room.

“What are you doing?” He muses, quirking an eyebrow at you. He leans against one of the concrete walls, a book in hand. He had taken to reading more while being confined to the building, you noticed. Ducking into his room, you hold your gift for him behind your back before pulling it out and revealing what it is. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Sake? I thought you said no drinking while I’m recovering?”

“Well,” you say, “I deem you recovered.” Putting aside the small bottle of alcohol and cups, you carefully unwrap his wound. You had taken out the stitches a few days previous and you’re happy to see that the wound is healing well. Well enough for you to declare him no longer out-of- commission. “Now, let’s go. You’re having your first celebratory drink with me.”

“Where are we going?” You grab a blanket off of his bed before turning back around to face him.

“You’ll see. Come on!”

You take him to the rooftop with you. This time, he’s the one taking your hand.

It’s dark outside, long past sunset. It’s better that way - probably safer, in the case that one of the enemy gangs is trying to spy on you. You should find it strange how your mind has shifted into thinking about those sorts of things now, but you suppose this is part of your life now. No matter how you cut it, the Neos changed you. As you’re laying out the blanket, Yuta questions you, swirling the alcohol in the bottle idly. “Where did you even get this? Did you raid Taeil’s liquor cabinet?”

“I got Chenle to run out and grab it for me. That kid knows way too much about alcohol for someone his age.” After you take the bottle of sake from him and put it down, you pat the space next to you on the blanket. He joins you, settling near you. Cracking open the bottle with a little too much flare, you pour sake into the little cup he holds in his hand first, then your own. “Cheers,” you say, lifting up your cup, “to your recovery.”

You down the cups at the same time, you wincing slightly at the sharp taste of the alcohol. He chuckles at your reaction. “Not used to sake?”

“I’m more of a soju person myself.” That one has him cracking a wider smile.

“We’d better have another, then. To get you accustomed to the taste.” He pours for you this time, tilting his chin towards you in acknowledgement. “This time, cheers to the best doctor in all of the Neos.”

This drink burns a little less than the one before. Slowly, you process what he had just said to you. “The best doctor in all of the Neos, huh? Am I a member now?”

The smile fades slightly on his lips, but the ghost of one remains. “Taeyong and I have been meaning to extend the invitation to you for a while now. We’ve got most of the arrangements for you to leave done, but you’d make a valuable member of our team if you wanted to stay.” He pauses, swallowing heavily. “I know we promised you we would get you out of here. But you can always stay. If you want to.”

He reaches a hand out, his fingertips barely grazing your cheek. A part of you wants him to touch you more, like he means it, like he desperately wants you to stay. Another part of you thinks about your life before all of this. Before you got roped up into all the business with the Neos, before you had to drop out of university, maybe even before you left your family in the country. A life with a little more peace. A life with a lot less Yuta. With his presence recently, you’re not sure you want to remember what a life without him feels like. Despite all the bitterness and blood he’s brought, you’ve connected with him in a way that you never have with anyone else. In a way that feels like the universe planned it, like you were somehow meant to be here all along. He’s so different from you. But, maybe, with a little more time, you can come to terms with that.

“Yuta,” you say, voice so quiet, like you’re afraid to answer. Because you’re afraid to answer. “Give me just a little time. To think about what all this means.”

“You’ll always have a place here, you know. With us.” With me. He doesn’t say that part, but you know with the way that he pushes your hair away from your face ever so gently that that’s what he means. You blink and he’s pulling away, reaching for the bottle of sake again. “Let’s have another drink.”

“To what this time?”

“Do you really have to have a reason to drink?” He smirks, a typical look for him, and pours for you.

“Let’s toast to the future, then,” you say. As you tilt back the alcohol into your mouth and swallow the burning liquid, you throw a wish into the night sky, asking for the right answer to your question. You try your best to see the stars, to find even a single one, but the city is unforgiving and all you can see is the moon, even with the relatively clear sky tonight. After you’re done with your drink, you set aside the cup, leaning back into your hands. “I’m not from the city,” you say, staring up at the inky gray-black sky, “I miss the stars.”

He laughs, a cold sound coming from what you want to believe is a warm heart. “I’m from Osaka. I’ve never really been able to see them.”

“Finally drunk enough to talk about the past?” You glance over at him, tilting your head to the side and smiling. When you tilt your head, the world sways slightly and you can feel warmth on your cheeks and a buzz in your fingers. You’re starting to feel the alcohol well enough now.

“Not quite,” he says, “but maybe if a pretty lady pours me another drink, I will be.”

“I wonder where you’ll find one of those,” you say, giggling. “Maybe if we put Jungwoo in a dress and wig, you could pretend?”

“Or I could ask the one right next to me.” Your giggling grows a little louder and a little more boisterously and you reach forward, picking up the bottle.

“What a charmer. I wonder where you got that from. Johnny influence you?”

“Oh, please. I’m far better at it than he ever was.” The two of you drain your cups quickly, placing them back down.

“Jaemin, then?”

“You’re comparing me to one of the kids? You offend me.”

“Lucas?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t talk about other men.” Your breath catches in your throat and your giggling stops at the smoldering look in his eyes. The mood suddenly shifts inexplicably into something more somber. He looks away and says a name that you can barely hear. “Hansol. It was Hansol.”

“Who was he?” You’re almost afraid to ask. You’ve never seen that look in Yuta’s eyes before. It’s pain and loneliness and an unbearable sadness that makes your heart ache in response. Despite the way your heart feels so heavy in your chest, you can’t stop staring at him.

“He brought me here. To the Neos. Away from Osaka, where I was rotting away in a gang that was all bloodshed and no purpose. There was a terf war in east Seoul one day that ended with him getting shot three times. It was a lot worse than mine and we didn’t have someone like you then. He died before we even got back to base.” Yuta’s eyes are trained on the sky, looking at nothing in particular yet seeming to see something that you don’t. “We didn’t have as much of a mission then as we do now. Part of it is because of him. Everyone here has more of their own reasons, too. Mark had a dad. Taeyong had a sister. I had Hansol.” He looks back at you. “Is that the story you wanted to hear?”

“I’m sorry…” It’s all you can say. All you can manage when you feel like crying for him.

“It’s okay. That was four years ago, anyways.” Four years. Four years ago, you were a sophomore in undergrad, not a care in the world besides your organic chemistry and biology classes and all sorts of dumb things that seem so small in comparison to what he was going through. On the train that day, five years ago, you had parted ways to go down completely different paths that are now converging again. You blink back the tears and stare back out at the sky. A cool breeze blows on the roof, but it feels good against your warm skin.

“We should go out and look one day, you and I. See the stars.” When you say that, he first responds with a bitter laugh.

“I’m busy.”

“Busy forever?”

“Yeah,” he says before looking over, “but maybe I could make some time for you. No promises.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You pour two more cups, finding that that’s the end of the bottle. It was a small bottle in the first place, but you’re almost disappointed that the two of you went through it so quickly. It was an excuse for him to stay with you for a little longer after you declared him healthy again. An excuse for just a little more time. With Yuta’s offer from earlier, you could get even more time. The thought brings a tugging feeling to your heartstrings. Could you really give up the chance at a new life for the sake of this man?

“A shame,” Yuta says, watching the last few drops fall from the container, “that was some good stuff, too. Looks like we’ll have to savor this last one.”

You raise your cup to him and he raises his to you in return before you both down the last of the sake. The cup leaves your lips and you smile. “Perhaps I’m becoming a sake person after all.”

“Is that so? We’ll have to drink together more often, then.”

“Only if you promise you won’t get hurt anymore.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them and, even in your tipsy-edging-on-drunk state, you know how foolish what you said is.

He smiles, a sort of sad smile that you wish he didn’t have to give you. “I’ll try my best. You know I can’t make that promise.” He lowers his voice, eyes flickering down to the empty cup in his hand. “There aren’t many promises I can make you that I’m sure I can keep.”

You set your empty cup aside, along with the bottle, and shift closer to him. You lay your hand over his, your fingers falling in the gaps between his. Even with the alcohol, his fingertips still feel slightly cool. “You don’t have to. Being here with you now is enough.”

Quickly, he flips his hand around, catching your hand in his. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss to them. Your heart nearly stops beating for the second time that night. The unspoken words between you are longing to escape, but neither of you can or want to speak. You feel like his heart is finally opening completely to you. You just have one more question first.

Regrettably, you break the moment, reaching over with your free hand to take the sake cup that he’s still holding on to. “Can I ask you something?” You speak as you set aside the cup behind you. He lets go of your hand and your arm instantly feels heavier. You have to stop yourself from pouting at the loss of contact. He tears his eyes away from yours, opting to gaze out at the rising moon instead. Your eyes never leave him.

“Anything you want.”

“That day, you could have just killed me. Or let me die. Anything like that. Why…?” The night air is still between you.

“Maybe I wanted my own personal masseuse.” He looks over at you again when you sigh softly. He looks breathtakingly handsome in the city lights and moonlight bathing him. The ratty wool blanket under both of you protects you from the cold that threatens to seep into your bones from the cement beneath while the blanket of moonlight from above guards you from a different type of cold that you can’t describe. He reaches over, taking your hand gently in his again. “Your hands,” he says, so quietly, as if you’ll break if he’s too loud, “they’re too gentle for someone like me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You implore him to answer your questions with your eyes, maintaining eye contact with him and giving him a pleading look.

“We’re not what you think of when the word gang comes to mind. You know that already. No matter what, every innocent person is worth saving. We’re trying to save this city, not cause more meaningless bloodshed. Before we even really knew you, you were worth saving.” He blinks slowly. “Now, I’m especially glad we did.”

“Yuta,” you whisper, trying to read everything that his eyes are showing you and also say exactly what you’re feeling yourself. “I don’t think it was the wrong place at the wrong time. I think everything turned out the way it was supposed to.”

He still has your hand in his and his grip tightens. His free hand travels to your cheek, his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches as he does so and the corners of his lips curl up at your reaction. He leans closer. His breath, slightly sharp with the smell of sake, washes over your lips. “Are you afraid?”

“No.”

The danger of him, of doing this, hums through your body as he kisses you. Your blood is hot with the alcohol and the feeling of him against you. He drags you closer so that you’re straddling his lap and you moan into the kiss. His skin feels even hotter than yours when his hands shift to slip under your shirt, having lost all of the previous coldness, stroking your sides. His lips separate from yours ever so slightly, his words barely even breathed against your lips. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

“Please don’t stop.”

The blanket, bottle, and cups are forgotten as the two of you stumble back down the stairs inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind you, Yuta’s bedroom close but not close enough. His hands shake with urgency as he practically tears your shirt and pants off. He strips off his shirt and his tattoo, an ocean red with blood, is visible to you once again. You don’t have much time to dwell on it before his pants are also off and he’s pinning you to his bed, his lips trailing down your entire body. You welcome him between your legs, letting him taste you and kiss you and do whatever he wants with your body. When he’s above you again, finally pressing into you, filling you in ways you never would have imagined, your eyes lower to his chest with all of his lean muscle and scars and the almost-healed bullet wound below his left shoulder, but you don’t have much time to think about that. You let him pound into you, let him press a hand to your mouth to muffle your drawn-out moans at his ministrations, at one of his hands dipping lower to bring you closer to the edge, let him kiss you when he isn’t using his hand to muffle your sounds. You yourself let go around him, let him release into the condom he had somehow managed to remember, let him pull you close once it’s all finished.

You wait for the regret to set in, but you don’t find any. Even now, you don’t regret Yuta. His arms feel good around you and his sweaty chest feels good pressed against your back. His lips feel good pressing against your neck, whispering sweet things to you that you’re too tired to really comprehend and commit to memory. You know he waits for you to fall asleep and, despite your best efforts to stay awake, you doze off, feeling warm both inside and out.

You wake up because it’s cold. You immediately realize that Yuta is no longer next to you, so you sit up in his bed. You’re about to say his name when quiet voices outside his door draw your attention. A little bit of orange light leaks through the boards over the windows, showing you that it’s only a little bit past dawn. Peeling away the covers except a blanket that you wrap around your body, you step as quietly as you can towards the door, leaning in to listen. You quickly recognize Taeyong’s voice along with Yuta’s.

“She said she needs time to think about it. I think there’s a good chance she might stay.” Ah. The offer that he had presented to you. You can’t help but smile. He sounds almost hopeful.

“Even if she wants out, I want to use her to talk to the RVs.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Another gang?

“We aren’t going to use her. I don’t want her involved with them. They’re too dangerous.”

“And the Rushers and Blue Veins aren’t? You weren’t so against using her to get the rat out of Park’s. What’s changed now?” Taeyong is short with the way he speaks, but what he says makes you freeze. They used you? Suddenly, it’s painful to swallow and you feel like you’re about to collapse. Everything… everything you’ve built here is fake. You’ve been lied to. They didn’t take you here to protect you. They took you here because they were responsible for the danger in the first place.

Deep pain starts to mix with anger as you listen to Yuta’s response. “I met her back then, you know that. Now, she’s saved my life. She’s more than bait now and she’s more to me.”

“I know you just got your dick wet, but think clearly. She’s the closest woman we have right now and the RVs don’t trust men. We need her to do this.” Silence falls between the two men for a moment before Yuta responds.

“I’ll ask her. Hopefully, she’ll be rational and say no.” He pauses before continuing. “And, don’t talk about her like that.”

When he opens the door and sees you a few feet away from the door, a wide-eyed look on your face with a blanket wrapped around you, he freezes. A moment later, he steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Y/N… how much did you hear?”

“Too much,” you say, your lips feeling numb as you speak, “but also just enough.”

“Y/N…” His expression shifts and he reaches forward to touch your shoulder, saying your name more softly than you’ve ever heard something leave his lips before. A few hours ago, him saying your name like that would’ve made your heart beat faster and a smile grace your lips, but now you just want to punch him. How dare he? You jerk away from his touch and stand up, your blood now boiling in your veins.

“You bastard,” you hiss, “you used me. You used me and then you let me fuck you.” You keep your voice low and your fists clenched despite the urge to scream, to hit him, to make him feel the way you do right now.

His eyebrows furrow. “Y/N… you don’t understand. The whole city-”

“No, Yuta, you don’t understand. I’ve been trying to get my life back on track for two years now and you used me, knowing my life would be fucked up forever after that.” You suddenly feel ridiculous, standing there arguing with the man who had ruined your life even more, the man you had just slept with, with only a blanket draped around your body. You turn, locating your underwear on the floor by the bed. As you slip into it, a headache, a mix of your rage and a coming hangover, starts to pound at your temples.

“We would never do anything with the purpose of hurting you, you know that.” Your bra is next, near where your underwear was.

You scoff, tugging on your own shirt from where it was abandoned in your haste a few hours ago. “Oh, because knowing I would get hurt as a consequence anyways is just so much better, isn’t it?”

“Y/N. Don’t talk like that.” He steps into your path after you pull your pants on and fix them around your hips.

Your gaze, once so timid, is now an intense glare. “Don’t try to intimidate me. I’m not afraid of you anymore, Nakamoto.” You clench your teeth, not breaking eye contact with him. “Am I only now a person worth more than just bait to lure out another gang? Do people not have value before they become useful to you?”

“Of course not. Y/N, you know we’re fighting for everyone. You know how I feel about you. You know I-”

He stops speaking when your hand raises in an attempt to slap him. With lightning fast reflexes, he grabs your arm, twisting it and raising his opposite hand. You try not to flinch, maintaining eye contact with him. “Go on. Hit me back. You couldn’t hurt me any more than you already have.”

At that, he drops your arm and lets you shove past him to exit the room. Suddenly, the building is suffocating and you have to get out. You’ve been here for a month and haven’t left, not once complaining, believing they were protecting you. A part of you logically knows that the other gangs are after you and that, in some ways, they are protecting you, but you’re so angry and hurt that you no longer care. Past all the rooms, down the stairs, to the front, where Jeno is sitting on watch. At first, he just looks at you blearily, but immediately scrambles up and towards you when your hand moves to unlock the door, stopping you.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing? You can’t go out there!” Ordinarily, you wouldn’t yell at the poor kid, as he’s one of the nicest, most innocent members, but right now he’s standing in your way.

“I’m sick of being your prisoner while you say you’re protecting me! Taeyong promised me I could leave, so I’m doing that. I’m so fucking sick of this.”

Speak of the devil and so he shall appear. The stairs creak behind you and you turn to see Taeyong. “Y/N. Go back to your room.”

“You’re not my leader. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“I don’t want to threaten you, Y/N, but I am the one with the gun.” His hand not-so-subtlely shifts to his belt, where his handgun is. Your hand lowers from the locks. “We’ll talk in your room. Come on.”

Obediently, you follow him, your head pounding with each step back into what you feel has become your prison. Once you’re both inside, he turns around. “I understand your frustration. However, we need you one more time. Most of the arrangements have been made. Help us with the RVs and we’ll let you go.”

You scoff. “I don’t get a choice this time?”

“You still want to stay with us?” You don’t respond, so he takes that as confirmation. “We’re going to see them tomorrow. After that, we’ll send you off to Japan with a new identity and a new life. I suggest you take care of all of your business before then.” His eyes flicker to the doorway and you don’t have to turn around to know who’s there.

Not even sparing him a glance, you turn around and walk back out the door, this time in the opposite direction you had come from. You go to the roof, where the door had been locked clumsily last night in your haste to get in each other’s pants. To your relief, he doesn’t follow you. The early morning light is painting the sky in colors that you don’t see too often anymore, soft pinks and yellows that are far too bright and pretty for how mournful and gray you feel. After you shut the door behind you, you see the blanket you had left out, along with the empty sake bottle and cups. In a spike of anger, you walk forward, grab the bottle, and throw it as hard as you can against the concrete of the wall by the door. The bottle shatters, scattering pieces of glass on that part of the roof. A shard flies towards you and you raise your arm, letting it slice into your forearm instead of your face. You just take the pain, listening to the small pieces of glass fall to the ground. You look at the place the glass had sliced into your skin and wince, touching the blood beginning to leak from the wound.

Tears prick your eyes at the pain and, before you know it, you’re sobbing, curling in on yourself, crying into your hands. The anger melts into hurt again. It feels like your heart has been torn from your chest. Without even trying, Yuta had taken everything that you had been willing to give him and you don’t know if you’ll ever get it back. You have to move forward, go to Japan, and start a new life with the pain of the Neos always resting in your heart. There’s only one way forward now. You cry until your headache becomes too painful to handle and there are no more tears left for you to shed.

Inside, you take care of your bleeding arm and drink some water before you sleep. A knock on your door awakens you a few hours later. Taeyong steps inside, a folded pile of clothes in his hands. “Something practical but fashionable to wear tomorrow. The RVs won’t accept anything less.”

He leaves just as quickly as he had come in. While that interaction is quick, the rest of the day is not. The few times you leave your room to eat and use their bathroom, it’s like the first day you were here. You avoid looking at the members and you don’t talk to them. Finally, it’s some time in the evening when there’s another knock on your door. You had been unsuccessfully trying to read for who knows how long, so when the door opens and Yuta is there, it really is like the first day again. He eyes the book open in front of you before looking up, catching your eyes. When you would usually smile at him, you meet him with a blank look this time, waiting for him to say something.

“Y/N,” he starts, voice soft, like it had been earlier. Your heart aches this time. He stays in the doorway. “I never meant for you to get hurt. I’m sorry. You still saved my life. For that, I’ll always owe you.” He pauses, the silence falling heavily between you. “I have feelings for you. I’m not going to lie to you. But I know that won’t keep you here if you don’t want to be here.”

As he starts to turn back around, you call out to him. “Yuta.” He stops, looking back at you, waiting for you to speak. “Why is your tattoo red and not blue?”

He swallows hard. “To remind me that it might take a sea of blood to change the world.”

You nod slowly. “I think… I understand now. We’ll never be the same, you and I. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand you, no matter how hard I try. We might have too many differences to ever reconcile them.”

“I’m sorry. For bringing you into this.” All you do is shake your head. He leaves.

It’s hard to sleep that night.

The meeting with who they call the “RVs” is in the evening the next day. The outfit Taeyong brought you is a pair of black jeans and a flowy black shirt, banded around the waist and with loose sleeves, black ankle boots with a slight heel, and a gray-washed jean jacket. You almost hate to admit it, but it’s the slickest outfit you’ve worn in a while, especially since coming here. With your hair falling loosely, you feel ready for whatever this meeting is.

A quiet knock on your door has you turning around. You open it to see Jisung. He’s the quietest out of the members, so you’re surprised to see him. “Here,” he says, offering you a sheathed knife, complete with some leather straps. You take it from him, your eyes wide. He doesn’t meet your eyes. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if something goes wrong, it’s good to have a weapon. You can hide it under your shirt. Chenle and I got it for you. Don’t tell the hyungs, they’ll get mad.”

Tears nearly prick at your eyes. “Thank you, Jisung. I won’t tell them. In all luck, I won’t even have to use it.” He bows quickly before hurrying away. With the door shut again, you raise up your shirt, finding that the outline of the sheath isn’t even visible beneath the material once you’ve secured it against your side.

Doyoung collects you from your room a few minutes later and you follow him, Taeyong, and Yuta to a car waiting just outside the front entrance. The last few golden orange rays of the sunset graze the sky. “Do you know how to get to the Bakery?” Taeyong asks Doyoung after he gets into the driver seat.

“I would certainly hope so. I’ve been there enough.”

Yuta leans closer to you and you instinctively lean away. He frowns and you reposition yourself, trying to not be deliberately avoidant. “The Bakery is where the Red Velvets are located. It’s not an actual bakery, just some warehouse they took over.” So, it’s the Red Velvets. You probably should have realized that’s what “RVs” meant, but you were a bit mentally occupied with other things. They’re a notorious female gang, small in members, but particularly dangerous. “They don’t really trust men,” Yuta adds, “that’s why we need you.”

“What do you even want me to do?”

Taeyong speaks up this time. “We’re trying to get them to ally with us. They’re not heartless - they killed their old boss and took off because he was doing despicable things to women. Part of the reason for their distrust. We just need to get them on our side. To cooperate with us. Just do your best to get their confidence in us.”

“Hopefully, Irene isn’t too difficult today. She’s the hardest to convince out of any of them,” Doyoung says. As you talk with them on the way over, things almost feel normal, like the last few days, but your heart feels too heavy for it to feel exactly right. You know Yuta glances over at you periodically and you can’t help looking back at him sometimes.

You don’t know what you were expecting to see when you first meet the Red Velvets, but the image in your mind probably wasn’t this. A stunningly beautiful woman greets you at the door, smiling at only you amongst your group and introducing herself as Yeri. She leads you all down a long, dark hall, into a room. There’s a large circular table with nine chairs, arranged almost like a makeshift conference room. Three of the chairs are occupied by more women, equally as beautiful as Yeri. She sits down next to them. The four of you take your seats across from them. You eye the empty chair curiously and, as you’re doing so, you hear the clicking of heels from behind you. Another woman enters, taking the final seat. All of them are dressed as Taeyong had told you to dress - fashionable, but practical. “I suppose we can begin, then?” One of them says, smiling sweetly. “What is it that the Neos want from us?”

Taeyong glances at the rest of us before looking back at them. “We want to propose an alliance.”

“Oh?” Yeri questions. “And why would we be interested in that?”

“Our organizations aren’t so different. We’re both after something bigger, better than just bullying innocent people into submission. It’s about time that we become allies,” Doyoung says, his voice even and calm.

“Not a bad point,” a third woman says, “what do you have to say, Wendy?”

“Why should we even trust you? What have you done that’s so good and righteous?”

“We don’t abandon people. We save them. Y/N is living proof of that.” Yuta jerks his head towards you after he says his part and you give a shallow nod of acknowledgment.

“Let her speak for herself, then.” The final woman, the one who had walked in last, gets up, walking around the table to your side. She stops in front of you, reaching out a hand and tilting your chin up with one finger. “Y/N, was it? Tell us why we should trust these men.”

Her gaze is seductive, ruby lips parted, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. Her eyes make you want to tell the truth, unfiltered. You blink to clear your head, deciding that you’ll speak from your heart, consequences be damned. “They’re not lying. They could have left me on that street, could have let the Rushers or Blue Veins kill me. But, they saved me and took responsibility, even though they had gotten me into that mess in the first place. I…” You break eye contact with her, your eyes almost unconsciously shifting over to Yuta. You look back at her. “For the last while, they’ve treated me almost like a member of their own group. And, despite everything, I don’t regret meeting them. They’ve done some terrible things, but I understand why. I want the bloodshed to stop as much as any of you do. They’ve shed blood on their own, changed lives, but I trust them.”

A quiet hum leaves her. Her thumb brushes over your bottom lip once before she takes her hand away, stepping back to her side of the table. The first woman watches her sit down again, a look of mixed amusement and weariness in her eyes. “Are you done playing your games, Irene?”

“Games? I just got a very honest confession out of our most honored guest, Seulgi.” Her painted red lips curve up into a smile. “I trust her and her story.”

“Joy? Wendy? Yeri?” None of the others speak as Irene calls upon them, only nodding. Irene, who you now figure is the leader, gives your side a wry smile. “I suppose we’re in agreement, then. We’ll ally with you, Neos. Should you need us or should we need you, we are in this together, now.” She stands and the others follow. The Neos do the same, so you do, as well. She extends a hand across the table. Taeyong meets her halfway, shaking firmly.

Yeri leads all of you out again, Irene joining her to walk besides you. Though the meeting hadn’t been long, the tension was enough to make your legs feel like jelly. As you’re about to exit the building, Irene stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, leaning in to whisper in your ear at a low enough volume that none of the boys can hear. “If you ever need a different home, our doors are always open to you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You smile and whisper back, following the Neos out. Yuta’s eyes follow you the entire way, eyes narrowed as Irene whispers to you. As you leave, he reaches out, grabbing your hand. Your eyes widen, but you don’t shake him off. “What are you doing?”

“Showing them that you’re not on the market.” His grip on your hand is nearly crushing, but you accept it for the moment. The way his fingers interlace with yours feels so natural, so nice, that you almost forget the whole incident from the previous day. After you get back into the car, he lets go of your hand, but the feeling remains.

“Fuck,” you hiss, realizing that Yuta’s grip on your hand had caused the cut from the sake bottle to start weeping blood again. Yuta reaches forward when he sees red begin to soak the bandage peeking out from under your sleeve.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” you say through gritted teeth, pulling your arm closer to your body. He frowns, but doesn’t comment on it again. It’s a quiet few minutes between all of you after that, so Yuta takes the opportunity to turn to you. “The offer is still open. You can stay.”

“Yuta, I-” You don’t have time to respond to him before gunshots start firing off around the car. From the noise the car makes and the way Doyoung loses control, one of the tires has been popped. Before you can really think, there’s an explosion from the opposite side of the car and it’s flipping. You think you hear Yuta yell your name, but your ears are ringing from the explosion and you have no room to think as the car makes contact with the ground. The windows shatter, spraying glass all over all of you. The car tumbles once, twice more before coming to rest upside down. Your head is spinning and red and black spots cover your vision. It smells like blood and burning and you think something in the engine on fire. Everywhere hurts. Somehow, you manage to get your seatbelt off and away from your body. Every move you make feels like your skin is being sliced open and you want to throw up. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you’re getting shards of glass stuck in your skin as you try to crawl out the shattered window, but that’s the least of your concerns. Breathing is a conscious effort and you feel like you could pass out, just go to sleep at any time. Your skin feels hot and sticky with blood. The sheath of Jisung’s knife presses into your side. Finally, with one last pull, your leg is free from the car seat you had hardly realized it was stuck under, and you finish crawling out from the car. After you’re out, you turn to look at the wreckage, seeing the slumped bodies of Taeyong, Doyoung, and Yuta. Yuta. He’s the closest to you, so you reach out for him.

“Yuta…” you can barely choke out his name, your breaths coming shallowly. A line of blood traces down his face and his eyes are closed. Before you can try to get closer and see if he’s still breathing or if any of the parts of the car are impaled in his body, someone drags you backwards. With the little strength you have left, you try to fight back, pulling in the opposite direction. “No… Yuta!”

“Shut up. You think he could survive a crash like that?”

“I survived it! Get the hell off of me!” You try to scramble forward again, but the man holding you back tugs harder. You turn just enough to see the tattoo on his arm. Bright blue veins tattooed artificially into his arm. You want to scream, but you don’t know who would hear you. People you had started to consider your friends are in that car, bleeding to death, soon to burn alive, and you have to save them. “Let me go. Let me go!”

As you scream, the Blue Vein drags you back by your arm, his fingers digging into your bottle cut. That last bit of pain is enough to push you over the edge and the black spots finally overtake your vision.

The sound of crying is what brings you to consciousness. That, and the mind-numbing pain that fills your body. A whimper of pain leaves you as soon as you try to find your voice. “Shh, it’s alright.”

An unfamiliar voice has you peeling open your eyelids, seeing an unfamiliar woman in front of you, using dull tweezers to pull the shards of glass out of your skin. A bowl full of the sharp pieces of the car windows is next to you and a gruff, heavily tattooed man stands behind her. “That’s enough.”

The kind-looking woman moves away quickly and fearfully and the man moves forward. “So, you’re the Neos’ new fleshlight, huh?”

You shakily open your mouth and he smirks, expecting some pitiful comment to escape you. Instead, you grit your teeth and hiss out your next words. “Fuck you.”

By his expression, you can tell he isn’t pleased. However, his face quickly morphs from showing irritation and anger to showing smug pleasure. The smile he’s giving you leaves an unsettling feeling in your gut. “You’re lucky you’re still alive. Or, not so lucky, once we pick out every piece of info about the Neos from you that we can. It will be fun for us, but so much for you. I can promise you that.” He turns to the woman who had stepped back. “Take care of those wounds. I’ll be back later.”

As soon as he leaves and you hear a door open, shut, and lock, you try to get up, but the sharp pain throughout your body brings you to a halt quickly. The woman rushes forward, trying to get you to lie back down. “Please stop, you’ll hurt yourself more.”

You try to analyze her, but your brain feels slow and fuzzy with pain. She has dirt on her face and her hair and simple clothes are dirty, like she hasn’t bathed or changed in a while. All you can tell from her exposed arms is that she doesn’t have the markings of a Blue Vein member. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Sooyoung. But, please, listen to me.” The logical side of your mind wins out against the desperate side and you lie back down, wincing. You recognize that you’re in some sort of bed and the room is dimly lit. From your position, you look out at the rest of the room and see several other people, all huddled near each other, tired, fearful looks on their faces. With a little more observance, they all have cuts, bruises, and dirt covering their skin, similar to Sooyoung.

“Where am I? Who are all you people?”

“You were taken by the Blue Veins. From what they were saying, it sounds like you were in some sort of crash.” The memory of what happened right before you blacked out comes to you and you suddenly feel even sicker. You want to cry, but you don’t have any strength left for that. In all likelihood, Yuta, Doyoung, and Taeyong are dead. You have to pray they’re alive, but with the way the crash was looking, you don’t place any faith in that. You look back at Sooyoung’s face as she speaks again. “We were all taken by them.” Her voice lowers, mostly out of fear. “Girls have come and gone. We think they sell them. Some people are here because they know a member of a different gang. It’s… it’s all just waiting. Waiting for when you’ll be next.”

Suddenly, even in your weak state, you feel like you understand. Why the Neos believe what they do. Why they’re fighting. Why they’re willing to make sacrifices. Who they’re fighting for.

“I…” You say slowly, each word feeling like a promise, “I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widen. “What? There is no way to help. We’ve tried, I promise you we’ve tried, but-”

“The Neos. If they figure out where I am, they’ll come for me,” you take a deep breath, wincing when it hurts to breathe in, “even if they don’t, I’ll find a way.” You become aware of the feeling of Jisung’s knife still pressing into your side. You choose to put your trust in this woman you just met, so you slowly move your body, choking back noises at the pain, reach under your shirt, untie the leather strapping the knife to your side, and pull it out. “Take this,” you say, trying to offer it to her. She doesn’t move, her eyes large with fear. “Hide it for now. I’ll think of something.”

With a little more urging, she takes it. She stows it away between the mattress and the bedsprings of the old, creaky bed you’re lying on before facing you again. “Please, try to recover. They won’t give you long, maybe a few days at best. I don’t know if your friends are coming, but… this is the best chance we’ve got.”

With your promises, you find that the rest of your strength is sapped for the moment and you slip away into sleep.

You don’t know how many days pass. You suspect the Blue Veins are only allowing you to recover now so that it hurts more when they try to get information out of you. With a painfully small amount of food and water being given to you, your body still aches and you want desperately to leave. But, you use the time to think. Wait for the right opportunity. You speak quietly with the others in the room when the gang members aren’t around. Too many of them are innocent men, women, children, weak people. People who have no place being thrown into the violence they have. Every so often, a new person is taken, sometimes crying and screaming, sometimes silent, ready for whatever is to come. Two or three new people arrive, just as afraid as the rest. Some are taken out and come back with gashes and burns and wounds uglier than anything you’d seen while you were shadowing at the hospital. With each person that comes and goes, your resolve strengthens. Slowly, you think of something. You don’t have a very solid plan, but you wait for the right moment anyways. If you have to kill to set yourself and these people free, you will.

One day, you’re woken from your sleep by shouting coming from behind the locked door. Some sort of disturbance. This - this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. Moving as quickly as you can manage and trying to signal the others that it’s time, they all get up, ready to help you. You don’t know how you did it, but you motivated some of them to try to help you. The knife is in your hand. You’re behind the door. Once again, you’re waiting, but only for a little bit longer.

Locks are clicking up and you hear more shouting, but you try to focus. The people in the rest of the room shift nervously and you try to still your shaking hand. It’s now or never. You can’t depend on the Neos to save you, so you have to try for yourself. The shouting becomes more coherent as the door finally flies open, nearly hitting you. Side-stepping it slightly, the man who had entered the room practically growls. A gun is in his hand. Some of the others who aren’t frozen in fear begin to cry out loudly from the other side of the room, the first part of your plan. His attention is drawn to them, his next words a bark of anger. “Where the hell is that Neo bitch?”

Now. You lunge forward, but don’t notice the other shadow emerging from behind him in the doorway. The knife is about to plunge into his neck, but a strong hand stops you. A familiar voice. “There’s no need for that.”

The Blue Vein turns, locking eyes with the man who had stopped you. A moment later, a gunshot deafens you and the Blue Vein is crumpling to the ground, howling in pain. Some of the other captives scream, real fear this time. A bullet wound clean through both his hand and thigh. He drops his own gun and clutches at his wounds.

You can’t believe your eyes. Yuta stands in front of you, a pistol in his hand, pointed at the man on the ground. He’s alive. He’s alive. You want to cry and hug him and thank him all at the same time. You settle for just saying his name. “Yuta…”

He smiles and tilts his head towards you, wincing at what you believe is a head wound, indicated by the bandage wrapped around his forehead. “You should get them out of here. None of you want to see this.”

You swallow hard. “Thank you.”

When you turn towards the door to peer out, you’re face to face with Ten, Kun, and Yangyang, more of the Neos. Managing a quick smile, you usher the people out of the room, moving around the figure of the Blue Vein on the floor in pain and Yuta standing over him, steady hand pointing his gun at the other man’s forehead. Once everyone is out, you stay turned around, watching as the others guide them out. With all your sensibilities, you try not to think about the life leaving the man on the ground as you hear another gunshot from behind you. If you’ve learned one thing while trapped here, it’s that people can be vile. Vile enough that you could possibly forgive Yuta for pulling that trigger.

You feel a hand on your shoulder a few moments later and you’re being spun around, familiar arms embracing you. You breathe him in, a scent so freeing and warm compared to what you’ve been experiencing for the last few days. A sob finally escapes you and his shirt becomes wet with your tears. “I thought you were dead,” you cry, your sounds muffled by his chest, “I really thought you were dead.”

“If I was that easy to kill, I would’ve been dead years ago,” he murmurs, stroking your hair softly. “It did take a hell of a lot of convincing to get Kun to let me come with this time, though. I got lucky compared to Doyoung and Taeyong.”

You pull away slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. “Are they…?”

“They’re alive, just in bad shape. We could really use you back with us.” He moves to cup your cheek with his hand, frowning at the small cuts and dirt on your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive. You’re alive. I’m okay.” You sniffle, reaching up to try to wipe away your tears. “Yuta, those people… they’ve been here for so long. I’m so glad you came to get us.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.” Despite the dirt on your face and the tears smudging it, he leans down, pressing his lips to yours firmly. He pulls away when more gunshots sound from the opposite direction the others had gone. He takes your hand, pulling you along. “We should go.” You watch the place your hands are connected, feeling like you know him more than ever.

“Why did you stop me?” You ask, trying to keep pace with him. “I could have killed him. I was ready to do it.”

“I know that’s not something you want. You’re different from us. You’re not ready to kill. You don’t want to kill.” His tone shifts into something more mournful. “I’m sorry. For everything. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

“I’m glad I’m here.”

He stops moving, turning to you slowly, eyebrows furrowed and a confused look on his face. “What?”

“I’m glad I’m here. Yuta, I…” you stop, trying to think carefully about what you’re about to say. “I understand now. Those people will be able to live again because you guys are here. Because you came for me, for us. I might not be able to go back to school again, to ever become a full-fledged doctor, but,” you pause, looking him right in the eyes, “I understand now. And I want to help. It wasn’t the wrong place at the wrong time. I want to stay with the Neos. I want to stay with you.”

“This,” he breathes out, “this isn’t something you can take back. You know that, right?”

“I know. I still want to stay.” You nod firmly, looking him in the eyes. To save people like Sooyoung, to use the skills you’ve acquired, to do something to fight the darkness in the city. You’ll do it for that. You’ll do it for all of them, for Mark’s dad, for Taeyong’s mom, for Hansol, whom you’d never met. You’d do it for Yuta, who is now close to your heart.

With that unbreakable promise that you swear to fulfill, you squeeze his hand tight. He gives you a small smile, full of hope at the future he knows you’re gaining and with a slight tinge of sadness at the future he knows you’re losing, and pulls you forward with him.

#yuta angst #yuta smut #neowritingsnet #nct angst #nct smut #nct 127 angst #nct 127 smut #if you made it through all of this #thank you for reading!!#i hope you enjoyed #leave feedback if you have anything to say!!! i always appreciate it :))#this is v different from anything i've written before so i hope it turned out well #nct fluff #yuta fluff #nct 127 fluff

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