#ive cried too many times over it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 8 months ago

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:((((((((( i ran out of tags . tumblr hates to see me thrive!!!!!!!

ok niku just . read the tags first and then come back here ok 🙏🙏 i have a lot i still need to say this is so important to me . this fic changed my life .

(WARNING this got long ….. really long ….. mysteriously. i got carried away 💔 PLS don’t feel the need to respond to any of this btw i mean that sincerely i know this is kind of a Lot i just need you to know much i adored this fic <3333)

BACK TO GOJO ok so his talk w reader…… it was just so satisfying to see them finally get to tell someone about their experience. it must’ve been such a great feeling for them !!!! to get some of it off their chest :((( … and to have Gojo Fucking Satoru our safe harbour of a man there to believe them and listen to them and reassure them. he’s so mature when it comes down to it and you captured that so well…… like as much as he acts childish and teasing this is exactly how i picture him interacting w someone he doesn’t know in a situation like this!! he’s flirty and unserious but he tells you he’ll protect you and means it. (i’m so down bad it physically hurts)

sorry i’m abt to go on a tangent i think BUT I JUST 😔😔 really… REALLY love their dynamic…. how it evolves so much even though he doesn’t even know reader exists for most loops!! and to them he’s just this beautiful Something that they can’t help but look at…… ”inhumanly attractive” is a great way to put it like he’s just….. this magnetic force……….. and i feel like even before they speak to him for the first time they probably find some kind of hope in him.

AND that’s so important bc to me that’s like . the main Theme of the fic? hope. reader has to find some kind of hope to make it through shibuya and more often than not they find it in gojo!!! in just seeing a familiar handsome face, in learning how to navigate the timeline through his actions, in talking to him and finally having him on their side. their choice to trust him fully at the end just made me soooo insane. and obv the hope theme continues even after that because gojo believes in them!!! believes that they’ll be okay in the prison realm….. more on that later actually bc i Still. have a lot to talk abt 😔👉👈 i’m just wildly flipping through my notes at this point i’m sorry to throw this at u when we’ve barely interacted but in my defense this fic reached into my actual skull and started rewiring my brain so!!!! yeah.

i got completely sidetracked there but . yes!! the conversation between them when gojo gets sent back in time is. so good!!!!! so wonderfully written!!!!! i haven’t mentioned it that much yet i think but i love your writing i devoured every line…… i struggle w the flow of my own writing SO much but this just flows so incredibly well??? it was sm fun to read????? and the rhythm of the paragraphs (that sounds. Insane but i hope u know what i mean 😭😭) is so distinct!!! and ofc there are SO many banger lines in this in general…. the gore descriptions and the lines abt reader and their fixation on hope. on gojo!! ”He's a terrifying sort of beauty and you can't help but be captivated by him.” <- this is just one example but!! idk i’m just so enamored by ur writing style.

and the dialogue!!!!!!!! i cried!!!!!! it’s so consistently gojo…. him going all ”oh?” ”interesting…” but not explaining anything … the ”ding ding ding!” after making reader guess what he should just be telling them (it’s the teacher in him <33) AND AND AND these too!!!! :3

“Just think of it like having a lot of MP.”

“You know, your technique kind of reminds me of save scumming.”

THEY JUST FEEL SO CANON that’s our gojo…… that’s exactly what he would say…… he’s so unserious and so funny and so charming 😔😔 sigh.

ANDDDDD reader telling him good luck!!!! gojo beaming and squeezing their shoulder!!!!! the lil wave!!!!! 🥺🥺 that made me smile so wide niku he’s so infuriatingly cute . it felt so genuine!!!! pls know that this gojo will probably live in my brain forever like genuinely . i’ve been brainrotting over him all week and this was the final nail in the coffin. i’ll never be free.

ok but also !!!! extremely important !!!!!!! before i get to the ending i just need to tell u . how much i loved kenjaku in this ……….. kenjaku nation (me & six others) will never forget these crumbs of content like he just feels so real!!!!! and he’s so interesting!!!!! made me realize how truly down bad i am for him bc these lines made me so fucking happy 😭😭 brain started releasing serotonin like CRAZY i’m so ashamed.

“You can come out, you know.”

”How interesting.”

"I'll be nice, though. I'll make it painless."

…….. he’s just ….. yeah. yeahhhhh. 😔😔 i’ll never be normal abt him. i think it’s SUCH an interesting detail that he always makes reader’s death painless in every single loop…. he never lies about it. that feels so in character to me too!!! he’s kinda fascinated at first and when that interest disappears he kills them. but he doesn’t make it unecessarily cruel because there’s just. no need. kenjaku is a sicko but he’s oddly polite at times and i’m just……. yeah. gonna need you to take over for gege akutami actually 🙏🙏 get in the writer’s chair!!! the fandom needs u!!!!!

wait while we’re on this topic pls just know the entire confrontation between reader and kenjaku was one of my favorite moments in the entire fic <333 not JUST because i’m a kenny stan ok……… reader’s resignation and ”I appreciate it.” made my brain spin because it’s just . kinda chilling? kinda sick? that they aren’t even really afraid of death anymore… or more like they’re just so frighteningly used to it.

AND AND ANDDDD niku your writing in this scene 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 gutted me like a fish.

Time doesn't flow in the box. He didn't lie. You die again.

i exploded btw . ackkk i wish i could explain it better i just!!! :< adore your writing. these lines made me go completely batshit they’re just so good. and the ”time doesn’t flow in the box” line … how that ties in with the ending and reader’s choice. whewww.

segway time <3333 this is the final rant i promise!!! i just need to talk about the ending bc it was so perfect and like many other things in this fic it made me insane …. have i said that already …. probably at least a couple times 😔👉👈 it’s true ok!! it’s just sooo interesting to me and obviously so wellwritten and fitting and just. thematically ties everything together so well? i was FLOORED

hhhhh i don’t know where to begin so i’ll just start w the final convo between reader and gojo :> he asks for their name !!!!!!! i cried !!!!!!!!!! calling someone by their name or knowing their name as a form of like . Closeness or Affection is one of my greatest weaknesses and i also think it’s soooo telling that GOJO wants to know Your Name. he wants to know you. to hear that from someone who seems so inhumanly beautiful and violent….. for him to kind of extend a final olive branch and attempt to connect w you :((((( it just says so much without spelling it out and i. started chewing at my desk. it’s so good!!!!!!! such a genius way to tie everything together!!!! and reader’s final words to him…

“Thank you, Satoru Gojo.” You burn the glittering glow of his brilliant bright blue eyes into your mind. And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black.

first of all!!! so so sooooo pretty. wowow. second of all THE THANK YOU ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ that’s also such a perfect conclusion…….. reader finally put their trust in someone and had that faith returned. and they thank him!!!! i like to think it means something to gojo too…. likeeee how often do people really thank him for what he does? how often is his hard work to protect people acknowledged and appreciated? sorry to bring gojo back into the discussion all the time sadly i AM in love w him….. 😔😔 and this fic made it worse so technically it’s your fault. kind of.

okay so my brain is kinda spinning away again so i’ll get to the final final thing!!!! for real this time!!!!! reader’s decision to be imprisoned in gojo’s stead… that’s so . genius? i’m so in awe??????? it makes so much sense from a character perspective based on what they’ve been through — after being at the mercy of time for so long, wouldn’t it be nice to be free of it? completely? it’s almost kind of chilling and just the idea of it scares me LMAO but it makes sm sense that reader would be drawn to it.

AND like i mentioned before!!! how it leads to a deeper connection between them and gojo, and how at the very end of the fic he’s the one who has faith in them. faith that they’ll be alright, of sound mind.

…… and that brings me to the final final final thing because. it’s just like the opening poem!! reader is the cat in the box. nobody can say for sure if they’re alright, not to mention alive, until the box is opened. and we don’t get to know!!! you leave us on a cliffhanger and that’s so good bc it really is like the cat in the box…. we can only wonder but it also gives us the freedom to decide for ourselves if we think they come out okay or not and i’m just………….. in love. with this fic. and the ending and the reader and gojo and you.

hopefully you’ve noticed atp but i really did go completely insane reading this 😭😭 i said it at the beginning but just to reiterate!!: for SURE one of my all time favorite gojo fics . AND loopfics in general…. thank you sm for your hard work :’3 aaaa i can’t tell u how much i admire the time you spent working on this??? your storytelling and writing and characterization skills????? i genuinely feel sooo giddy and excited and happy rn bc. i just adored this fic!!!! i’m so lucky i got to read it!!!!! :33 pls pat your gojo on the head from me and let him know i love him…. it’ll boost his ego but that’s a risk i’m willing to take 😔😔 i hope you have theeeee loveliest day or night a human being can have bc you made mine <3333333

beyond the unending night (reader + satoru gojo)

notes: it's finally here. the long awaited halloween fic. yes, i know it's march, but i did start working on it in september. haha. there's so much i could say, but i will leave it at that this fic is, in every sense, a fic that i would not normally write. and yet here we are.

contains: f!reader (no physical description or gendered language is used), no explicit romantic pairing (though you don't have to look hard to find the reader x gojo implications), major character death (played with), semi-graphic depictions of death, blood and violence, minor suicide ideation, canon retelling (lines of dialogue are pulled from the jjk english dub because i'm a dirty dub watcher). opening poem is from higurashi no naku koro ni (minagoroshi-hen). fic title is from giga's beyond the way.

please note that this is a time loop fic and, by nature contains repeating scenes (particularly from canon). please do not read this fic if you do not like that sort of thing.

wc: 21,883 read on ao3 (account required)

Please tell me what happened in this night. It's like the cat inside the box.

Please tell me what happened in this night. You don't know if the cat in the box is dead or alive. Please tell me what happened in this night. The cat in the box was dead.

The first time, it is instant— you don’t even know what’s happening.

The second, it is by flame, but you barely realize it, barely feel it— a second of mind numbing heat before nothing.

The third time, it is something slicing across your throat; you see the blood spilling everywhere, then the pain follows— a moment of pure agony before nothing.

The fourth time you realize what’s going on; what’s really going on.

You realize you’ve been dying.

You think your head is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because the subway platform is crowded, insanely so— there are hundreds of people shoved into this space alongside you, packed like sardines in a can. You’ve never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you live in Tokyo. For the most part, you’ve learned to accept it, but even this crowd is a little much and you wish you hadn’t listened to your friends when they said you should go party in Shibuya for Halloween; you don’t even like partying.

There’s a sharp pain in your temple followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone is screaming it at you through a megaphone positioned right next to your ear.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

For the eighth time.

Before you can even question the thought, images flash in your mind’s eye, blurry at first before they come into focus. The platform gates open. Chaos ensues. People dropping onto the subway tracks— spontaneously bursting into flame— their heads, necks sliced off, stomachs cut open—

Bile rapidly builds up in your throat, and you clamp your jaw shut, trying to force it down. Not here. Not now. You try to focus on something else, anything else happening outside of your brain. There’s a pair next to you musing about the people standing on the subway tracks, wondering what the two (the four?) of them are talking about. You blink back tears as you look. You can only see two: a freakishly tall man with white hair dressed in all black, and another man, dressed in strange, yet more traditional looking garb. Are those costumes too? You don’t have a lot of time to think about it as another image forces its way into your brain.

Your corpse— lifeless on the ground.

Your corpse— burning to ash.

Your corpse— bleeding out.

You can’t hold it in any more. Every fiber in your being screams at you to get away from the subway tracks, but instead you rush toward them, shoving people left and right as your hands desperately reach the stability of the gate. You grip it like a lifeline as you retch over the side of it, the contents of your stomach spilling all over the subway tracks.

There’s a quiet murmur of disgust behind you but you can’t be bothered to respond. You need to get out of here. You need to leave. You need to do it before—

The gates open and the crowd starts to move like a tidal wave, pushing and shoving their way through the gate. You’re swept away, vomit long forgotten as you and a few dozen others tumble onto the railway.

Alarm bells go off in your brain, loud and deafening. A voice in the back of your head screams for you to get off the track! Get off the track now before—

The platform erupts into a cacophony of screams, drenched in horror, saturated in fear. You are surrounded by people, by corpses— beheaded, sliced open, bursting into flames.

Your terror roots you to the ground as the carnage ensues around you. It’s only when another person, another corpse, dressed in a magical girl costume collides with your body that you can finally move. But it’s too late, you realize, despaired and helpless, as your bodies fall to the ground.

It’s too late.

You die an eighth time.

You think your chest is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because it’s so hard to breathe, frustratingly so— there are hundreds of people squeezed into this space alongside you, packed like cattle for slaughter. You've never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you’re in Shibuya. For the most part, you’ve come to accept it, but this crowd is way too much and you wish you had just stayed home and ordered a pizza; though honestly, the thought of pizza kind of makes you sick.

There’s a dull throbbing in your forehead, followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone’s hollering at you from a loudspeaker that’s been installed in your brain.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You think it's the ninth time now.

Behind you, you hear a woman screaming, her voice crazed and terrified. You turn your head automatically to look at her and when you see her you realize you recognize her yellow and white magical girl costume. You can say with certainty that you’ve never seen her before and yet—

Before you can ruminate more on it, images— memories assault your mind’s eye with a clarity that is absolutely sickening. That woman colliding into you, your bodies slamming into the subway tracks before you both— Your stomach churns violently,

and you feel like you’re going to puke, but you force it down— can't afford to right now. Instead, you make your way over to the woman.

Her head is in her hands as she mutters over and over again about how everyone is going to die. People around her figure that being stuck in here with the crowd has probably gotten to her. You, however, know better.

“...hey,” you say softly.

Her muttering comes to an abrupt halt and slowly she raises her head to look at you. There’s a flash of recognition in her eyes and she grabs you violently by the shoulders. “You! You know, don’t you? That we’re going to die?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you have indeed experienced death here eight times already, then you would have thought she’s lost her mind. Slowly, you nod and she seems relieved by it, her grip on you loosening.

You can’t help but feel a little relieved too— glad to know that you’re not the only one experiencing this nightmare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that’s confused though. Why is she only remembering now? But then again, it took you a few times before you realized yourself.

Around you people start to gasp, and you glance back toward the railway to see an abnormally tall man with white hair and dressed in all black jump down from the atrium onto the railway. He lands rather gracefully for someone who jumped at least one floor and starts to converse with the other three people (you think they're people— two of them are in some pretty wild costumes) on the track.

Wait. Isn’t it supposed to be just two people: the tall man and the one in the traditional clothes? Where did the other two come from?

“We have to get out of here,” the woman says. “Before they kill us.”

Her grip shifts from your shoulders to your arms and she starts to shove at everyone around you, trying to force her way through. She seems to know, just as well as you do, that any second now the gates will open and the crowd will start spilling onto the railway, littering the tracks with bodies and ash. Neither of you can let yourselves get swept up with the rest. If you do and you end up on those tracks, you’re as good as dead.

People move aside at a snail's pace, many of them too focused on trying to see what is going on on the subway tracks. This isn't good. You need to move faster or else—

The collective sound of the gates opening echoes in your head, a metallic hiss that makes your stomach fold into itself. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you both whip your heads back to look, to confirm, but it’s a mistake.

The briefest lapse in attention is enough to pull you both into the current of people, and try as you might to fight against it, the crowd splits you and the woman apart as it swallows you both whole. You’re both spat onto the tracks at the edge of the platform and your head collides with the metal rails of the track. It feels like your skull is about to crack in two, and it takes every fiber in your being to scramble to your feet. You're close enough to the platform that if you can just climb up it, then you'll be—

“Help! Help!”

It’s the woman’s voice. You turn to see that she ended up a couple meters away from you. She’s staring at you, eyes brimming with fear filled tears as she extends her hand in your direction. You take a step toward her, reaching out.

And then, her entire body is engulfed in flames, the skirt of her magical girl costume a ring of fiery death around her.

Her blood curdling scream is the only thing you can hear, her burning flesh, the only thing you can see. You don’t know what to do.

You can’t save her.

There's something touching your back. You can barely feel the pressure, but it's hot, scorching hot, mind numbingly hot, painfully hothothot.

You know this sensation. You have felt it before. The scent of burning cloth, burning hair, burning flesh clogs your nostrils. It's too late, you realize, helpless, despaired as the flames eat at your body— your soon to be corpse.

It's too late.

You die a ninth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the tenth time.

Your head hurts, but you ignore it. There’s something more important that you need to attend to. You immediately make your way to the woman you met during your last round, the one you watched burn to death. Her costume is still pristine, unmarred by fire and death.

For now.

She’s not screaming this time and while there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that’s concerned by this, you try to ignore it.

“Um, excuse me?” you say when she doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach.

The woman turns to look at you. You’re taken aback by the distinct lack of recognition and it feels almost as if the woman you encountered previously and the one before you now are two separate people. In a way, they technically are.

“Do I… know you?” she finally asks when you don’t say anything.

Your mouth is dry. How do you even answer that? You don’t know her. You just watched her die twice. You know her. She begged you for help. You couldn’t save her.

If you explain all of this you know she’s just going to think you’ve lost your mind. Maybe you already have— you’ve died nine times after all.

You give her a weak smile. “I… just wanted to tell you that you think your costume looks great.”

She blinks, taken aback by your words. There’s no doubt that she wasn’t expecting you to say that. It’s the truth though, her costume is nice; she’s dressed up as a character from a magical girl anime that was popular a couple years ago.

“Thank you! I made it myself!” The woman breaks out into a genuine smile and your heart hurts. In a few moments she’ll die and the costume she worked so hard to make will be nothing but ash on the subway tracks.

“Sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“For?”

For watching her die. For not being able to save her.“...I just kind of came up to you all of a sudden…”

She laughs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

You consider telling her that she should try to move. That if she stays here she will die. You don’t want her to die. Again. You can still hear her screaming in your ears as she burned to death. You want to tell her.

You don’t.

“Stay safe, okay?” you say. It almost sounds like you’re begging.

She gives you another smile, kind and gentle and you think you’re far too undeserving of it for not telling her what fate will soon befall her. “You too.”

“I’ll try,” you say and move away from the woman just as the gates open and the crowd surges toward the railway. You do not fight it as you are swept up into the crowd and despite what you said, you do not try, this time, to stay safe.

You die for the tenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the fourteenth time.

There’s a slight ache in your head, but it’s subtle enough that you can ignore it. The pain you feel lessens with each round and you think it’s a sign that your body no longer feels the need to remind you of the precarious situation that you’re in.

Or maybe you are just becoming numb to everything: your death, the death of the people around you, the death of the woman in the magical girl costume—

You try not to think about it too much as you reach into your bag to check the time on your phone: 8:37PM. There’s not a lot of time: you need to move.

At the very end of your last attempt to escape this nightmare you realized something. You need to know exactly what is going on around you so you can plan accordingly: where to not stand, where to not go. Up until now, you’ve relied almost solely on the knowledge gained from your previous failures to try and survive, but obviously it’s not enough to keep you alive. You’re not sure why you didn’t realize this earlier. The panic, maybe? The fear?

Maybe you really are becoming numb to all this.

Unlike previous iterations, this time you elect to move closer to the gate, positioning yourself somewhere against it where you’re unlikely to be pushed off the platform in a couple minutes when they open. You take great care to place yourself where you can see the ones responsible for the slaughter very clearly. At the beginning, you could only see one, the one who looks the most human, but with each repetition, the other two have become more and more clear. You wonder why. You don’t have time to think about it.

Murmurs nearby alert you to the arrival of the fourth major player involved in the night’s events. You look up and see the white haired man dressed in all black descending upon the platform like an angel from the heavens. This is your first time really looking at him and you realize there’s something almost inhumanly attractive about him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it occurs to you that you shouldn’t even try; you don’t have the time to be drooling over some handsome stranger.

You’ve naturally never taken the time to try and listen to whatever the conversation the man and his opponents have before all hell breaks loose on the platform, but you try and lean closer to listen. It’s hard to hear over the dozens of conversations going on behind you, but you try anyway. There might be a clue to what’s actually going on— or better yet, a clue on how to get out of it.

It’s obvious that you’re missing context from what bits of the conversation you do manage to hear, but honestly it all sounds like stuff out of a shounen battle manga. There is one part of the exchange that you manage to hear with a startling sort of clarity. It feels almost as if your heart stops beating as your blood turns ice cold in your veins.

“If I run away, you’re just gonna kill everyone here, right?” the man in black asks.

There’s a pause, and if your heart was still beating it’d be long enough for just four heartbeats.

“If you run away?” The monster with cane repeats, the sadistic grin spreading wide across its features, displaying its charcoal black teeth. The gravelly sound of its voice sets fire to the blood in your veins, your stilled heart thumping wildly, in fear, in anticipation. Soon. It’s happening soon. You brace yourself. “We’re going to do that even if you don’t!”

You die a fourteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the seventeenth time now.

Things are going surprisingly well, even as the people around you tumble onto the tracks. You manage to hold on, desperation keeping you from falling into the abyss. This is good, you tell yourself, despite the fact that it’s not the first time you’ve achieved this. Every little victory is worth celebrating, but you have to remain vigilant. This is yet another information gathering loop, and while you know that maybe this time you’ll be lucky and live, there’s still a chance, a big one, at that, that you will die again.

You have to make the most of each and every death.

It’s such a morbid thought, but the ends justify the means, or so you tell yourself. If you have to die a few times to make it out of this unending nightmare, then so be it.

The spot you’re in is a good vantage point; it’s easier to see everything happening below you. It’s so good that it’s actually sickening. You watch as the monster with the cane and one with what looks like branches for eyes slaughter the people on the track, mowing them down, setting them aflame. In another life, in another many lives, that was you down there, and for what feels like the first time in forever, you feel like you’re going to be sick. You feel like, at some point, you likened the scene before you to some kind of shounen battle manga, but you think that was wrong.

This is borderline horror.

Everything plays out before you like a scene out of an action horror flick. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were just an extra on set, but you know the reality is that you’re just an extra to whatever phantasmal battle is taking place in front of you. The monsters and the strangely dressed man all try to attack the man in black, but he manages to block every hit effortlessly, as if he is protected by some sort of invisible barrier. When it seems the two monsters are about to hit him, he merely jumps out of the way and the two monsters seem to collide, the force of their combined strength sending a gust of air throughout the crowd. The man in black neatly lands on a nearby platform half wall and says something about curse users, whatever those are, to the monsters, before he starts to mock them, pulling down his strange blindfold in the process.

And this, you’ve found, is where you start to get in trouble.

You clearly remember thinking, at some point, previously, that there was something attractive about this man. You still don’t know what it is. You haven’t had the time to try and figure it out, but there is one thing that you do know: you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He drops back down onto the tracks, antagonizing his opponents in an arrogant tone as he approaches. When he comes to a stop between the two monsters, the second round of their fight begins. They try to hit him, but he dodges still, gracefully, fluidly, like the three of them are embroiled in some sort of passionate, yet violent dance.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he cruelly rips off one of the arms of the one-eyed monster.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he brutally kicks the branch-eyed monster in the abdomen, sending them flying to the other side of the platform.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he effortlessly hurls the one-eyed, now one-armed monster in the same direction, sending them smashing into the wall.

Only when the man in black seems to fly to the other side is the spell over you seemingly broken. Still, your eyes give chase, and your body too, rushing from one side of the platform to the other. You can’t lose sight of this fight, you tell yourself, settling in a spot you recall being safe during your last round. Doing so could mean another death, another loop, another October 31.

You watch as the man in black acrobatically dodges what looks to be vines or roots that the monster with branches for eyes seems to have summoned from the depths of the Tokyo metro. He lands on the monster’s shoulders, balancing on them as he uses its branch-eyes for leverage. The look in the man’s eyes is so crazed that you can see it from where you’re standing. He says something to it and then—

With a feral and sadistic smile, he rips their eyes straight out of their skull.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest as you watch the fight unfold. It is horrifyingly, disgustingly violent, yet still you watch as people on the track are killed by the human-like person, blood raining down as their freshly beheaded skulls go flying into the air. He and the one-eyed monster launch their counter attacks against the man in black and the blowback is so intense the power goes out causing everyone to scream.

There’s a faint glow where the man in black is standing that starts to grow brighter and brighter. You can make out his form turning to face the wall, and it seems almost like he’s slammed the monster that had branches for eyes against it with some sort of telekinetic power. Despite the panic from the people around you, you manage to hear him, chuckling like a mad man as he draws closer and closer to the monster.

The one-eyed monster yells out a name, a name you think must belong to the man, but he doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as he extends his hands out toward the eyeless monster, exerting some kind of force that you can’t really see. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as the eyeless monster’s entire body is vaporized in a flash of blue light. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster, as the lights flicker back on revealing a smoking crater stained with purple blood where the eyeless monster once stood.

But you do.

Satoru Gojo.

You make sure to remember that.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And this is the eighteenth time.

You watch as the man called Satoru Gojo stalks through the crowd of people on the subway tracks, chasing after the one-eyed fire monster. It throws people at him, in a clear attempt to slow him down.

It does not work.

Satoru Gojo climbs back onto the platform in a way that you can only describe as inhuman, and the people nearby shriek and move away from him, out of terror, out of fear. You, on the other hand, draw closer, refusing to lose sight of him.

He is relentless in his pursuit of the one-eyed monster. It continues to throw person after person at him, but he does not stop and the people float there, suspended in midair before they are gently lowered to the ground by some unseen force and scramble away.

No one dares get close to Satoru Gojo, everyone on the platform seems to know that doing so means certain death, yourself included. But you still feel the need to keep an eye on him. The monster and the strangely dressed man are focusing more on him than the crowd— anyone in between is just collateral damage.

But not you.

Especially since you’ve made it this far— you’ve never made it this far before.

A voice echoes throughout the platform; you realize it’s the automated announcement.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You can hear everyone’s relief coming from all sides. The train is coming! The train is coming! A ripple of hope makes its way throughout the crowd. With the train comes the chance to get off the platform and the senseless violence that’s been happening here. Some of the people around you are talking excitedly and others are running toward the gates, toeing the yellow line they’ve been instructed to wait behind. And you, you should be excited, you should be hopeful.

All you feel is dread.

It eats at your stomach, at your chest, at your mind. Clawing and gnawing at you in a way that leaves you paralyzed on the platform. There’s something wrong here. You can’t be sure because you’ve never made it this far, never survived long enough for the train to come, but something is just not right.

No.

You must be paranoid. The train coming is a good thing. It has to be a good thing. You are just paranoid. It’s normal. It’s natural. Dying seventeen times would do that to anyone— rob them of hope, condemn them to an existence full of fear.

It is not lost on you that the thought of dying more than once, much less, dying seventeen times is not normal or natural in the very slightest.

But you need hope, you crave it, wildly, desperately. The hope of freedom, of escape is the only thing getting you through this unending nightmare. Every time you die, every time you wake, it is with the hope that maybe, just maybe this iteration will be different, maybe this one will be the one where you make it out, make it back to your friends who must be waiting for you, make it back home where you can be safe and sound. You need the hope to keep going. Because without hope, what will you have left?

The train screeches as it pulls into the station and the people around you laugh in both disbelief and relief. They start to push and shove toward it, fighting to be able to board because there’s no way everyone here will be able to get on an eight car train and being left behind at this point is practically synonymous with death. Unable to decide if you believe in the train as a symbol of hope or a new layer of fear, you are pushed along with the crowd toward it.

The doors of the train cars slide open and the current passengers all rush off as they disembark. You as well as everyone else on the platform can see with a horrifying clarity that the train is filled to the brim with monsters. Monsters that reach out and grab anyone their hands can reach. The woman to your left. The person to your right.

You.

Hope is gone.

What do you have left?

You die for the eighteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is probably the twenty-sixth time now.

If there is anything this entire ordeal has taught you, it is that you are resilient. Whether it is some innate trait that you never had any reason to uncover before or just a byproduct of being trapped in an unending cycle of being dead and not dead, you don't know. What you do know, though, is that even if you no longer have hope, you at least have your resilience.

Whether you want it or not.

You check the time. It’s 8:35PM. Something flickers in your chest, like a faint light in a sea of darkness, but you ignore it. You don’t have time right now.

With a nimbleness born from your previous failures, you weave your way through the crowd. You’ve done this enough times to know where the gaps are— who will yield and who won’t. Your destination is the escalator that leads off the platform and up to a higher part of the station. You’d noticed previously that the escalator along with every other entrance onto the platform will eventually be blocked by vines or roots of some sort (the work of the branch-eyed monster probably). It’s not a perfect plan because you don’t know what happens on the other side, but whatever it is has to be better than whatever is happening on the side that you’ve been on.

You’d tried to get to the stairs during your last two rounds, but you’d just missed it. You hadn’t been fast enough and had gotten caged and slaughtered along with the rest. But this time, this time you have more time. It’s just one minute, but it’s enough. You know it is.

The flickering in your heart grows stronger. Hope. You try not to pay attention to it— you don’t want to be disappointed yet again. But you want to so badly. A voice in the back of your mind tells you to focus on the good, tells you that if there was truly no way out of this endless nightmare, then why would you get more and more time with each round to escape your fate?

With that thought in mind, you break out into a run, recklessly rushing through the crowd, shoving anyone who will not yield to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the stark white of Satoru Gojo’s hair as he descends upon the platform.

You need to get up those stairs.

Now.

If you remember correctly, the roots and vines don’t close off the area the moment he touches down, but a little after they start talking, so you think there is probably some time, but you can’t leave it to chance.

The stairs are packed, and for some reason no one is moving. The escalator right next to it is just as full and the power doesn’t seem to be working. You don’t have time for this. You clamber onto the escalator’s rubber handrail, ignoring the weird feeling that passes through your body as you do so. You don’t have the time to worry about whatever that is. The people around you start exclaiming around you, but you don’t care, you don’t listen. You wobble as you try to balance yourself and when you think you’re steady you try to run.

But you trip.

And you die for the twenty-sixth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This marks the thirtieth time.

And you have, finally, finally made it up the escalator, up the stairs with barely a second to spare. You pause, glancing back as the roots or vines or whatever the hell they are seal off the entrance to the platform. You notice that the area where the plants come down is actually fairly clear, despite the crowd. It seems weird, but you don’t dwell on it.

A strange feeling envelops your entire body and your legs turn into jelly. As you sink to the floor, you realize what you’re feeling is relief as all the tension, maybe thirty iterations of Halloween 2018 worth, seeps from your being. You don't remember the last time you felt anything other than fear and dread; it’s weird, but not unwelcome.

That voice in the back of your mind tells you that you can't relax just yet: October 31st isn’t over. Even though you have repeated this night again and again, burning the events that play out on the platform into your memory, you do not know a single thing that happens over here. It would be smart to scope everything out.

Legs still shaky, you rise to your feet and start walking. You think it’s probably for the best to try and head up to the surface and you make your way up to the next floor.

It’s packed with people here too, but relatively peaceful, especially when you compare it to the pandemonium taking place beneath your feet. Still, you can make out the undeniable hum of displeasure resonating throughout the crowd. People complaining about how uncomfortable their costumes are, people complaining about how much they want to go home, people complaining about how much their nights have been ruined because they couldn’t meet up with their friends and—

A thought hits you like an eight car train.

You were supposed to meet up with your friends.

That’s why you were on the platform in the first place— you were waiting for them to arrive, but then the trains stopped working, and people just started pouring into the station out of seemingly nowhere (you think you heard some people say they’d come from the crossing?). Soon after that is when everything went to shit.

You check your phone, though, for once it’s not to look at the time (8:56PM). Instead, you open LINE to check your friends’ group chat. There’s no signal here, for whatever reason, so if there are any new messages, you haven’t received them. The last one was from Kei, mentioning he was enroute, but as far as you know, you’re the only one who made it to Shibuya before the trains stopped.

Did one of them maybe make it here though? Surely, you would have run into them if—

The image of a woman in a magical girl costume fills your vision, burning to death before your very eyes as her screams echo in your ears. It is the first time in what feels like forever that you’ve thought about her and your stomach churns violently. You couldn’t help her, you can’t even help yourself, so how could you even expect to do the same for your friends if they were here? The mere thought of having to watch them die over and over is almost enough to send you over the edge. You don’t know if you could do it.

Would you even have a choice?

No. You can't think like that. You have choices. You've had choices. If you didn’t then, you would still be down below, among the fire and brimstone. Dying, if not dead already. However, instead, you are up here, where, for the moment, it is quiet and peaceful.

That thought, in of itself, is enough to give you a shred of solace, a glimmer of hope.

You take a deep breath and fiddle with your phone a little more, changing your lock screen to a picture you and your friends took at a photo booth not too long ago. The four of you are huddled together, faces squished as if you're all struggling to fit in the frame, despite there being plenty of room. You're mid-laugh because it's the first time you've been in a photo booth in years, Mio and Shin are grinning mischievously and finally, Kei is smiling, but only just slightly, the embarrassment clear on his face. It's probably only been a few months since you all took this picture, but the fact that it feels like it's been years makes your heart ache.

You press your forehead to the screen, like a prayer, like a promise.

You will make it out of this nightmare.

No matter what.

A shrill scream yanks you from your thoughts and you are instantly on your feet, alert as your eyes flit around frantically to identify the source. It doesn't take long for you to find it and when you do, you think you might have stumbled upon a new layer of horror to this nightmare.

It’s not the corpse, dangling by a noose, that terrifies you— by now you’ve seen dozens upon dozens of dead bodies that the sight of just one more doesn’t faze you in the slightest. The thing that’s the most mortifying, that’s the most disturbing is that right next to where the body is tied are two girls, two teenage girls still dressed in their school uniforms.

You can accept monsters and weirdly dressed men being responsible for the carnage tonight, but children too? Both girls look like they’re barely in high school and try as you might to rationalize things, to chalk it up to coincidence, you cannot ignore the ominous energy radiating from them.

The very notion that these two children could have killed someone here is a hard pill to swallow, but so is the fact that you’ve died.

And you’ve had to swallow that pill thirty times now, so what’s once more?

“Listen up!” one of the girls yells over the crowd, but she is mostly ignored; you don’t think everyone here has noticed her and the corpse dangling from the rafters. She scowls and turns to the other girl and says something quietly to her. The other girl nods and almost instantly she’s stringing up another person, another example. You want to look away so badly, and yet you cannot bring yourself to and you watch the poor soul choke to death.

“I said listen, you dumb monkeys!” the girl shouts, and this time she’s caught most of the crowd’s attention. “If you don’t want to end up like these two, you’ll listen to what we have to say!”

There is clear dissent among the crowd, people dismissive as they utter their disbelief. Some seem to think it’s a prank, but you know better. It takes two more examples before the crowd goes silent before the two high schoolers.

“About damn time!” The girl roars and then points toward the atrium, which is currently covered by roots and branches. “All of you move over there!”

You have a bad feeling about this.

Still, you comply; the girls have made it abundantly clear that failure to do so will result in death, though, at this point, you're almost certain this iteration is a bust and death is all but imminent. You try to keep positive— thinking you can at least gather information or, who knows, maybe there's a chance that this one is the one.

Yet when you step onto the mound of vines and branches that cover the atrium it feels as if you've crossed the threshold into hell. Your footing is stable… but for how long?

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

It's faint, but you can hear the announcement from below. The liquid in your stomach curdles at the sound as you recall the train and, in particular, what is on board. Soon enough, those monsters will be swarming the platform, massacring everyone in reach, guzzling down their blood, feasting on their flesh—

It dawns on you that the people on the platform are the monsters' first course.

And you, and those around you here in the shrubbery, are the second.

As you realize this, the branches and vines disintegrate beneath your very feet and suddenly you are mid air— falling, falling into the abyss below.

You die for the thirtieth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You've done this nearly sixty times now.

After countless failures, you've decided that you're just not going to go upstairs any more. No matter where you try to go, you still end up herded onto the death trap above the platform where you ultimately fall to your death. You've tried positioning yourself in the same spot, tried bracing yourself for the drop— but nothing seems to work: upon landing, assuming you manage to land without hurting yourself or dying in midair (which has happened a couple times) you get grabbed and killed by one of the monsters from the train. It's probably not impossible, you just don't have the physical prowess or reflexes for it.

If anything, you can try again later, but you sincerely hope you don't have to.

It's 8:32PM, and you have plenty of time to get to your chosen spot for this loop— it's close to the stairs, in the very center of the platform. Here, there's little risk of getting pushed off onto the tracks when the gates open. You'll probably have to move when the train comes, or even before (assuming you survive) to avoid the monsters, but you'll get to that when it's time.

You can't really see the fight once it breaks out after Satoru Gojo arrives, but you still try to keep track of it as best as you can. You see when he hurls both monsters across the platform and you're not sure if it's muscle memory or what but you have to fight the urge to move to the side and watch. It's been a while, yes, but you've seen the fight countless times before— it doesn't change. Satoru Gojo will give chase. He will rip the branches from the branch eyed monster's skull. He will use some kind of power to eviscerate them.

You don't need to watch, but there's something in you that wants to.

It doesn't make sense, you've seen it all before; if you're unlucky you'll see it all again.

The lights go out and people start screaming; Satoru Gojo is ending the life of that one monster. Soon enough he'll be back on the platform, in pursuit of the other. You think at that point it would be good to move, reposition yourself as far from the incoming train as possible.

When he rises from the tracks like a demon straight from hell, you realize it's the first time this loop that you've actually gotten a good look at him. You remind yourself, again, that this isn't the first time you've seen this man, this scene. You can't help but watch, but stare at Satoru Gojo as he stalks through the crowd in pursuit of his prey. His expression is an eerie sort of calm that's at odds with the acts of violence you've seen him commit— his eyes an unnaturally bright blue.

He's a terrifying sort of beauty and you can't help but be captivated by him.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

The sound of the announcement sends your heartbeat into a frenzy, snapping you out of your little trance. The train is coming and you need to get moving. As you dart to the edge of the platform, the thought occurs to you that even if you avoid the initial wave of monsters, it's likely you will inevitably be caught by them and killed. It wouldn't be impossible for Satoru Gojo to turn his attention to them instead of the two he's currently facing, but he's just one man— can he truly defeat all those monsters?

You can see the train pulling in and you brace yourself, praying that it'll work out somehow.

The doors hiss open and the screaming starts again as the monsters come bursting out of the train, biting and mauling anyone they can get their hands on. Those who were lucky enough to not be at the front start to scramble away and the monsters give chase. Your body is taut, ready to try and dodge any that come your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice something moving through the air. A person? With blue hair? You take the risk to look— they're attacking Satoru Gojo. He tries to punch them but they fly away from him to dodge— disappearing into the crowd.

You hear a loud cracking sound over the cacophony of the crowd and your stomach twists; you know what that sound is. The roots above the atrium disintegrate and bodies from above start to rain down onto the platform.

And then, you're not sure what happens— it's so quick that you only manage to see what looks like an explosion of blood surrounding Satoru Gojo. Corpses litter the ground around him and even from here you can tell he is shaken by the carnage.

The monsters have finally reached where you're standing, and you duck under one as it lunges at you. Although it's big and scary, you realize it's moving kind of slow. Right after it another one comes at you and you take a side step to avoid it; this monster is kind of slow too.

Maybe you can do this.

As soon as you think that a strange feeling courses through you. Every hair on your body feels like it's standing on edge and the voice in your head is telling you to look at Satoru Gojo. You don't understand why because you think he's the least of your worries right now, but you do it anyway.

He's in some sort of stance, one hand raised to his face, fingers bent in some kind of gesture. There's some sort of aura, oppressive and frightening emanating from his form.

Satoru Gojo is doing something.

You just can't tell what.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are utterly confused.

Barring your first few loops when you weren't fully aware of what was happening, you have very distinct memories of how each of your previous iterations of this night have gone— of each and every one of your deaths. But for your last round, the last thing you remember was feeling the immense power radiating from Satoru Gojo's body, but that's it.

You do not remember dying.

In fact, you don't think you did.

And yet, here you are again, back at the start: it's 8:32PM and the monsters and strangely dressed man are standing on the subway tracks waiting for the arrival of Satoru Gojo.

You don't understand what's going on; you didn't die but you're still stuck in this damn loop. Up until now, your death has served as the trigger to restart the loop. It's not impossible that maybe you suffered a quick and painless death but you're almost certain that isn't the case.

Something else must have happened.

Something having to do with Satoru Gojo.

You have to find out what. If you don't, you won't know how to avoid it, and if you can't do that, then you really might spend an eternity stuck in this nightmare. And so you take great care to repeat the steps of your last round. You need to make sure to survive to the same point you made it to last time.

Miraculously, you do.

The moment you feel that sensation again, a prickling sort of feeling that envelops your entire body, your eyes are on Satoru Gojo— trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. His eyes are crazed with a desperate kind of focus. You see his mouth move— he's saying something. A spell? A prayer? A curse?

You don't know.

You do know.

Your brain feels like it's going to explode.

Again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

Again.

You do not know how many times it's been the night of Halloween in Shibuya: you stopped counting around the hundredth loop. It feels like it's been a while since then. Or maybe it hasn't? You don't know any more.

What you do know is that this night ends up going one of two ways before you are forced to repeat it. Either you die, in some way, shape or form or something happens just after nine that forces you to reset. You still don't know what it is exactly; you only know that Satoru Gojo is responsible for it.

You do prefer it to dying— it's far less painful.

But if anything, you wish you could just die permanently and never have to repeat this night ever again.

Unfortunately, you know better.

The only good thing you’ve noticed about all of this is that you really do seem to keep waking up earlier and earlier. The last time you checked, it was at around 8:30. It might take hundreds of thousands of loops, but eventually you’ll certainly wake up early enough to avoid this damn entire mess.

But by the time that happens… will your sanity still be intact? Will you really be able to go back to a normal day to day life after living the equivalent of hundreds of years, repeating the same night over and over again? You don’t even know how you’ve managed to stay sane all this time and as much as you want to believe you could do it…

There has to be a breaking point.

For both your mind and this time loop.

If you’re lucky, you’ll reach the latter first.

There’s a dull ache in your head that feels foreign yet familiar. Your mind is foggy, all your thoughts hazy as you try to recall what the word for this feeling is.

Groggy.

It feels as if you’ve woken up from a nap and you blink the sleepiness away from your eyes. When was the last time you took a nap? It’s been a while… You think you maybe tried once or twice, but you were too nervous, too on edge. Awake or asleep, it didn’t matter because, either way, you were doomed to repeat this nightmare.

As you think this, you realize that something is different.

You’re used to how the start of each loop feels like waking up suddenly and abruptly and it becomes clear to you that you haven’t looped. This is completely uncharted territory.

You need to find out what’s going on.

The first thing you notice is that it’s quiet. Almost eerily so, especially when the last thing you remember was screaming and chaos. You glance around you and find that it looks like all the monsters from the train are dead, the ground littered in their bloodstains and corpses. There were so many of them, you don’t know how someone could have wiped them out so quickly… Could it possibly have been Satoru Gojo’s doing?

More concerning than the complete eradication of the monsters is the fact that nearly everyone else on the platform is standing stock still, their mouths ajar with blank expressions on their faces. It’s almost as if their souls have completely vacated their bodies…

Were you like that too before you woke up?

You hear voices, and your body immediately goes tense as you turn your head in their direction. A little ways ahead of you, you see a man dressed as a monk conversing with the blue haired person from earlier and before them is—

Your heart nearly stops: it’s Satoru Gojo, restrained and on his knees.

Honestly, you can’t make heads or tails of the conversation they’re having; it’s more shounen battle manga nonsense. Satoru Gojo doesn’t seem to be enjoying their conversation either, and he interrupts them, clearly annoyed.

“Are we gonna do this or what?” he asks. “The view sucks and I’m just kinda bored.”

“I wanted to enjoy this sight for a little bit longer, but you are right,” the monk says. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen— gate, close.”

When he says that, Satoru Gojo’s restraints move, the weirdly shaped cubes at the ends of them closing in around him, trapping him in a giant red cube. It starts to shrink until it’s small enough to fit in the monk’s hand.

You gulp and hope they don’t notice that you’re awake. The fact that they haven’t slaughtered the rest of the people standing around you is a good sign, but you don’t want to find out what happens if they know you’re cognizant.

It’s not hard to play the part of a living statue, especially when you compare it to everything else you’ve had to suffer through on this night. You watch as the monk’s allies, the ones who had attacked everyone on the platform, wake up, but before they can do or say anything, the box holding Satoru Gojo slips through the monk’s fingers and makes a dent in the concrete. The look on the monk’s face makes it clear that it’s a problem he wasn’t expecting.

You don’t know a damn thing about Satoru Gojo, but you feel like this kind of thing is the norm for him.

The blue haired person suddenly looks in your direction and you nearly stop breathing. Have they noticed you? It takes everything in you to keep perfectly still, in hopes that maybe they didn't, that maybe they’re looking at something else. They raise their arm and it extends, their hand acting like some kind of projectile. You almost shut your eyes and brace yourself for impact, but their hand flies upwards and hits something on the ceiling, destroying it.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief— you’re still safe.

For now.

You listen to their following conversation and while you still don’t fully understand everything, it’s clear they’re talking about what to do next since they’ve taken care of Satoru Gojo. Something having to do with someone named Yuji Itadori? The group seems split on what to do about him but it’s clear he’s their next target.

Eventually, everyone but the monk (you heard the blue haired person, who is apparently named Mahito, call him Geto?) runs off, probably to find this Yuji Itadori person. Once they’re gone, Geto speaks and, at first, you think he’s talking to you, but it becomes clear he’s addressing someone else. “Those cursed spirits are actually smarter than the two of you.”

“Give him back!” a voice hidden among the crowd hisses. Your blood runs cold at the sound. You recognize it; it’s one of the high school girls from the upper floor.

“We cooperated with you fully and kept dropping monkeys for you,” says another voice; it must be the other girl that was with her, the one who hung all those people.

“Now give us back Master Geto’s body like you promised!”

“Don’t toy with Master Geto any further than you have!”

You blink in confusion. Isn’t the monk named Geto? The way the girls are talking it sounds like they’re talking about someone else… Is it possible that the body is ‘Geto’ but the person they’re talking to is someone else possessing it? It sounds kind of crazy, but then again, so is every single thing you’ve experienced tonight.

Your suspicions concerning this ‘Geto’ are confirmed only seconds later as he says, “Now begone, or is it your desire to be killed by this body?”

One of the girls vows her revenge and you hear shuffling somewhere else in the crowd as they scurry away. Now you think it’s just you and whoever it is that’s puppeting Geto’s body. You see him plop down in front of the box (the prison realm, you think he’d called it) that’s holding Satoru Gojo.

“You can come out, you know,” he says after a while.

You freeze. The rest of the platform is completely silent. This time you think he might actually be talking to you.

“I know you’re there,” ‘Geto’ adds, his voice casual. “If you’re insistent on hiding, you should know that I’m not afraid of using whatever means necessary to smoke you out.”

Given everything his allies have done, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s serious. You were hoping to hide out among the crowd until he decided to leave, but it looks like you won’t be able to now.

Looks like this loop is a bust after all.

Your heart starts to race as you weave your way through the crowd. In every single one of your loops, you were always treated like a bit character, never noticed or singled out by any of the major players of the night. Although this is your first time encountering this ‘Geto’ it’s clear to you that he’s involved with everything that’s happened here and honestly, you get the feeling he might actually be the mastermind behind the massacre.

That makes you even more nervous.

You come to a stop in the place where Satoru Gojo was once kneeling before he was put in that box. Now that you’re out in the open, ‘Geto’ looks you over with some sort of nonchalant curiosity.

“You’re…” he starts, sounding thoughtful, "not a sorcerer, are you?”

Sorcerer. You heard that term thrown around by him and his group a few times. It’s what they’ve been referring to their enemies as. It probably wouldn’t be smart to lie and say you are one; you get the feeling he’d see through your lie anyway. “I’m not.”

He hums. “How interesting.”

“...what do you mean?” you ask before you can help yourself.

“It’s just you have an abnormally large amount of cursed energy for a non-sorcerer,” he explains. “Though, I suppose that all just sounds like gibberish to you."

You nod and look down at the box lodged in the floor. It has eyes, big creepy looking eyes. "...are you going to do the same thing to me as you did to that man?"

He laughs, "...fortunately for you, the prison realm only holds one person at a time and I need him sealed away more than you."

"...does that mean you're going to leave him in there forever?"

"If I'm feeling nice, I might unseal him in a hundred years or so."

One hundred years? At this point, you've probably lived roughly that amount of time through your loops alone, but for Satoru Gojo… "Won't he die first?"

"Only if he decides to," 'Geto' says, looking completely and wholly unbothered. "Time doesn't doesn't flow in the box, so when I unseal him, he'll be the same as he was just now. Physically anyway. Who knows how deteriorated his mind will be after all that."

Time doesn't flow in the box.

The words echo in your mind over and over. Time doesn't flow in the box. In other words, that means time has stopped in the box, and if that's the case then—

"Anyway, rather than worry about him, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?"

You look at 'Geto' and he's smiling at you, it's friendly, but ominous. There's no doubt what is going to happen next, though you had already resigned yourself to this iteration being a bust; it was only a matter of time.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I was thinking I might keep you around, even if you aren’t a sorcerer, your wealth of cursed energy would serve my plans well," he muses. "But… it would be too much trouble trying to teach you how to use it in time."

As he talks, you realize this is probably the first time your death is intentional— every other death you've suffered has just been a byproduct of the ongoing slaughter. You were just another casualty, a victim, never a target.

You're scared.

Even though you know that once he kills you, once you die, you'll just loop back to around 8:30 again. You'll be on the platform again. And you'll play out some sequence of events before you eventually die again. And again and again.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I'll be nice, though," 'Geto' says, raising a hand and another monster appears out of nowhere. You don’t even bother trying to figure out from where. It doesn’t matter, especially since this monster will surely be the one to end your life. "I'll make it painless."

"...I appreciate it," you say and close your eyes hoping that he's not lying about it.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

He didn't lie.

You die again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you're trapped.

You don't know how and you don't know why, but you are stuck in a time loop— forced to suffer through the horrific events of the night before you die and begin it all again. It's been a long time since you stopped counting how many loops you've gone through, but if you had to guess, it's probably somewhere in the hundreds now.

You are so very tired.

But it doesn't stop. It won't stop no matter what you seem to do. You are stuck. You are trapped. You are doomed.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

Ever since that first loop where you heard whoever is possessing Geto's body say that, the words have been stuck in your head, playing on loop.

You finally realize why.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

It's 8:25PM when you wake up; that should be plenty of time.

You need to find Satoru Gojo.

After hundreds of loops you've come to a singular conclusion: you need to prevent him being sealed in the prison realm. You've witnessed it enough to know that you won't be able to do it alone; you'll need his cooperation.

You rush upstairs as fast as you can, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine as you step onto the stairwell. According to your previous loops, Satoru Gojo arrives on the subway tracks at 8:40PM. With how crowded the upper floor is, you don’t know if you’ll have the time to intercept him and talk to him, but if you can at least figure out where to find him, then you can try and talk to him during a subsequent loop.

When you reach the fourth basement floor, however, you don’t know where you should even start. He’s pretty tall so you think you could spot him in the crowd, but… there are still so many people. It occurs to you that maybe it would be better to try and look from a higher vantage point so you head to the stairs that lead up to the third basement floor. You check your phone again. It’s 8:35PM; you need to hurry.

Luckily for you, you find him very easily on the third basement floor.

The only problem is that he’s in a hard to reach spot— squatting above a sign hanging over the crowd.

You check your phone again. It’s 8:38PM and he’s starting to move, presumably to meet with those waiting for him on the subway tracks. It’s good that you found him, but there’s no doubt about it.

You’re going to need more time.

The moment you wake up, you immediately bolt toward the stairs. It's taken many, many more loops, but you've finally brought the time you wake down to around 8:15. You're still not sure if it's enough time, but there's only one way to find out.

You barrel your way up to the next floor and zig zag through the crowd to get to the next flight of stairs. By the time you get to your destination, you're completely out of breath, your chest heaving as your lungs clamor for air. You’ve done this so many times, yet your body acts like it’s always the first. It sucks, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You slow to a brisk pace to catch your breath and check the time. It’s 8:27— a new record. Hopefully it’ll be enough.

The goal is to catch Satoru Gojo before he moves to his lookout point above the crowd. While not impossible, it would be difficult for you to follow him there. You eye the safety barricade that blocks off the area where he’ll be moving in just a few minutes warily.

Yes, getting over there would be extremely difficult.

You don’t want to think about it right now; you’ll deal with it when the time comes.

Especially since Satoru Gojo has now entered your field of vision.

Your heart starts to race at the sight of him and it feels like it’s beating a million times a second. There isn’t a lot of time. You need to talk to him, but your legs only wobble, your feet planted firmly to the ground. This is not good. You need to move. You need to move.

Finally, after what feels like both an instant and an eternity, your feet finally budge, propelling you in Satoru Gojo’s direction. The beating of your heart only grows louder as you make your way toward him, mingling with the single thought that’s echoing throughout your mind right now: will he even hear you out?

You need to make him.

“Excuse me!” The words nearly come out in a stutter as you realize that you are actually talking to Satoru Gojo. You have watched this man at a distance for so long that it almost felt like he wasn’t real, like he was just another fixture in this nightmare that you’ve been living for far too long. And yet, here he is, right in front of you, in the flesh.

And his attention is on you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is actually a little overwhelming. Your mouth is dry and suddenly you don’t know what to say, but you need to say something. You need to say something before he thinks maybe you bumped into him by accident and just walks away without a word.

“I need to talk to you!” The words just burst out from your mouth and something about it is just absolutely embarrassing. You’re not sure if it's desperation or the fact that you haven’t really talked to anyone other than the existence occupying Suguru Geto’s body in nearly forever.

Satoru Gojo’s lips slowly start to form a smile, “Oh, yeah?”

The sound of his voice makes your mind go blank. There’s something different about it right now; more playful, amused even. Maybe it’s because he’s talking to you, a harmless human being and not a monster trying to kill him. It’s almost kind of jarring, but you know, with certainty, what Satoru Gojo’s voice sounds like. And the fact that he’s actually talking to you right now has you kind of excited. You nod, doing your best to not show how thrilled you are that he’s not ignoring you.

He hums thoughtfully, “Sorry… but unfortunately I kind of have some business to attend to right now.”

“I—” You start to say that you know that he’s headed down to the platform below to fight with…Choso and Jogo, you think their names are— you don’t know the name of the monster with the branches for eyes. “It’s— it’s really important!”

Gojo tilts his head a little, clearly thinking. You should probably say something else, something to try and convince him to stay a little longer and hear you out, but your mind is both full and blank. Where do you start? From the beginning? Or do you start with what is most important? Maybe you should say what you think will get his attention. You’re not sure, and you realize you really should have thought about this earlier because you’re running out of time right now.

“...mind handing me your phone?”

You stare at Gojo, completely and wholly confused, but he just holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t move, he wiggles his fingers a little, a silent gesture telling you to hurry it up. Without thinking, you reach into your bag and unlock your phone before handing it to him.

“Kind of sucks that cell service isn’t working right now,” he remarks as he types something into your phone before handing it back. “But! Here's my number.”

You look down at your phone and, sure enough, Satoru Gojo has added himself as one of your contacts. He’s even added a little star to the end of his name. That’s… a little unexpected. Why his number though?

“Are you… hitting on me?” you mutter in your confusion.

He laughs, “Well, you said you had something really important to talk to me about, right? So just give me a call when you get home or some time tomorrow and we can talk then!”

You’re not going to make it home, or even to tomorrow, and neither will Satoru Gojo. As you start to tell him this, he steps past you. Desperate, you try to grab him, but somehow, for some reason, you can’t. You remember he did this with Jogo and the other monster, made himself untouchable.

This is not good.

He gives you a little wave, cheery as he says, “I’ll talk to you later!”

You watch, helpless as he hops over the barricade beyond your reach.

Gripping your phone tightly, you take a deep breath. It's fine, it's not like you didn’t expect things to go well anyway.

You'll just have to try again.

Every time you’ve tried to solicit help from Satoru Gojo, it has gone the same way. He just won’t give you the time of day, and in some ways you can’t blame him; he’s clearly here to deal with the monsters down on the platform. You’re fairly certain that he probably thinks that whatever is going on with you is a much lesser issue in comparison.

Plus, it probably doesn’t help that in the times that you’ve approached him, you haven’t been able to articulate yourself particularly well. Once you start talking to him, you just get hit with something akin to stage fright and the connection between your mind and your mouth just stops working. It’s gotten better with each attempt, but…

It’s just so frustrating.

It is interesting that Gojo has given you his number every time, star symbol and all. You’re not sure what kind of person you were expecting him to be, but after witnessing him literally and viciously rip monsters apart, you’d figured he’d be a little more somber. However, in the fragmented conversations you’ve had with him he’s come off as far more friendly and playful than you would have thought. Is he the type of person to get more serious when the situation calls for it? You can’t help but wonder, but ultimately, it doesn’t really matter.

What really matters is that you’re able to convince him to help you.

You have to convince him.

“Excuse me!” you say, stepping in Satoru Gojo’s path. You don’t stutter this time, and your voice is more sure. This is good.

��Yes?”

His head turns in your direction and you gulp. Gojo’s gaze, despite that blindfold of his, still feels just as overwhelming as it did the very first time you approached him. You have no doubt that he’s sizing you up, but there’s just something about it that makes you feel like you’re being picked apart.

You take a deep breath and step closer to him, hoping your voice sounds firm enough as you say, “I need your help. I’m trapped.”

He chuckles a little, “I know, but yours truly is on his way to go beat up the bad guys keeping you all trapped here, so soon enough you’ll be all free to go on your merry little way.”

Right. You were so caught up in your own plight that you nearly forgot that technically you’re not the only one ‘trapped.’ Satoru Gojo obviously knows that everyone else is confined to this station, but you doubt he knows that you’re confined to this night alone.

“That’s not what I mean!” you sputter.

“Then what do you mean?” Gojo asks. Should you tell him that you mean that you’re trapped in a time loop? You’re honestly not sure— in the movies and manga you’ve read about time travel, revealing that sort of thing risks creating a time paradox which seems to be a bad thing. If you have to tell him, you will, but— “Oh, I get it.”

You stare, bewildered. Did you maybe just spew all of that aloud?

Gojo gives you a mischievous smile. “You’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”

“No!” The word comes flying out of your mouth. You can’t deny he’s attractive— you’ve thought it all this time, but that is not what’s happening here.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he continues, ignoring you. “I totally get it, so if you want, I’d be happy to give you my number!”

Again? You’ve received Satoru Gojo’s contact details in every loop you’ve talked to him, star symbol and all— you even have his number memorized. There’s something kind of odd about how he keeps giving you his number. Part of you wonders if he’s got some sort of ulterior motive, but you haven’t thought too deeply about it. There are way more important things going on.

“I don’t need your phone number,” you say. “I need to talk.”

Your response seems to give Gojo pause. Did you somehow manage to get through to him? No way. Your suspicions are all but confirmed when he gives you that familiar apologetic smile.

“Like, I said, I’m sort of in the middle of something, but…” Gojo reaches into his pockets and rummages around until one hand fishes out a folded up piece of paper. The other hand keeps digging around in his pocket and when Gojo seems to give up on whatever he’s looking for, he turns his attention back to you. “Got a pen?”

What?

Gojo tilts his head. “Well?”

“I do, but…” You trail off, unsure why he’s asking.

He holds out his hand waiting for you to just hand him the pen. You still don’t get it, but you reach into your bag’s front pocket and pull out the pen and hand it to him. Gojo looks almost like an excited child when he takes it from you, quickly scribbling something onto his paper before shoving it and your pen back into your hand.

You look at the paper; it looks like a receipt. For a disturbing amount of mochi that Gojo bought earlier today. The amount of money he spent is almost sickening; way too much to be paying for mochi. More importantly, you notice something juxtaposed over the receipt’s print.

It’s Satoru Gojo’s name and number.

He even drew a little star next to his name.

“If you change your mind later, just give me a call!” he tells you cheerily. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while!”

You gawk at him. He cannot be serious. You literally just told him that you didn’t need it and yet he still gave it to you. He must want you to contact him later, but you can’t even begin to understand why. It can’t have been something you said or did, right? Unless, he’s actually—

“Later!” Gojo’s voice cuts through your thoughts and you notice him walking off with a wave.

You can’t let him get away.

Again.

You crush the receipt in your hand and rush after him. Despite the crowd, Gojo seems to move through the people with ease and it almost seems like they are yielding to him naturally. It’s good for you. Makes him easier to chase.

“Wait!” you yell, but Gojo doesn’t even look back. Bastard. Your muscles strain as you try to run faster. You know you won’t be able to grab him if you get to him, but there has to still be something you can do to stop him. Circle around him? Cut him off before he—

Satoru Gojo reaches the barricade.

“Wait!” you yell again. “Satoru Gojo, wait!”

He does not even acknowledge you.

You’re almost there though. Almost. If you reach out your hand, then maybe, maybe you can grab him. Something in your head tells you that it’s useless; you’ve never been able to touch him. But, you don’t care, you don’t care because you have to try. You stretch out your hand, desperate and hoping, but just as you do, Gojo effortlessly jumps over the barricade, moving to survey the crowd.

Due to your momentum, you almost collide into the barricade, but you manage to stop yourself. You stare at Satoru Gojo through the glass. He watches the crowd for at most three minutes. Is this just another bust? Is there really nothing you can do? There must be a way you can get his attention. Is it possible to climb over the barricade? No, it’s too high. There’s nothing you can grasp onto or use as footing either.

This fucking sucks.

Another minute or two and Gojo will be on the move again, and there will be no way you can follow, no way you can get his attention. You press your hands against the glass, pushing against it. Naturally, it doesn’t budge. Why would it? If only you could get it out of the way. If only you could break it. This stupid barricade is the only thing between you and Satoru Gojo and there’s no way you can climb it, but if only you could break it.

If only you could fucking break it.

Suddenly, the glass feels warm. Satoru Gojo’s image starts to look a little distorted as the warmth beneath your fingers grows. Something is happening. The glass starts to vibrate and shake. Violently. The tremors grow stronger and stronger. You should stop. You should back away.

You don’t.

The barricade starts to crack and fracture and soon the sound of shattering glass resounds throughout the entire room. Everyone starts screaming. No one knows what’s going on— not even you. But you don’t care. It’s gone. The barricade is gone.

You take a step forward, toward Satoru Gojo. He’s on a beam that’s about a two meter drop from where you’re standing. That’s fine. That’s okay. You can make it. You have to. Without a second thought, you jump—

And you land on the beam. You look up and Satoru Gojo’s attention is back on you. He’s finally, finally turned toward you, face twisted into an expression you can’t decipher or even comprehend, but—

Something’s wrong; your world is turning on its axis, but—

Satoru Gojo is looking at you, and—

Up is very quickly becoming down, and—

Satoru Gojo is coming closer, but—

You’re slipping—

But he’s right there, and—

You’re falling, but—

He’s trying to catch you, but—

It’s too late. It’s too late.

The last thing you think you feel—

—is Satoru Gojo’s arms around you.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are causing a commotion.

“Shit! Fuck!” you curse loudly. The people near you start to shift away but you barely notice; you don’t really care.

You were so close, so fucking close and yet… yet here you are again. It’s quarter past eight and you are back on the goddamn platform. You don’t know what happened; you remember falling and thinking you were going to die, but you are absolutely certain that, once again, this time, you didn’t die.

Is Satoru Gojo at fault again? Did he do something? Like he did all those other times you looped without dying? When you think about it more, you don’t think so. You don’t know what happened; all you know is that you tried to get to him, but you slipped.

And he caught you, you definitely remember that.

You still don’t understand why you looped, but there’s not much you can do about it now; it’s not like you can go back anymore. It just sucks, because you think he might have actually listened if you’d talked to him.

Or he would have come after you for… whatever happened with the barricade. It could have been taken as an attack on the crowd… But if he thought you were doing that, then why would he catch you?

You don’t know.

All you know is that you have to try again.

The only problem is that you don’t know how you managed to shatter the barricade. You think about it as you make your way up to where you’ll find Satoru Gojo. There is the possibility that it wasn’t you and something else happened to it instead, but that feels way too coincidental. It had to be you. That’s the only thing that makes sense. You just can’t figure out how you did it outside of wanting, wishing, praying for the barricade to break. It’s not like you have supernatural powers like Satoru Gojo and his enemies.

Despite your mind being completely and wholly occupied by trying to figure out how in the world you managed to break through that barricade, you still manage to make it to the second basement floor of Shibuya Hikarie by 8:25PM— a brand new record. Satoru Gojo doesn’t show up until around 8:34PM, so that gives you almost ten minutes to try and figure out what you need to do to try and replicate shattering the glass barricade again.

Except—

Except Satoru Gojo is already here.

The thought that maybe you’re mistaken flashes in your mind before it’s quickly dismissed; there’s no way you’d mistake anyone else for him. There is absolutely no denying it: that is Satoru Gojo. Bewildered, you double check the time on your phone. Maybe you misread it and you’re actually late but sure enough you read it right— Satoru Gojo is here early.

What the hell is going on?

Of the thousands of times you have experienced this night, this hell, this sort of thing has never happened before. Everything happens at a specific time, as if adhering to an unseen schedule. It’s likely that what happened in your last iteration did delay Satoru Gojo’s arrival onto the platform, but other than that there has never been a deviation to the time table.

And yet, here Satoru Gojo is, nine minutes early now.

You realize that that’s not the only thing that’s strange: he’s not moving. In previous rounds, when you encounter Gojo here, he’s walking to the lookout spot beyond the barricade. But, right now, he’s just standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. It almost looks like he's waiting for something.

Or someone.

This unexpected turn of events has you rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you should do. No. This shouldn’t change anything. You need to talk to him. As concerning as a change like this is, the extra time it gives you should be a good thing. Despite knowing that, your feet are still firmly planted to the ground.

The crowd shifts and you see Satoru Gojo start to move. Toward the barricade? No. He’s not heading in his usual direction, rather he’s—

You stop breathing.

He’s headed toward you.

He comes to a stop before you, lips curled up to form an amused sort of smile as he says, “Soooo, you needed to talk to me?”

You try to answer but no words come out of your mouth. Are you dreaming? You have to be, right? There's no way that this is actually happening. Could it be that, after thousands of loops, you’ve finally lost it? Your mind shattering along with the glass of the barricade at the end of the last one?

Gojo tilts his head, indicating that he's still waiting for an answer. When you open your mouth, at first, nothing comes out, the words stuck in your throat. You force them out, your voice cracking, “...how did you know?”

He smiles, looking almost mischievous as he reaches up and lightly taps the side of his head. “I remembered, of course!”

All you can do is stare at Satoru Gojo. He remembered? How is that possible? From his perspective, this is the first time you’ve met and while it shouldn’t be possible for him to remember there’s something in your mind that’s keeping you from completely dismissing the possibility.

Gojo laughs, “I take it from the look on your face that you’re not used to this sort of thing happening. Is this the first time?”

“No.” The fact that the word is out of your mouth before you can even really think about it surprises you and you really have to think. Your face scrunches together as you try to remember. Is this really not the first time? Then, the memories assault you, overlapping as they replay simultaneously in your head— a woman in a yellow and white magical girl costume— begging you for help as she burns to death— smiling as she tells you she made her costume herself. “...it happened just once a long time ago.”

“‘A long time ago,’ huh. Sounds like you've been at this for a while now.”

“...unfortunately.”

Gojo hums. “So when you said you didn’t need my phone number…”

“You’d already given it to me a few times,” you say, figuring that’s where this conversation is going.

“Really now?”

Does he not believe you? Or is he just being an ass? You’re not sure, but since you had taken the liberty of memorizing Satoru Gojo’s phone number you recite it back to him to prove your point.

Just when you think you may have stunned Gojo into silence he starts to laugh, obviously finding something funny about the fact that you know his cell phone number. “Seems like you've got quite the fascinating technique there.”

Technique? What is he talking about? Your confusion must be plain on your face because he adds, elaborating, “The time travel.”

You continue to stare at him. You don't think you'd consider what you've been going through time travel, because traveling implies moving from point A to point B, but you've been stuck walking in circles at point A for a long time. What really gets you is… “What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“You mean you don’t— oh. I get it; no wonder you’re trapped.”

That does not answer your question in the slightest. “Can you please explain what you're talking about? What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“Right, right… So basically, a technique is like a special sort of power,” he finally explains. “Like I said, your technique seems to be a kind of time travel. Whenever you activate it, your mind is sent back in time.”

What he's saying makes sense, but… “How come you were sent back too?”

He laughs again. “Isn't it obvious? Think back to before— do you remember that I caught you as you were falling?”

You nod slowly. The memory of his arms around you is almost embarrassingly vivid. “...is it because we were touching?”

“Ding, ding, ding! That's correct! Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!”

Something about his tone annoys you, but you try to ignore it. He could have just told you rather than make you guess. “How do you know that for sure?”

“Well,” he continues. “You’ve done your little time loop a bunch of times, right? If your technique affected everyone, or even a few people in a select range you would have noticed for sure. And if it affected only just you then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, now would we?”

When you think about it, you do think that the woman in the magical girl costume might have bumped into you before the loop where she remembered.

“That’s honestly just conjecture, but I've got pretty good eyes, so I’m hardly ever wrong.”

Gojo gives you a grin and while you do think that his reasoning is sound enough his confidence is a little grating. More than that, though, you’re glad that this conversation is actually going really well.

“Either way,” he says thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look like you can control your technique. Usually a person’s technique manifests when they’re a kid, but you seem to be a special case… in fact, I bet your technique activated for the very first time tonight— probably under some pretty extreme circumstances, too.”

“...dying counts as an ‘extreme circumstance,’ right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Or legitimately thinking that you’re gonna die, but it seems like your body has been unconsciously activating your technique as a sort of defense mechanism. Which is why you’re trapped.”

“So, if I could control it I’d be able to make it out of this time loop.”

“Yeah, but in this case it probably wouldn’t end very well for you,” he points out with a chuckle. “It’s not like you actually want to die, right? I mean, if you did, then your technique wouldn’t even activate in the first place.”

You don’t; what you want is for this night to finally end. To be free from the endless cycle of dying over and over again and again. You don’t think death is quite the answer; even if you were to learn how to control this supposed technique of yours, there’s no guarantee that you would just unconsciously activate it when the grim reaper comes knocking on your door. No, the answer is…

“Anyway!” Gojo’s cheery voice cuts through your thoughts. “I highly doubt that you’re the type that makes a habit of jumping off ledges for the funsies, so the fact that you’ve been dying tells me that some pretty gruesome stuff is about to go down, so, tell me what happens tonight.”

The sudden drop of his voice sends a shiver running down your spine. If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve seen how serious Gojo can get, the sudden shift in demeanor would probably freak you out a bit, but it doesn’t. This is the Satoru Gojo you’re familiar with.

You do have one concern though. “That… won’t create a time paradox or anything, will it?”

“Nah,” Gojo shrugs. “You wouldn’t cause one with the way your technique works, besides, if you’ve only been going back at most an hour or two in time it’s hard to believe you’d be making a really big impact… unless you really believe in the butterfly effect.”

You’re still not quite sure.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

His voice sounds strange. Gentle. Kind. It's the most soothing thing you've heard in a long time and it makes you want to believe him.

“...okay.”

Anxiety is still gripping at you, but you try to dispel it, taking a deep breath before beginning your explanation. For the sake of brevity, it’s probably best that you’re as concise as possible. There isn’t much need to really get into the nitty gritty of things unless he asks specifically.

Naturally, you begin with his arrival onto the platform and how soon after a fight breaks out and how the crowd is unfortunate enough to be involved. Gojo’s expression is passive for the most part, but he does crack the faintest hint of a smile when you mention how he manages to eviscerate one of the monsters.

It disappears once you tell him about the arrival of the train. Between the dozens upon dozens of people being dropped onto the platform by those two high school girls and the hoard of monsters disembarking from the train, everything devolves into pandemonium.

“Wait,” Gojo holds a hand up and you pause. This is his first interruption since you started recounting the night’s events for him. “Everyone is able to see the monsters?”

You stare at him. What a weird question. “...yeah?”

His mouth twists and it looks like he’s thinking about something. You can’t even begin to imagine what. Finally, he comments, “Makes sense.”

It does not, but you don’t ask him to elaborate. Surely if it was important he would have just done so.

“Anyway, in the middle of all that, you… you do something.” Your brows bunch together as you remember the stance Gojo took, the crazed and desperate look in his eyes, the feeling of your head about to explode. “I don’t know how to describe it. At first, it would just force me to… activate my technique, I guess. But now, it just knocks me out for a few minutes.”

Gojo frowns and he rubs at his chin, obviously thinking about what you’ve said. Eventually, he raises a hand and bends his fingers into a familiar gesture. It’s the one that preludes whatever he does on the platform. “Do I do this?”

“Yeah.”

He hums. “Interesting.”

You wait to see if he’ll explain. He doesn’t. Great. Even if he doesn’t think you need to know, it certainly would be nice to. It’s annoying otherwise, but you ignore the feeling and continue. “I can’t tell you what happens when I’m knocked out, but when I come to everyone is basically a zombie and all the monsters from the train are gone. I think you kill them.”

“I probably do,” he says casually. “But what about Volcano Head?”

“...you don't…get a chance to kill him,” you say slowly. Gojo tilts his head, waiting for you to elaborate, but you hesitate. You have to tell him, you know you do, but…

You have seen the interaction so many times and though you don't know the exact nature of the relationship between them, you can tell that seeing Suguru Geto (or rather seeing his body) shook Satoru Gojo to his very core.

There's no doubt in your mind that he will not take this news well.

“Come on now,” Gojo's tone is light-hearted, unaware. “Don't keep me in suspense here.”

It's as if you're withholding the punchline to a joke. In a way, you suppose you are, but you don't think he's going to find it funny.

You take a deep breath. You need to tell him. The worst thing that could happen is that he doesn't believe you, but if that's the case… you'll probably just end up repeating this all again until you find a loop where he does.

Having made it this far, you'd like to avoid all that.

“Before you can get Volcano Head you get restrained by something called the prison realm,” you say slowly, “by someone calling themselves… Suguru Geto.”

The second the name leaves your mouth, there is a clear and obvious shift in the air. Gone is Gojo’s laid-back and frivolous demeanor, replaced with something more somber and almost frightening. The tension grows more and more palpable to the point that you think it might almost choke you.

You almost wish that it would.

“You can’t be serious,” Gojo finally says, once your words have fully sunk in.

“I—” You start to speak, but come to an abrupt stop when you see him shove his hand into his pocket to yank out his phone of all things.

The both of you know full well that there’s no reception here, but you don’t think that he’s planning on making any calls. Gojo scrolls and scrolls on his phone before he stops and shoves the screen in your face. It shows a picture of three people— a teenage girl with a cigarette in her mouth, a younger, happier version of Gojo sporting a pair of round sunglasses and—

“When you say ‘Geto’ is this who you’re referring to?” Gojo demands, using his other hand to point at the third person in the frame— a handsome young man with long dark hair pulled up into a bun.

“Yes, but—”

“That’s impossible. It can’t be him,” Gojo interrupts, his voice firm, cold even. “He’s dead.”

There’s a note of finality in his words that is definitely meant to leave no room for argument. It doesn’t stop you, though. Instead, you glare at Gojo’s stupid blindfold and say, “...being dead doesn’t mean a damn thing! I’ve died hundreds of times and yet I’m still fucking here, but—”

“Your situation is different,” he interjects, the temperature of his tone hiking up, his words like heated hissing. “I killed him almost a year ago. There's no way—”

“You didn't get rid of the body properly!” You cut him off, raising your voice in hopes that he'll take even just a second to stop and listen. It seems to work and you add something you remember ‘Geto’ saying. “You should have had Shoko Ieiri get rid of it, but you didn’t and now some… some kind of gross brain thing is possessing the corpse!”

The air between you both is silent as the grave. Though you can't see it, you can feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. He’s definitely having second thoughts about everything you’ve said so far. There’s a chance he might even think you’re his enemy now. You stare him down though, refusing to look away. You’ve made it this far, you can’t— you won’t back down.

“...you’re not lying, are you.” Gojo’s words are more of a statement than a question. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows the answer, and yet he’s still asking. You wonder if maybe he’s clinging onto some vain hope that maybe, just maybe this all a sick, cruel joke that’s gone way too far.

“I’m not.”

Gojo holds your gaze for a second longer before he lets out a curse. “Fuck!”

“...I’m sorry,” you say quietly, mostly because it feels like the most correct thing to say at this moment. You don’t know the whole story, but it seems like they were close. If so, then it must have hurt Gojo a lot to have killed him, and must hurt even more to know that someone is desecrating the body. You hate that you, a complete and utter stranger, happened to be the person to tell him, but…

It had to be done, for the sake of getting past this unending night, it had to be done.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair and lets out a ragged sigh. “Okay. What happens after that?”

You give him a rundown of what follows; he gets sealed, the monsters wake up and all but ‘Geto’ leave in search of their next target. When you mention the high school girls demanding the brain give Geto’s body back, Gojo snorts loudly.

“Fat chance of that,” he says derisively.

You nod in agreement. It was clear to you that the brain parasite has no intent on giving it up any time soon. “After they leave, he… talks to me.”

“Probably couldn't ignore all that cursed energy you have,” Gojo remarks offhandedly.

You stare at him, expression twisted in a way that shows that you have absolutely no clue what that means. It should be fine for you to ask this one question; it actually concerns you after all. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, though… probably doesn't make much sense to you, does it?”

You give him a pointed glare and all Gojo does is laugh.

“Just think of it like having a lot of MP.”

“...Like in a video game?”

“Exactly!” Then, Gojo tilts his head, clearly thinking. You don't bother asking; you don't feel like he'll explain.

“He does ask me if I'm a sorcerer, whatever that is. Is that why?”

“Probably. Ordinary people don't have even a fraction of the energy you're packing.”

‘Ordinary people’ he says as if you’re not an ordinary person who got caught up in all this supernatural sorcery bullshit. Or at least you were, but if the time loops are really a product of your own doing…

“Does he kill you when you answer?” Gojo asks to get the conversation back on track.

“Not right away. What happens next kind of varies,” you answer. “He usually lets me have a question or two before he kills me; I've asked him a couple different things.”

“Really taking advantage, aren’t you?” Gojo says and you're not sure what to make of his tone. Is he mocking you or is he easing back into that laid-back persona of his?

“If I’m doomed to repeat the same situation over and over, I might as well make the most of it,” you respond flatly.

“You know, your technique kind of reminds me of save scumming.”

He’s definitely gone back to acting almost completely unserious— all signs of his earlier agitation are nearly gone.

“So what did you learn?”

“Well, the prison realm only holds one occupant. Once they’re sealed, time stops for them and the only way out is if the bearer unseals them or if they choose to kill themselves.”

“I see… And what about our body jacker?”

“He didn’t go into detail but he said something about… striving toward the evolution of mankind?” You frown a little at the memory. He didn’t explain further because he said that you wouldn’t understand.

“Huh. Interesting. Wonder how he was gonna go about doing that.”

“I don't know, but I can't imagine you'd like it since he goes out of his way to seal you into that box,” you say. “Said you’d get in the way because you’re too strong.”

Gojo shrugs his shoulders and grins a little. Cocky. “Well, I am the strongest sorcerer around, you know.”

You would think him overconfident if you hadn't seen the magnitude of his strength first hand.

“Anyway, that's as far as I ever go. When he's decided he’s done talking to me, he kills me and I loop back.”

“So, in short, what you want help with is getting past that point, right?”

“More or less.”

“And all I have to do is avoid getting caught by the prison realm?”

You nod.

“What’s it look like?” he asks. “A big cage with a bunch of metal bars?”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t woken up early enough to see it before it traps him, but you can’t imagine it looks that much different. “No.. It’s a small box with eyes… It gets big enough to fit you in it, though.”

“Huh.” He stretches his arms out above his head as if he’s trying to emphasize how large he actually is and shoots you a grin. “Should be easy enough then. I bet our body snatcher used the shock of seeing Suguru to trap me but since I'll see it coming, avoiding it'll be a piece of cake.”

Gojo makes it sound so easy, and maybe it really is as simple as that, but you can't help but be worried still.

“Don't tell me you don't think I can do it,” he says, tilting his head.

“It's not that,” you admit. “I'm just concerned I might die before we can get to that point.”

Truthfully, since you know that will just result in another loop you're less concerned with dying itself and more worried about losing the progress you've made in convincing Gojo to help you. Even though it's been clearly proven you can loop him as well, there's no guarantee you'll be able to make the physical contact needed to do it upon death.

“You've made it pretty far on your own, though, right?”

“Yeah, but… I’ve messed up plenty of times.” More than you can even count. “There's also the possibility that taking the time to talk to you might have thrown things out of whack.”

Speaking of time, you check your phone. It's 8:39PM. You curse.

Gojo leans over to check your phone. “Let me guess, I'm supposed to be somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, this is when you’re descending down onto the platform.”

“You know where I am down to the exact minute?” He asks and you tilt your head back and forth a little. It’s not exact per se, but it’s close enough. Gojo chuckles a little. “Man, I didn’t realize that you were actually that into me.”

That earns Gojo a glare from you, but he just laughs it off. “I doubt being a few minutes late is going to make a big difference.”

You certainly hope so.

“Don't worry,” Gojo says and you notice he's using that tone from earlier. “You won't die.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he uses such a reassuring sounding voice and yet, you still open your mouth to try— to voice your doubts, but what he says next silences you before you even can.

“I'll protect you.”

You think your heart stops beating in your chest and your words dissolve in your throat.

He grins at you. “Did you fall in love with me just now?”

That catches you a little off guard. You're willing to admit he's hot, but surely he must be joking. “How could you even think of something like that at a time like this?”

Gojo laughs again. “Well, since someone is so worried about their time table being all messed up, I better head down there; can’t keep Volcano Head and friends waiting, right?”

You blink. Is that it? “Wait, shouldn’t we make a plan or something?”

“Isn’t the plan for me to not get caught in the prison realm?”

Yes, but… “But what about me? Is there anything I can do?”

Gojo stares at you, or at least you think he does. “...I don’t know, is there?”

You’ve seen the encounter between Satoru Gojo and those monsters so many times and you try to picture a version of it where you intervene and… all you can see is yourself getting in his way. You’re no fighter, no… sorcerer, or whatever he is, you’re just some ordinary person that was unfortunate enough to get all caught up in this mess. The most you can probably do is kick the prison realm out of the way when the time comes, but otherwise… “...no, I guess not.”

His expression turns sympathetic. “You’ve done plenty by telling me everything that happens. So just wait up here, and let me handle the monsters.”

You almost nod. Almost. But then you remember what transpires up here above the platform. You know it sounds safer up here where you’re less likely to get involved in the carnage, but… “Wait, no, if I stay up here then I’ll fall to my death when those girls—”

Gojo laughs, interrupting you. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be fine.”

“How?”

“Just trust me.”

“I…” It’s hard to. After everything you’ve gone through it’s hard to trust in anything, to believe in anything. Even though you’ve made it this far this time, the worry that something will go wrong and that you’ll have to do it all again still lurks in the back of your mind.

Despite all that, you want to believe.

You want to believe that you can make it past this unending night, that one day you’ll wake up and it’ll no longer be October 31, 2018. And the first step towards that is trusting in Satoru Gojo.

“...okay,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Gojo chuckles then asks, “Anything else before I head off?”

You start to ask if there’s anything you should say, in case things don’t work out, but you stop yourself. You’re choosing to trust him, to believe in him— you can figure out that stuff later if things end up going south after all. So, instead you give him a smile and it feels a little weird because you don’t remember the last time you did. “Good luck!”

For a split second, Gojo looks almost surprised, but then he laughs again, beaming widely at you. He starts to move past you and reaches out to give you what you think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder and then he’s off. You turn to watch him go, the crowd, once again, parting almost naturally for him.

When he reaches the barricade, he pauses, raising his hand as if he’s giving you one last wave. Then he jumps over it onto his little perch and then less than a minute later he’s gone, descending to the platform below.

Now, all you can do is wait.

You check your phone again and it’s 8:44PM. If you remember correctly, the high school girls start threatening everyone right before 9PM. With Gojo’s arrival being shifted back almost five minutes, does that mean that they’ll be shifted back too? It would make sense, but you’re not too sure.

Out of habit, you keep checking your phone and at nearly 9PM, you hear the shrill voice of one of the girls over the crowd, commanding everyone to do what she says, her partner stringing up bodies until everyone listens. Everything plays out just as you remember it, which is mildly comforting, though you know that the events that happen up here are more or less independent from what happens below.

Surely, just as Gojo said, a few minutes aren’t going to change anything, but—

No.

You agreed to trust him. To trust that everything would be fine.

When the girls start to demand that as many people as possible climb onto the roots and vines covering the atrium your heart starts to hammer in your chest. In just a few minutes, all the foliage will disintegrate beneath you, and you and everyone else here will fall into the abyss below.

You are afraid.

There isn’t a single loop where you’ve really survived this fall. If you don’t die in midair, you die right after landing. It’s a death trap, and that’s why you’ve stopped coming up here. There’s a part of you, the part that knows what’s about to happen, that wants to try and run back onto stable footing. But you can’t, because you know if you do then the girls will kill you for sure; you have to stay.

It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, it’ll be okay.

You just have to trust Gojo.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You hear the announcement faintly below you. It’s almost time. You brace yourself and try to stay calm. Gojo said he would protect you, that you wouldn’t die. You don’t know how he intends to keep that promise, but all you can do is believe in his words.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.

The vines and roots start to crack and the ground beneath you starts to give out. You squeeze your eyes shut as that sickening weightless feeling overtakes you. It occurs to you that this is actually quite literally a trust fall— will Satoru Gojo really be able to catch you?

As you fall, you realize almost instantly that something is different.

You’ve experienced this fall dozens of times and so, even though it has been a while since you’ve gone this route, you are very familiar with what it feels like. Something is different. You’re falling faster. The trajectory is changing. It’s like some force, other than gravity, is pulling at you.

Is this Gojo’s doing?

Just as your body collides with the ground you hear the sounds of mutilating flesh meld with the screams surrounding you. Blood and severed limbs litter the ground, but you try to ignore it. You need to focus on your own survival right now. Quickly, you scramble to your feet scan the area around you; you’re on the platform right now and right in front of you is—

Right in front of you is Satoru Gojo.

His back is turned to you, his focus currently elsewhere. Looking at him you realize you recognize this scene, though it’s much closer and at a different angle. He’s about to do that thing, that thing that knocks you out.

Something in you tells you to move closer to him, after all, he used his mysterious powers to deliberately bring you closer to him, right? You rush toward him and as you do something he said earlier pops up in your mind.

Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!

Whatever he’s about to do… Is that his ‘technique?’ And if it is, would it work the same way as yours? If so, there’s only one way to find out: you need to touch him. You dodge monsters and other people as you run toward Satoru Gojo and—

A monster still manages to grab you, its large hands wrapping around your wrist. You try and yank it free, but it's much stronger than you are.

“Shit!” you hiss as the monster starts to pull you toward it and away from Gojo. What do you do? Your other hand is still free, should you try to punch it in the face? Or—

Before you can do anything, something blasts the monster’s head clean off. Shocked, you stare as the monster’s body slumps onto the ground, its grip loosening on you instantly. You whip your head around to find that while Gojo still has his back to you, his arm is bent back in your direction, his palm open as if he fired some invisible blast from it.

Then you feel it again, something pulling at you, but this time it's more forceful. Your body is yanked toward Gojo and the second you feel his hand press against you, you see him make that gesture with his other hand.

“Domain Expansion,” he whispers in a strained voice. “Infinite Void!”

Something happens and your vision flashes for a fraction of a second. And then—

The room is enveloped in an eerie stillness; all the violence and bloodshed coming to an abrupt stop. Monsters and humans alike stand like the living dead, unconscious with their eyes wide open as if they are staring into an infinite abyss. You recognize this scene, you’re familiar with it because it’s similar to the one you wake up to after being hit by Gojo’s ‘domain expansion.’ The only difference is the presence of the monsters, who are all but gone when you regain consciousness.

The pressure from Gojo’s hand is gone and he says to you, his voice still low. “If you’re squeamish when it comes to blood and gore, it might be best for you to close your eyes.”

And then he’s gone.

You do not take his advice. You do not close your eyes. How many loops were you unable to witness what’s about to unfold? A few hundred? A few thousand? And if all goes to plan, then you will never get another chance again: there’s no way you could possibly look away.

And what you see unfold before you is that Satoru Gojo was right.

He is the one to kill all the monsters.

It’s not as if you really had any doubt, after all, it seemed like the most logical conclusion to come to and yet…

There’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

All the violence resumes and the platform is engulfed in the sounds of carnage and slaughter once more. The lack of terrified screams makes everything more disconcerting— without them, all you can hear is the squelching echo of mangled flesh and blood splattering all over the place. You can’t really see him, but you can tell where Satoru Gojo is in the crowd as he leaves dozens upon dozens of decapitated heads soaring in his wake. Once or twice, he leaps out of the crowd and even from where you stand you can see the crazed glow of his inhumanly blue eyes as he massacres monster after monster.

Even though you don’t think you have anything to be scared of, you are still terrified: Satoru Gojo is no longer a man, but violence incarnate. You want to move closer to where Gojo gets trapped, but you’re afraid to. What if you get in his way? What if he kills you by accident?

Dying again when you’ve made it this far is definitely not ideal, but isn’t being killed by Gojo the best case scenario? Because then the two of you would probably loop together again and—

No.

Gojo said you wouldn’t die.

He said he’d protect you.

It’s hard to believe when he’s in the middle of a massacre, slaughtering monsters left and right, but you remind yourself yet again that you have to believe in him.

You take a deep breath and start moving, taking care to keep an eye on where Gojo is. You don’t know how long this is supposed to take, but you do know where he ends up when he’s just about done. The closer he gets to that spot, the sooner the prison realm will be unleashed upon him.

There’s a small group of zombified people nearby and you settle yourself among them. It’s not super close, but you think it's close enough that you'd be able to run over and kick the box away from Gojo if you have to. You do a quick survey to see if you can spot the body snatcher, but he's nowhere to be found. Hopefully, he hasn't noticed you moving around, or, if he has, he's more concerned with Gojo than he is with you. Given that you always seem to be the last thing he acknowledges, you'd like to think that he doesn't consider you a threat.

Which you're not, not really anyway.

The sounds of slaughter start to die down and you look to see Gojo approaching the spot where he gets caught. He looks beat, his eyes unfocused and his breathing heavy. You do another quick scan around him and notice a small box a few meters away from him, wrapped in what looks like paper charms or seals or whatever they're called. That has to be the prison realm— though it looks different than what you saw before. Gojo seems to notice it right after you do, his gaze honing in on it, examining it with some measure of bewilderment. Then, some invisible force slices through all the paper seals covering the box and it expands, the corners of the box floating up in midair to reveal what looks like a large sheet of dark red flesh with a large bloodshot eye stapled to the middle.

Disgusting.

If Gojo didn’t realize before, he seems to now, because he takes a step back, away from the grotesque thing. Good, good—

“Hey! Satoru!” Your blood runs cold at the sound of the body snatcher’s voice. He emerges from the crowd, smiling widely as he gives Gojo a wave. “Long time no see!”

Satoru Gojo’s entire body goes rigid. Shit. You told him, you warned him about what was going to happen, who he was going to see, but was that not enough? It’s possible that no amount of warning would have been enough to mentally prepare Satoru Gojo for the sight of the man he said he killed a year ago. After all, you know that there’s a stark difference between knowing and seeing. Even then, if Gojo doesn’t gather his wits and move now then he’s going to get caught and you can’t let that happen.

Your body moves before you can even think about it.

You scramble out from your hiding spot in the crowd and throw yourself in between Satoru Gojo and the prison realm. There’s no way you can kick it away from him now, not when it’s in this form, but maybe, if you get between them you can at least keep it from capturing him.

The eye quivers erratically, as it flits from Gojo to you. Every hair on your body stands on end as it watches you, the pupil dilating and contracting uncontrollably. You can’t look away from it, your own gaze fixed to your image reflected in the black abyss of the pupil. Something in the back of your mind tells you to stop, to get away, it’s dangerous, but you keep your feet firmly planted to the ground.

A second, or maybe even a minute passes and the prison realm shifts, its fleshy form morphing to restrain you.

The body jacker looks at you, his frown tinged with disgust. “Don’t you think you’re being rather rude by butting into what could have been a touching reunion?”

You scowl. Is he still trying to play the role of Suguru Geto?

He sighs and looks past you at Gojo. “Satoru, I thought bringing lesser sorcerers to fight alongside you was more trouble than it was worth?”

You hear Gojo snort from behind you, “It is… but this person here isn’t a sorcerer… Just like you aren’t Suguru Geto.”

The faker almost pouts and presses his hand to his chest as if Gojo's words have wounded him. “Satoru, I’m hurt, how could you say such a thing to your best friend?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Gojo snarls. “You can’t fucking fool me. You might be in Suguru’s body but I know with all my heart and soul that you’re not him.”

The corpse snatcher stares at Gojo, expression blank before he sighs once more. Then, his gaze shifts back to you, his eyes narrowed as he looks at you with sheer disdain. It feels as if you’ve been drenched in ice cold water. There's no smile this time but you already know what's going to happen.

He’s going to kill you.

“I intended to deal with you later since you seemed harmless enough,” he says, raising a hand to summon a monster— the same one he always uses to end your life. “But you’re in the way. So, I think it’s for the best if I just get rid of you right now.”

Instinctively, you try to take a step back but the prison realm’s restraints keep you in place. Not that it would have mattered much, even in the loops where you’ve tried to escape the faker’s monster, it still kills you, too fast and too agile for an ordinary human like you to avoid. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the monster to kill you. At least, it’s always painless.

Something touches your back.

Your eyes shoot open.

Before you is the monster, wiggling and writhing only mere centimeters from your face. It gurgles and snarls at you, desperate to fulfill its master’s wishes and kill you but it doesn’t move any closer. You stare at it with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

Someone behind you clicks their tongue— Gojo. You try to turn your head to look at him, but your movements are too limited, the most you can do is turn your head to the side. The sounds the monster is making start to change, sounding more frenzied, almost as if it’s in pain, and you flit your eyes in its direction just in time to see its entire body explode. The monster's guts and bright purple blood fly off in every direction, getting on the floor, the ceiling, the zombified bodies of the people unfortunate enough to be nearby, but not on you.

This is Satoru Gojo’s doing.

He steps in front of you, half turned towards you as he moves in between you and the body snatcher. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he loudly says, “Did you really forget about me?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the body snatcher.

Past him, the imposter scowls, raising his hand once more, probably to summon even more monsters, but Gojo’s quicker, and it almost looks like his eyes are glowing even brighter, the blue looking almost white as he whips his head in the faker’s direction. The sound of mangling flesh and breaking bones echoes throughout the room as Gojo, using that mysterious power of his, seems to break the faker’s arm.

The body snatcher hisses loudly and despite the fact that his face is twisted in very obvious pain, he tries to shoot Gojo a mocking smile. “Do you really think you can kill your best friend again?”

“I already told you,” Gojo turns to fully face the monster inhabiting Geto’s corpse. He tilts his head a little to the side and some force starts to squeeze at the faker’s neck. “You’re not Suguru.”

You hear a loud crack as Gojo telekinetically snaps his neck.

The head rolls onto the ground and you almost look away, but then you notice his eyes still moving, looking around. Is he still alive? Then you remember: the thing possessing Suguru Geto’s body was some kind of parasite. “Gojo! Wait! The brain!”

He reacts almost instantly, head turning and in an instant the skull is crushed and all that remains is red splotch on the ground.

You almost relax. Almost.

But the body is still standing.

Horrified, you watch as it quivers violently before falling to the ground. Then what looks like dozens of black spirits start to erupt from the corpse and the entire room is engulfed with a shrill howling.

What the hell is going on?

“Those must be all the cursed spirits he consumed,” Gojo explains uselessly, voice barely audible over the screaming. “Guess he was empty before.”

You don’t bother asking what he means. There are bigger problems right now. “What do we do?”

“No choice to exorcise them,” he answers plainly.

For him to exorcise them, he means. You both know that there’s not much that you can do. You still can’t move and honestly, you don’t even know if it’s possible to get out of the prison realm’s restraints. Not without dying. And if you die now…

Everything will have been for naught.

You’ll reset time and have to do this all over again— assuming you can even get to this point again.

There has to be something, you just have to think outside the box.

Or rather—

“Gojo!”

He glances back at you.

“You need to seal me in the prison realm!” you exclaim. He turns to face you fully, looking bewildered and you start to explain as fast as you can. “Those things are going to attack any minute right? I can’t move or try to hide and I can’t expect you to protect me the entire time and if I die then I’ll end up looping time again, but— but, if you seal me in the prison realm then that won’t happen.”

Gojo frowns, looking conflicted. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“Wouldn't it be easier if you didn’t have to?”

He tilts head and you think he’s conceding your point.

“Please,” you beg, staring at him desperately. “We don’t have much time. The other… cursed spirits will wake up soon too!”

You don’t have to explain that you mean Volcano Head and friends.

It takes only a second for Gojo to consider the very few options you have. “...how do you seal it? Do you know?”

“I think so,” you answer. “There’s no guarantee it’ll work but I think that if you say ‘prison realm, gate close’ it should seal me inside.”

If anything, it’s worth a shot.

Gojo nods. “Do you know how to break the seal?”

“I… don’t,” you confess. You never asked, and you don’t think the body snatcher would have told you even if you did. He only told you that it holds one and that…

That time doesn’t flow in the box.

“...you don’t have to break the seal.”

Gojo frowns, “Wait a sec—”

“Even if I make it past tonight… What if this all happens again? What if I inadvertently trap myself in another time loop?” you ask. “I… I don’t want to have to go through all of this again. It’s better for me in a place where time doesn’t pass.”

You don’t know for sure if it’ll be better, but right here, right now, it seems like the best option.

It feels like an eternity passes before Gojo says anything.

“...fine,” he agrees and you don’t quite know how to feel about it. The howling around you all grows louder. You wonder why the cursed spirits haven’t attacked yet. Maybe Gojo’s power is holding them at bay… for now anyway. You both know that he can’t ignore them forever.

“...before I do, though, mind if I ask you just one thing?”

You blink. “Not sure what I can do for you in this state…”

He laughs. “I just want to know your name.”

What an odd request. Though, now that you think about it, you don’t think that during this loop or any other loop really, you’ve ever told him your name. It only seems fair to tell him, since you’ve known his for longer than he’s known of your existence.

You tell him your name.

He nods, looking as if he’s committing to memory. Probably easier to remember than his phone number. “Any last words?”

You try to think of something. Nothing comes to mind and you just shake your head.

Gojo takes a deep breath, “Alrighty then… Prison realm, gate close.”

Just as it did the many times you’ve seen Satoru Gojo sealed away, the boxes and restraints around you vibrate a little before they start to close around you, growing large enough to fit your body as they approach.

You won’t see it, but once you’re inside the box will shrink and become small enough to fit in the palm of someone’s hand.

Will it be quiet inside?

In your final seconds, some words, some last words come to mind, and you say them, hoping that he hears them in time. “Thank you, Satoru Gojo.”

You burn the glittering glow of his brilliant bright blue eyes into your mind.

And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black.

It’s November 30, 2018— morning on the campus of Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.

Satoru Gojo strides through the school grounds, casually tossing a small silver box with eerie blue eyes known as the prison realm up and down in his grasp. Walking at his side is Shoko Ieiri, a pretty woman who’s been unfortunate enough to have been Satoru’s friend since high school.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shoko asks, twirling a few strands of her long brown hair.

“What do you mean?” Satoru responds nonchalantly. “All my ideas are good ideas.”

Shoko hums in clear dissent, but doesn’t say anything more. Even she knows better than to try and waste her time trying to argue with Satoru. “I’m just worried about their mental state. Didn’t you say that time doesn’t flow in the box?”

“I’d be worried if it was some normal person,” Satoru says. “But after what they’ve gone through I think they’ll be fine.”

“...well, if you say so.”

The two arrive at their destination: the largest training area on the Jujutsu High grounds. Satoru places the prison realm at the center and takes a few steps back with Shoko standing behind him, in case anything happens.

He doesn’t think it will, but it’s always good to take at least a few precautions.

“Gojo, are you sure we should be doing this?” Shoko asks again. “Didn’t they want to remain in the box?”

“Of course I am,” Satoru says with his usual air of confidence before looking back at the prison realm nestled in the grass. He grins and then—

“Prison realm, gate open.”

if you made it this far. thank you. it's my sincerest hope that you enjoyed the ride. 3

#OHHHHHHHH MY GOD.#okokokok this is gonna be. Really Incoherent sorry in advance 🙏🙏 niku this made me…… insane. fully. someone needs to restrain me #one of my favorite gojo fics Ever??? like genuinely????? this was SUCH a pleasure to read i have sm i wanna say :((( hhhhhh #FIRST OF ALLL the higurashi poem…. what a banger <33 i LOVE how it ties in with the ending too but more on that later :33 #but it’s also so perfect bc reading this fic rlly did feel like playing a vn in the BEST way possible…. just. seeing all the tiny variation #experiencing the loops along w reader…… it was just SUCH an enjoyable experience i can’t even describe it!!!!!!!!! i’m so floored!!!!!!!!!!#like i ADORE timeloops it’s my favorite trope Ever and this fic was just . a godsend?? perfection??? the best loopfic ive read?????#I’M STILL GOING FULLY INSANE OVER IT BTW it satiated every single craving i have for timeloop content. my brain is leaking endorphins rn 😵‍#i LOVE the opening lines and the constant reusage of ”It’s the night of October 31 2018— Halloween in Shibuya”…… just so satisfying somehow #and reader’s mental state was also so thoughtfully depicted… it was so easy to insert myself into them but they’re also. rlly charming?#them latching onto gojo as the one anomaly of the timeloop…. fixating on him and his beauty (real as fuck btw)…. and searching for hope!!!#finding hope in gojo!!!! learning to trust him!!!!! :((( it feels kinda like a very twisted one-sided slowburn … and i ate it up.#i also rlly like that it’s not explicitly romantic!!! there’s enough subtext to enjoy a romance aspect but it’s not the Focus yk??#and i like that!!! the focus is on reader and the timeloop and both of those aspects are woven into gojo rlly naturally :>#ok so i’m using that as a segway. bc OFC i need to rant abt gojo fucking satoru and how much i love him and ur take on him 😔😔#every once in a while i’ll find a fic where i’m like. this author knows Gojo Satoru personally. they speak to him on the phone every night.#and this fic is ABSOLUTELY one of those like….. this gojo is Canon to me. i’m so serious abt it like that’s HIM !!!#and it just reminded me of why i love him sm bc this rlly does feel exactly like the gojo from the manga and that’s SO impressive 2 me ….#i’m in awe of u niku. i don’t even know where to begin w gojo bc i loved SO many lines and lil details u put in………. 😵‍💫😵‍💫#he’s just. soooooo charming :/// he truly is. he’s beautiful and handsome and he gives you his number every loop . w a star symbol!!!!#asks you for your phone or a pen and gets all excited writing his name… the mochi receipt…. 🥺 he’s so endearing we need to put him Down.#HE’S SO GOODDDDD I CAN’T SAY IT ENOUGH…. his convos with reader were a huge highlight for me and i loved loved LOVED #the moment he finally understands their situation. when they speak and he hears them out and he’s almost gentle. sooo reassuring.#starting to think you’re genuinely gege akutami btw like . gojo is so complex but you just. captured him perfectly???#he’s cocky and playful and teasing and a killing machine and he’s Kind. he’s playful even when you’re a stranger #and when he finally hears you out he speaks softly and says he’ll protect you :((( reader is better than me i would’ve cried LMAO #THE DIALOGUE IS SO GOOD N FEELS SO REAL ”did you fall in love with me just now?” NOOO ….. ☹️☹️☹️☹️ …. (maybe ……..)#ack. he’s the most charming man in the universe my heart was fluttering like crazy this isn’t… normal human behavior………#WAIT i almost forgot …. i too adore the jjk dub and every time gojo spoke i heard kaiji tang in my head <33 10/10 would recommend!!!#writing ✩

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stylesispunk · 3 months ago

Text

"Did the love affair maim you too?" | Part iv

Joel Miller x f!reader

previous part | next part

chapter summary: After almost losing you, Joel does everything he can to get you back.

w.c: 14k (idk why all chapters are this long, sorry this is a filler chapter)

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, feelings of cheating, reader cries a lot, miscommunication, fluff, and poorly written smut. No proofreading, sorry.

a/n: chapter four was supposed to be the last one but I keep writing many words. Thank you so much for the love you have shown to this story so far, you will finally see the light in this chapter, so much love for you. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Joel’s heart hasn’t been beating this rapidly since that night.

Running desperately behind Tommy as they made their way back through the darkened woods, moving as quickly as they could while still being careful not to jostle you too much.

He could still feel the warmth of your skin irradiating his hands as the rest of the world around him felt distant, blurred by the sole focus on keeping you alive. Every breath you took, every faint whisper of your voice, was a reminder that you were still here, still fighting.

Tommy’s own fear was evident in the urgency of his movements. He kept glancing back at his older brother with you on his arms. The silence between the two of them felt heavy, filled with the unspoken dread of what might happen if they didn’t make it back to Jackson in time.

Tommy feared what might be the consequences for him if you wouldn’t make out alive of this.

The guilty.

The regret.

The madness.

The what if.

When the lights of Jackson came into view, Tommy felt like breathing again. Looking behind him, if he could see the same light on Joel’s face, he only saw his brother's fastness of pace.

As they approached the gates, Tommy called out to the guards, who quickly opened the gates for them, their faces showing shock and concern as they saw the state you were in.

Your clothes were dripping in blood, and Joel’s didn’t know if that was all yours at this time.

He was terrified.

“Get the infirmary ready!” Tommy shouted as they hurried through the gates, his voice commanding and urgent. The guards and townspeople quickly sprang into action, clearing a path and rushing ahead to prepare for your arrival.

Joel didn’t let go of you, even as they reached the infirmary. He carried you inside, his arms trembling from the effort but refusing to let go. Dr. Ramirez was already there, Maria with her, her face pale with worry as she saw you in that state.

“Get her on the table,” Dr. Ramirez instructed, moving quickly to clear the space as the other doctor joined her. Joel reluctantly laid you down, his hands hovering over you as if afraid to leave your side.

“We need space to work,” Dr. Ramirez said gently but firmly, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You need to step back.”

Joel looked like he was about to argue, his eyes locked on your now pale face, but Tommy stepped in, guiding him away from the table. “Let them do their job, Joel,” he said quietly, his voice laced with his own anxiety. “They’ll take care of her.”

Joel stood there, his heart pounding as he watched the medics swarm around you, their hands moving swiftly as they assessed your injuries and began to save your life. He felt helpless, every instinct screaming at him to protect you, but all he could do was stand there and wait, praying that you would pull through.

Maria approached Joel, her face etched with concern. “She’s strong, Joel,” she said softly, trying to offer some comfort. “She’ll get through this.”

But Joel could only nod numbly, his eyes never leaving your still form as the medics worked to save your life. The weight of everything he had almost lost bore down on him, and all he could do was hope that it wasn’t too late.

In the midst of the chaos, as the medics worked quickly and urgently around you, you reached out with a trembling hand, searching for something familiar, something to anchor you in the middle of the pain and fear you felt. Your fingers brushed against Joel’s hand, and you gripped it tightly, as if holding on for dear life.

Joel’s breath caught in his throat as he felt your touch. He immediately clasped your hand in both of his, his grip firm yet gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you but even more afraid to let go.

“I’m here,” he whispered, leaning closer to you, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here, sunshine. I’m not going anywhere.”

The medics continued to work, their hands moving with practiced efficiency, but for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just you and Joel, connected by that small, desperate touch.

Your eyes fluttered open, just barely, and you looked up at him, your gaze clouded with pain. “Joel…”

“Shh, don’t talk,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a soothing motion. “Save your strength. Just keep holding on, okay?”

You nodded weakly, your grip on his hand tightening for a brief moment before your strength waned again. But you didn’t let go, and neither did he.

In that moment, as the medics fought to save your life, Joel realized just how deeply he cared for you. The thought of losing you was unbearable, and he silently vowed to do whatever it took to make sure you made it through this.

Tommy stood nearby, watching the scene unfold with a heavy heart, understanding the depth of his brother's feelings without a word being spoken. He placed a hand on Joel’s shoulder, offering silent support as they both stood vigil, waiting for the moment when the worst would pass and you could finally be safe again.

"Hold her hand," Dr. Ramirez instructed, knowing that the pain would be intense as she began to stitch your wound. "She’s going to need you to keep her grounded."

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. He tightened his grip on your hand, leaning in closer so you could feel his presence and hear his voice. "I’m right here," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You hold on to me, okay?"

You nodded weakly, your face pale and glistening with sweat. The pain was unbearable—a searing, white-hot agony that tore through your body as the doctor prepared to stitch the wound. You gritted your teeth, but as soon as the needle pierced your skin, a scream tore from your throat, raw and desperate.

Joel winced, his heart shattering at the sound of your pain, but he didn’t let go. He squeezed your hand tighter, his other hand brushing your hair back from your face in a comforting gesture. "I know it hurts, sunshine, I know," he murmured, his voice steady even though he was breaking inside. "But you’ve got to hold on. Just a little longer, okay?"

Dr. Ramirez worked quickly, her hands steady and sure as she stitched your wound, but the pain was relentless. Each stitch felt like fire, and you cried out again, your body writhing involuntarily on the table.

"Look at me," Joel urged, his voice a lifeline in the sea of pain. "Keep your eyes on me. I’m not letting go."

Your gaze found his, your eyes wide and filled with tears, but you focused on him—on the sound of his voice, on the feel of his hand in yours. It was the only thing that kept you from losing yourself in the agony.

"That’s it," he whispered, his thumb brushing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "You’re doing so good. Just a little bit longer, and this’ll all be over."

Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, the pain overwhelming, but you clung to his hand like a lifeline. His voice and his touch were the only things keeping you grounded, and you held on with everything you had.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor tied off the last stitch and stepped back, her expression one of relief. "We’re done," she said softly, wiping her hands on a towel. “We need to keep her wound from an infection.”

Joel let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did it, sunshine," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of pride and relief. "You’re going to be okay."

The pain was still there, a dull, throbbing ache, but as the worst of it began to ebb away, you felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you. You managed a small, tired smile up at Joel, your eyes heavy with the need for rest.

"Stay with me," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Don’t leave me."

"Never," Joel promised, his voice choked with emotion. "I’m not going anywhere."

As the last stitch was secured, the intense pain began to subside, leaving you drained and trembling. The doctor stepped back, wiping her hands as she gave a nod of reassurance to Joel.

"You’re going to be alright," she said softly, her voice a gentle balm in the quiet room. "Get some rest now. You need it."

You felt the weight of exhaustion pulling you down, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment. The pain had dulled to a steady throb, and your body, finally allowed a reprieve, craved the relief of sleep.

"Stay with me," you whispered again, your voice barely above a murmur as you looked up at Joel. Your grip on his hand loosened, not out of fear, but out of sheer weariness.

"I’m right here," Joel replied, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned closer. "I’m not going anywhere, sunshine. You rest now."

You managed a faint smile, comforted by his presence, and let your eyes drift shut. The world around you began to fade, the sounds of the infirmary growing distant as sleep took hold.

Joel watched as your breathing slowed, your face relaxing into a peaceful expression. He kept his hand in yours, even as your grip slackened completely, his thumb gently brushing against your skin.

He stayed by your side, his own heart finally starting to calm, as he whispered, "I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go. Never again."

Joel sat by your side, his fingers gently brushing the strands of hair away from your face. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he were afraid you might break under his hands. He watched your chest rise and fall with each breath, the steady rhythm a small comfort after the chaos of the night.

His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his eyes never leaving your face. He took in every detail—the curve of your lips, the way your lashes rested softly against your cheeks, the slight furrow in your brow that lingered even in sleep. It was as if he were memorizing you, committing this moment to memory, a reminder that you were here, alive, and safe.

Lost in his thoughts, Joel didn’t hear Tommy approach until his brother’s voice broke through the silence.

“Joel,” Tommy said softly, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You should get some rest. She’s gonna be fine. The doc said so.”

Joel didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on you. He knew Tommy was right, knew that he needed sleep, but the thought of leaving you, even for a moment, felt impossible.

“I can’t,” Joel finally murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. “I can’t leave her, Tommy. Not after everything…”

Tommy sighed, his heart aching for his brother. He could see the toll the night had taken on Joel—the worry etched into his face, the exhaustion weighing down his shoulders. He crouched down beside him, trying to meet Joel’s gaze.

“I know you’re scared,” Tommy said quietly. “But she’s strong. She made it through, and she’ll keep fighting. But you—you need to take care of yourself too, Joel. You can’t help her if you’re running on empty.”

Joel finally tore his eyes away from you, looking at Tommy with a mixture of gratitude and stubbornness. “I just… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I could survive it.”

Tommy’s expression softened, understanding the depth of Joel’s fear. He squeezed his brother’s shoulder, offering a small, reassuring smile. “You won’t lose her, Joel. She’s not going anywhere. But you need to be strong for her, and that means getting some rest. I’ll stay here with her. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Joel hesitated, his gaze flickering back to you. The thought of leaving, even just to lie down, felt wrong. But he knew Tommy was right; he was barely holding on, and you needed him to be strong.

Joel shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "No, Tommy," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I'm staying with her."

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but the look on Joel's face stopped him. There was a quiet resolve in Joel's expression, a fierce protectiveness that Tommy knew all too well. He had seen it before, back when Joel would do anything to keep the people he cared about safe. And now, with you lying there so vulnerable, Tommy knew there was no convincing his brother to leave your side.

"Alright," Tommy finally said, his tone gentle. "But you need to rest too, Joel. Even just for a little while. I’ll be here, watching over both of you.”

Joel didn’t respond, his focus entirely on you as you slept. His thumb continued to trace soothing patterns on the back of your hand, grounding himself in the simple act of holding on to you. He could see the tension slowly easing from your features, the pain and exhaustion giving way to a deeper, more peaceful sleep.

Tommy sighed softly, pulling up a chair beside Joel. “I’ll stay right here,” he promised, his voice low. “You don’t have to worry about anything. We’re all here for you and for her.”

Joel nodded, acknowledging his brother’s presence, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. He couldn’t. The thought of closing his eyes, even for a second, felt impossible. What if you needed him? What if something happened while he wasn’t watching?

He didn’t want to miss a thing.

So he stayed, his hand never leaving yours, his eyes tracing the familiar contours of your face as if to reassure himself that you were still there, still breathing, still alive. The fear that had gripped him so tightly was still there, but it was tempered by the warmth of your hand in his, the steady rhythm of your breath, and the quiet strength that you always seemed to carry.

“Get some rest, Joel,” Tommy urged quietly, but Joel simply shook his head.

“I’m fine,” Joel murmured, though the exhaustion in his voice was evident. “I just need to be here.”

Tommy watched his brother for a moment, seeing the depth of love and fear in Joel’s eyes. He knew better than to push. Joel would rest when he was ready, and not a moment before. So, instead, Tommy settled into his chair, keeping watch alongside his brother, the two of them united in their silent vigil over you.

And as the hours passed, Joel remained by your side, his hand wrapped around yours, his gaze never wavering. Because in that moment, nothing mattered more to him than being there for you, making sure you knew that no matter what, he would always be there, holding on, and never letting go.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the small window of the infirmary, you slowly began to stir. The world around you was a haze, the remnants of pain and exhaustion still weighing heavily on your body. You blinked slowly, your vision clearing enough to make out the room around you.

It took you a moment to realize that Joel was there, his head resting on your chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. He was asleep; his face relaxed in a way that you hadn’t seen in a long time. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and close, brought a faint smile to your lips despite the weakness that still coursed through your body.

You tried to lift your hand to touch him, to reassure yourself that this moment was real, but even that small movement felt like too much. Your body was still recovering, every muscle aching, every breath a reminder of the ordeal you had been through.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and barely audible.

He didn’t stir at first, his breathing steady and deep, his exhaustion evident in the way he clung to you even in sleep. But as you tried again, your fingers brushing lightly against his hair, he began to wake, his body tensing as he slowly lifted his head.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was nothing but relief in his expression, a flood of emotion that he couldn’t quite hide. He sat up quickly, his hand instinctively moving to check your bandages to make sure you were really okay.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, his voice thick with sleep and something deeper, something that made your heart ache.

You nodded weakly, your throat too dry to speak again. But your eyes said everything—how grateful you were that he was there, how much it meant to you to wake up and find him by your side.

Joel reached for a cup of water on the bedside table, carefully helping you take a few sips. “Easy,” he murmured, his touch gentle as he held the cup to your lips. “You need to take it slow.”

You did as he said, letting the cool water soothe your parched throat. When you had drunk enough, he set the cup aside and turned his full attention back to you, his hand resting on your shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” Joel said, his voice filled with regret. “I should have been awake when you needed me.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the weakness that still gripped you. “You were here, Joel,” you whispered.

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with so much emotion that it almost overwhelmed you. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly, his voice trembling. “But you’re here. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded again, your heart swelling with gratitude and something else, something deeper that you couldn’t quite put into words. You were too tired to say more, too weak to do anything but close your eyes and let the warmth of his presence wash over you.

As you drifted back into sleep, your eyes fluttering shut, Joel felt a jolt of fear surge through him. Your sudden stillness, the way your body relaxed completely, sent a wave of panic crashing over him. His heart pounded in his chest as he gently shook your shoulder, trying to wake you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” Joel urged, his voice thick with fear. “Don’t go to sleep again. What’s happening?”

He looked around frantically for someone, anyone, to help. His hands trembled as he touched your face, feeling the coolness of your skin. “Doc! Doc, get in here!” Joel’s voice was desperate, echoing through the infirmary as he called out for help.

Within moments, the doctor and a nurse rushed into the room, their expressions serious as they approached the bed. Joel reluctantly stepped back, his eyes never leaving your face, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

“What’s happening to her?” Joel demanded, his voice breaking with emotion as he watched the doctor check your pulse and examine your condition.

“She’s okay,” the doctor said calmly, sensing Joel’s distress. “Her body is just exhausted. She needs to rest. The sleep is a good sign—it means she’s healing.”

Joel’s heart rate started to slow, but the fear still clung to him, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. “But she just went limp,” he said, his voice still shaking. “I thought—”

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder. “I understand. It’s scary, but I promise you, she’s stable. Her body needs time to recover, and sleep is the best thing for her right now.”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his eyes returning to your sleeping form. He slowly sank back into the chair beside your bed, his hand instinctively reaching for yours again. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of his mind, but the doctor’s words gave him some comfort.

“Just make sure she’s okay,” Joel whispered, his voice barely audible as he watched you sleep. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, not after everything that had happened.

The doctor nodded, giving Joel a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back, leaving the room in the quiet of the early morning. The nurse adjusted your IV and checked your bandages, ensuring everything was in order before quietly exiting as well.

Joel stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours as he watched you breathe, each rise and fall of your chest a small comfort to him. He leaned back in his chair, exhaustion finally catching up to him, but he refused to let himself sleep again.

He couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.

That was the last time you opened your eyes.

For the past three days you had been lost in a slumber, healing. Perhaps from the internal wounds you had to recover yet from, the tiredness from your body, the emotional exhaustion you had been through, not only during that night but from the day Joel had appeared in your life.

And he hadn’t left your side.

For the past three days he had been sitting next to you, terrified of not being there the moment you would open your eyes.

He had made you a promise; he would never leave you again. As controlling as it sounded, he was afraid of letting you out of his sight. He was terrified of you never waking up again.

But he was mostly terrified of not being able to love you and show you he meant it.

He meant those three words the night he had made love to you.

Of course, his memories had come back the moment you almost left earth, as a reminder, perhaps, of how good you were to him.

He thought of Sarah, of how it was her who saved you to give her dad a chance to become the sweet man he once was.

For him, for you, and for the sake of a story he wanted to write.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh sunlight, allowing only a gentle glow to filter in. Joel sat by your bedside, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but unwilling to close. The past three days had been a blur—a mix of fear, hope, and unrelenting determination. He refused to let go of your hand, as if the physical connection would somehow anchor you to this world and keep you from slipping away.

Your breathing was steady, your face peaceful in sleep, but every time Joel looked at you, he was reminded of how close he had come to losing you. The thought of it made his heart clench.

For the past three days, he had been preparing for the moment you would open your eyes, knowing that when you did, everything would be different. He wanted to be ready, to be the man you deserved, to give you the love and life you both had been searching for.

So, he stayed by your side, his eyes never leaving you, waiting for the moment when you would wake up and see that he was there, just as he promised.

The quiet of the room was interrupted by the soft creak of the door as it opened. Joel’s attention snapped to the movement, his body instinctively tensing. When Lori stepped inside, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face visibly tightened.

Lori hesitated in the doorway, her eyes flickering between you and Joel. There was a hint of guilt in her expression and in the way she slipped into the room.

“Joel,” she began, her voice low, almost cautious.

Joel didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he slowly stood up, his hand still holding yours, as if to remind both Lori and himself who he was protecting. His gaze was icy, his anger barely contained.

“What are you doing here?” Joel’s voice was cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth he had shown you moments before.

Lori shifted uncomfortably, clearly sensing the tension. “I came to check on her,” she said, trying to keep her tone steady. “I wanted to see how she’s doing.”

“She’s not your concern,” Joel snapped, his words laced with bitterness. “You’ve done enough.”

Lori flinched at his harshness, but she didn’t back down. “I know I messed up, Joel. But I’m not here to make excuses. I just… I just needed to see for myself that she’s okay.”

Joel’s eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t get to care now,” he said through gritted teeth. “You left her out there to die, Lori. You made your choice.”

Lori’s expression faltered, the guilt finally breaking through her resolve. “I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I can’t take back what I did. But I never wanted her to get hurt. I was just trying to protect everyone.”

“Protect?” Joel echoed, his voice rising in disbelief. “You call that protecting? You abandoned her. You put her life at risk to save your own skin. That’s not protecting. That’s cowardice.”

“Okay. You’re right. I wanted her death or out of our lives.” She said, clearly ashamed of her actions.

Joel’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing as Lori's confession hung in the air. The raw truth of her words sent a wave of cold fury through him, so intense that for a moment he couldn’t speak. His grip on the edge of the bed tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"You wanted her dead or gone?" Joel’s voice was low, barely more than a growl. Each word was laced with disbelief and anger. “And you think that makes it better? That somehow, admitting it makes what you did okay?”

Lori couldn’t meet his gaze, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her shame. “No, it doesn’t. I was wrong, Joel. I see that now. I was selfish, and I let my fear get the better of me. But I never really wanted this—her lying there like this. I just didn’t know what to do.”

Joel stepped closer to her, his posture rigid with anger. “You didn’t know what to do, so you decided to let her die? Is that your excuse? She trusted you, Lori. We all did. And you betrayed her.”

Lori flinched as if his words had physically struck her. “I never wanted it to go this far,” she murmured, tears welling up in her eyes.

“If you wanted revenge for how I ended things between us, you could hurt me, not her. She had nothing to do with all this mess.” He said, voice cracking.

Lori's eyes widened as Joel's words sank in, the reality of her actions hitting her like a punch to the gut. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, streaming down her face as she looked at Joel, her expression a mixture of regret and sorrow.

"I wasn’t thinking straight, Joel," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I was angry, hurt, and I lashed out in the worst way possible. But I swear, I never meant for her to get caught up in this. I was just so blinded by my own pain… I couldn’t see past it."

Joel shook his head, his own emotions a storm raging just beneath the surface. "You don’t get to hide behind your pain, Lori. We all have our demons, but what you did—what you almost cost me—it’s unforgivable."

“I know,” Lori whispered, her voice thick with guilt. “I let my anger control me, and I ended up hurting the person you care about most. I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I needed to say it. I was wrong, and I’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Sorry isn’t enough, Lori. Not for this. I almost lost her because of you. The only reason I’m standing here right now is because she fought like hell to survive. But what you did—" he broke off, his voice faltering as the weight of the situation threatened to overwhelm him.

Lori wiped at her tears, nodding slowly. "You’re right. There’s nothing I can say or do to fix this. But I want you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right, even if it means leaving Jackson. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I can make sure it never happens again."

Joel stared at her, his heart aching with the knowledge that the person who had once been a close ally had become a source of such deep betrayal. Finally, he let out a long, weary sigh. "I don’t care what you do, Lori. Whether you stay or go, it doesn’t matter to me. Just… stay away from her. If you really want to make amends, you stay out of her life."

Lori nodded, her shoulders slumping in defeat, turning and leaving the room, her footsteps echoing softly in the silence. Joel watched her go, his heart heavy with a mix of anger, sadness, and a deep, unshakeable fear of what might have happened if he hadn’t found you in time.

As the door clicked shut, Joel’s gaze returned to you, lying so still and fragile in the bed. The anger that had fueled him moments ago began to fade, replaced by an overwhelming need to protect you, to never let anything come between you again.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek. "I’m still here, sunshine," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "And I’m not going anywhere.”

A few minute later, Dr. Ramirez entered the room quietly, her presence calm and reassuring. She approached the bedside with practiced ease, her eyes quickly scanning your vitals before she looked over at Joel. His hand was still resting on your cheek, and he didn’t move as the doctor began her examination.

"She’s stable," Dr. Ramirez said softly after a moment, her tone measured but gentle. "The worst is behind her now. But she needs time, Joel.

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. "She’s been through hell," he muttered, his voice rough with the strain of the last few days. "I just… I just want her to wake up, to be okay."

Dr. Ramirez paused, her gaze softening as she looked at him. "I understand how hard this is for you. But you need to take care of yourself too, Joel. She’s going to need you when she wakes up, and you’ll be no good to her if you’re running on empty."

Joel finally tore his eyes away from you to meet Dr. Ramirez’s gaze. "I’m fine," he insisted, though the exhaustion etched into his features told a different story.

Dr. Ramirez sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "You’re not fine. You’ve been sitting here for days, barely eating or sleeping. She’s going to need you at your best, Joel. You can’t help her if you don’t take care of yourself."

Joel clenched his jaw, his gaze dropping back to you. "I can’t leave her," he said quietly, his voice laced with a deep-seated fear. "What if she wakes up and I’m not here? What if she needs me and I’m not…"

"She’s going to need you," Dr. Ramirez interrupted gently, "but she’s also going to need you strong. Trust me, Joel. We’ll take good care of her while you rest. Just a few hours, get something to eat, maybe sleep a little. It doesn’t mean you’re abandoning her."

Joel hesitated, torn between his overwhelming need to stay by your side and the doctor’s rational advice. Finally, he sighed, a long, weary exhale that seemed to deflate him. "Just a few hours," he agreed reluctantly. "But I’m not going far."

Dr. Ramirez gave him a small, understanding smile. "That’s all I’m asking. Go get some rest, Joel. She’ll be here when you get back, I promise."

Joel looked at you one last time, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek before he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "I’ll be back soon," he whispered, his voice filled with quiet determination.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the sprawling landscape before you. The two of you had been out on patrol for hours, the silence between you heavy and tense, as it often was. Ever since Joel had been assigned as your partner, the air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You didn’t see eye to eye on much, and every patrol seemed like a test of patience.

But this time, something was different. Maybe it was the way the light hit the mountains in the distance, or the rare moment of peace that seemed to settle over the world, but you found yourself drawn to the view, momentarily forgetting the usual friction between you.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Joel. Your eyes were fixed on the horizon, the colors of the sunset reflecting in them, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Joel, who had been keeping watch as usual, turned his head slightly at the sound of your voice. He followed your gaze to the landscape, expecting to feel the same cold detachment he always did, the necessity to focus on the mission, on survival.

But when he looked, his eyes didn’t linger on the mountains or the sky. Instead, they stayed on you. The way the fading light caught in your hair, the way your expression softened as you took in the beauty of the scene.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and uncharacteristically gentle. For once, there was no edge to his tone, no underlying frustration or impatience. Just quiet, genuine agreement.

You turned to look at him, surprised to hear him agreeing with you for once. “Really?” you asked, a hint of skepticism in your voice. “You think so?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours for a moment longer than usual. “Yeah,” he repeated, his gaze steady, but there was something unspoken in his eyes, something that caught you off guard. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

For a brief moment, the tension between you melted away, replaced by something warmer, something almost tender. It was fleeting, barely lasting more than a few heartbeats, but it was enough to make your chest tighten.

Joel quickly looked away, clearing his throat as if to dispel the moment. “We should get moving,” he muttered, his usual gruffness returning as he adjusted the strap on his rifle.

“Right,” you agreed, returning to the task at hand. But as you resumed your patrol, the moment lingered in the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to Joel than you had thought.

Joel had been dreaming of you in his hours of sleep, the fleeting images pulling him into memories that felt too real. In his dreams, you weren’t lying in a bed, fighting to recover; you were beside him, alive and vibrant, with that same determined fire in your eyes that had always made him admire you, even when the two of you clashed.

In one dream, the two of you were back on patrol, your laughter echoing in the open air as you teased him about something trivial, your voice full of life. In another, you were at Jackson, sitting by the fireplace, your eyes locked onto his as you talked about your hopes for the future—a future he hadn’t dared to hope for until you came into his life.

But the dreams always ended the same way. You would start to fade, your voice growing distant, your figure slipping away from him no matter how hard he tried to hold on. He would reach out for you, only to find his arms empty, the warmth of your presence replaced by a cold, haunting emptiness.

And then, he would wake up, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes would immediately dart to you, lying so still in the bed, and he would lean in close, needing to hear the soft sound of your breathing to reassure himself that you were still with him.

The dreams left him feeling raw and exposed, the fear of losing you gnawing at him even in sleep. He couldn’t shake the image of you slipping away, couldn’t rid himself of the overwhelming sense of dread that had taken root in his heart.

Joel had been trying to shake off the remnants of his dreams as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing cold water on his face. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to scrub away the exhaustion that clung to him. After three days of barely leaving your side, he had finally allowed himself a brief moment to freshen up, his mind still heavy with the images of his dreams.

The water did little to wash away the lingering fear, but he steeled himself, forcing his hands to stop trembling. He couldn’t afford to be weak now—not when you needed him to be strong. He dried his face, straightened his shirt, and took a deep breath before heading back to the infirmary.

As he approached the door, the sound of soft laughter reached his ears. It was Ellie’s voice, her words light and teasing, and he could hear you responding, your voice soft but undeniably awake. A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You were awake. You were okay.

But when he stepped into the room, his heart lifting at the sight of you, his smile faltered. Ellie was perched on the edge of your bed, animatedly talking about something, her hands moving in excited gestures. And you—you were smiling at her, a faint but genuine smile that lit up your face in a way he hadn’t seen in days.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching the two of you. The sight of you smiling, your eyes bright with life, should have filled him with relief. But when your eyes flickered up to meet his, the smile faded from your lips, replaced by an expression he couldn’t quite read.

The air between you shifted, the lightness that had been in the room moments ago dissipating as the tension settled in its place. Ellie, oblivious to the change, continued to talk, but Joel’s attention was locked on you, searching your face for any hint of what you were feeling.

He took a tentative step forward, his hand twitching at his side as if he wanted to reach out to you, but something held him back. The way your smile had disappeared, the way you looked at him now with that guarded expression—it made him hesitate.

“Hey,” he finally said, his voice rougher than he intended. He tried to soften it, to push past the wall that seemed to have sprung up between you in those few seconds. “You’re awake.”

Ellie, noticing the shift in the room, glanced between the two of you before quickly excusing herself. “I’ll let you guys talk,” she said, shooting you a small smile before slipping out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving just the two of you in the room. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating, and Joel struggled to find the right words to say.

“You’re looking better,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. He took another step closer, his eyes scanning your face for any sign that you were in pain. “How are you feeling?”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket covering you.

“Better,” you replied, your voice soft and devoid of the warmth he had just heard when you were talking to Ellie.

Joel felt a pang in his chest at the distance in your tone, the way you seemed to be pulling away from him even though you were right there in front of him. He wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had opened up between you, but he didn’t know how.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, the words heavy with everything he hadn’t yet had the chance to say. But your reaction—or lack thereof—kept him from saying more.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the blanket in your lap, your hands still twisting the fabric. It was as if the connection between you had been severed, and Joel couldn’t figure out how to mend it.

He had spent three days by your side, terrified of losing you, and now that you were awake, he was faced with the fear that he had lost you in a different way. The warmth he had clung to, the hope he had nurtured while you were unconscious, now felt like it had been swept away by a cold, unrelenting storm.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," Joel finally said, the words heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. He didn’t know what else to say, how to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

You looked up at him then, your eyes searching his, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of the connection you once had. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by something colder, something that made him feel as if the ground was slipping out from under him.

"No, you're not," you replied, your voice steady but edged with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. "You feel guilty."

Joel flinched at your words, but he couldn’t deny them. Guilt had been gnawing at him since the moment he had found you, bleeding and broken, on that floor. He had replayed every moment in his mind, every decision he had made, every step he had taken, wondering if there was something—anything—he could have done differently to prevent this.

"I do," he admitted, his voice raw. "I feel guilty because I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you. But I wasn’t, and you almost…"

He couldn’t finish the sentence, the thought of what could have happened too much to bear.

"But that’s not the same as being sorry," you said, your tone flat, as if you were trying to keep your emotions in check. "You’re not sorry that it happened; you’re just sorry that you feel this way."

Joel felt like the air had been knocked out of him. He had spent days agonizing over you, terrified of losing you, and now, faced with your coldness, he didn’t know what to do.

"I am sorry," he insisted, though even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t enough. It didn’t capture the depth of his regret, the overwhelming sorrow he felt for what you had gone through. "I’m sorry for all of it."

“I know what Lori was doing,” you continued, your voice steady but laced with pain. “She wanted me gone, and it’s because of something you caused.”

Joel felt the weight of his guilt press down on him even harder. He had suspected Lori’s intentions, had seen the tension between the two of you, but he hadn’t fully understood the depth of her animosity. Now, hearing it from you, he realized just how much he had failed to protect you—not just physically, but emotionally as well.

“I never wanted you to get caught up in that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… I… I didn’t see how far she’d go. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change what happened,” you replied, your eyes meeting his, filled with a mixture of hurt and anger. “I didn’t deserve to pay for your mistakes, Joel”

“Are you blaming me for this?” Joel asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and hurt. He didn’t want to let anger take over, but the disappointment and frustration were clear in his tone. He had come to terms with his own guilt, but hearing you lay the blame at his feet was like reopening a wound he thought he was beginning to heal.

You met his gaze, your eyes sharp with the pain of what you had endured. “I’m not blaming you for everything,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But I can’t ignore the fact that your choices put me in danger.

Joel’s expression softened, the weight of your words hitting him like a blow. He knew you were right, but hearing it from you, seeing the pain in your eyes, made it all the more real. “I never wanted you to get hurt,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “If I could take it all back, I would.”

“But you can’t,” you said, your voice firm despite the emotion in your eyes. “And now we’re here, dealing with the consequences.”

The room felt heavy with the tension between you, the silence stretching as both of you struggled to find the right words. Joel’s heart ached with the realization that no matter how much he wished he could go back and change things, the damage had been done.

“I didn’t deserve this, Joel,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of whatever you and Lori had going on. I was just… I was just trying to survive and help.”

Joel took a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to touch you, but he hesitated, unsure if you would welcome the gesture. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I know it’s going to take time for you to feel safe again.”

You looked at him, your heart conflicted. The fear of being hurt again loomed large, but there was also a part of you that wanted to believe him, to trust that he could be the man he promised to be.

“I’m tired” you said finally, your voice softer now.

Joel’s heart clenched at your words. The weariness in your voice was palpable, not just from the physical toll of your injuries but from the emotional exhaustion that had been building for so long. He could see it in your eyes, the way they held a mixture of pain, fear, and uncertainty.

“I know you are,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired too.”

He wanted to close the distance between you, to offer some kind of comfort, but he knew that it wasn’t just physical closeness you needed. It was reassurance, a reason to believe that things could be different, that he could be different.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Joel continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were feeling. “But I��m here. I’ll stay right here, as long as you need just as I promise.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words. There was a sincerity in his gaze that made your heart ache, but the fear of letting him in again, of being vulnerable, was still there, holding you back.

Just as you were about to respond, the door creaked open, and Tommy stepped into the room, his presence a stark contrast to the heavy conversation that had just taken place. He glanced between you and Joel, sensing the tension in the air. His usually easygoing demeanor was replaced by a look of concern.

“Hey,” Tommy said softly, his voice breaking the silence. “How are you holding up?”

You offered him a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m… I’m okay,” you replied, though the truth was far more complicated.

Tommy nodded, his gaze shifting to Joel. There was a silent exchange between the two brothers, a shared understanding that didn’t need words. Tommy could see the toll the past few days had taken on both of you, and he knew how much Joel was struggling to keep it together.

“I thought I’d bring you some food,” Tommy said, holding up a thermos. “Figured you could be hungry.”

Joel managed a small, grateful smile, though the weight of your conversation still hung heavy in the room. “Thanks,” he murmured, taking the tray from Tommy’s outstretched hand.

Tommy lingered for a moment, his eyes flicking back to you. “If you need anything… anything at all, just let me know, alright?”

You nodded, appreciating the offer but feeling too drained to respond with more than a simple acknowledgment.

Tommy hesitated, as if he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if it was his place. Finally, he clapped a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Take care of her,” he said quietly, the words carrying a deeper meaning than just a simple request.

Joel nodded, his grip tightening on the thermos. “I will,” he promised, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.

With one last look at you, Tommy turned and left the room, leaving you and Joel alone once more. The door closed softly behind him, and the silence that followed was almost deafening.

You glanced at Joel, the conflict in your heart still unresolved. His presence was both a comfort and a reminder of everything that had happened, of the pain you were still trying to process.

“Thank you” you managed to say, “For looking for me that night.”

Joel's eyes softened at your words, though the tension in his shoulders remained. He nodded, the weight of the moment heavy between you. "I’d do it again," he replied, his voice quiet but firm. "A thousand times over if I had to."

You looked down, your fingers nervously picking at the blanket draped over you. "I know I was angry," you admitted, the words coming out in a rush. "And I still am, but… I also know you saved my life. I don’t want to ignore that."

He stepped closer, hesitating for just a moment before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You don’t have to thank me," he said gently. "I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t come for you. You mean too much to me."

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity in them, but they also reminded you of the complicated feelings you were still trying to untangle. "I’m just… trying to figure out how to move forward from here," you confessed, meeting his gaze.

Joel reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he finally took it, his grip warm and reassuring. “You know, I spent the last days beside you all the time, hoping to see your eyes opening again, I can wait a little bit more for you.” He said, smiling softly at you.

Joel's words were like a balm to the ache in your heart, the sincerity in his smile melting some of the walls you'd built around yourself. His hand, warm and steady around yours, was a reminder of the care and dedication he had towards you.

A few days later, you were finally released from the infirmary, but Dr. Ramirez had been clear about the need to rest and take things slow. Your body was still recovering, and any strenuous activity could set you back. Joel had been by your side when Dr. Ramirez gave the instructions, and you could feel his protective gaze on you the entire time, as if he was silently vowing to ensure you followed every word.

Back at your house in Jackson, the atmosphere was different. The air felt lighter, more relaxed, but there was also an unspoken tension between you and Joel. The words you had exchanged in the infirmary still lingered, and both of you were treading carefully, not wanting to disrupt the fragile peace that had settled.

As you settled into the couch, Joel was close by, hovering just enough to make sure you were comfortable but giving you space to breathe. His presence was comforting, yet it also reminded you of the complicated feelings you were still working through.

"Do you need anything?" Joel asked, his voice gentle as he watched you with concern.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. "No, I’m okay. Just trying to adjust to being home again."

He nodded, his eyes softening as he took a seat on the chair across from you. "Take your time. You’ve been through a lot."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged with the weight of unspoken thoughts. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, as if he was searching for something, waiting for you to say what was on your mind.

Finally, you broke the silence. "Joel… about what I said before, about trying to figure things out…"

He leaned forward slightly, his attention fully on you. "You don’t have to explain, sunshine. I get it. You’ve got a lot to process."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I do. But I want to ask you to do something.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "What is it?"

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you continued. "I want you to talk to Lori."

The moment her name left your lips, you saw Joel’s expression darken, his posture stiffening. "Talk to Lori? After everything she did to you? Why the hell would I do that?"

You could hear the defensiveness in his voice, the way his jaw clenched as if he was trying to hold back a torrent of emotions.

"Joel, please," you said, your voice calm but firm. "I need you to do this for me. I’m not asking you toy forgive her or make excuses for what she did. It’s about getting closure.”

His eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions swirling behind them. "Closure? How is talking to her going to give you closure? She nearly got you killed. I don’t want her anywhere near you."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I know you’re angry. I am too. But carrying this anger, this bitterness…but before you met me, she was the one you found- “

“It was nothing serious” he interrupted.

“Even if it was just that, Joel. She still deserves an apology from you.”

Joel's eyes narrowed slightly, the defensiveness in his posture only growing stronger. "An apology? After what she did to you, you want me to apologize to her?"

You nodded, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. "Yes, Joel. She made a terrible mistake, but that doesn’t change the fact that you hurt her too. She was in your life before I was, and even if it wasn’t serious, it clearly meant something to her. And when things ended between you two, it left her with feelings she didn’t know how to handle."

He looked away, his jaw clenching as he processed your words. "I never meant for any of this to happen," he muttered, the frustration evident in his voice.

"I know that," you replied softly. "But maybe that’s why it’s even more important that you talk to her. She made a mistake, a huge one, but she was reacting out of hurt and anger. And maybe, just maybe, hearing an apology from you could help her start to heal too."

Joel’s shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to drain out of him. He looked back at you, his expression conflicted. "I don’t know if I can do that," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "Apologizing… it feels like I’m excusing what she did, and I can’t do that."

Joel took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he nodded. "Alright," he finally said, his voice low. "I’ll talk to her. I’ll apologize. But I’m doing it for you, because I want to make things right with you."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Thank you, Joel. That’s all I’m asking."

He reached out, taking your hand in his and squeezing it gently. "I just hope this helps us find some peace," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of hope. "Because I don’t want to lose you."

Joel wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with Lori, but he knew it was necessary. As he approached her in the stables, where she was tending to the horses, he felt the weight of what you’d asked him to do pressing on his shoulders. The earthy scent of hay and the soft sounds of the horses moving around only added to the heaviness in his chest. He took a deep breath and walked over; his steps heavy with uncertainty.

“Lori,” he called out softly, causing her to look up from grooming a horse. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of emotions flickering across her face as she saw him.

“Joel,” she replied, setting the brush down. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk,” he said, his voice steady but laced with tension. “About everything that happened.”

Lori’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was bracing herself for whatever he was about to say. “Go on, then.”

Joel hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know things between us ended badly, and I never meant for you to get hurt. What happened with her… it’s not all your fault. I had a part in it too.”

Lori’s expression softened, a look of surprise crossing her features. “You’re apologizing?” she asked, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah,” Joel admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I am. I messed up, and I didn’t see how much you were hurting until it was too late. I should have handled things better, and I’m sorry for the pain it caused you.”

Lori looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to gauge his sincerity. Finally, she let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I appreciate that, Joel,” she said quietly. “I’ve been carrying a lot of anger, and maybe… maybe I was looking for someone to blame. But hearing you say this… it helps.”

Joel nodded, relieved that the conversation seemed to be going in a positive direction. “I just want to put all this behind us,” he said. “For everyone’s sake.”

Lori stepped closer, her expression softening further. “I want that too,” she murmured, reaching up to touch his arm. “And… I’m sorry too, for everything.”

Before Joel could react, Lori leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. But the kiss lingered, her lips brushing dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. He stiffened, pulling back slightly, but not before the moment had passed.

“Lori…” he started, his voice filled with warning, but his words were cut off as he saw something behind her.

You stood at the entrance to the stables, your expression one of disappointment and hurt. You hadn’t meant to interrupt, but you’d come looking for Joel, wanting to check in on how the conversation was going. Instead, you found yourself witnessing a moment that twisted the knife in your heart.

Joel immediately took a step back from Lori, his eyes wide with panic as he realized you had seen the kiss. “It’s not what it looks like,” he called out, his voice desperate to reach you.

But you turned on your heel and walked away, the sting of what you’d just seen too much to bear. You didn’t want to hear his explanation; the image of Lori’s lips so close to his was enough to leave you feeling betrayed.

Joel cursed under his breath, quickly following after you, but the damage was done.

Joel raced after you, his heart pounding as he tried to close the distance. “Wait, please!” he called out, his voice echoing through the quiet of the stables and beyond.

You didn’t slow down, your steps quick and determined as you headed for the path leading away from the stables. The pain of what you’d seen burned too fiercely for you to face him right now. The image of Lori’s kiss and the confusion it brought was overwhelming.

Joel caught up to you, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. “Just… just let me explain,” he said, his breath coming in heavy gasps. “I didn’t want her to do that, I swear.”

You pulled your arm away from him, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Joel, I’m tired of the explanations,” you said, your voice shaky. “Every time I try to trust you, something happens that makes me question it all over again. I need time to sort through all this, but I can’t do that if I’m constantly reminded of why I shouldn’t trust you.”

Joel looked at you with desperation and hurt, his eyes pleading. “I know I messed up, but I’m trying here. I really am. I wanted to make things right with Lori as you asked me, so we could move on, but I didn’t expect—”

“Expect what?” you cut him off, tears threatening to spill. “Expect her to still have feelings for you? Or expect that you’d have to be in her presence and make her feel like she has a chance? It’s all too much.”

You paused, your voice breaking as the weight of everything you’d been feeling crashed over you. “That woman is crazy… she tried to kill me and I’m… I’m just so tired of all this, Joel. I can’t… I can’t keep dealing with this.”

The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, streaming down your face as you struggled to catch your breath. The emotional toll of the past few days had left you feeling utterly drained, and the sight of Joel and Lori together had pushed you to the edge.

Joel’s heart ached at the sight of you so distressed. Without a second thought, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that spoke of his own heartache. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“I want her to leave Jackson” you said.

Joel’s grip on you tightened at your words, his mind racing as he processed your request. “You want her to leave Jackson?” he repeated, his voice filled with surprise “I know things between us are… complicated right now, but asking her to leave—”

“It’s not about me,” you interrupted, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “It’s about feeling safe. I can’t be here, knowing she’s so close. I need to know she’s not a threat anymore to me or anyone else.”

Joel took a deep breath, the weight of your request pressing heavily on him. He understood the need for safety, for closure, but he also knew that asking Lori to leave Jackson would have its own set of consequences.

“I’ll talk to Tommy,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I’ll see what can be done. If it’s what you need to feel safe, then I’ll make it happen.”

Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt.

Joel nodded; his expression resolute. “I understand. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re not left with that fear. You deserve peace, and I’m going to make sure you get it.”

The community meeting took place in the main hall, a space that had seen its share of important decisions and discussions over the years. Joel and Tommy, along with other key figures in Jackson, gathered to address the situation with Lori.

The room was filled with a murmur of conversations as people took their seats. The atmosphere was tense, a mix of concern and frustration hanging in the air. Joel stood near the front; his expression serious as he prepared to present the situation.

“Alright, folks,” Tommy began, stepping up to the makeshift podium. “We’re here to discuss the situation with Lori and decide on the next steps. We’ve heard from Joel, and we all know what’s been going on.”

Joel took a deep breath and began speaking. “I know this is a difficult situation. Lori’s actions have put everyone in a tough spot, and I understand that emotions are running high. I’ve spoken with her, and she’s expressed remorse, but the fact remains that her actions have put someone we care about in danger.”

He paused, looking around at the gathered community. “I’m asking for your input on what should be done. I know this isn’t an easy decision, but we need to ensure the safety and well-being of everyone in Jackson.”

The room fell silent as people considered their options. Various community members began to speak up, each sharing their thoughts and concerns. Some were in favor of asking Lori to leave Jackson, citing the need for safety and closure. Others worried about the implications of such a decision, considering her past contributions to the community and the potential impact on morale.

After a series of discussions and arguments, the group came to a consensus. The final vote was cast, and the majority agreed that Lori would need to leave Jackson. This decision was based on the overwhelming need to ensure the safety of the community and to address the trauma caused by her actions.

As the meeting concluded, the decision was communicated to Lori. She was given a set amount of time to pack her belongings and prepare to leave. The community had made its choice, and while it wasn’t easy, it was necessary for the greater good.

Joel and Tommy left the meeting feeling a mix of relief and sadness. They knew it was a difficult decision, but one that had to be made for the sake of the community’s well-being and your peace of mind.

After the meeting, Joel went to find Lori. He found her packing her things in a small room, her movements mechanical as she sorted through her belongings. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of her clothes and a few muffled sobs.

“Lori,” Joel said gently as he approached her.

Lori looked up, her face a mask of resignation and pain. “So, it’s really happening,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m leaving.”

Joel nodded; his expression somber. “Yeah. The community decided it was the best thing to do. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s what needed to happen.”

Lori’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just… I wanted to protect myself, and it spiraled out of control. I’m sorry.”

Joel sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “I know you’re sorry. And I understand why you acted the way you did, even if it was wrong. I just hope you can find a way to make things right for yourself.”

Lori gave a small, bitter laugh. “I don’t know if I can. But I guess I’ll have to try.”

Joel glanced around the room, unsure of what more to say. “If you need any help getting ready or finding somewhere to go, let me know. I don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be.”

Lori nodded, wiping her tears away. “Thank you, Joel. For everything.”

With a final look at Lori, Joel turned and walked away, his heart heavy. He found Tommy waiting outside the room, and together they made their way to the main area of Jackson.

As Joel walked through the community, he saw people going about their daily routines, the weight of the decision beginning to settle in. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. The decision to expel Lori had been necessary, but it left a lingering discomfort in the air.

When he finally found you, sitting in a quiet corner of the community center, he approached with a cautious but hopeful expression. “Hey,” he said softly, sitting down beside you. “I wanted to let you know that Lori’s getting ready to leave. It’s happening, just like we talked about.”

You looked at him, the strain of the past few days still evident in your eyes. “Okay,” you said quietly. “I just… I hope she can find peace or whatever she’s looking for.”

Joel reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I hope so too. And I want you to know, no matter what happens, I’m here. We’ll get through this together.”

You stood up abruptly, your hand slipping from Joel’s grasp. “I promised Maria, I’d help her with something,” you said, your voice tinged with a mix of determination and avoidance. “I should go now.”

Joel’s gaze followed you, his concern evident. “Wait, hold on. I know you’re trying to distance yourself again,” he said, his voice a mix of frustration and pleading. “We can talk this out. I thought we were making progress.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. “I just… I need some space right now. There’s a lot to process, and I don’t want to keep having these conversations when I’m not ready. I’m trying to figure things out, and it’s hard to do that with everything so fresh.”

Joel’s expression softened, a mix of understanding and hurt crossing his face. “I get it. I really do. But shutting me out won’t make things easier. I want to be here for you, to help you through this. Running away from me or pushing me away won’t solve anything.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. “I’m-I’m not running away from you, Joel.”

Joel stepped closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I’m not trying to complicate things. I just want to be part of the solution, not the problem. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. But please, don’t shut me out completely. I care too much to let you go through this alone.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making your resolve waver. “I appreciate that, Joel. But I need to go”

Joel’s expression hardened, though his eyes still held a flicker of hurt. “Okay,” he said, his tone sharper than before. “If that’s what you need, I’ll back off.”

You could feel the sting of his words, a mix of anger and resignation in his voice. You nodded, trying to steady yourself. “Thank you for understanding.”

As you turned to leave, Joel’s gaze followed you, a mixture of frustration and sadness etched on his face. The conversation had left both of you in a raw, vulnerable state, and the air between you was heavy with unresolved emotions.

As night settled over Jackson, the streets grew quiet, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. You wandered aimlessly, torn between the invitation from Tommy and Maria and the thought of returning to your own space. The uncertainty of your feelings and the tension with Joel weighed heavily on your mind.

Just as you were about to make a decision, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned to see Joel walking towards you, his expression a mix of determination and concern. The spark of his brown eyes seemed to cast a glow under the lights, and your breath got stuck in your throat.

“Are you going to Tommy’s?” Joel asked, his voice carrying a hint of bitterness.

You nodded slowly. “I don’t know.”

“Why?” Joel asked, his tone sharp. “Because I’m going?”

His question hung in the air, charged with the tension between you. You could see the frustration and hurt etched on his face, and it made you realize how deeply conflicted he was.

“No,” you said quietly, though the weight of your uncertainty was clear. “I just... I need to figure things out.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his frustration boiling over. “Figure things out? You know, every time I try to make things right, it feels like I’m just making them worse.”

“It’s not just about you,” you said, trying to hold back the tears. “It’s about me, too. I need to figure out what I want.”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, his gaze shifting away for a moment. “I get that you need space, but it feels like you’re avoiding me, avoiding what’s between us.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you replied, your voice cracking.

Joel’s eyes softened slightly, though the hurt was still evident. “Look, if you want to go to Tommy’s, then go. But don’t use it as an excuse to push me away. I’m here, and I’m trying to be part of this, part of us.”

Joel’s frustration reached a boiling point as he shouted, “Every time we made progress, you just pushed it all away because you’re afraid! You’re acting like a coward!”

You flinched at his raised voice, your own emotions bubbling to the surface. “Why? For protecting myself from you?” you snapped back, feeling the sting of his words.

Joel’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desperation. “Oh my god! What do you want me to do? You almost died, I could die, and you’re putting all of this on hold because you’re scared instead?” His voice was strained, almost out of breath.

You felt a sharp pang of hurt at his accusation. “Well, that’s one person less to cry over for you,” you shot back, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into your tone.

Joel’s face darkened with anger and frustration. “You’re a fucking— I’m done.” His words were cut short as he struggled to control his emotions.

The anger in Joel’s voice only made you cry harder, the tears flowing freely now. “You don’t understand,” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “I love you, Joel. I really do, so much. But everything always ends with me in the dark, sobbing all alone because people I love leave or die and I don’t want you to die.”

Joel’s face softened at your tears, his anger melting away into a pained expression. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he wiped away a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry, sunshine,” he said, his voice breaking.

"I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you, and I won't die for you. I'll live for you, I'll carry all for you," he said, his voice full of raw emotion.

"Joel..." you started, but your words faltered, lost in the storm of feelings between you.

"Listen to me, you will never be alone again," he reassured, his voice filled with a desperate promise.

You didn't answer, just looking down at your boots, feeling Joel’s gaze burning with sadness and fury, a mix of emotions that felt like daggers dressed in words.

Joel sighed, hopelessness dripping from his voice. "Okay." He said, giving up on you.

"I fell in love with Joel who was charismatic and kind, the one I know you're capable of being but hide because you’re afraid of seeing those colors in yourself again," you said softly. "And I even love the grumpy one a bit, but—"

"But?" Joel prompted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Please don’t—"

"I love you so much, and I want to say sorry for not realizing before," he said, the confession slipping out as you looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. “I love you” he repeated, “and I want to be the man you fell in love with. I want to be the one who can stand beside you, not just in the good times, but in the hard ones too.”

You looked everywhere but him, not uttering a word. Joel’s expression shifted from frustration to resignation as he began to turn away, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Just as he was about to step back, feeling the cold sting of the night air, you made a sudden, impulsive move. Without thinking, you reached out and closed the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a fierce, desperate kiss.

The shock of the kiss jolted Joel into stillness. For a moment, he stood there, frozen, as if trying to process what was happening. But then, the tension in his body melted away, and he responded with equal fervor, his arms wrapping around you tightly. The kiss was a blend of longing, frustration, and the deep love that had been building between you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, the raw intensity of the moment lingering in the air. Joel’s eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of surprise and hope.

"I promise I won't forget this kiss," you said softly, recalling the meaning behind that statement

Joel’s eyes softened as he gazed at you with intensity and desire. “You’re coming home with me,” he said firmly, leaning in and kissing you again.

Once he finally managed to unlock the door of his house, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, the warmth and familiarity of his home wrapping around you.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Joel turned to face you, his expression soft and filled with a deep, lingering emotion. Without a word, he took your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the last of your tears. Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours once more, this kiss tender and filled with all the words he couldn’t quite say.

You responded, your arms winding around his neck as you melted into the kiss. It was a kiss of promises and newfound hope, a kiss that spoke of the love you shared and the future you were ready to face together. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a contented smile on Joel’s lips.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You smiled; your heart full. “I’ve missed you too, Joel. More than you know.”

Joel's smile lingered for just a moment before he leaned in once more, capturing your lips with his. You responded eagerly, your arms tightening around his neck as you lost yourself in the moment.

Soon the both of you were inside Joel’s bedroom, you laying on your back with him on top. Your shirt was on the floor, along with his shirt and jeans. You felt a sudden warmth spreading up on your cheeks at the thought of your fresh scar resting on your abdomen.

Joel looked at you with concern as he followed your gaze. His eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the scar as if to trace the memories you had built.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice filled with warmth, “this scar doesn’t change a thing about how I see you. You’re absolutely perfect to me, just the way you are.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling at his words. Despite the physical reminder of what you’d been through, his reassurance made you feel cherished and beautiful. His gaze was unwavering, filled with a deep, genuine affection that made the pain of the past seem a little less sharp.

Joel's eyes met yours again, full of tenderness. “You’ve been through so much, but you’re still here, stronger than ever.”

You smiled softly, touched by his words. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, placing kisses on your cheeks, slowly moving down your neck, your chest, finally reaching the scar, planting a kiss over it.

You felt treasured. Your nipples were hard and begging to be brushed, something Joel was aware of since he needed you all over again. He shortly sucked on a nipple, arching your back and grasping your tights with his own. The lust had completely taken control of you, and now every part of you yearned his touch.

Joel pulled his mouth away to look at you, raising his palm to trace your face with his thumb. "I love you," he kissed your forehead then your cheek. "I love you," he whispered, kissing both your lips and neck.

"And I love you too." You whispered, and a smile spread across your face as you took a look of him. “Now can you please finish what you started or I swear- “

Your words were cut by Joel taking your lips on his mouth again, muttering “I love you” again, before pulling your jeans down as you did the same with his.

He pushed your thighs apart and stepped between them while slowly guiding himself inside you. The feeling of fullness and stretch were both familiar and foreign. You hadn’t had him in weeks that turned into months, and now he felt massive. When he was all the way inside, a heavy groan got stuck in his throat as he pressed his forehead against yours, his mouth hung open and his face twisted.

"God, you feel so good," he gasped. "I could just come right now."

Your laughter rang through your chest as he moved. The consuming pleasure made you both tremble. Then he increased up the pace and rammed quicker. He was thrilled, and he could feel himself becoming thicker and fuller inside you. You were struggling to breathe, but your hips were bucking to encourage him to move quicker. And so, he did, providing you precisely what you asked for.

He moved one hand down to your hip, his head leaning forward to grasp your lips in a passionate kiss as he pounded harder toward the orgasm. You could feel the heat spread throughout your body like a blaze, and his finger toyed with your clit, heightening the pleasure on your body. Your eyes began to flutter, and your nails scratched down his back. Joel bit your neck, hearing filthy moans escaping your lips as he felt himself reaching the edge. Soon, your head felt back, and a loud groan erupted from your mouth as the two of you reached your release.

Your entire body went numb as Joel lay down next to you.

“I don’t want to move.” You spoke, unable to move.

his warmth radiating through the space between you. As you lay there, unable to move, he settled down next to you with a relaxed, contented smile.

“Don’t worry about moving,” he said softly, his voice soothing. “We can just stay here, right where we are. No need to rush or do anything.”

His hand found yours, fingers lacing with yours in a gentle, reassuring grip. He adjusted his position so he was facing you, his smile never fading.

You glanced at him, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. He leaned down to kiss you. Joel’s lips brushed against yours with a tender, lingering kiss, conveying all the love and reassurance he felt for you.

Joel’s lips lingered on yours for a moment longer before he pulled back, his gaze soft and caring. “Do you want to get some sleep?” he asked gently, his voice filled with concern and tenderness.

You nodded, the aftermath exhaustion finally catching up with you. Joel’s smile grew as he gently kissed your forehead. “Alright, let’s get you comfortable.”

He carefully slipped out of bed and retrieved a soft t-shirt from his drawer. He helped you change into it, his touch tender and careful. Once you were settled, he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as he carried you to the bed.

With a practiced ease, Joel placed you gently under the covers, ensuring you were tucked in warmly. He then slid in beside you, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

He looked at you with a mix of love and concern. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

You snuggled into the warmth and comfort of the bed, feeling secure with Joel beside you.

The morning light crept softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke before Joel, the stillness of the room only adding to the quiet tension you felt. As you lay there, you couldn’t shake the lingering fear from the last time you had been so close to him. The thought that he might wake up and not remember you again, or that things might somehow go back to the way they were, gnawed at you.

You turned your head to watch Joel sleep, his features relaxed and peaceful. His breathing was steady, and the sight of him lying there, so calm and content, was both comforting and nerve-wracking. The fear of losing this moment, of it slipping away like before, was overwhelming.

Joel stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips as he slowly began to wake. His eyes fluttered open, and for a few seconds, he looked at you with a mixture of confusion and grogginess. Your heart raced, the fear of seeing him slip back into a disconnected state making your breath catch in your throat.

But then, as his eyes fully opened and he focused on you, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I tagged everyone interested in more parts or or the ones who commented, but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed (again) if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me. I tried to add everyone but I don't know If I did.

💌 tags: @dreamtofus @paperstarzzz @chewie-bars @hotleaf-juice

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon

@18dmlk @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @frogjumps-world @camy-nyancat @sarahhxx03 @jasminedragoon @cuteanimalmama @eleganthottubfun @skysmiller @nana90azevedo @astralqueenoc

@missladym1981 @persephone-girl @darka-moon @beltzboys2015-blog @sptbear @joelsteinfeld @astralqueenoc @bishtrouille

@locaparapedrito @wolfbook87 @picketniffler @axelspin @pedrotease @riedswifts @mclibs23 @feliciab1990 @swornkisses @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kirsteng42 @lostfleurs @guelyury @devonispunk @harriedandharassed @wolfbook87 @niffala @animechik555 @gypsystarchaser42 @geralallfandoms @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @goodvibesonly421 @negansbestie @bambisweethearts @jessthebaker @tuquoquebrute

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sunny-knight · 29 days ago

Text

SCROLL FOR @forgettable-au ANGST :D

ok so ((WAILS LOUDLY))

WE KNOW HOW THIS GOES *breaks knuckles* ITS TIME TO TEAR APART MY ART BECAUSE PASSION

trust me, im a proFESSIONAL yapper at this point

This whole thing takes place within my own headcanon that “The Quiche Room” was one of many of Sans and Wingdings’ little hangout spots. They also really liked the echo flower there (maybe they planted it themselves-) Maybe thats why Papyrus is so unnerved and disturbed by echo flowers now…

Notice, the echo flower grows as they grow!

Oh yeah! I had fun drawing them grown in their kid outfits for 2. Wingdings can finally see his ankles

2 is also sorta a reference to my Radio Star comic, same stuff they did as kids, Wingdings working and Sans assisting, They haven’t changed too much yet. haven’t gotten the lab job. yet.

in 3, this is after they get the job at the lab and Wingdings realizes its a great place for supporting his unhealthy habits of seclusion and emotional repression. The echo flower is repeating something Wingdings said a while ago. I dont know what- fill in your own angst I suppose (I cant do EVERYTHING around here)

in 1 and 2, the light sources… are each other. Sans n Wd. Theyre each others lights. Each others stars (cries loudly and noticeably) but then for 3, the only light source is the echo flower. Yknow. The echo flower. with wingdings’ voice

4 is how the quiche room looks in the game 👍 Dunno whats sadder… Wingdings’ voice being removed because he’s in the void now, or because someone just talked over it without a second thought.

Oh yeah, and its empty because Sans and Papyrus don’t remember that ever being a place they hung out.

Yeah.

Yeah, im crying too. Its okay, let it out.

SANS AND GASTER SANS AND GASTER SANS AND GASTER (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE) I need them to interact i’m gonna have an aneurism.

THIS PART IS GETTING ITS OWN SECTION BECAUSE CMON MAN, ITS SANS AND GASTER

It was said in this post that Sans knows he was involved in whatever accident Gaster had, that had MAJOR consequences, and made everything and everyone different.

That makes me wonder, does Sans feel any guilt?? like subconsciously or not, he knows he was involved, so does he suspect he could have done something to stop it, or did something bad, and he was at fault in some way?

I DONT THINK HE WAS

so in 5, Sans is asking “what happened.”

What happened to him, why is everything like this, was it his fault? what did he do? what did he NOT do???

And Gaster just replies “Nothing that wasn’t my own fault.”

OK THATS ENOUGH. WHITEBOARD DOODLES, ATTACK!!!!

also- I PROMISE IM WORKING ON THE DTIYS 😭😭😭 IVE GOT IDEAS IDK HOW TO EXECUTE EM

Heres a thing I made/am working on(???) that was inspired by the dtiys though :3

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stevie-petey · 27 days ago

Text

episode seven: the massacre at hawkins lab

Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.” “I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.” “It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.” “Again, I’m trying not to think about that.

Summary: bats are really fucking annoying to fight, you always somehow end up critically injured, nancy carries the group on her back as always, eddie gives steve relationship advice (embarassing, tbh), interdimensional bike riding is lowkey fun, and you take a trip down memory lane.

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, blood and gore, critical injuries, mentions of fainting, mentions of death and violence, description of corpses

Words: 11.9k

Before you swing in: ive never been more excited to write a chapter tbh. this episode touches on so many things ive been building up for seasons now !!!! insane !!! im so so so excited to see how yall react. this chapter has my favorite sequence of scenes yet ;) enjoy !

–

His name rips from your mouth. “Steve!”

The bats sink their fangs into his stomach. His legs kick out, he gasps for breath, choking on his pain. Your legs threaten to give out as you stumble towards Steve. Quickly your fingers find the knives you always carry with you just as a bat lunges towards you.

Barely having time to dodge its quick attack, you swat at the creature, but your knives slide off its skin easily. Your heart drops; their flesh is too thick to cut through. The bat screeches at you, its teeth bared, and you throw your body weight against it onto the ground. Angling your knife, you pierce the inside of its mouth, killing it.

“Shit!” Another bat crawls towards you. Your elbow scrapes the ground as you roll out of its path, slicing into the creature’s maw.

Steve screams again, this time even louder as even more bats surround him. Frantic, you jump to your feet. Without thinking, you grab the tail of one of the bats, its face buried in Steve’s stomach. When you start to pull, Steve shakes his head violently and throws his arm out at you. “Go!”

You don’t bother answering; you’re not leaving him.

The bat’s tail cuts your palms as you pry it off of Steve’s flesh, but as soon as it’s removed, it latches onto your upper thigh. “Fuck!”

Razor sharp pain shoots through your entire body. The bat loosens its jaw to only tighten it more; you can feel its teeth hit your bone. Screaming, the white-hot pain blinds you. Your knees give out and you fall before you can catch yourself.

“Y/N!” Steve chokes out, desperate. He clenches his jaw, tries to get up. More bats screech overhead, circling you, and Steve knows you only have seconds before you’re dead. But the vines around his neck constrict even more. His airway closes, another bat takes the other one’s place on his stomach.

“Motherfucker!” You stab at the bat, but then a second one slams against your body and your shoulder explodes with pain. “Fuck-no,” you try to twist around, to use the last of your strength to remove it from your own skin, but it’s no use. The bats tear at your skin, ripping through muscle and ligaments.

Lightning flashes, its light red mars the endless dark blue sky. Above you, a bat screeches, signaling its descent, before it dives towards you at full speed. Your eyes close, you hope death will be quick.

“Get fucked!” Someone screams, a sickening thud following. Opening your eyes, you see the creature’s body get thrown into the air. Eddie stands above you, smiling wickedly, but as soon as he sees the two other bats gnawing on you, he brings his oar over his head and swings.

You look away, scared he’ll miss, and see Nancy and Robin a few feet away. Nancy holds the other oar, working with Robin to kill the swarm of bats that encase Steve’s body. Seeing them makes you want to cry in sweet relief.

The sound of the bats’ pained cries echo in your ears. It takes several attempts before Eddie manages to get them off of you. The bat’s teeth cut deeply with every attack, causing you to cry out in pain. It’s fucking agonizing. Warm blood follows a sickening tearing sensation in your leg.

When Eddie has killed both bats, he helps you stand up. “Jesus, you alright?”

“Talk later,” you grunt, already rushing to go help Nancy and Robin. “Fight now.”

Eddie doesn’t stop you. He swings his oar again and Robin begs you to help. She has a bat pinned down while Nancy pounds her oar into its face, but it won’t fucking die. Its tail has wrapped itself around Steve’s neck and he’s paler than you’ve ever seen him.

But before you can gut the piece of shit creature, another bat pounces on Nancy. Its claws tear her skin and she yelps. You scream her name and catch her before she falls. “I got you.”

Nancy’s hands clutch your body as you stab the bat. “Get it off me!”

“I’m trying!” The bat won’t let go, screeching with every pull. Biting down, you ignore the searing pain as your palms get cut up even more. Robin tries to help, but you scream at her. “No! Help Steve!”

She nods quickly and it’s a mess of fighting and screeches and blood. Steve bites down on the bat’s tail, its jaw opens as it squeals, giving him just enough time to escape. As he rolls to the side, Robin throws the bat’s body onto the ground.

Seeing Steve safe reinvigorates you, and with one final scream, you use everything within you to pull the bat off of Nancy’s back. It releases her skin with a squelching pop. You force your knife down its throat and pin the creature to the ground. It writhes beneath you. “Now, Nancy!”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Go to hell!” Her oar slams down, killing it.

Behind you Eddie kills the remaining few bats that circle overhead. Steve stands next to you, slamming the final bat into the ground. The body lands with a loud smack against the concrete and Steve rips the carcass in half.

Blood drips from his mouth and he messily spits it away. He’s panting, his stomach is on fire, he’s stuck in some alternate dimension with no way out, but all he can focus on is you.

Flesh hangs from your shoulder, leaving behind a gaping wound of exposed muscle. Your thigh is torn clean through. There’s blood everywhere. The white of your tanktop is now soaked in red. But you’re here, you’re alive. He hasn’t lost you. Not yet, at least.

“Y/N–” Steve practically falls against you, and you’re no better yourself. You’re crying, snot runs down your face as you grab desperately at him. His hands are all over you as he tries to stop the bleeding, but there’s so much blood.

“I-I’m here.” Your hands are all over Steve’s body, too. They cup his waist, there are so many bite marks on him, but at least his flesh is warm under your skin. He’s still here, he’s still yours, and now all you want to do is calm him down. Steve is panicking, holding you as if he’s afraid you’ll die in his arms any second, and the fear on his face makes your chest ache.

“Are you guys okay?” Nancy asks, tentatively touching your shoulder. A wince slips from her lips when she sees the flesh that is no longer there. “Jesus, Y/N.”

Steve wraps his hands around your thigh, it’s bleeding the most and you can barely put any weight on it. “I’m fine, but they took a fucking pound of flesh from her.”

“You’re no better,” you’ve placed your own hands over his stomach, his blood warm against your fingers. “I think you lost your appendix.”

Steve laughs, but almost immediately his laugh turns into a groan. “God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

You apologize, kissing his shoulder. Light catches your attention and you see Robin crouched down next to one of the bat carcasses. She looks up at everyone. “Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?”

“Robin, if we have rabies, please promise me you’ll shoot me.” You tell her, dead serious. Rabies has always terrified you. When you were younger, a rabid fox made its way onto your grandparents' farm. It had killed all the chickens, attacked the herding dog they had, and you remember how distraught your father had been when he had to kill both the fox and the hound.

“I’m sure you and Steve don’t have rabies.” Nancy says, sensing your growing fear. But before she can say anything else a small group of bats descend from the sky.

Steve pushes you behind him. They land near the gate you fell through, screeching at the five of you. They’re a small enough group, Steve voices what you’re all thinking: you can handle them. Flicking your knives out, you prepare for what’s about to come.

Until a swarm grows larger in the distance. There’s easily hundreds of them, they cast a shadow below where they fly. There’s too many to fight.

“You were saying?” Robin breathes out, eyes never leaving the sky.

Steve is speechless, he doesn’t know what to do. His hand tightens around you, protective, but thankfully Nancy has a plan. She tells everyone to run towards the woods and none of you hesitate to follow. Steve swings your legs over his arms, picking you up with ease despite the bite wounds that litter his skin. Like hell he’s letting you run right now; you’re too torn up, you can hardly even walk.

As Steve runs with you in his arms, he’s careful to avoid the vines that creep over the ground. It’s a dizzying rush. All you can do is hold tightly onto him, trusting that Nancy knows where she’s taking you.

Deep into the woods, Nancy calls over her shoulder, “Over here!”

Lifting your head from Steve’s chest, you realize, as you always do, that Nancy Wheeler is a goddamn genius. She’s taken you all to Skull Rock.

The giant boulders form a small alcove, just big enough to hide under as the bats fly overhead. She instructs everyone to crawl under and Steve sets you down gently, positioning you so that you’re sitting with your back against the rock. As soon as you’re secure, Steve’s hand goes back to your thigh.

The sound of the bats is almost deafening. No one dares to speak. They fly over at such a gruesome speed, their screeches echoing off the trees. You lose count of how many there are. All you can do is wait for the last of them to leave.

More lightning strikes above. It shakes the ground, the sound reverberates in your skull. You can’t believe you’re here. You’re in the Upside Down. The place you’ve only ever spoken about, the entity that haunted your nightmares and took the ones you loved from you.

It’s so much colder than you imagined it to be. Everything is darker, more twisted. The dimension is exactly as Will once described to you: this is Hawkins, it’s your home, but different. Colder, scarier. These woods are the woods you walked through, the woods where you fell in love, and yet the trees loom over you in a threatening way. Their branches form spikes, the dirt recoils against your feet.

Nothing here feels warm. The darkness is never ending.

This is where Will was, all by himself, for a week.

He had only been twelve.

When the nightmare swarm of bats is finally over, Robin carefully pokes her head out from the alcove. “Okay, that was close.”

Eddie agrees, kicking at a rock. Steve offers you his hand to stand, but the moment your skin touches his, you feel sick. All the adrenaline from earlier leaves you. All the blood you’ve lost catches up, leaving your body weak. Stumbling, your vision tunnels and your eyes roll back.

“Woah, hey.” Steve breaks your fall, snapping his fingers in your face to bring your attention back to him. He’s weak as well, he has to lean heavily against the rock to steady himself. “Y/N-shit!”

“Steve?” Nancy turns around, finding you and him moments away from collapsing. She curses, rushing over. When she sees all the blood that still pours from your thigh, she gags. “Oh, fuck.”

“Keep… keep talking. Please.” Your breathing is labored, you can hardly form any words. “Keep talking to me. If-if I faint… embarrassing.”

“I think she’s losing it.” Eddie whispers rather loudly to Robin.

Nancy grazes Steve’s chest, silently asking him to move your body aside. She wants to get a closer look at his wounds as well, she can’t help you if he’s bleeding out himself, but he refuses. “No, no we need to help Y/N.”

“Steve, you’re also losing blood–”

“I don’t care.” Steve pulls you even closer to his chest, he needs to feel your rib cage rising and falling. He needs to feel you breathe. “Help her, Nancy.”

His outburst startles Nancy. She takes a step back, alarmed, but clenches her jaw. There’s no getting through to Steve; she knows she’s lost the fight. “At least sit her down.”

Steve collapses, sliding back against the rock with you tucked to his chest. With shaking hands, he forces you to sit next to him. You wince with every movement, it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake.

“Stay with me, angel.” Steve murmurs to you, motioning to Nancy to look down at your thigh. The wound is bleeding the most, the teeth sunk in the deepest.

“Don’t wanna faint,” your head sags to the side, exhausted. “So embarrassing.”

Nancy places her hands unsurely to your thigh. The blood squelches, soaking through your jeans. She exhales shakily. “You’re not-you’re not going to faint, okay? Just keep talking, Y/N.”

“Hate bats.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, but it seems to settle Nancy’s unease and Steve’s worry. “Little fuckers hurt.”

Nancy tears the end of her shirt, her nimble fingers gently lift your injured leg. She ties the piece of fabric tight around your thigh, quelling the bleeding. Steve helps with the knot, though really he just needs something to do.

“If you want some good news, I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies.” Robin crouches next to you, smiling despite how terrified she is. “So that’s something, right?”

You yelp when Nancy tightens the tourniquet. Biting your tongue, you force a smile to Robin. “Hooray.”

“There,” Nancy wipes her hands of your blood. The tourniquet isn’t much, but already the bleeding has subsided. “But I think you’re going to need stitches.”

“I’m tired of hospitals,” you whine, but you’re already feeling a bit better. You’re weak, sure, but at least your body isn’t slowly draining itself out. “Thanks, though.”

Nancy nods, smiling softly, before her eyes land on Steve’s stomach. “Can I finally patch you up?”

Steve doesn’t even look at her, instead cups your face. Even though you’re covered in blood and sweat and tears, even though your cheek is scabbed and your lip is split, he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful. “You alright?”

“Been better,” you admit, squeezing his arm. “But let’s worry about you now.” Turning to Nancy, you extend your arm. “Got any more torn pieces of clothing?”

She bites her lip. The only thing covering your body is your tank top. She’s seen the cuts all over your palms. She doesn’t think you’ll be able to wrap the cloth around Steve, if she’s being honest. But she also knows Steve and how fiercely he loves you. He won’t let anyone near him but you.

Finally, she sighs. Tearing off more of her shirt, she hands it to you. “Yeah, here.”

You thank Nancy again, and she gives you a curt nod before backing away, giving you and Steve some space. Once she’s gone, you tend to Steve’s injuries. When he moves his hand away and reveals raised, angry flesh, you inhale sharply. “Steve…”

“Just a flesh wound.” He jokes, but you can hear the pain in his voice.

Though you’re still dizzy and weak, you manage to lift Steve’s body enough to wrap the makeshift bandage around him. Luckily he isn’t bleeding as badly as you are, but the sight of him injured still leaves you nauseous.

Tying the fabric around his torso, you’re careful not to hurt him any more. The moment is familiar, reminiscent of the years before. Back in the junkyard when a Demodog nearly tore open your rib cage, Steve had been the one to take care of you. He had so carefully wrapped your cardigan around your chest, been so delicate with you, and now it’s your turn to do the same for him.

“We always end up here, don’t we?” You say softly, it still takes a lot of energy for you to speak. You finish tying a knot to secure the bandage and Steve looks at you oddly. He doesn’t understand, and you shrug. “You and me, patching each other’s wounds up.”

Steve’s eyes soften. It doesn’t matter where he could be, in what situation he could be stuck in, you always somehow remind him of how loved he is. “Kinda wish the bats had eaten my ribs instead. We could’ve had matching scars.”

You laugh, eyes shining with tears. Fresh pain explodes all over your body, but you laugh anyways. You don’t know why you’re laughing or why tears run down your face. The exhaustion and pain from today must finally be catching up to you. “How romantic.”

Steve laughs as well, the pain of it bearable when he hears your laughter mixing with his. “I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, honey.” It’s so cold in the Upside Down, but the warmth of Steve’s love feels like sunshine kissing your skin.

Robin clears her throat. “Uh, not to ruin this cute moment, but I just wanted to say that if either of you start feeling aggressive, please let me know. Because, ya know. The threat of rabies still.”

“I kinda wanna punch you.” Steve looks at her pointedly, annoyed.

You poke his cheek and smile apologetically at Robin. “He didn’t mean that.”

“Sense of humor is still intact, that’s a good sign!” She cheers, then, as an afterthought, she takes off her flannel and hands it to you. “Also, figured you’d want this. Not that you aren’t totally hot right now in only a tiny tank top and blood all over you, it’s just freakishly cold down here and you technically have an exposed wound on your shoulder and who knows what sorts of awful flesh eating diseases there are here.”

You accept the flannel gratefully and thank her. Then, together, you and Steve stand up. The process is difficult, you only have one functional top and bottom, and you walk in a slow manner together as you lean against the other.

Up ahead, Eddie is standing on one of the boulders, staring out into the vast dimension. “So, uh. This place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Basically.” You respond, grunting as you support Steve’s upper body.

Eddie nods, defeated, and before he can step down, Nancy tells him to be careful of the vines. “It’s all a hive mind.”

When Eddie doesn’t understand, Steve tries to explain it to him. “All the creepy crawlies here, dude. They’re like, one or something.”

“They’re all interconnected. They can feel each other’s pain, feelings, whatever.” You say, remembering how Jonathan had described Will’s agonizing screams when the vines had been burned in the tunnels.

“Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.” Steve finishes grimly.

Eddie smiles sarcastically, obviously displeased with this information, but he’s careful not to step on any vines on his way down.

“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asks.

You nod. “According to Will, yeah.”

This pleases Robin, and she starts explaining her plan. If everything's the same in the Upside Down, then you should be able to use the guns stored away at Hawkins’ police station. With the ammunition stored there, it’d be more than enough to kill the bats that guard the gate back to Hawkins.

“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin.” Steve says skeptically. “But guns? Sure.”

You shake your head. While Robin’s idea is good, there’s still the issue of going all the way downtown from Skull Rock. The five of you barely made it half a mile without getting killed. There’s no way you’d survive three. “But the police station is downtown. That’s too far from here.”

Robin deflates, but Nancy furrows her brows. After thinking for a moment, her eyes light up. “We don’t have to go all the way downtown. I have guns. In my bedroom.”

God you love her.

Eddie scoffs in disbelief. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns… plural? In your bedroom?”

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin says with pride.

“And this is why we always listen to her.” You sing along, high fiving Robin.

Nancy doesn’t acknowledge you or Robin, but her cheeks flush with slight embarrassment. “A Russian Makarov and a revolver.”

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” Steve reminds her, though his tone is gentle, almost teasing.

You laugh, remembering how terrified he had been when Nancy pointed the gun at him. You all had been so much younger, more naive. All he wanted to do was apologize to Jonathan for their fight earlier. Steve had just wanted to make things right, and that’s why you stepped in front of him that night. “Luckily for you, I was there to save your life.”

Steve looks down at you fondly. He pulls you close, his eyes are full of so much love. He remembers everything. The night that started it all. “And then I saved yours.”

To think that a sprained ankle and a bat full of nails would lead you to here: Steve’s warm chest against you, so full of love.

Lost in your warm memories, neither you nor Steve see Eddie throwing his vest at Steve’s face until it’s too late. The material smacks against him, cruelly bringing the two of you back to reality.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” You sneer at him, deeply annoyed.

He waves at you flirtatiously, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I’m protecting your boyfriend’s modesty for you.”

Before you can retaliate, the ground beneath you starts to shake. The force of it is so sudden, so strong, that it sends you and everyone else falling. Steve catches himself on a rock, holding you tightly to his chest, and you manage to catch Nancy before she falls as well. Eddie grabs onto Robin, stuck on the ground together.

The tremors are violent. There’s a cracking sound, branches fall behind you as the earthquake destroys whatever it can. Steve holds you through it, he whispers reassurances to try and calm you. When it’s over everything is quiet for a moment, before a loud, heart stopping shriek cuts into the night.

It doesn’t sound like any creature you’ve faced before. Far too loud to be a Demodog’s, far too large to be a bat’s. The thought of what it could be almost paralyzes you; it could’ve been the Mind Flayer.

“Guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie finally says, panting.

Robin quickly agrees, and you swallow down the bile that rises in your throat. “Yeah, okay. I can be okay with guns.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Steve puts Eddie’s vest on, twirling a flashlight in his hand. He nods to himself, tries to convince himself that he’s as confident as he sounds. He extends his other arm towards you, helping you steady your balance. “Let’s go.”

And you follow.

–

It’s a long walk from Skull Rock to Nancy’s house; it’s an even longer walk when you’re in the Upside Down, hiding from demonic bats. With every branch that snaps beneath someone’s foot, you all jump. The croak of whatever creature nearby sets everyone on edge.

“Couldn’t we have tried a road or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin complains, jumping over a vine.

Leaning against Steve, you groan. “Anything would be less creepy than this.”

“I think we’re getting close,” Nancy tries to sound convincing, but even she’s uneasy. “We’re almost out of here. Don’t worry.”

Robin nods at the reassurance, but you can’t help but wonder what could possibly come next after you find Nancy’s guns. It’d be two guns, two critically injured members of the group, two oars, and one switchblade against an army of bats.

Not the best odds.

Nancy and Robin wander further ahead, leaving you behind with Steve and Eddie. None of you talk, more so because you’re putting all your energy into not falling on your face and Steve is busy helping you stay upright.

Walking is difficult and painful and you’re so frustrated by it all, especially after you trip over your fourth tree root. If it weren’t for Steve’s quick reflexes, you’d be long dead by now.

Eddie must recognize this, too.

“Here, let me just–” He comes next to you and throws your arm over his shoulders before either you or Steve can protest. Immediately the pressure on your injured leg lessens. You sigh in content, and Eddie smirks. “There ya go, princess.”

“Don’t call her that.” Steve snaps, but even he has to admit that Eddie’s help is needed. With him carrying half your weight, Steve is able to breathe a little easier. You’re better balanced this way. He’s no longer straining his injuries to support you.

Eddie winces. “I’m sorry, just… trying to lighten the mood, I guess.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but the silence stretches on and you feel bad for Eddie. He really is trying. Despite the fact that he’s Hawkins’ most wanted, he still tries to make everyone else laugh. He has to know that he’s never getting out of this alive, and you admire the strength it must take to continue laughing anyways.

So you try to for him as well. “Thank you, by the way. You saved our lives back there.”

Eddie looks at you funny, he hadn’t expected you to acknowledge it. “Shit, Steve saved his own ass, man.”

“That’s true,” you laugh. By the time the fight finished, Steve had somehow managed to fight his way out by himself. “It was impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.”

Eddie scoffs at Steve’s dismissal. “Please, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

“Ozzy?” Steve looks at you, silently asking for some type of explanation, but you shrug.

“All I know is that he’s in Black Sabbath.” Jonathan occasionally listened to the band whenever he was particularly angry, but not enough for you to understand Eddie’s obscure reference.

Eddie makes a surprised, but pleased, sound. “Honestly surprised you even know Black Sabbath, but c’mon. Ozzy Osbourne, he bit a bat’s head off onstage. You seriously haven’t heard about that?”

You and Steve stare at him blankly, and he sighs. “Well, it was very metal. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Steve scoffs again, but deep down you know he’s preening. It’s not everyday someone commends his strength or recognizes how well he can hold his own. Steve has come a long way since his first fight with Jonathan back at the alley.

“I think I finally get why my brother likes you so much,” you tell Eddie, looking up at him curiously. “You know a lot of weird facts. He goes crazy for them.”

That, and you’re finding that Eddie isn’t so bad when he isn’t surrounded by his goonies. He’s actually… decent when he isn’t putting on a show for everyone. It’s almost reminiscent of how Steve had once been, back when he was the King.

But if you ever pointed out that similarity to the boys, you know they’d be deeply offended.

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tilt up. “Yeah, well. The kid adores you and practically worships Steve.”

“He does?” Steve almost sounds bashful at the idea of Dustin worshiping him. It makes your heart constrict. You both miss your brother terribly.

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, it’s kinda annoying, to be honest. Especially when all he talks about is Y/N. If he isn’t talking about you, he’s talking about her.”

“I doubt that’s true,” you shake your head. “He doesn’t need me anymore, he’s practically counting down the days until I leave.”

“Nah, man. Dustin tells me all the time how much he’ll miss you when you leave.” Eddie tells you, voice firm. “Kid always talks about how much you look out for him, that he doesn’t know what he’ll do when you’re gone. In a way, it’s annoyingly endearing. He frets over you just as much as you fret over him. I can see the Henderson charm in him that made you Hawkins’ sweetheart.”

Everything that Eddie tells you leaves your throat sticky with tears. You didn’t know, you couldn’t know all Dustin said about you. For the longest time you thought he’d grown to hate you, to resent you the way kids often do with their family. You would’ve never blamed him; sometimes people just grow up, grow apart, but here Eddie is, telling you that your brother will miss you when you’re gone.

Unable to say anything in fear that you’ll cry, the only response you give Eddie is a curt, short nod.

Steve rubs your side tenderly, understanding all you’re unable to say. Eddie feels the touch against his own side and he clears his throat. He knows you want him to change the subject. “Admittedly, I got a little jealous. Hearing the little shrimp talk about you as if you hung the goddamn stars yourself.”

The irony of it all crashes upon you. While you had been jealous of Eddie, he had been jealous of you. The two of you spent months quarreling over Dustin, you’d been uncharacteristically mean to Eddie, and yet the entire time you envied the other.

Abandonment can make people cruel.

“I was jealous of you, too.” You finally reveal to Eddie, meeting his eyes for the first time tonight.

Eddie stares back at you, his expression softens with understanding. He seems to have pieced together what you have: your anger had never been cruel, only defensive. Protective of your brother the way only a sister would in fear of losing him.

“Guess that makes us both idiots, huh?” Eddie teases gently, accepting the offering of truce that you present to him.

You laugh, looking away. The moment of truce is nice, pleasant almost, until the beat of silence becomes too unbearable for you. You’ve revealed enough of yourself tonight. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you lift your arm from Eddie’s shoulder and pull away. “Robin is probably missing me right now. She hates the dark, these woods are her worst nightmare.”

Steve catches your arm before you leave. You’re still unsteady on your feet, but he understands what you’re trying to do. He’s come to learn that you shut away when you’re vulnerable. While you wear your heart on your sleeve, Steve knows that it can be exhausting for you.

“Need me to call her over?” He asks you quietly.

“No, I can manage.” You kiss Steve’s cheek, thanking him without having to say it. Eddie smiles at you as you leave, tight lipped, but kind nonetheless.

The two teens watch you slowly make your way over to Robin, who happily welcomes your presence. She wraps her arms around you and holds you tightly, giggling slightly, before holding you close and helping you walk.

“I’ll bring her back in one piece!” Robin calls to Steve, giggling under her breath. Steve waves his hand sarcastically, but doesn’t argue. Turning to you, Robin’s face shines in the blue moonlight. “You here to save me from this totally creepy, absolutely horrid woods?”

“Duh,” your laughter reflects hers. “I’m your knight in shining armor, babe.”

Robin squeezes your hand, resting her head against yours as you walk together. It’s been a long time since you’ve held each other like this. The realization makes you guilty. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Robin shrugs, the motion jostles your head, but you don’t mind. “We’re in the Upside Down, some guy named Vecna wants you and Max dead, and you refuse to admit that you’re scared.”

You bite your lip. Robin is just as worried for you as Steve is, she’s just hidden it better, and you wish that you could spare her the worry. She’s put up such a strong front for you. Between Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Max, Robin knew you didn’t want yet another person coddling you.

So she stepped back, gave you the space you wanted, but you’re still her best friend. Robin won’t let you forget that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to her, holding onto her as tightly as she holds onto you.

Robin shrugs again. “Nothing to forgive, pretty girl.”

And it’s as simple as that.

Though Steve can’t hear your conversation, he watches you and Robin fondly. The two of you sway together, laughing occasionally. Eddie notices the way Steve looks at you and laughs to himself.

“You know, I was jealous of you, too.”

Steve raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“I was jealous of you and Henderson, the little one, I mean. Guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. I mean, rich parents, popular, chicks love him, not a douche? No way dude. That like, flies in the face of all laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine.”

Then Eddie motions towards you. “And when you started dating Y/N? C’mon, man. Everyone knows Y/N Henderson is like, God’s gift to selflessness. I watched her tutor kids in the library like goddamn Gandhi, and suddenly she’s dating you? There isn’t any law in the universe to explain that. Fucking unfair.”

Though he knows he should be offended, Steve finds himself laughing. If he’s being honest, he’s relieved that someone else is questioning whether Steve deserves you. From the moment he met you, you’ve tried convincing him that he’s always deserved you. But Steve knows better, and he can’t believe it’s Eddie Munson who sees this, too.

“If it makes you feel any better, I also don’t know why Y/N chose me.” Steve confesses, catching Eddie’s attention. “Honestly, I don’t think I ever would’ve been someone she even liked had we not been dragged into the Upside Down together. I was a douchebag. She hated me for years, but I guess saving her life a few times earned me some brownie points.”

Eddie snorts. “Surprised you’re not claiming it was your ‘stunningly good looks’ that made Y/N fall for you. Oh how humble you’ve become.”

“Y/N changed me.” Steve’s eyes find your body again. They will always draw towards you no matter where you are.

The sincerity in Steve’s voice surprises Eddie. Licking his lips, he sighs. “Well whatever she did, I never would’ve jumped in that lake to save your ass, not under any normal circumstances.” A branch snaps, Steve and Eddie turn to its source, but there’s nothing there. Sighing again, Eddie continues to walk. “Outside of DnD, I’m no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run… at least, that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

Steve doesn’t know where Eddie is going with this. “Hey, give yourself a break, man.”

Eddie points to you, Robin, and Nancy walking up ahead. “No, you see. The only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you. I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. But Y/N? She dove in the second your head went under. Nearly tore Robin’s arm off trying to get to you.”

Something heavy settles in Steve’s chest. There’s a shift, there’s something that simmers deep into his rib cage.

Eddie forces Steve to look at him. “I don’t know how you did it, but she loves you. The way she was screaming your name, it was an unambiguous sign of true love that these cynical eyes have ever seen. And if someone like Y/N Henderson loves you… then I figured you must be worth saving.”

Steve’s breath stutters. He looks up at you again, the warmth that cascades his veins whenever he sees you overwhelms him. Steve loves you more than anything. To be told how deeply you love him by someone else is almost too much.

You and Steve have been fighting so much recently. He’s said awful things to you, you’ve hurt him in ways he hadn’t known he could hurt. All the unspoken words, all the uncertainty and fear, and yet you dove in to save Steve without hesitating.

And isn’t that all that love is? To love without expectations, without hesitancy. Love is the inability to separate your breath from the person’s lungs; you took all the air out of Steve’s chest the moment you smiled at him.

You’re the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to Steve. He’s always known this, he’s always known that what the two of you have is special. It’s something more than just young love.

So what if the future you envision doesn’t align with Steve’s? How could something so small, so miniscule as compared to forever with you, be what Steve allows to drive you away? You deserve more than just his insecurities. You’ve already decided that Steve deserves your love, what more can he want from you?

He already has you; Steve won’t let you walk away from him. Not this time, not when what you have is rare and real and raw.

Steve almost wants to laugh at how funny it is. He’d been so worried about losing you, that he almost lost you in the process. What’s even worse: it took a five minute conversation with fucking Eddie Munson to even realize it.

“Y/N, she’s–” Steve begins, but the ground starts to shake again and he’s falling. Eddie curses, sick of these earthquakes, and Steve braces himself as the rumbling continues.

Robin struggles to hold onto you as you cower together under the earth’s violent shaking. Instinctively your head turns toward Steve to make sure he’s okay. You find him on the ground next to Eddie. Sensing your eyes on him, Steve looks up and nods reassuringly at you. Relieved, you breathe against Robin.

“Second on my list of least favorite things,” she says, voice shaking. “Earthquakes. Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.”

“At least you have two working legs.” You quip.

Robin shushes you, but her voice raises when she sees Nancy stand and take off. “Nancy!”

Squinting at the darkness, you see the girl’s figure disappearing into the treeline. She’s running alarmingly fast, way too fast for anyone to catch up in time, and your heart lurches. None of you should be splitting up right now. It isn’t safe. “Fuck! Someone stop her!”

Robin quickly throws you onto your feet and you call after Steve and Eddie to follow. If running was difficult with a bleeding out leg, it’s almost impossible with the ground shaking beneath you. But if Nancy’s in trouble, you need to get to her as soon as you can. Leg be damned.

Breaking through the treeline, you find her standing at the edge of a clearing. There are fallen trees everywhere. Red lightning illuminates the Wheeler house before you. By some miracle, you’ve made it.

“Come on.” Nancy breaks the silence, chin held high. She isn’t giving up now, not when you’re all so close.

She starts to walk, never looking back, and you look at Steve. He grabs your hand. You take a deep breath. You fucking hope Nancy’s plan works.

This is your only chance of going home.

–

The Wheeler house is exactly how you remember it, only vines and debris maims its usually pristine appearance. Nancy walks through the door first while Steve shines a flashlight. Particles float everywhere. You try not to think about the fact that you’re inhaling them.

Your foot catches on a stray vine, its tendrils flail angrily at you. Stomping your foot away, you look wearily at Nancy. “Love the decor.”

She rolls her eyes while Robin echoes you. “Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.”

Ignoring the two of you, Nancy ushers everyone upstairs. While her voice is level, the unease in her body is apparent. She doesn’t like seeing her home this way. Sympathetic, you start to follow Nancy, but for a split second you think you hear Dustin’s voice.

It’s faint, mostly incoherent, and you think you’ve finally gone crazy. That’s it. Vecna has won, you’ve lost the remaining sanity you had left.

But then Steve suddenly freezes next to you. His bewilderment tells you that he hears Dustin, too. That’s your brother. You’d know his nasally voice anywhere.

Sharing a look with Steve, you simultaneously begin running around the house, trying to follow the sound of Dustin’s voice. You remember Will telling you how he could hear Joyce’s cries for him while he’d been trapped in the Upside Down. It had been the only way Joyce could communicate with him. What if this is the same?

“Start screaming,” you command Steve, limping over to one of the walls.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s what Will did, he-he screamed for his mom and Joyce was able to hear him.” You press our mouth close to the wall and shout, “Dustin!”

He has to hear you. You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

Steve wastes no time following along, screaming Dustin’s name at the top of his lungs as well. You know the two of you must look like complete idiots, but you’re desperate.

“Dustin! Dustin Henderson you have five seconds to answer me!” You yell, throat burning.

“Hello? Answer us!” Steve stands in the center of the kitchen, crouched down as if getting ready to bolt.

This is how Nancy, Robin, and Eddie find you. The three of them stare at you and Steve in concern, though none of them want to get any closer. Robin ducks her head down, whispers, “Maybe they really do have rabies.”

“What are you guys doing?” Nancy demands, fed up.

“He’s here,” Steve whips his flashlight around, facing them. “Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like-he’s in the walls or something. Just listen.”

Dustin, predictably, is quiet the moment Steve tells everyone to listen.

You pound on the wall. “Oh, now you’re quiet?” Everyone looks at you skeptically and you rub your face tiredly. “Look, I know this all sounds crazy, but I can hear Dustin, alright? It’s him.”

“Dustin!” Steve continues to screech, not helping your whole “we aren’t crazy” argument.

Only Dustin’s voice returns, and thankfully Nancy and everyone else hears it. Together you all search the house, calling your brother’s name out. Yet now matter how loud you scream, he doesn’t respond.

“Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.” Steve drops his flashlight.

You blow hair out of your face. “Normally he’s a douchebag, but not nearly to this extent.”

Nancy stands next to you. “But Will found a way to make Joyce listen.”

“When Joyce couldn’t hear him anymore, she used the Christmas lights.” You look at her. “Do you think…?”

She’s already running to the nearest lamp in the kitchen. Flicking the switch, nothing happens. You suggest trying a different light, though you know it won’t make a difference. When the lights remain unlit, you slam your palm against the table in frustration.

“Guys?” Steve gets your attention. He’s shining his flashlight at the chandelier that hangs over the Wheeler’s dining table. “You seeing this?”

Where Steve points his flashlight, a warm, evanescent glow emits from the chandelier. You gasp at its beauty, you’ve never seen anything like it. Nancy steps towards the light and slowly puts her hand into the loose waves that flow between the lights. It’s encased in small orbs that float gently into the air.

Nancy’s fingers dance in the light. A path of gold leaves a trail where her fingers have been. The particles in the light surround her hand, pulled in by her presence. Breathless, you reach out as well. The light kisses your hand, and the sensation is soft, almost ticklish.

“This is insane,” you murmur in awe, face illuminated. You never thought you’d encounter beauty in such a place as the Upside Down. But at least Will found the beauty, too. “This must be how Will did it.”

Robin, Steve, and Eddie copy you and Nancy, putting their hands into the light as well. The five of you twirl your fingers around, causing the light to flicker with every movement.

Steve’s pinky reaches for yours. “It… tickles?”

“It kinda feels good.” Mumbles Robin, making figure 8’s with her finger.

Nancy then lowers her hand and asks if anyone knows morse code. She mostly looks at you when you ask, and you bitterly tell her no. You’d think after everything you and the party have been through, you’d at least learn morse code by now.

“Wait, does SOS count?”

Eddie’s stupid question makes you hit his chest. “Of course it counts!”

“Ow!” He shoves you away from him, straightening his leather jacket. “A ‘yes” would’ve sufficed.”

Nancy shushes the two of you and instructs Eddie to start typing out the code. With a huff, he listens, and soon he begins the pattern for SOS. A soft buzz accompanies every flicker of the light. With each letter combination, you can practically feel Dustin getting closer and closer to you.

It’s almost an indescribable feeling. Somewhere, in another universe, Dustin is standing right where you are. You aren’t sure how you know, maybe you’ll never be able to find the right words, but your brother’s presence settles over your own.

This must be how Jonathan felt when Joyce was in the Upside Down. He whispered her name so softly when he followed her with the lights. Their love for one another tethered them; now it’s your love for Dustin that tethers him to you.

“Dustin,” his name comes out whispered, relieved. He’s okay, you can feel that he’s safe.

“Y/N?” Dustin’s muffled shouting fills everyone with relief. Steve and Eddie high five, Nancy lets out the breath she’d been holding, and Robin cheers while you hastily wipe your eyes. The SOS worked. “Is that-is that you?”

“Yes!” Steve screams into the chandelier, though you know your brother won’t be able to hear.

Anxious to get to Dustin as fast as you can, you shove your hands into the chandelier’s light and send a long, bright beam of light. More muffled screaming can be heard on the other side, only this time laughter accompanies it.

“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaims in awe. The amazement in his voice makes you miss him even more. There’s a murmur of other voices, you can only assume one of them is Lucas’, before Dustin shouts even louder, “We’re gonna find you a better light source. Don’t move.”

You roll your eyes. “Like we can go anywhere else.”

Dustin leaves again, but he’s back within minutes. Through loud screaming, he tells you to find Holly’s Lite Brite and go to Nancy’s room. Him and Lucas will meet the rest of you there.

The moment Dustin leaves again, Nancy shoves everyone upstairs. “I’ll find the light pad, the rest of you go. Now.”

And that’s how you find yourself restlessly staring at a child’s light up toy on Nancy Wheeler’s bed with Steve’s chest pressed against your back. He leans close to the toy, mumbling under his breath, “Come on, little Henderson.”

The Lite Brite suddenly comes to life. You throw your hands up triumphantly, giddy. “Yes!”

“You guys seeing this?” Dustin asks, to which Nancy responds by putting her hand into the light. Dustin squeals in excitement. This must be a scientific dream for him. “Okay, we’re not moving it, but we’re gonna unplug it. Stand by.”

The light fades away and Dustin prompts someone to spell something. Everyone turns to you. He’s your brother, you should be the one to make first contact.

Carefully, you use your pointer finger to spell out D.U.S.T.

Eddie cocks his head. “‘Dust’?”

“He’ll understand.”

When your mom first brought Dustin home from the hospital, he’d been so small. Immediately you fell in love with the small baby, but his size had confused you. You’d never seen anything so tiny before.

“He’s small,” you informed your father, making a face at the yawning baby before you. “Like dust.”

You were only three, but you can still remember the way your dad had laughed. For years afterwards you never referred to Dustin by his actual name. He was only ever “Dust” to you. Your father joined, the nickname stuck, though your mother came to prefer “Dusty.”

It was only after your father left that you stopped calling your brother Dust.

“Dust!” Dustin laughs excitedly. “I’m Dust! Yes!” He raises his voice louder, he can’t believe you remembered the old childhood nickname. “That worked, guys!”

Everyone cheers, Eddie even throws in his own enthusiastic “hi” to the Lite Brite. Your face aches from how hard you smile. Turning the toy over to Nancy, you nod at her. “All yours, Wheeler.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she thinks for a moment. There’s so much to tell Dustin and the others, but the Lite Brite is small and too many words to keep track of. “What should I write?”

“‘Help’ would be a pretty good place to start.” You suggest to her.

Instead, Nancy ends up spelling “stuck”. Which is pretty fitting, all things considered. Gets the message across well.

“You can’t get back through Watergate?”

Steve questions whatever the hell watergate is and Robin has to explain the wordplay. While she does so, pride swells deep within your chest. “Dustin’s a little genius that I love so much.”

“It was pretty clever.” Eddie admits.

Nancy tells Dustin that the gate you all came through is guarded. However, never missing a beat, Dustin tells you that he thinks they have a theory that can help. “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate, that there’s one at every murder site.”

You jerk your head up, eyes widening. It all makes sense now. “Wait, I think he’s–”

“Does anyone have any idea what he’s talking about?” Nancy asks tiredly. Everyone gives her equally tired no’s, but you nod viciously.

“Yes! We already know there’s multiple gates, we just didn’t know how, but Dustin might’ve figured it out. It’s all connected to the murders.”

Nancy looks skeptical. “I don’t know…” Before you can argue with her, she sends a “?” back to Dustin.

Who, predictably, doesn’t take it well. “Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?”

Steve grimaces. “Jesus Christ. This kid’s gotta get his ego checked out.”

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie butts in.

You shove them both. “Shut up. Both of you. Dustin can be annoying and frustrating, but he’s right. He’s always been right. Now if you guys would actually listen, he’ll get us out of here.”

Looking pointedly at everyone, you start to explain. “There was a gate in Lover’s Lake, which we obviously found,” your arms wave behind you. “The same lake where Patrick died. Now, where else has a dead body been found?”

“Eddie’s trailer,” Nancy straightens, understanding where you’re going with this. Looking at Eddie, she asks him how far it is.

“Seven miles.”

Your head drops. “Why couldn’t you have lived closer?”

“I’m sorry I’m… poor?” Eddie looks at you incredulously.

You flick a dismissive hand at him, but Robin cuts in between you two. “Nancy, I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit–”

“It’s what?” Obviously you missed some important details.

Robin holds her hand up. “I’ll explain later. Anyways, haven’t you always had bikes?”

You and Nancy share a look, both thinking the same thing: the bikes would be perfect. That, and they’re kinda your only option at the moment.

–

Since you’re in no condition to bike (your thigh has only just stopped bleeding) and there’s only four bikes anyways, Steve has you wrap your arms around his chest and stand on his pegs. He claims it’s so that you can avoid putting any weight on your leg, but you honestly think he just wants you to hold him. Pressing your body close to his, you look around at the houses you pass.

In a strange, twisted way, it’s exhilarating biking through an Upside Down Hawkins. Everything, and yet nothing, is the same. The houses you pass are frozen in time, empty, ghostly. Robin, Nancy, and Eddie bike alongside you and Steve. The scene is almost reminiscent of the night you biked Will home, wind in your hair and the night sky before you.

Everything has changed since then.

Somewhere along the route to Eddie’s, you bike past the Creel house. Your arms tighten instinctively around Steve. A chill runs through you, the house is just as haunting in the Upside Down as it is back in your universe. Your head throbs being so close to it, as if warning you, but Steve is turning into Eddie’s neighborhood before you can think much else of it.

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record.” Robin throws her bike down, breathless. “Most miles traveled interdimensionally.”

Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.”

“It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.”

“Again, I’m trying not to think about that.”

Eddie opens his trailer door and, just as Dustin predicted, there’s a gate. It’s just like the one in Lover’s lake had been: illuminating red light, vines all around its edges. An open wound.

“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie stares up at the gate, which resides in the ceiling. He swallows heavily. “Like, right where she died.”

“I’m sorry.” Your hand finds Eddie’s arm. You don’t know much about what their relationship had been, but he seems to have cared about the girl a lot.

Eddie gives you a tight lipped smile, his eyes shining slightly. As he looks at you, Robin sees something moving in the gate. “I think there’s something in there.”

Something starts to protrude from it, causing the gate to swell rapidly. The vines almost seem to snarl at the intrusion. An ominous, unsteady croak emits from the gate. The sound sets your nerves on edge and Steve shoves you behind him protectively. Hand on your knives, you raise them, bracing.

The gate explodes, spewing liquid and vines everywhere. You all scream, jumping back, as something rips through the membrane-like material. Unable to tell what’s just happened, you squint up at the ceiling.

Nothing jumps out at you, no bats come to feast on your flesh. Finding Steve’s eye, you silently ask him if you should walk closer. Nodding, he grabs your hand, and together you creep towards the remains of the gate.

When you look up, you find Dustin’s smug, joyous face staring back at you. Only he’s upside down with Max, Lucas, and Erica, all just as in shock as you are.

You’ve never been more relieved to see them in your life. Dropping your hands to your knees, you bend over and finally breathe. “Oh, thank God.”

“No way…” Steve waves at them, and they wave right back. “Hi.”

“Dustin!” If your leg wasn’t hanging by a thread, you’d be jumping up and down right now. Instead, you opt for waving like a madman at your brother. The entire situation is so fucking bizarre, but you don’t even care anymore. “You did it!”

“I did it!” Dustin giggles. “Bada bada boom!”

After some heated discussions and a few arguments, Dustin and the others come up with a way to get the five of you out of the Upside Down. Using Eddie’s bed sheets as a makeshift rope had been the easy part. What caused nearly a fist fight between Max and Dustin had been figuring out a soft landing pad for you guys.

“I, uh. Have a mattress?” Eddie finally suggested when he noticed Max’s fist clenching.

She glared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Well, I mean. It’s-uh. Minor details?”

But none of them had time to question Eddie’s sudden shyness regarding his mattress. Dustin got straight to work tying the bed sheets together while Max and Lucas worked on dragging the mattress out of Eddie’s room.

However, the moment it landed on the ground, all eyes went to the giant stains on the bed. Cringing in disgust, you eye Eddie.

Seeing your disapproving look, he swallows. “Those stains are, uh…” He tries to come up with an excuse, but eventually he realizes it’s better to just accept defeat. “I don’t know what those stains are.”

“Would we want to know even if you knew?” You ask him, already knowing the answer.

“... Probably not.”

Dustin tosses the bed sheet rope up, or rather down, through the gate. “Not quite sure how these physics are gonna work, but here goes nothing.”

Miraculously, it lands perfectly in front of you. Dustin tugs at the rope before letting go of it completely. You gasp. The rope stands on its own, stiff but secure, and Dustin lets out a pleased laugh. “Abracadabra.”

“I’ve never understood physics.” You say, pulling at the rope. It doesn’t move. “But even I can admit that this is cool.”

Dustin high fives Erica and Robin steps up first. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

“Please be careful.” You tell her, already dreading your own ascent. Your shoulder still aches and you were never the best at climbing the rope for gym. You preferred soccer, track, anything that involved leg coordination. Not upper body.

Robin slowly climbs up, and when her body hits the disgusting mattress back in your dimension, you let out a breath of relief. “That was kinda fun,” Robin giggles slightly.

Then Eddie stares at you, Steve, and Nancy. He waits for someone to move, obviously not wanting to be next. But when no one does, he shakes his head. “Alright, I guess I’ll go.”

Steve holds the rope steady and Eddie falls onto his mattress safely. He sits up, exhilarated. “That was fun.” He echoes Robin.

Steve gestures for Nancy to go next. “I’ll help Y/N up after you’re done.”

She gives him an uncertain look, eyeing your injuries, and you try to smile at her reassuringly. “Go, I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Knowing it’s as good of an answer she’ll get from you, Nancy takes a deep breath. “See you on the other side.”

You grab her waist and help hoist her up alongside Steve. She’s swift, her strength impresses you. She’s almost reached the top before you hear the first chime.

It’s loud, deafening. The chime of a grandfather clock.

Another chime follows, then a third, a fourth. It wracks your skull with its force.

You turn, gasping, expecting to find the grandfather clock that Max had seen in her vision. Only you’re met with darkness. You can’t see anything, you can’t find a way out. You can’t feel Steve next to you, your hands try to find his in the dark, but all they’re met with is air.

“What–” Panic chokes you. None of this is right, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know what’s happening and you can’t feel Steve and–

The sensation of sunlight kissing your face stops you.

Your eyes open. You’re no longer in Eddie’s trailer.

You’re outside, there’s sunshine all around you. In front of you is a field of dandelions, their sweet yellow reflects the gold of the sun above. The grass beneath your feet is soft, lush and green. A bee flies past your head and someone calls your name.

You’ve been here before. In the distance resides a small house on a hill. The blue door and white frames of your childhood home welcomes you. You’re back in Virginia. Someone calls your name again.

The voice is familiar.

It’s your father, calling you home.

The realization knocks all the air out of your lungs. None of this is real. You know it isn’t real, but to hear your father’s voice, so sweet and saccharine again, it makes you weak. But it isn’t real. Your legs begin to move, you’re running before you can think of anything else.

This is a vision. The scent of oak trees and strawberries isn’t real. The wheat that skims your thighs as you run doesn’t exist. “This is a vision,” you try to talk to yourself, your fingers dig into your pockets for your walkman.

You know you’re supposed to always have it on you, that’s what Dustin told you, but there’s nothing there. Panic swells within your chest once more. “No, please–”

Distracted as you look for your walkman, you don’t see the body in front of you.

Colliding into your father, he steadies you. “Woah, there.”

His calloused hands are rough and familiar. He’s laughing, his voice is the same gruff voice that used to sing you to sleep. Your father looks down at you and your entire body freezes when your eyes meet his.

You haven’t seen him ever since you were twelve. He looks the same as the day he left. His smile is the same, the crooked teeth charming. Your father’s nose still points up ever so slightly. The only indication that he’s aged are the wrinkles that line his face, years of sunlight etching them.

But it’s his eyes that hurt you the most. They’re still kind.

“What are ya runnin’ from, ladybug?” Your father asks you, his southern drawl liquid honey to your ears.

Tears build within you hearing the childhood nickname. You were his ladybug for as long as you could remember. When he used to call, he’d whisper the name over the phone as an apology for everything he’d done to you.

Because you can’t help it, because you’ll never be able to do this again, you hug your father. He lets out a soft chuckle at the impact, his arms hold you as they’ve always done. Your face buries itself into his rough t-shirt.

You’re a little girl who needs her daddy right now.

“I.. I missed you, daddy.” Voice breaking, you begin to cry.

Your father’s palm rests against your hand. He hums, soothing the ache in your bones. “You know you can never outrun it.”

The words unsettle you, there’s something about them that causes you to pull away. “Outrun what–?” “The guilt, ladybug. It will always find you.” Your father’s smile twists into a sickening grimace. The muscles in his face conjoin, his eyes darken as his voice becomes gravel. Deeper. Until it isn’t your father’s voice anymore, but someone else's. “I will always find you.”

Too late do you realize that it’s Vecna who now has you. You start to scream, thrashing in your father’s arms to escape, but he only grips you harder. He’s laughing, but it’s no longer your father’s laughter.

Suddenly you’re thrown into the lake behind you. You fall, screaming, as you descend deep into a pitch black void. Your arms reach out, you try to find anything to grab onto, but there’s nothing. It’s just endless emptiness.

You land harshly on your back, all the air gone. You gasp, choke on whatever air remains in your body. The impact leaves you coughing, clawing at the ground beneath you to breathe. Soil scrapes under your nails, your palm gets cut on a root.

You’re in the woods.

Scrambling to sit up, you realize you’re in the same part of the woods that Will went missing in. Fear cuts through your veins. Why would Vecna take you here?

“Will?” You’re on your feet now, cupping your hands over your mouth as you shout his name. Does Vecna have him? Have you lost him again? “Will!”

“He needed you that night.” Vecna’s voice taunts you, the sound like rocks grinding together. “Where were you?”

You’re running now. Branches cut your face as you break through them. You have to find Will. You can’t lose him again. You can’t do that to Jonathan, to Joyce and El and Dustin and Mike and everyone else. You’re the one who lost Will that night.

He had needed you. Isn’t that what Vecna said?

“Nancy!” Sobbing, you call for someone, anyone. But no one answers. Your vision blurs with tears, there’s someone running behind you. Chasing you. Terrified, you scream for the person you need the most. “Steve!”

Saying his name must trigger something, because suddenly the scene changes. You’re no longer in the woods. You’re on the ledge of someone’s roof, overlooking a window sill. A large, bay window that you’ve spent countless slow mornings residing on.

Steve’s house.

He’s standing in front of his bed, facing the window, facing you, but he doesn’t look at you. Not how he always does; his gaze lacks warmth.

“Steve!” You pound on the glass, you try desperately to get him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. His eyes are on Nancy, who sits on the bed before him. He leans down, brushes her hair out of her face, before bridging the distance between them.

You watch as Steve kisses Nancy. He cups her chin the way he cups yours. Bile rises in your throat; you can’t turn away. Their kisses become heated, Steve is tugging at Nancy’s hair and her clothes. She tugs at him as well, he helps her remove his shirt.

Nancy’s lips trace the expanse of Steve’s neck and his eyes, once closed in bliss, now open. He looks right at you.

“Did you really think I’d forget her, Y/N?” His voice digs into your ears. Nancy nips at his neck and he moans. He throws his head back, looks at you again. “I can’t. At least, not as easily as your dad forgot you.”

You stumble back, crying so hard you can barely breathe. Steve laughs seeing your heartbroken reaction. It’s cruel and awful. He’s cold. You’ve never known his voice to hold so much malice. Not towards you. Not towards anyone.

He’s wrong. Steve doesn’t love Nancy, not anymore. Vecna is the one saying this, you know it isn’t Steve. He would never say any of this to you, he could never be so cruel to you. He loves you. You know he does.

“N-no! This isn’t-this isn’t real–”

But the hatred in Steve’s eyes causes your foot to catch on the edge of the roof. You don’t have time to catch yourself; your body is weightless again, only this time it’s a much shorter fall. You land on concrete. Ripping your eyes open, there are domed walls around you.

Nancy stands above you.

Hyperventilating, you crawl away from her. You’re in Steve’s pool, only it’s empty, infested with vines, and your fingers stain the ground with blood. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run.

“Y/N–” Nancy tries to stop you, but you scream at her, kicking. She only barely avoids your fury. Holding her hands up, she lowers her voice, softens it. She’s crying, her terror the same as yours. “Y/N, it’s me, okay?”

Your body trembles with exhaustion. You close your eyes, tired of fighting. “Please be real.”

“I’m real.” Nancy swears to you, carefully reaching for you. When you allow her touch, she helps you stand up.

The memory of her having sex with Steve is burned into your mind. You can’t look Nancy in the eye. She breathes heavily next to, looking around for a way out, when she sees something. A strangled cry leaves Nancy’s lips.

Barbara Holland’s corpse sits on the other side of the pool.

You cover your mouth with a gasp, choking slightly at the sight. Nancy cries out in pain, in grief, seeing her best friend’s body dismembered by vines. You stumble towards Nancy and hold her as she sobs.

“Do you remember what you did, Nancy? Or have you already forgotten?” Vecna’s voice shakes the pool. “Don’t worry, I showed Y/N. When I kill someone… I never forget.”

A sob collapses in your chest. Barb’s death hadn’t been Nancy’s fault. Yet to place her in the same pool Barb was killed in, to show Nancy her corpse, is unrelenting cruelty.

All around you, blood pours from the vents of the pool. It comes out quick, thick, at a dizzying speed. Nancy tugs at your hand and practically throws you up the ladder to escape. But when you reach the top, you’re met with a red hell.

It’s exactly how Max drew it.

Fragments of stairs, jagged pieces of wood, a grandfather clock, they all drift through the air painted with blood-red. Somewhere there’s screaming, the sound only drowned out by lightning. A clock ticks over and over again. Its metronome is maddening.

Nancy holds your hand and neither one of you lets go. Having nowhere else to go, you’re forced to walk down the stairs you arrived at. The clock chimes again and your heart stops.

“I see you’ve been looking for me, Nancy. And Y/N…” Vecna pauses, preying on you. “I’ve been watching you for quite some time.”

Everything stops.

“All the guilt, all the pain.”

It comes to you in flashes.

How Will used to smile at you, before his childhood was taken from him. Max’s blue eyes, shining with youth and happiness, before grief killed her. Billy, how he would be kind to your mother at the pool. Hopper, the way you’d bicker with him just to get him to smile.

It’s all gone because of you; you can’t remember how to breathe.

Vecna feeds on your fear. “How fragile you’ve become… like a dandelion.”

The wording, it’s too specific to not mean anything. Dandelions were once one of your favorite flowers. Before a nightmare from last summer changed everything. The dandelions had filled your mouth with razors and choked you. Someone called your name in the distance, they’d been too late to save you.

The dream had felt so real. You’d woken up with tears in your eyes.

And now you know it had been Vecna all along. Even back then. He’s been watching you for far longer than you realized. The realization chokes you, the fear overwhelms you. He’s been here all along.

Nancy yanks at your arm, you can barely hear her over the roaring in your head. “Y/N, listen to my voice.”

She’s shaking you, trying to bring you back to her, but you’re lost. Hyperventilating, you struggle to catch your breath. You feel too vulnerable. Raw. Exposed. There are corpses strung up by vines in front of you. Fred’s broken jaw. Chrissy’s snapped neck. Patrick’s empty eye sockets.

The same will happen to you.

You’ve spent so long trying to be strong, trying to keep everyone safe. You’ve devoted your entire life to protecting others, helping them. But Vecna has been watching you for almost an entire year, maybe even longer, and you hadn’t noticed.

It’s why he’s targeted Max. He watched you take care of everyone you loved. Vecna watched you raise the girl. He knew it’d hurt you the most to lose her. It hadn’t been a coincidence. It’s all your fault. It’s always your fault. Will went missing because of you. Billy died because you hadn’t said anything. Max will die because you hadn’t seen the signs sooner.

Nancy’s screams fall deaf on your ears. She shakes you, begs you to come back, but why should you?

This is all your fault.

It’s always your fault.

It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always–

You feel your body lift.

Everything fades to black.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #bdyr #m's writing #no one ask how i wrote this so fast #i am ill #we know this #anyways #let the screams begin !

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 6 months ago

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What is Broken IV (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader) FINALE

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: traumatic childbirth, blood, semi-suicidal thoughts, Aemond is fantasizing about murder again, all the angst

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: I don't understand why, but thanks so much for all the support I've gotten from this horribly angsty fic! This is my first go at angst so I really appreciate it. I'm gonna work on two happy-ish fic chapters before I get started on When It Breaks, but it's coming...

And a huge, enourmous thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @ripdragonbeans for being my betas for this! I was so anxious about getting this absolutely right and they were so kind and encouraging. Love yall forever 💜💜💜

Taglist is done via reblogs

Series Masterlist

What is Broken

She was so light, his ābrazȳrītsos.

Even while carrying their children – their sons – Aemond swore she was lighter than when he left. He held her close to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and her legs draped over his forearm. With every step, he could feel more of the liquid that had spilled from her womb - now mixed with small, hateful tendrils of blood - dampening his sleeve.

Gods, how much blood had he seen in the past year? How much had he spilled himself? There had even been times when he reveled in its metallic tang. But the sight of her blood was nothing less than abhorrent.

He ran faster, until he could not make out the faces of those he passed, shouting for a Maester to be sent to their chambers immediately. One of them must be a servant. With luck, the Maester would already be there when they arrived.

She cried out as he began to ascend the stairs, wincing with each step, her weak grip on him tightening. “It hurts, Aemond.”

“I know, my love.” He slowed down, though his pounding heart urged him to do just the opposite. “I’m so sorry. The maester will be here soon, and he’ll help you feel better, hmm?”

“He has to stop it. It’s too early,” her voice cracked, and Aemond’s heart with it. “They’re not ready!”

But it couldn’t be stopped, not by man or gods. Their children would be born today. The only question was whether they would survive. If their mother would survive. Her poor body was so weak, and her heart… he had broken that, too.

If any of them died today, that blood would be on his hands, and he would gladly accept his damnation to the worst of the seven hells.

“Come now,” he chided gently as they reached the corridor to their chambers. “Our sons are dragons – they will be strong. And so will you, ābrazȳrītsos.”

“Sons?” She lifted her head, her entire body trembling with the effort it took. Her eyes – those beautiful eyes now gilded by the setting sun outside the windows – locked with his. “How… you sound so sure.”

Just one more lie. One more, and then he would never lie to her again.

Besides, this lie was small, nearly inconsequential. Many fathers insisted that their children would be sons until the child itself proved them wrong. It would be so easy for her to believe. The truth would hurt her – perhaps weaken her further. Aemond did not want her to hear Alys’ name. She should never have to even think of that witch ever again.

But he could not bring himself to do it. He could not sully the birth of his sons with yet another lie. He pushed their door open with a shoulder, never breaking her gaze. “Alys told me after you left. Before… she had a vision of us holding our sons. I’m so sorry, love.”

She slumped again, her face dropping into the curve of his neck. Once, she kissed him there, slept with her head tucked there. Now, it was simply where her head lolled. “I’m glad it’s sons. You’ll have two heirs…”

Her words were cut short by a gasp of pain, but Aemond heard it clearly. It echoed in his very bones. So if I live, you’ll have no more need of me. The gods had just crumbled the ground beneath him, his heart and soul with it. He was falling, falling, falling…

“I am glad, too.” He set her down gently in the bed, brushing away several tangles of hair stuck to her sweaty brow before arranging the pillows around her, hoping he was adequately managing to hide his devastation. For he could not bear to be without her, could not bear to love her only from a distance. He would go mad. Yet he would happily accept that horrible fate if it meant he would not lose her to the Stranger. “Mother will be, as well.”

“Mother!” She tried to rise, but he held her softly to the bed. “I can’t do this without Mother, Aemond. We must return home immediately!”

“I am afraid that is not an option, Princess.” Maester Artos stood just within the doorway, maids and Septas streaming in behind him. He was a mountain of a man, better suited to the battlefield than the birthing bed. But he was good at what he did – very good. Aemond had seen him work miracles on men who should have never survived their injuries.

The moment the women began attending to his wife, he approached the Maester, speaking quietly so as not to frighten her. “Something is wrong, Artos, she is bleeding. And she’s very weak.”

Artos hardly acknowledged him, looking only at the princess lying in the bed. “The blood is not the problem. She is distressed and too thin.” He stated, as cold and clinical as all other Maesters.

“Yes, I know that already.” Aemond took a shaky, calming breath. He did not like the way Artos observed her, as if she was a thing to be studied rather than a woman – a princess. Perhaps when it was all over, he’d kill the man for it. “I fear she is not strong enough to survive this.”

She cried out behind them. Two maids were pressing damp cloths to her forehead. Another was hastily braiding her hair back. A Septa had begun cutting away her dress, leaving her only in her chemise as two more maids removed her slippers and stockings. Two other Septas knelt by the windows, praying, while one woman who seemed to be neither maid nor Septa laid metal and wood instruments atop a tall, thin table.

It took every ounce of Aemond’s self-control not to go to her. To shove away each woman because it should be him – and him alone – to touch his wife while she was so vulnerable. He should be the one to protect her, but he couldn’t. He could only hurt her, it seemed.

“Artos!” Aemond hissed.

“Is her spirit weak as well?” There was suspicion in his dark eyes. The same he’d shown when he confirmed Alys was carrying a child. If he hadn’t been so proficient a healer, Aemond might have killed him then.

But for now, Aemond was glad Artos was alive. He swallowed, avoiding looking back at the bed as his wife continued to whimper and moan. “Yes.” The maester just hummed before approaching the bed. Aemond followed, kneeling at the bedside, the maids immediately clearing away.

“This is Maester Artos, ābrazȳrītsos.” She stared wide-eyed at the hulking mass of the man who now knelt between her legs. Aemond tugged on her hand, her gaze snapping back to him. “I know him well. He’s going to take very good care of you, I promise.”

She shuddered, her eyes closed tight as she squeezed Aemond’s hand so hard he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He delighted in it. She was not as weak as he thought, thank the gods. If she needed to break every bone in his hand – in his body – to live through this, he would let her do so without complaint.

“Are you going to stay with me?” she asked, her voice already ravaged by screaming.

Aemond blinked. When they first learned they were to have a child, he swore he would. But now, it seemed impossible for her to want him there. Not after what he’d done. “Do you… want me to stay?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but another moan of pain. Her eyes darted all over his face. The longer she stayed silent, the further Aemond’s stomach dropped, and his heart ached.

“I believe it wise to have the prince wait outside,” Artos said decisively.

Aemond felt her hand slide out of his, the sensation the same as if he were falling from Vhagar’s back—her answer.

He nodded, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he leaned over her and kissed her forehead, trailing a hand down her cheek. “I love you.”

As he walked to the door, he still held a little shred of hope in his heart, waiting to hear her say it back.

It never came.

The moment the door shut behind Aemond, she regretted sending him away. She wanted to call him back so she wouldn’t be alone with so many strangers. But panic began to set in as the maids pulled her gently down the bed, and her voice failed her.

“It won’t be long now, princess,” the maester said, but she found no comfort in it. She couldn’t even remember his name. Alton? Alyn? Amos? Aemond had said he trusted him, but…

But that meant he had been here when Aemond was with Alys. And that glint of pity in his eyes, not just for her conditions, but for what he knew. He knew. Seven Hells, he’d probably been the one to care for Alys and her pregnancy.

Alys. Alys, Alys, fucking Alys!

She did not know what to think of the woman who had stolen so much from her. Had she stolen it, or had Aemond given it? She could hardly make sense of what she’d learned in that dreary little room.

Alys was not the evil, scheming witch she had first imagined. But neither was she innocent in the affair, not wholly. She was not remorseful for her actions, but she apologized for hurting her. She had been kind.

Blinding pain shot through her, and she screamed. Wordless and desperate, her only outlet for release. She needed to scream, needed to roar, needed to breathe fire. Anything to distract from this. Gods, she even wished for a moment for Alys to be there, holding her hand. At least then, she could return some of that pain.

“Princess,” the maester said, though he sounded far away. Though it was more likely that her shouting was drowning him out. “Very soon, I will ask that you push. Do you know how, your highness?”

Push. That’s what the septas had instructed Helaena to do at the birth of her twins and for Maelor. She even had vague memories of the word from when she peeked through the open door to her mother’s chambers when Daeron was born. But what it meant and how to do it?

Her confusion must have been apparent, for the maester continued. His voice was frustratingly calm and steady. “It is fine if you do not, princess. You must simply follow your instincts. When you feel the urge, push the child outward with all your might.”

“I have no might.” She heard herself laughing through tears and only then realized she was crying. Someone took her hand – she didn’t know who. But the feeling of another’s skin on hers was heavenly.

“You have carried these babes for months,” the maester – Artos! that was his name – said gently, “while your husband and the realm were at war. In my estimation, you are the mightiest woman in Westeros.”

She felt nearly every muscle she had tense, turning her answering grateful smile into a grimace. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have weathered her pregnancy as well as a paper boat in a storm. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not still love her husband after he betrayed her. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have let her emotions weaken her or put her children’s lives in danger.

She was far from the mightiest woman in Westeros, and she could not do this. She wasn’t strong enough. She was only a weak and broken little girl.

A maid approached, a fresh cool, damp cloth in her hands. The princess had not looked at any of their faces, too absorbed in her pain and panic. But now, she caught the eyes of this girl—deep, rich brown, so similar to her own – to her mother’s.

“I want my mother,” she whispered to the maid, even knowing it was impossible. “I can’t do this without her.”

The maid gaped at her as if she could not fathom a princess ever speaking to her. She looked to her companions for guidance, but the princess only looked into the maid’s eyes and thought of her mother—the scent of the rosemary oil she used in her hair, the warmth of her embrace, and the soothing tones of her voice.

“Please, I want my mother,” she begged. A new surge of pain gripped her, radiating into her legs. They were coming faster now; she barely had time to breathe between each wave. “Please.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness.” The maid’s voice was high and breathy, nothing like her mother’s. “The queen is not here.”

She cried, turning away from those false eyes. She was alone – entirely and utterly alone.

“Princess, I need you to be strong now.” Artos’ sweaty brow was furrowed with half a dozen creases, his eyes wide and mouth a firm line. He looked more like a commander on a battlefield than a maester. The Grand Maester would have smiled at her, but he was not here, either. “Your labors are progressing quickly. It is nearly time to push.”

“I don’t know how,” she cried. She refused to open her eyes. If she kept them closed, she could almost imagine she was home.

Artos wrapped his hands around her ankles, pushing them upwards and further apart. “You do, princess. The Mother wove the knowledge into your body. Listen to it, and all will be well.”

“I – ”

Her next scream rattled the room, the keep, the entirety of the Riverlands.

Fire, ice, steel, and claw seemed to rake down her spine to her thighs. But Artos was right; her body reacted to the pain, her muscles moving near-unconsciously to force the babe out of her womb. She followed the instinct, pushing it harder, harder, harder.

“Very good, princess!” Was that Artos or Orwyle? She couldn’t tell anymore.

It was never-ending.

Pain, pushing, and a brief moment of reprieve.

Again.

It lasted hours, days, perhaps even years.

Was a child – a son – even worth this pain? How could she love someone who had tortured her so? Would she ever be able to look at him without remembering how she suffered?

Pain.

PAIN.

Then –

“Stop, princess!”

She went limp, vaguely beginning to feel other sensations creep in: the coolness of the water on her forehead, the slight scratching of the sheets beneath her, and the hushed whispers of the maids and midwives.

The pain was still there, but softer. Less insistent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice nearly unrecognizable, even to her.

Artos emerged from between her legs, relief painted over his harsh face. “Nothing is wrong, princess. It is simply time to be gentle and allow your body to do its work.” He smiled, chuckling under his breath. “I can see your babe’s white hair – quite a bit of it.”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat. Deep, joyous laughter. Another slight wave of pain passed through her, but she didn’t care at all. She was thinking about her niece and nephew, how Jaehaerys was born with nearly a full mane of silver frizz while Jaehaera had not a single hair on her head until she was over a year old. “He has hair?”

“Yes, although I do not know yet whether it is a boy, princess.”

“It is. He is.”

There was one more brief surge of pain, and then she heard her son cry.

It was torture to wait outside while his ābrazȳrītsos screamed with pain. At first, Aemond stood leaning against the wall, as Aegon did when Helaena began her labors, but his knees failed him when he heard a scream that rattled the world.

He’d been on the floor since, resisting the urge to cover his ears. But he had caused her this pain, so he must listen.

He would be in that room with her if he hadn’t been a weak, damnable fool. He would have held her hand, letting her release her pain onto him. She had only squeezed his hand once, yet he still felt the ghost of her touch on his skin. He would savor that pain for the rest of his life.

It seemed to be never-ending, the torture his son was inflicting upon her. How could he ever forgive the child for doing this to his own mother?

Then, it stopped.

Aemond leaped to his feet, panic infecting his blood like a disease. Why had she gone quiet? What was wrong? Was she dead? He couldn’t face –

A babe cried—his first cry, with his first breath.

Their son.

He tried to push the door open, but it was locked.

“Let me in!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the door. “Artos, let me in!”

There was no answer, but he could hear soft voices inside. None sounded like hers. Oh gods, had she brought their son into the world at the cost of her own life?

Aemond slammed himself against the door again and again, not caring for the damage he was doing to his own body. “Open the door now, Artos!”

He threw himself against the wood again and again. At some point, it had to yield. Either it would, or his body would.

It opened just before he launched himself at it again—not all the way, but it was open. Then, Artos stared at him through the gap with his hateful, disapproving gaze.

“Let me in,” he growled. Trying to force the door open was useless, as the maester was practically a giant and, apparently, throwing all his strength into holding it closed. “If you don’t let me see my wife, I swear I’ll – ”

“Your wife has not finished her labors yet, my prince.” Damn him, the mountainous bastard. “But I am pleased to inform you that she has borne you a son.”

Though he knew it was to be a son, the words still shot through him. A son. His son. Their son.

“Is he healthy? Is she?” There was no more fight in his voice. The warrior prince had vanished, replaced only by the husband and father. By all the gods, he was a father.

Artos nodded. “The boy is small but healthy. Your maester may have miscalculated the date of conception. He is remarkably healthy for being born so early.”

“And my wife?”

“She is tired, but well. The second babe is not quite ready to emerge, so she is resting.”

The weight of all the world was lifted from his shoulders. He felt like the little boy he had once been on Driftmark, wanting nothing more than to see his zaldrīzītsos and take comfort in her embrace. “May I see her? Please.”

“I’m afraid not, my prince.” Artos at least had the decency to sound genuinely apologetic. “She needs this rest. With the first birth, she was wonderfully strong, more than I could have ever imagined. But I fear she has depleted her strength. She fell asleep the moment it was done.”

“Is… is it bad that she fell asleep?”

Artos sighed, his eyes turning to the floor. “Ordinarily, no, but with how thin she is, how weak… it worries me.”

No. No, no, no. “Is there anything you can do? To help strengthen her?”

“I am afraid not, my prince.”

“Well, do something. Do whatever you can.”

A soft moan came from behind the door. Ābrazȳrītsos. Aemond pushed against the door, opening it as far as he could to try and catch the barest glimpse of her.

Her eyes were nearly closed, her reddened cheeks making them appear as dark as night. Her chemise was soaked through with sweat and whatever other fluids came out with their child. But no blood beyond what he already knew to be there.

“Ābrazȳrītsos! I’m here!” He shouted. It took a moment for her to look his way. He could have sworn she smiled. “I’m with you! You must be strong, my love. I know you can be. I love you! I love you so much, ñuha zaldrīzītsos!”

Artos pushed against the door, forcing Aemond back. “That is enough, my prince. Upsetting her will only drain her strength.”

Aemond knew it was true, that his presence would likely upset her rather than comfort her. So, he stopped resisting and allowed the maester to close the door. Just before it closed, he whispered one final command, “Take care of her, Artos. She is my world.”

The pain returned, worse than before. The lightning crept down her spine again, but it was now accompanied by a great force set on tearing her body apart at the seams. Pushing brought no relief, nor did it seem to move her son any closer to the world.

Artos came to her bedside, resting the back of his hand against her brow.

“It’s worse this time,” she confided in the maester when it finally ebbed. “It’s so much worse. Why?”

He sighed and sat on the bedside, his massive hand nearly eclipsing her head as he stroked her hair. It made her feel remarkably like a kitten. “I cannot say, princess. There are many possibilities. This child could be larger, in a slightly different position, or…” He hesitated. “As I said, there are too many possibilities for me to be sure.”

His pause unsettled her, but it soon faded away when another wave went through her. “Is he nearly ready? I can’t do this much longer.” At least she knew what to do this time, so surely it would be better.

“Ah, another son, is it?” Artos stood from the bed to examine her spread legs. Several maids gently moved her to replace the sheets beneath her. “Not yet, but soon. Your motherly instincts will tell you when.”

Motherly instincts. Gods, she was a mother now. There was a child on the other side of the room that she had given birth to, that she had grown within her. A son who would depend on her for his entire life. Her, and his father.

Aemond would be a good father, she knew, even if he were decidedly lacking as a husband. But as a father, he would be attentive, kind, and loving. He would give their sons all the love he was denied by their own father.

They would not repeat the mistakes of the past. They would love their sons. They would not ignore them, speaking to them only to scold them. They would teach them the language of their ancestors themselves instead of relying on tutors. As soon as they were old enough, they would teach them how to be compassionate and fair rulers. They would not force them to marry for political advantage or the continuation of the bloodline but let them fall in love, as they had.

She could see them now. Both with white hair and unruly curls. Bright lilac eyes. The elder would take after her, but with Aemond’s determination. The younger would take after their father but with her gentle temperament.

As if the vision was summoning her second son, she felt her body constricting, muscles tightening. Without fear, she began to push.

“Princess, stop!”

Artos screamed as if someone was holding a sword to his throat, desperate and panicked. His eyes were wide and bulging as he looked from her face to where her second son should be emerging. “You mustn’t push now, princess. Not once. I…”

He stood, pulling one of the Septas aside. Others followed, and their frantic, poorly hushed whispers grew louder. She knew the sight should frighten her, but she forced herself to remain calm. Aemond said he trusted this man and had seen him work miracles. Whatever was wrong, Artos would fix it.

She was sure.

Artos burst out of the door without warning. Aemond pushed away from the wall. “Is it over?”

The maester sighed.

Shit. Seven Hells and all the Gods.

“Your wife is strong, my prince,” he began. Holy gods, he sounded as if he would cry. “Enough so that I would have little doubt that she could deliver your second child, but…”

“What’s wrong?” Aemond felt his heart race, his blood surge, his finger twitching for his sword. He was going into battle, but this was not a battle he could fight with steel or fire. This was not a battle he could fight at all. “Artos?”

“The babe is not in the right position.” He moved his hands as if it would somehow make Aemond understand what he was saying.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the babe cannot be born, your highness.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything she had suffered and survived.

“If she were to continue her labors, neither she nor the child would live.” Artos put a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at comfort. “I can save only one. Who survives… that is your decision, my prince.”

The gods were cruel to force this upon him – the very choice that had damned their family decades ago when Viserys chose to sacrifice his wife and queen for the chance at a son. That was where the seeds of destruction had been sown.

Aemond could not repeat the mistakes of the past. He would not be like his father. He had his son and heir. A second would be preferred, but not at the cost of his ābrazȳrītsos.

His ābrazȳrītsos, whose heart would break to lose her son. Who would never forgive him if he decided to –

He couldn’t choose. He couldn’t let her die, and he couldn’t let their son die.

He couldn't live without her, and he couldn’t take away her will to live.

He tore himself out of Artos’ grasp and stormed into the room.

Aemond threw open the door, his eyes wide and wet, and suddenly, she was not so sure that Maester Artos would fix whatever was wrong.

He ran to the bed, not sparing a glance at their new son. She burst into sobs the moment he took her in his arms. “Oh, ābrazȳrītsos,” he whispered into her hair as he kissed her temples. She entwined her fingers with his, desperately squeezing. “I’m here now. Everything is going to be fine.”

Liar. Sweet Liar. Beloved Liar.

“I want Mother. I want Helaena.” Her voice crackled with tears and exhaustion. Everything hurt. Someone – most likely her – was crying, though it sounded distant. And if Aemond was here, not waiting outside…

If Aemond was here, holding her hand and stroking her hair, it meant something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“Mother is not here right now,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t meet her gaze. “And Helaena… she can’t be here. I’m so sorry.”

“She told me she would hold my hand like I did for her. She promised!”

“I know. I know, my love, but it is not possible.”

Because Helaena was dead. So were Daeron, and Jaehaerys, and Jaehaera, and Maelor, and Otto, and Ser Criston, and nearly every other person she loved. Aegon would be dead soon, too, then she would only have her mother and her husband.

Her mother, who had begged her to forgive the husband who betrayed her and broken her heart.

“I can’t do this alone, Aemond. I can’t.”

“You can, I know it. You are so strong, dearest.” Yet there was no confidence in his voice.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear his hair out just to make him hurt, too. “I can’t! I’ll die if you make me, Aemond, I know it. I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.”

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. “My love, I…” his voice faded, leaving them in total silence, save for that distant crying.

Then, he kissed her—not the soft kisses on the temple or head of the past fortnight, but the way he had kissed her when he said goodbye all those months ago. His lips slotted against hers perfectly, and she opened for him on instinct. She knew she should stop, push him away, and scold him, but she couldn’t.

Everything felt wrong—her entire body felt wrong. But this, kissing Aemond, felt right. Her desperation for comfort far overpowered her anger and resentment. Her trembling hand rested on his shoulder, her fingers bunching in his shirt. She pulled him closer, wanting more—more rightness, more connection, more feeling.

More Aemond.

But he pulled away, resting his brow against hers as she chased his lips again. He placed a hand on either side of her face, holding her still. “I’m going to fix this,” he rasped, his voice shredded by fear and desperation. “I will fix this, I swear.”

Then, he let go.

He stood from the bed and turned away from his wife.

He was leaving. He was fucking leaving her.

She screamed his name, cursed him, begged him to come back, hurled insults, and cried for him. He couldn’t do this to her, not after everything he’d already done.

This was not love. The heat that burned in her chest was not love.

It was hate.

For the first time in her life, she truly hated Aemond.

“Alys!” Aemond bellowed as he descended the stairs to the servant’s quarters, taking the steps two, three at a time. No one dared approach him. Not even Artos had tried to stop him as he ran away from his ābrazȳrītsos.

She may hate him forever for this, for leaving her when she was so weak and scared.

Fine. It would be worth it.

“ALYS!” The door snapped from its upper hinge as he tore it open. The witch was precisely where she’d been when Aemond left, her hand on her chin as she looked into the fire. What vile hell did she see in her visions now? “Alys!”

“I heard you, Aemond.” She did not look at him, only staring at the flames, those green eyes flitting around as if she were reading a book. “The entire continent heard you.” There was no humor in her voice, no hint of a smile on her face.

He swallowed, panting. He was crying – weeping like a little boy. That didn’t matter now. Very little mattered now.

Aemond fell to his knees before the witch with whom he had destroyed his life. He would do whatever she asked, destroy what little was left of his pride if necessary. “I need your help, Alys. Please.”

“She’s dying?”

“Yes. The maester said I had to… that I had to choose who to save.”

“And you can’t choose between her and the child.”

“No, I – ” he swallowed as his voice shattered. He was going to vomit. “I can’t, Alys. I can’t. Please.”

“What is it, exactly, that you want me to do?” She was colder than the Wall, than the entirety of the lands beyond it.

“Save them, both of them.”

Alys’ eyes narrowed. Her face was painted with an expression he had never seen. He had no clue what it meant. “What would you sacrifice,” she asked flatly, “to ensure your wife and her children – your true heirs – live?”

“Anything,” Aemond croaked, “Everything.”

One corner of her sinful mouth lifted in a way that did not bring him comfort. She sighed as if taking the time to thoroughly consider his plea. The wicked bitch was gleefully stalling when the lives of his wife and child could end at any moment.

“Please, Alys,” he begged again, desperation crawling through his veins like spreading ice. “I cannot live without her, and she will never recover from her grief if she loses the babe.”

Something passed over her face, and she smiled fully. “You have always been a man of loyalty and nobility, Aemond.” Her grin sharpened as she laid one delicate hand upon her belly. “Almost always, at least.”

“Alys,” he growled in warning.

“Oh, don’t be a beast about it,” she scoffed. “I will do it – save them. If only in memory of our time together.”

Aemond sagged as relief swept through him, but it did not last long. She was still dying. The babe was still dying. Whatever Alys would do, she needed to do it now. He opened his mouth to command her to start, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I promise it will be done.” She flung her hand to the door in dismissal. “You should be there for her. She is still so very frightened.”

He needed nothing more to run back to his wife.

She was alone. Even with Maester Artos and the dozen women hovering around her, even with her son cooing softly from the cradle by the window, she had never felt so alone.

Aemond was gone.

He’d left her. Without even a goodbye, he’d left her. He had not even stopped to meet his son.

Artos murmured something to one of the Septas, who quickly gathered the other women on the far side of the room. He approached the bed, again seating himself upon the edge, and pressed the back of his fingers to her brow briefly before petting her hair. “How are you feeling, princess?”

“Am I going to die?”

He hesitated in answering. “I cannot say for certain…”

“I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.” Her heart constricted as his fingers brushed against a spot where Aemond had kissed her. “You told him, now tell me.”

“Very well,” he sighed. His harsh face fell, and she swore she could see his eyes glistening. “The babe is breech. It should emerge head-first, but it is not. It’s… the way it is attempting to come out is nearly impossible. Should I not intervene, one or both of you will die.”

No. No, no, no, it wasn’t fair. To suffer for this long, to endure what she endured, only for her child to enter the world wrong? In a way that would kill them? She had always been good and devout. She prayed and studied holy texts, listened to her Septas and the Maesters, and avoided sin at all costs. Then why was she being punished?

Unless… the gods had not sent this to punish her.

Aemond had abandoned her and their marriage – their holy union – when he slept with Alys. It would be fitting, and very like the gods, for him to lose that which he had forsaken. She and her second son were merely instruments of punishment. But it wasn’t fair.

“There is nothing you can do?” She felt hollow as Artos continued to look at her in pity.

The warrior-maester looked as if he were about to cry, as well. “In these situations, it is usually asked of the father whom he would rather save.”

So that was why Artos left the room – to ask Aemond whether to save her or the child.

“Who did he choose?” Either answer would devastate her. He would either prove the fragility of his love for her, or he would willingly break her heart by killing their son. Whatever he chose, he would become a kinslayer thrice over.

“He… he did not, your highness.”

“What?”

“I explained the situation, and he stormed in here – to you. When he left, he said nothing. He just ran. I presumed he had…” But he hadn’t. Had not said a word about the peril she and their son were now in.

A coward. Too frightened to maintain his vows of marriage. Too weak to admit his wrongdoing. Too cowardly to even make this most crucial of decisions. The gods damn him.

If they hadn’t already.

“So… what will you do?” If she had to be the one to make the decision, so be it.

“There are three options.” None of them were very good, she knew, simply by looking at his forlorn face. She had thought him a grave man when she first saw him. Now, he looked mournful – a reluctant harbinger of death. “I can forcibly remove the child, more than likely killing it in the process. I can attempt to save it and, in so doing, certainly kill you. Or we can proceed with the birth, risking killing both of you and pray that the gods may be merciful.”

Such a choice – a decision of life and death – should be difficult. It should tear away at the soul to condemn another. It should be far beyond the limits of the heart or mind.

But it was easy.

“Save him,” she whispered. “Let me die.”

Artos frowned deeply, shook his head, and said something in return, but she did not listen – she could not and would not hear his words. She only vaguely saw him move to the end bed, ripping away the sleeve of his robes as he barked orders at the maid and midwives. Perhaps the gods were merciful to dull her senses now so she could pass peacefully.

What did it matter if she died now?

She will have fulfilled her duty and given her husband his heirs. Finding a new wife would be easy – what woman would not want to marry him? Even if news of Alys spread beyond the walls of Harrenhal, surely it was nothing in exchange for a crown. Aemond would have everything he needed to be king.

If she lived, what sort of life would it be? To raise one son while constantly mourning the other. To be the wife of a man she could no longer trust. To remain empty, a shell of her former self. She would be alive, but she would still be a ghost.

“Save him,” she said again, her voice fading.

It was easier this way. Hadn’t she already learned that it was easier not to fight? Letting Aemond take care of her was easier than fighting him. Perhaps it would be easier to let him care for the children, too. He would love them enough that they would not feel her absence.

Distantly, she felt pressure between her legs, then heard her firstborn son cry out to echo her own screams.

Her son.

Oh, he had no name.

She couldn’t leave him motherless and without a name.

Months ago, she had decided on names, but they were hard to remember now. What was it? She could grant him this one last gift. She just needed to remember…

“Daeron.”

Yes. It had been her brother’s name. Her kind, brave, daring brother. He died some months ago. There had been a battle. Why was her little brother fighting? He was too young for that.

Tendrils of pale mist crept into the edges of her vision, playfully willing her to sleep.

Once she was gone, Daeron—her Daeron—would have a little brother, too. He would need a name as well—a strong name, a courageous name. When she was dead, he would need courage.

“Aenar.”

A strong name. With courage enough to forge a new beginning.

There. Names for her sons, the little princes.

With that last parting gift, she could close her eyes at last.

Goodbye, she tried to say.

I love you, my children.

Be kind to each other.

Love each other always.

Goodbye.

The mist filled her vision, illuminated by a distant light. It was cool, like a late spring morning. She did not hurt anymore. Did not feel anything but an overwhelming sense of peace.

The distant light faded.

The mist darkened.

Through it, she swore she could see grass-green eyes and hear the faraway cry of a babe.

She was still screaming. Good.

Screaming meant she was still alive. Screaming meant Alys was fulfilling her promise. Screaming meant that Aemond was racing back to his wife – his living, breathing, beloved wife – and not her corpse.

The door was still locked when he arrived—one final obstacle between him and his family.

No, not final. Far from it. The door was the only tangible thing keeping him from his wife and children, yes, but there was far more beyond it. The pain he caused her, the hatred his ābrazȳrītsos now surely felt for him, and the third child that would soon be born still kept them as far apart as the earth and stars.

They would get past it. They had to. They were siblings, husband and wife, now destined to become King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They were meant for each other. The gods or fate or whatever else had made her for him and him for her.

They were two parts of the same whole, cleaved.

“Prince Aemond.”

Cregan Stark, the man who humiliated him and his wife mere hours ago, stood behind him. Aemond snarled. “Leave. Now.”

Stark stood strong and still. “You have been my enemy. You may be still, I have not decided. I have no admiration nor respect for you, my prince. In short, I do not like you.”

“Do you want me to kill you?” Aemond asked. He did not wish to greet his sons with blood-soaked hands, but if Stark didn’t close his fucking mouth –

“To lose the woman you love so dearly in this way… it is a pain I know all too well and one I would not wish on anyone. I have instructed all my men to pray for the Princess and the child, and I will join them soon. Negotiations will be postponed indefinitely.”

“I…” Perhaps Aemond had underestimated the brute, if he was a brute at all. And though he knew the prayers were unnecessary, gratitude still dulled his rage. “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

He simply inclined his head and walked away, leaving Aemond leaning against that godsdamned door, listening to nothing but the sound of his own panting breath.

Oh gods.

He froze.

The screaming was gone.

It was silent.

Was she dead?

Had Alys betrayed him?

He would kill her. He would tear her apart with his own hands and –

A child cried.

Then…

Oh, thank each and every god a thousand times over.

For then, Aemond heard his wife laughing.

“Princess?”

She always expected that the voice of the Father would be deep and smooth, but shouldn’t it be the Mother to greet her, given how she died? And shouldn’t the gods greet her by name, not her title?

“Princess, it is time to wake up,” the voice said again. “Open your eyes for me.”

Oh, her eyes were closed. She should open them.

The Heavens were not as bright as she imagined, nor as golden. They were dark and sparsely decorated and looked very much like –

“I am not dead?”

Maester Artos looked down at her and smiled. It reminded her of the few times she had seen her father smile at her, sparking a warmth in her chest she had not felt for years. She had not known she still remembered those smiles. “I am very happy to say you are not, your highness.”

“But, my son – ”

“He lives, too.”

It couldn’t be. After all the suffering of the past year, she could not believe it could be true. Loss had become a certainty, as sure as the sun rising each morning.

A babe cried, and she turned toward the sound. A young maid was wrapping an infant boy with a shock of white curls in a cobalt blue blanket. Daeron.

A different, softer cry came from the other end of the room. There, another boy with only a smattering of silver wisps atop his head was being gently cleaned by a Septa. Aenar.

Her sons – alive and well and here.

She threw her head back against the pillows and laughed.

She laughed with joy and relief, with eight months of eager waiting and sickness. She laughed with a body nearly dead, saved only by some miracle she did not understand. And she laughed with a heart that was both shattered and overflowing.

This was the moment she had dreamed of since she learned she was pregnant, since the moment she married Aemond. She had dreamed of this all her life. It was her destiny, even if it was vastly different from how she had dreamed it. For she was not at home in the Red Keep but within the cursed stones of Harrenhal. Her mother was not by her side but miles away. The family that was supposed to crowd around her and coo over the children were nearly all dead. And her husband…

“Let me in!” he shouted through the door, the wood pounding against stone as he threw himself against it. He had been doing that before, but she did not notice until now. It was so like him, the impatience and need to act, that she laughed again. “Ābrazȳrītsos! Is that you? Tell me you are safe!”

Taking her laughter as permission, Artos opened the door. It was mere heartbeats later that Aemond was upon the bed, his eye flitting over every inch of her, his hands roaming to try and locate something wrong, to stem blood that did not flow or relieve pain that did not exist.

“I’m fine,” she said, breathless. “I did it, lēkia, and I’m fine.”

“You did it?” He looked down at her in utter disbelief and joy before his eye drifted to the Maester. Tears slipped from his eye and caught the light of the setting sun. “She did it…”

Her gaze went to the maid that held her firstborn – the girl with eyes like her mother’s. Fitting, for her to be the one to hold him. But it was her turn. “Bring Daeron to me,” she ordered,” some strength at last returning to her voice. “I want to hold him.”

Aemond stared at her. “Daeron?”

Was he angry that she named their sons without him? She couldn’t quite tell. Her mind was still fuzzy, like the mist she had seen still lay over her, casting everything in a sweet, happy light. She shrugged. “There are already too many Aegons, so…”

He laughed. She had missed that sound – she loved it so dearly. He settled into the bed next to her, their bodies fitting together perfectly, like two halves of a broken plate. So many familiar feelings – the warmth of his arm around her, the rhythm of his heart, his lips kissing her temple in the gentle way that always sent shivers down her spine. Hadn’t her spine hurt not long ago? “Daeron is perfect.”

Indeed, he was absolutely perfect. So tiny and precious as he was put in her arms, looking up at his parents with wide lilac eyes. Neither she nor Aemond said anything as they beheld him, taking in each tiny, perfect detail. The wild curls of his silver hair. Each and every eyelash framing his bright eyes. The pink of his lips. Fingers and toes so wonderfully soft and small. A toothless smile that lit the world.

“He’s going to be king someday,” she realized aloud. How could someone so tiny rule an entire kingdom? He had a lot of growing to do before the Conqueror’s Crown would fit.

“A great king, I think,” Aemond mused. He held out a finger, and Daeron instinctively wrapped his hand around it. “Wise and strong. Daring, like his namesake.”

“He must be kind, too.”

“He will be,” Aemond assured, brushing out her damp, tangled hair with his fingers. The feeling was so familiar, but each touch had her flinching slightly. “We will raise him to be kind. His brother, too.”

“Aenar.”

Aemond stiffened. Had he forgotten they had another son, or did he not like the name she gave him? He pulled his finger back from his son’s fist to touch the babe’s hair. “The Exile?”

“I just thought…” Perhaps it had been a foolish name. But it had felt right when it came to her, when she was on the brink of death. “Our family needs a new beginning.”

“Yes… I suppose it does.” He kissed her again with slightly too much pressure. “Another fine name.”

She looked at the Septa that had been cleaning him. Maester Artos stood with her now, along with several other women, crowding so much she could not see the babe. “I want to hold him, too. Bring him to me.”

None of them moved. The room fell silent.

“Allow me just a moment longer, princess,” Artos said. His voice shook, and he would not look at her or Aemond. “I am still finishing my assessment of the boy.”

He’s dead, her mind insisted. They saved your life at the cost of his. He died because of you.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

Daeron began fussing in her arms, disturbed by how she began to tremble. She failed one son by killing him, and now she was already failing as a mother to the one who survived. Aemond tightened his arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer as his free arm gently lifted their son into his own grasp.

He hushed her, ducking his head to press his cheek to hers. “Lykirī, ābrazȳrītsos. Izūgō daor īlo bēvili gō.” Calm, little wife. Do not panic before we have reason to.

“Kostan daor,” she whimpered. If Aenar was dead…

“Is he alive?” Aemond’s hand moved to shelter Daeron’s head as if to shield him from whatever danger or heartbreak lurked. She turned to press herself into him – into the safety of his arms.

Brother. Husband. Protector.

Why did the feel and scent of him no longer make her feel safe?

“Yes, my prince,” Artos answered.

“Will he remain that way?”

“Yes…”

“You could tell me he’s green-skinned and winged for all I care.” His arm curled protectively around her, but it did not comfort her. Rather, she bristled against it, the possessiveness of it. He did not notice. “He’s alive, and that’s enough. Bring him.”

Artos hesitated but obeyed, hastily wrapping the babe in a dark blanket.

He looked whole – unbroken. Aenar’s eyes were closed as the Maester placed him in her arms, but she could feel his warmth, his little heart beating, and the faint rise and fall of his chest. He only woke when a tear fell from her cheek onto his.

Even then, he did not cry. He only looked at his mother with bright eyes – the same shade of violet as his father's and brother’s. “Ñuha trēso,” she whispered, and he smiled. My son.

“Taobosa sylvȳse,” Aemond added. “He already recognizes the language of his ancestors. He will serve his brother well. Dārys sepār Ondoso zȳhon.” Wise boy. The King and his Hand.

They had two perfect sons. So why did Artos still look like that?

The Maester’s frown deepened. “I am afraid…” he cleared his throat. “It appears that the younger prince was injured during the birth.”

She examined him again but could find nothing wrong. He was perfect. Surely, Artos was mistaken.

“May I?” His large hand hovered over the edge of the blanket.

Her instinct was to pull away, to not let this man touch her son. Yes, he had saved both their lives, but he must be wrong now. Why should she let him make a problem where there was none?

She suppressed that instinct and allowed him to uncover Aenar’s right arm. Artos’ demeanor had made it seem as though something was horribly wrong – that the arm would be missing or deformed. But it was just an arm, small and plump and pale, with a splotch of reddish-purple covering the shoulder like a pauldron.

“It… is it a birthmark?” She brushed a thumb over it, the skin smooth but slightly raised. A birthmark wasn’t an injury, nor was it exceedingly unusual. There were several families where such a mark appeared on nearly every child born.

“Explain yourself, Artos,” Aemond hissed. He looked ready to tear the man to pieces. If he did, he would likely do so without even setting Daeron down.

With a sigh, Artos ran a finger down the length of Aenar’s arm. “Note how he gives no reaction.”

“So he is calm,” Aemond spat. “I fail to see the injury.”

“Do the same to the elder.” He repeated the touch. “Gently, my prince.”

Aemond obeyed with a scowl. The moment he touched the babe, Daeron squirmed and flailed his arm.

“But he looks fine.” She looked down at her second son, her wise boy, and held out a finger, as Aemond had with Daeron. Aenar’s left arm squirmed within its wrappings, but the right was still. She touched the arm, silently pleading with the gods for it to move, for that tiny hand to reach for her.

It remained still. A desperate noise escaped her. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aemond and Artos said in unison. Her husband attempted to pull her into his chest, but she pushed him away. An embrace could not fix this. Nothing could. He did not pursue her again.

“It is not uncommon among children born breech.” the Maester explained. “I have seen many such injuries and many even worse.”

Artos offered no sympathy or apologies, and she was thankful for it. There was nothing he could say to ease the pain of knowing that her son would never be whole, just like his father. But unlike Aemond, he was never even given the chance, wounded from his first breath. What would the people call him? ‘Prince Aenar One-Arm, son of King Aemond One-Eye?’

“What do we do?” She asked her husband, the Maester, the gods. Anyone who may have an answer.

Aemond’s face was drawn with grief – for his son and for himself. “He will adapt, as I did. I will ensure it. He will be stronger for this. I promise.”

I cannot trust your promises.

The thought was a sudden gale of icy wind scattering the lovely mist coating her mind into oblivion, leaving her with only stark, wicked reality and the faint memory of green eyes.

“How did I survive?”

Too quickly, Aemond turned to her, taking hold of her chin and pulling her close to him. “It does not matter, ābrazȳrītsos. All that does is that you are still with me. You and Aenar.”

If he wasn’t holding her firstborn, she would have shoved him from the bed.Liar. Liar. Liar.

I will fix this. he’d said before he left her. The pure, unrelenting anger she felt as she watched him leave had prevented her from considering what those words meant. Now, she could think of nothing else. What could he do? He was no midwife nor Maester. He had no knowledge of childbirth, beyond the few questions he’d asked of Orwyle months ago. What could he have done for her and Aenar except beg the help of another?

Of Alys.

Alys, who had eyes the color of fresh grass and possessed a dark magic that allowed her visions of the future. Was she also able to influence that future?

How?

At what cost?

What had Aemond promised her in exchange for their lives?

“No Maester wants to admit to ignorance,” Artos smiled sadly as Aenar continued to try to wriggle his left arm free of his blanket, “but I cannot explain it. All I can think is that the gods are kind to you, princess, and for that, I am glad.”

She could not look at him or any of the others in the room who watched her as if they could see the Mother’s hand upon her shoulder.

The gods weren’t kind. They were cruel to allow her to now owe her very life, and that of her son’s, to the two people who had destroyed her. Would she ever be able to look upon Aenar and not remember? To not feel her soul torn between unyielding hatred and infinite gratitude?

Yet, she had her life – and her sons. Surely anything was worth that.

Wasn’t it?

“I’m tired,” she said. The day had seemed to last a year, and the sun had not even set. “I want to rest now.”

After what she endured, no one argued.

His ābrazȳrītsos fell asleep mere moments after Daeron and Aenar were settled into their cradles. She did not even wake when Aemond lifted her so the servants could replace the soiled bedding. Just as she had so many times before, she tucked her face into his neck as they sat in the window, sighing contentedly. Now, he lay beside her in the bed, trying to memorize how it felt to have her in his arms.

When she woke, he knew she would never allow him to hold her like this again.

She knew. Somehow, his wife knew what he had done to ensure she and Aenar survived, and she would never forgive him for it for as long as she lived.

But she would live.

Aenar would live. Though he would bear the wounds of his father’s sins forever.

After his wife had fallen asleep, Maester Artos had told him that it would likely be necessary to amputate Aenar’s arm. The purple mark on his shoulder had grown, apparently indicating further bleeding within the limb. If it grew much more before morning, the arm would be removed before midday.

It was his fault, Aemond knew.

Alys had told him that in her visions, both boys had been healthy. But that was before his ābrazȳrītsos knew that he betrayed her. Before he brought her to this cursed place. Before he failed to stop her from meeting Alys and learning the full extent of his sins.

He only hoped Aenar would not grow to hate him for it.

For now, the boy slept in his crib, limp arm hidden beneath the dark blanket he was swaddled in. Aemond rose from the bed, moving closer to his son.

How peaceful he looked now, with the redness of his skin finally faded. He did not have as much hair as his older brother, but his was wilder - more reminiscent of his mother’s curls than his father’s straight locks. At least he had that part of her, if not the warm brown eyes Aemond had hoped for.

In the other cradle, Daeron fussed slightly, though he did not wake. It seemed he resented being confined within the tight swaddle of his blanket. The thought made Aemond smile, remembering how his younger brother once did the same. It faded quickly.

He had to go to Alys. To thank her for giving him his family - a kindness he did not deserve. To say goodbye to the child he would never meet. Another cost he would force himself to pay.

He had to go now, while his ābrazȳrītsos slept.

“Before our wedding,” he whispered, careful not to wake her as he approached, “I promised to hold you every night I could, that I would do anything to return to you when I was away. I have failed to uphold that promise, and for that, I am so sorry.”

When he stroked her cheek, she turned into his touch, a small smile upon her lips. Seeing that some unconscious part of her still reacted to him with love warmed his heart, even as the knowledge that her conscious mind would never allow her to do so felt like a dagger buried in his gut.

Aemond knelt at her side, basking in her beauty, memorizing her peaceful face. “Now, I swear my devotion again. I know you no longer wish for me to hold you, and I promise I will not try to persuade you otherwise. But I swear I will always be with you, to love and protect you, even if I must do it from a distance. I will never fail you again.”

It did not matter that she could not hear his vow. Even if she did, she would not believe him. But he made it anyway, for his own sake, and so the gods, wherever they may be, would hear him. It was to them he spoke next.

“Should I ever harm you again, I pray that the gods will strike me down where I stand. And if they do not, I shall do so myself.” He kissed her brow - the sealing of a promise and a farewell - and left.

A maid shrunk away as she passed Aemond in a corridor deep beneath Harrenhal, cradling the bundle of cloth she carried closer to her chest. It was one of the same maids who had tended to his wife—the young girl with deep brown eyes. She did not wear the clothing of a midwife, but the colors of her linen dress were similar. Perhaps a midwife in training.

Strange, then, for her to be here. Stranger still for her to be seemingly performing the duties of a laundress.

He glanced down at the bundle of cloth she carried and froze.

There was blood. Too much blood.

A young midwife, carrying bedlinens soaked with blood.

What would you sacrifice? Alys had asked.

Aemond ran.

He knew what he would find. There was no other explanation. Yet he still hoped and prayed he was wrong. Loss had followed him like a loyal dog for so long, but today it was banished. It must be.

Alys stood in front of her fire. One hand rested on a stomach that was not as distended as it had been only hours ago.

His wife’s stomach now looked very much the same.

“What did you do?” His voice shook with fear and guilt and shame. Gods, he felt so weak.

Her eyes, cold and distant, slid to his. “What you asked.”

“I didn’t ask you to…” This blood was on his hands - the blood of his child.

The word that had haunted him for more than a year - the word that had nearly led to the death of every person he ever loved - echoed in his mind.

Kinslayer.

Killer of his nephew. His uncle. His child.

Aemond looked back into the corridor, hoping to see the young midwife again. Had he not looked closely enough? Had she been carrying the body of his child within those bloody linens?

“I only wanted you to save my wife and son.” His words were a justification, a plea. It fell on the deaf ears of the gods and the dead child’s mother.

“And you thought there would be no cost?” Alys laughed, cruel and cackling. “No god in the world is so generous as to save a life and ask for nothing in exchange, boy.”

“I didn’t think – ”

“You never do.”

Grief morphed into anger. Reckless, aimless, dangerous rage. “You should have told me!”

“What would you have done?” She faced him fully now, her hand falling to her side. There was no trace of the woman who had once comforted and reassured him - who had kept him sane amidst the insanity of war. There was only annoyance and derision. It reminded Aemond of his dead half-sister and her bastard sons. “If I had told you?”

“I –”

“Would you have left your wife to die? Let her son die?” Alys’ lip curled in a hateful sneer. “You could not choose between wife and son, yet you believe you could have chosen between two sons?”

The world stopped. Only Alys’ flickering fire and burning eyes remained.

“I… it was a boy?” Aemond leaned against the wall, sliding down to his knees, savoring the scrape of the rough stone against his back. He deserved every bit of pain. More.

Alys let a single hint of sorrow slip through her cold façade. “It was. Three sons within a year. What your father would have given to have had the same.”

The last thing Aemond wanted to do was to think about his father. The king who had nearly destroyed his throne by choosing one child over another.

Gods, was he any better?

Did his ignorance of his son’s sacrifice absolve him of blame? The guilt?

It certainly didn’t feel like it.

Alys sighed. “Better for his death to mean something than for his life to be spent destitute and fatherless.”

“I would not have allowed that to happen,” Aemond said. It was a reflex, a reassurance he’d grown used to giving since he learned he seeded a bastard.

“Wouldn’t you? Perhaps if my visions had not changed. But now…” She shook her head, more exasperated than sorrowful. Did she mourn the child at all? “No. You’d have wanted us as far away as possible and done anything you could to not think of us.”

“I would have ensured your comfort.” The words felt as hollow as his chest.

“Your wife would, yes.” Alys smiled fondly, just as she had when his ābrazȳrītsos sat across from her earlier that very day. She had never smiled that way for Aemond. Never truly cared for him. He should have known. “She is kind-hearted. But not you. Your resentment of me, of us, would have festered until you found some way to be rid of us.”

He wanted to deny it. To say that there was nothing that could drive him to do what she insinuated. Once, it would have been true. But now, with the man he’d become in the war and how close he’d come to losing his heart itself, it would be a lie.

If he had killed Alys along with the rest of her cursed family, would he have become this man? Would he have learned to cherish the metallic tang of blood and its warmth as it coated his hands? Would he have become so proficient a liar that false words rolled off his tongue like a Valyrian lullaby? Would he have grown so accustomed to violence that it now came as naturally to him as loving his wife?

Would he have broken his ābrazȳrītsos’s heart?

He’d trusted her visions. It had been a mistake.

One mistake that led to thousands more, and it was all her fault.

Alys was the one who lied, who deceived him. Who had pulled his strings as if he were no more than a puppet, knowing that he was married and his wife was lonely and infirm.

His failure as a husband. His wife’s pain. The death of his third son.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

Aemond’s heart slowed, his breathing becoming deep and steady. No longer the heart of a broken boy or a desperate husband. Now, it was the blackened heart that had carried him through countless battles and raging rivers of blood.

“I will be rid of you now,” he hissed as he stood. “And I will be rid of you forever.”

The bitch had enough sense to look scared.

“In memory of the son you killed, I will allow you to live. But no more than that.” She didn’t even deserve that, this woman who did not mourn her own child. Perhaps it was good that the babe was gone, for surely he would have suffered with a witch as his mother.

He approached Alys, sneering down at her and the false bravery on her wicked face. “As Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I banish you from these lands forever. You have ten days to leave Westeros. After that, if you are ever seen here again…” He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, holding just tight enough to steal a bit of her breath - just enough to make her fight for it.

“I will kill you myself,” he promised. “Without hesitation or remorse, I will kill you. Slowly. And I will savor every moment, for it will bring me far greater pleasure than that withered cunt of yours ever did.”

She fell to her knees when he released her, clutching at her throat as she coughed and gulped for air. He didn’t care. He only turned on his heel and left, not sparing a single glance at the woman who had only hours ago been carrying his bastard child.

Only one woman mattered now, had ever truly mattered to him.

His ābrazȳrītsos was still asleep when he returned to their chamber, as were their sons. They had no idea where he had gone - that he had even left at all. No inkling of the fact that a moment ago, he had again become the man who wiped an entire bloodline from the earth, slaughtered tens of thousands, and delighted in the suffering he had wrought.

Now, as he leaned down to gently kiss his sons’ brows and muss their soft hair, he was a mere man of twenty, his heart bursting with love and affection for his family. How could a heart overflow with such love at the same moment it was fracturing with grief and regret?

It was a question far beyond him at that moment. Perhaps forever beyond his reach.

He was so tired. Too tired to consider the heartbreak that would come when he woke in the morning and his wife pulled out of his grasp. He could face that pain when it came. But now, he needed to feel whole, if only for a few hours.

So, Aemond climbed into bed with his wife, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her into his chest. He remained awake only long enough to kiss the top of her head and whisper, “Jāla tetan, ābrazȳrītsos. Īlon lentot selagon kosti.” It is over, ābrazȳrītsos. We can go home.

She woke to the sound of Daeron fussing. Strange how quickly she was able to tell them apart, even just by their little noises of discontentment. Although, considering she had been with them every moment of the last seven - near eight - months, it may not be strange at all. Perhaps that was why she felt so sure that it had been Daeron who occupied the top of her belly, constantly pestering her with his tiny fists pounding against her at the most inopportune times.

“Hush, little prince,” a soft voice said. “You’ll wake up your mother, and after what you and your brother put her through, I dare say she needs her rest.” A maid was speaking to him, a slight, old woman leaning over his crib. She had not seen the maid before, and somehow, it comforted her.

Daeron continued to grumble. She moved to stand but found Aemond’s arms wrapped around her waist. Thankfully, he was still asleep. Quite deeply asleep, apparently, for when she untangled herself from him, he did not wake.

The maid curtsied when she saw the princess approaching and stepped away from Daeron’s cradle. His fussing had now roused Aenar, but the younger prince made no sound, only glaring at his brother in what seemed to be intense displeasure at his sleep being interrupted.

“Is something wrong with him?” she asked the old maid. Daeron quieted slightly upon seeing his mother but still fussed.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, princess.” The old maid had a kind, soothing voice - that of a wise grandmother. She looked at the babes with fondness and a hint of apology. “They are simply hungry.”

“Where is the wetnurse?” She immediately regretted asking. In her sleepy haze, she had forgotten that Alys was the wetnurse at Harrenhal. Why wasn’t she here? Did she even want Alys here? No, of course she didn’t. Had Aemond requested another be found so she would not have to see Alys again?

The old maid looked away, sighing. “I’m afraid she’s left us. No wonder why, poor thing lost her babe again. Such a shame. We all thought she’d had a miracle with this one. But not to worry, Maester Artos sent some men to find another girl from the closest village.” She shook her head and again leaned over Daeron’s crib. “You’ll be fed soon, darling prince, don’t you worry.”

Alys’ child - Aemond’s child - was dead?

It was a good thing, wasn’t it? There would be no bastard son of the new king, no living reminder of what he’d done. This was good news. She should be happy, shouldn’t she?

But she wanted to cry.

“Mother, forgive me,” the old maid looked horrified as she clutched her pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star. “I should not have said that, princess. Not when you’ve only just finished your own labors. Please, forgive me.”

She glanced at Aenar, now peacefully asleep once more. How close she had come to losing him. It had devastated her. Made her willing to forfeit her own life if only he could live. If she had lost him and had to live with that loss… it would have driven her mad.

“How…” she licked her lips. “How many children has she lost?”

The old maid dropped her pendant. “I do not know, exactly. Enough that we all stopped counting.”

Oh gods. She blinked to clear her eyes, wiping away an errant tear with her thumb. “You said she’s gone?”

“Yes, princess. She left in the night. Didn’t say where she was going, to my knowledge.”

It made no sense. If Aemond had struck a bargain with Alys to save her and Aenar’s lives, why would she leave? Had whatever he offered her not been enough to keep her in the place where she’d lost so many children?

Daeron cried again, his face reddened and wrinkled. He was so hungry, she could nearly feel it herself. She… she could feel it. When she looked down at herself, she saw two dark stains on her chemise right above her breasts. Her milk had finally come in, which meant -

“I can feed them.”

The old maid looked aghast. “Princess, there is no need - ”

“I want to do it.” She was their mother, why shouldn’t she be the one to feed them? It was her body that made them, that brought them into the world. It made sense that it would continue to care for them even now. “Can you show me how?”

It took a moment for the maid to close her mouth before she smiled gently. “I’ve raised nine children myself, princess. I think I know a few tricks.”

The maid had gone by the time Aemond woke.

Daeron was still suckling at her left breast while Aenar had fallen asleep using the right as his pillow. She had not realized how heavy and uncomfortable they had felt until the boys had drunk from her, easing the pressure that she’d become accustomed to.

“You should not be doing that yourself,” Aemond muttered as he raised himself on an elbow. His eye darted from son to son, only ever glancing over her exposed breasts. Once, he loved to worship them, quite similarly to how his sons fed from her now. “Where is the wetnurse?”

Did he not know that Alys had left? Had no one told him of the death of his child?

No. Those were the faint remnants of tear tracks lining his cheeks, and there was a deep sadness in his eye that was not there when he held his sons for the first time. He knew. He knew, and he was grieving, though he was fighting to hide it. She still saw it.

Perhaps that was the real reason he never returned to King’s Landing during the war - he knew she would be able to see the guilt on his face.

“There is no other wetnurse,” she explained gently. “Alys left. They’re looking for another woman now.”

Aemond froze, his gaze growing distant. She could not decipher his expression. Rage? Guilt? Sorrow? Grief?

“I’m sorry, Aemond.” He frowned and shook his head, but she continued. “Truly, I am.”

“It’s better this way,” he whispered. He didn’t believe it. Neither did she.

He reached out to her. No, not to her, but to Aenar, gently stroking his hair. She allowed him to take the babe and hold him against his own chest.

Aenar opened his eyes and looked up at his father. Then, he smiled.

Aemond took in a deep breath. “That boy should never have existed,” he said, letting Aenar take hold of his thumb and mouth at it. “I already had what I needed. And wanted.”

So it was a boy. Another son. A brother for her own. Would he have had his father’s nose, as Daeron did? Or his stern brow, like Aenar? Gods, why did she care?

“You are allowed to mourn him. He was innocent. I bear him no ill will.” Bastard or no, a babe was a babe, blameless of his parents’ sins. Deep in her heart, she mourned him, as well.

Again, Aemond shook his head. “I cannot mourn what never should have been.” He turned his head to face her, face open and pleading. “And I am mourning too much already.”

“I am alive. Aenar is alive. There is nothing to mourn.”

“You know that is not what I mean, ābrazȳrītsos.”

She did. He mourned not for the loss of a life, but for the loss of their life. The life they should have shared, and would have, had Aemond not strayed. In truth, she mourned for it, too.

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Daeron finally finished feeding, stretching his little arms to push her breast away. She pulled her robe closed again to combat the chill.

Aemond raised a hand to help her. She flinched away. He winced in response.

“Ābrazȳrītsos, please.” His voice was already breaking, his eye watering. The sight should have tugged at her heart. His begging should have fanned the flames of her anger. But looking at him, she felt very little of anything, save a small seed of pity. “Alys is gone. My… the bastard is gone. Can we not return to the way we were? Pretend none of this ever happened? Can’t you forgive me at last?”

The answer came without hesitation.

“No, Aemond.”

Within her, there was no longer a grassland, barren with loneliness and despair. The never-ending field of raging fire had also vanished. In its place was a small, lush garden, safely contained within tall stone walls draped with flowers and a polished iron gate – locked firmly, but perhaps not sealed forever.

“I shall always be your sister, your blood, and the mother of your children.” Daeron cooed, as if he knew she was talking about him, and she could not help but smile down at him. “I will remain your wife in the eyes of gods and men. And when Aegon dies, I will be your faithful queen.”

Aemond shook as his breath quickened, failing to keep the heartbreak. “You will be a wonderful queen, ābrazȳrītsos. I know it.”

She pulled away, taking Aenar from him and into her empty arm. “But I will never again be your ābrazȳrītsos.” She forced herself to ignore the whimpering, broken cry that escaped him, the breath that carried it echoing like a death rattle. “I will not share your bed. And I will no longer allow you to hold my heart.”

Between desperate sobs, Aemond raised his head to face her. Utter devastation lay in his eye, but so too did acceptance. Anguished surrender. “My heart is and always shall be yours.”

I don’t want it, her mind told her, even as her heart cried, I will cherish it forever.

But her decision was made. In all but name, their marriage – their once legendary romance – was finished. A few fragments of love remained but would never be repaired. Could never be.

Slowly, she rose from the bed, her sons still in her arms. Aemond began to reach for her, but when she did not even acknowledge him, he covered his face with his hands and wept. Though it tugged at her heart, it was the same she would feel for any man weeping so, no longer the instinctive pull of a wife. She did not comfort him.

The soft, pitiful sounds of Aemond’s grief faded as she walked toward the eastern window, settling herself in the cushioned seat just beneath it.

Daeron smiled, watching the trembling branches of an oak tree dotted with the first tight green buds of the season. Aenar angled his head just so, until the sun warmed every bit of his fat, pink face, then promptly fell asleep. She sighed, taking in the sweet scent of spring on the wind, and realized she had not breathed so easily in months.

It was a lovely morning in Harrenhal.

543 notes · View notes

seospicybin · 7 months ago

Text

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART IV

Hyunjin x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Hyunjin become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (13,8k words)

Author's note: Enjoy the last, LAST chapter of THTH8 and the final season of THTH. ��

"The person leaving the retreat is Hyunjin."

The first thing Hyunjin does is check for you, he cares for your feelings more than his own. He's crushed hearing his name being called out but he can't imagine how it feels for you.

The whole you both standing next to each other, you've been putting a brave face on yet you break into tears the moment he pulls you into his hug.

"You have continued to put your physical urges before emotional connections," Lana says.

He's hugging you so tight because it will be the last time for him to do so until you both meet again, perhaps, outside of the retreat.

"It's okay. I'll be outside there, waiting for you," he assures you, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head.

"Trust me," he convinces you with a tender caress on your cheek.

He has to let go of you to bid farewell to everyone else, his heart is getting heavier for every moment he shares with these people rushes through his head as he gives them a goodbye hug. In the end, he doesn't even remember the bad, he only remembers the good ones.

"Hyunjin, please leave the retreat," Lana says.

He walks back to you for the last goodbye, he wipes the tears rolling down both of your cheeks while putting on a smile for you even though his heart is breaking for not being able to be with you to the end of the retreat.

He kisses your forehead and fondly holds you by the jaw, "I'll see you soon, okay baby?"

You nod with your eyes red and pooling with tears, not able to say anything back to him without breaking into tears again.

"I'll see you soon," he says again with another kiss on your cheek.

He takes a few steps away and then turns around to look at everyone for the last time, like it or not, he finds friends in them and thanks them in his heart for the memories he'll cherish for life.

Especially you, thank you to the lovely and the achingly beautiful you.

With a bittersweet smile, Hyunjin turns around and then leaves.

HYUNJIN: I feel like I've already won with her but at the same time, I've got to go, [heavily sighs] leave this retreat without her.

With your eyes blurry with tears and your knees trembling, you wouldn't make it to the bedroom without Edie's help. "Come lay down," she says, guiding you to your bed and helping you get onto it.

She then sits on the edge of the bed, puts a pillow on her lap, and lets you rest your head on it.

"Oh, my God. I can't believe this," someone else says with a shaky voice and you can tell that it's Vic.

There are so many hands rubbing your back as you keep crying, sobbing into the pillow.

To say that your heart aches from Hyunjin's departure would be an understatement. It feels like someone has stabbed you right in the heart and twisted the knife over and over again.

"Hyunjin's gone," you croak in between your cries, saying those words only makes it unbearably painful.

You roughly wipe your eyes open and can finally see the girls gathering around you, offering their presence and their comfort to you.

"And I can't do anything about it," you croak then drop your head onto the pillow and sob again.

Edie comforts you by softly patting your head and putting away the hair stuck to your wet cheeks.

"Oh, God..." you breathlessly sigh while clutching your chest, "I'm going to miss so much."

"I know," Edie says, wiping the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

Vic finds your hand and squeezes it so tight, she knows she can't help you with anything but being here for you.

"It's going to be okay," a voice says behind you and you look over your shoulder to see Saskia there, landing tender caresses on your back.

How is it going to be okay when your heart breaks into smithereens and Hyunjin takes the pieces away with him? How is it going to be okay when you feel like you're losing a part of yourself? Are you going to be okay at all?

YOU: Obviously, I thought I would have more time with him [sniffles]

In the morning, your heart breaks all over again.

Waking up alone on your bed not only reminds you of your heartbreak but also reminds you that it's real, he really is gone and yesterday was not a dream.

The pain is there, telling you that it's all real.

You drag yourself up and sit with your back against the headboard, and have a sip of water as if it would lessen the stinging pain in your chest.

Noticing that your eyes are blank and looking sad, Edie jumps onto your bed, snuggling up to you and putting her long arm across your chest.

"I'm so happy that you stayed," she mumbles.

Her words warm your heart, and you respond with a caress on her forearm and a smile.

The bed creaks as someone else joins the two of you, also cuddling you from the other side of the bed.

"All of us are happy that you stayed," Saskia says, correcting Edie's earlier remark.

"We'll have the most amazing time," she mutters to you.

It already feels weird waking up without Hyunjin but that doesn't mean you're closed yourself off from having fun.

"Okay?" Edie asks, her big eyes looking right into you.

And it's not fair for other people to have to deal with your somber mood which indirectly affects them too.

"Okay," you answer with a nod and a smile.

It's sweet that they're making sure that you don't feel alone or left out in the retreat. Your partner may have gone but you've been given a chance to continue your journey and time to progress.

"Thank you," you mutter to both of them with a grateful smile.

Edie nuzzles her head further into the crook of your neck, "I love you," she cutely mumbles.

After all, you're not alone on this journey of self-discovery, you have these people you're sharing the journey with.

YOU: I'm thankful that these girls are so supportive. I think everyone here has been very kind and wonderful, I'm lucky.

It does feel weird being here without Hyunjin.

He'd always find you when he has nothing to do and vice versa, and when you're not together, you would find him in just a turn of your head, not far from your sight. You feel each other's presence whenever one of you enters the room.

The connection you have with him is one-of-a-kind, one that you haven't had with someone in a long time.

If he were still here, you wouldn't be alone for the upcoming workshop this afternoon. It has a nice setting with the sunset in the background and every couple has a table for themselves, you end up third-wheeling Remy and Saskia.

There's a cooking station set in front of everyone and not long after, someone enters while waving her hands high at everyone.

"Hello, my loves," she cheerfully greets everyone.

Everyone welcomes her with a round of applause and some cheers. She looks vibrant in her colorful outfit and pink bandana, a smile never wears off her face as she stands in front of everyone for her introduction.

"My name is Rita and I'm a chef," she announces.

"I'm here to teach you how to heat things up," she pauses as his eyebrow raises in intrigue, "and cook."

Rita looks like someone who gets along with everyone just fine, she has that happy-go-lucky vibe going and an infectious smile.

"But I know all of you are more interested in the heating things up part," she says, having some wits in her too.

YOU: I like Rita. She's such a sweet person. She brought a wonderful energy.

The previous workshops were about touching, sexual energy, emotional connection, and now, cooking which is great that you get to experience something different, completely new but not less helpful and educative.

"I think when you cook for someone, it's a sign that they're nurturing their love for them. Nobody cooks for people they don't like, right?" Rita says as she walks around to see everyone face to face.

"Well, unless you plan to poison them," she jokingly adds.

You're not great at cooking but if you have to rate your skill, you can safely say it's average, below average even so it's nice that you have the chance to improve that skill.

"I also think it's important to know that when we cook, we also add our energy, our passion, our love to it."

You find yourself nodding and agreeing to her words, because everything comes back to the intention of why you do something in the first place, if you do it out of love, that person will feel it.

"Seducing through food is a great ace to have up to your sleeve," Rita says with a sly smile, making everyone giggle in response.

She walks back to her cooking station and gets behind it, she puts her hands on the shiny surface to continue talking.

"Me personally, I would fall in love with someone who says something like 'I'm cooking for you today," she says.

Rita starts by taking bowls of ingredients she has prepared and puts them on top of the station. She then scans everyone and her eyes stop at Vic and Edouard's table.

"Come here, you, love!" She points at Edouard.

Edouard looks around thinking that she's talking to someone else and awkwardly gets up from his seat once Vic assures that it's him who got called to the front. He gets picked to cook the appetizer with Rita.

"I will teach you to cook for her," Rita tells him, "Something delicious like you."

She's making Edouard stirring the ingredients she puts inside the big salad bowl all the while explaining the process to everyone.

"We need something crunchy," she says, walking to the back to get something.

She then returns with a bowl of peanuts and puts some into the salad bowl, "You know what? Peanuts make you horny."

Edouard chuckles as he carefully tosses the salad, "We can't get horny here," he says.

"Oops! More peanuts then," Rita cheekily adds more peanuts into the bowl.

Once they finish, they plate it together and have Edouard deliver it to everyone's tables. It tastes sweet and sour, so refreshing, and what you love the most is the whole texture of it. Rita is definitely making it easy for everyone because even if you followed the recipe and everything, there's no guarantee that it'll taste this good.

For the main course, you get the honor to cook it with Rita. You're more than glad to make yourself useful and put your mind off things, and also to let Remy and Saskia have the table for themselves.

The first thing you do as you get behind the cooking station is check the ingredients and try to guess what Rita is going to cook with them.

"Why are you by yourself?" She asks you.

You politely chuckle and answer, "Lana sent my man home."

"Why?" She curiously asks.

"We spent too much money," you shyly reveal.

"How much?"

You never really calculated how much money you've spent until she asks you, "About 70 grand?" You give her a rough calculation.

Rita lets out a gasp and her eyes widen in surprise like a cartoon character, "Girl, what did you do?" She asks with a gentle shove at your shoulder.

"Spicy stuff, mostly," you playfully respond.

She takes your hands and holds them as she looks at you, "You look like a good girl but you're pretty naughty, huh?"

You nod, admitting her words with a shy laugh.

Rita is a great teacher, she gets you through each step with so much patience and you try your best to keep up with her as she tosses ingredients as she pleases. She checks the food once in a while to make sure it's well-seasoned and thoroughly cooked.

"What's the key ingredient in all food?" She asks you out of the blue.

You have to stop stirring the sauce on the pan to think of an answer, you're torn between a philosophical answer and a forthright answer.

"Love?" You settle on the former.

Rita's smile wavers a little, "I was thinking salt but yeah, okay, that too," she jokes.

You continue with the cooking while everyone else laughing at your answer but you don't feel offended at all, if anything, it feels good to make them laugh.

"Love means salt in food," Rita says as she adds a pinch into the saucepan.

You finish your task by delivering plates of food to everyone while Andy and Remy deliver cocktails they made together.

Once you're done, you come back to your seat at the table and have a bite of the food you cooked. It tastes better than you imagined, it's even better because you cooked it, and somewhat rewarding.

YOU: I think we can apply a lot of what we've got in this workshop to our lives. I really believe that when you cook for your partner, they can feel what you're trying to express to them.

Since Edie is a vegan, Rita calls her to the front to cook her meal together while everyone is busy having their main course.

"I know you're vegan so I'm making something special for you," she says to her.

"Thank you," Edie sweetly mutters.

"Everyone deserves to eat. How could I leave you out?" Rita kindly says.

Frida is handed the task of preparing the desserts for everyone and gets to decorate the plates together with Rita. As for you, you just can't wait to have a taste of it because it looks so appetizing.

When the dessert finally gets to you, it's so beautifully plated that you don't want to ruin it, but at the same time, you can't wait to dig into it.

"Can I save some for later?" Saskia asks Rita who's watching everyone eating her food well.

You take a moment to look at everyone to see how everyone is truly enjoying their food and you believe it's because Rita cooked it with her positive energy, passion, and love as she said.

This one made it to one of the most memorable moments in the retreat.

Seeing that everyone is close to finishing their desserts, Rita gets to the front of the station and clasps her hands together in front of her.

"I'm here to talk to you about love and one of the most sublime lessons I've learned in life is to spread all the love I have inside," she says with a smile.

She looks at everyone from left to right and continues talking, "Some people paint, some people dance, some people sing, well, I... I cook. I found myself like this, and I think finding ourselves is a good part of life," she says.

Everything she said is so heartwarming that you find yourself smiling listening to her talking which is exactly what you need after a torturous day you've had yesterday.

"This is the only one of many beautiful moments you'll have from now on, whether it's around the kitchen, on the dining table, or lying on a bed," she says with a grin.

Rita takes a breath before continuing, "After all, the best thing in life is to love and be loved."

Everyone is applauding in agreement to her words and simply in gratitude for the food, and this valuable workshop she shared with everyone.

"See you, lovely people," she concludes the workshop with a hand kiss at everyone and her infectious smile of hers.

YOU: Food definitely brings people together. Everyone was laughing, everyone was interacting. They're enjoying the food and the company they're with.

The villa is empty since the couples are being sent on dates. Remy and Saskia left this afternoon, then Vic and Edouard left not long after them while Diego and Frida will leave later.

The rest of us are hanging out in the swimming pools and enjoying most of the retreat since it's getting close to its end.

"How are you feeling?" Andy asks, brushing his wet, blond hair to the back.

"Well, it comes and goes, you know," You turn over to lay on your back and stack your hands under your chin.

It's hard not to miss Hyunjin when you used to spend most of your days with him in every part of this villa. The pain comes whenever something reminds you of him and it goes when you remember his promise that he'll be outside waiting for you.

That's how your day goes with pain that comes and goes like the waves.

While waiting for everyone else to come back from their dates, you're getting ready for a party Lana is throwing tonight, probably the last one in the villa.

You're about to do your hair when you see Vic and Edouard coming into the room, holding hands and smiling ear to ear.

"Oh, my God!" Edie squeals in reaction to their return.

You put down your hairdryer and look at them, "How was your date, guys?"

Emilie abruptly stops curling her hair and joins in to grill the couple with questions, "Tell us everything!"

"We went on a boat, we had fun cocktails and talked," Edouard answers.

"It was romantic with the sunset in the back," Vic adds another detail.

Edouard glances at Vic before continue talking and licks his lips, "It seemed like the perfect opportunity to ask her something," he says.

Edie is flapping her hands in excitement, kind of guessing where the talk leads to.

"What did you ask?" Andy asks with his shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders.

"I asked her to be my girlfriend," Edouard answers with a big smile.

The girls are cooing in unison but you quickly hush them since the story isn't finished yet.

"And what did you say, Vic?"

Vic can't contain her happiness, she breaks into a wave of giggles and nods, "I said yes."

Cheers erupt in the room and everyone comes to the couple to congratulate them on their relationship.

"I've fallen for him so badly," Vic shyly admits.

Edouard is gushing hearing her sudden confession and pulls her close to his side. He then remembers something that he hasn't shared with everyone, "We also got a green light!"

As someone who has seen them from day one, you must admit that they've come a long way and you couldn't be happier for them. At the same time, it's hard to not get jealous of them, and even harder not to think of Hyunjin in a time like this.

YOU: I'm very happy for them but obviously, the only thing on my mind is Hyunjin. I just miss him so much [sighs]

Andy leads the toast to start the party, making everyone raise their glasses in the air, and shouts Lana's name out loud at the count of three.

"Here's for Lana!"

"Lana!" Everyone shouts and collectively takes a sip of wine.

You allow yourself to soak in this moment for you couldn't get it anywhere else, and these people you thought were strangers at first, now become your friends that you'll cherish for a long time.

It would be a lot more meaningful if you get to finish it with Hyunjin but alas, you're proud of yourself nonetheless to be able to get to the endpoint. You decide to sit the rest of the party and watch everyone dancing to the blaring music while quietly sipping your drink.

Frida joins you and leans in to ask you against the loud music playing, "How are you doing, my darling?"

You swallow your drink first to answer her, "I'm having a good time with everyone but I can't lie, I miss him."

Frida smiles and nods, "I can see that."

Everyone knows you're not good at hiding your feelings so it comes as no surprise that she can see it, "But it's normal, right? If anything it shows that my feelings for him are deep and real."

"Of course!" She shortly replies.

"I think about him and the memories we could've had. He's not only my partner, but he's also my best friend like... I don't even think about the physical stuff anymore. I genuinely miss him," you openly share with her.

You miss his cute morning greeting, you miss having conversations with him, you miss listening to his random ideas and you simply miss being around him. You miss him with your whole heart.

Someone lets out a scream and you almost jump on your seat, Frida is as startled too. Then everyone looks in the direction of the stairs that leads down to the beach and you turn your head to see someone appears.

"Who is that?" Edie asks in a panic.

No one can see who it is with the mysterious person wearing a hooded black cape and looking down to hide his face. The figure keeps walking and stops in front of everyone, slowly revealing himself by pulling his hood down.

"Oh my goodness!" You let out a loud gasp in reaction to his return.

It's really him, it's Hyunjin and he's coming back.

YOU: This is one of the happiest moments in my entire life. And he just looks so good in all black.

Hyunjin is ecstatic to see everyone's reaction to his return, especially you. You light up the second he reveals that it's him and you come running to him, throwing your arms around him to welcome him with a tight, warm hug.

He lifts you off the ground and holds you just as tight, feeling his heart getting less heavier the longer he holds you.

Realizing that there are other people, he slowly puts you down to give everyone else a hug as well.

"I can't believe it!" Edie exclaims, jumping on her feet while hugging you from the side.

Andy is still in disbelief as well, he roughly brushes his hair to the back and asks, "Are you staying, bro?"

"Yeah. Tell us what is going on?" Frida hesitantly asks.

Hyunjin uses the opportunity to explain what happened to him after he got sent home by Lana that day.

"As I got kicked out of the retreat, Lana decided to give me a second chance," he says.

"I went through a one-on-one workshop. It was intense but I learned so much about myself and it'll help me moving forward," he pauses in the middle to look at you, "especially with you."

You brightly smile as he points at you and you come to his side, hugging him with eyes that flicker as you look at him.

"Which is why I'm here," he says to everyone.

HYUNJIN: I'm back, baby! [Grins]

Hyunjin is glad to be back here.

He has had to work on himself, he changed his outlook on things but the biggest thing he's taking from the entire experience is that he has a genuine connection with you.

You take him by the hand to the bedroom to have some privacy so you can comfortably catch up with each other.

"You're back," you happily exclaim as you enter the bedroom.

You turn around on your feet and look at him, "Can't believe you're back," you say again.

He takes your other hand and pulls you into a hug, "I'm here baby," he assures you that his presence is real and not just your imagination.

"I missed you," you mutter with a long sigh, a sigh that lets out all of your worries and restlessness.

"Missed you too, baby," he mutters back. In fact, he never missed someone this much in his entire life.

You both stay like that for a moment until he takes you to sit on your shared bed. He endearingly brushes your hair to the side and holds the side of your face.

"How are you?" He softly asks.

"I felt like grieving a death these past couple of days," you answer with a sad pout, "what about you? You need to fill me in about everything."

"That day... So many emotions going through me. Confusion, anger, there was so much that I can't even explain it to you," he replies, letting out a sigh that describes how overwhelmed he was that day when Lana sent him home.

"Let me tell you when I was away, I missed everyone," he says, lacing his hand together with you on his lap, "but you were on my mind 24/7."

There wasn't a moment where Hyunjin didn't think of you, it was what kept him going and eventually earned his way back here.

A smile rises on your face and oh, how he missed it, that smile cures all of his sorrow away and replaces it with something that wraps his heart warmly.

"I'm so happy you're here," you say to him with a blissful smile that shows him how much you meant those words.

You crash yourself at him, burying your face in his chest as he hugs you close while putting soft kisses on the top of your head.

You look up at him and smile with your eyes closed, "It still feels like a dream to me."

The melodic chime shatters the tender moment and Hyunjin immediately breaks the hug to face the cone.

"What's up, Lana?" He asks the cone. He glances at you and you give him a puzzled look in return.

"Hyunjin, through your one-on-one workshop, you were able to access your true feelings about your partner, proving to me that your connection is more than skin deep," Lana says.

Hyunjin nods and keeps holding your hand on his lap as he intently listens to what Lana is saying.

"However, actions speak louder than words. Which is why you will both be put to the ultimate test."

Of course, the thought of being put into another test makes him nervous because the last time he had it, he lost everything. This time he's sure will be different, he has learned to control his urges and is more prepared now.

"A night alone in the suite."

However, a test is a test and it's not going to be easy.

"While I was absent, the total sum of your rule breaks was $90,000," Lana informs, "If you refrain from breaking the rules tonight, you will win back all the money for the group."

Finding out how much his reckless act costs him that night at the suite, he realizes how selfish and how big of a mess he made for the group. Now, he's given the chance for redemption and he has to take it.

He looks at you and says, "Time to repay our debt."

"I have gathered the rest of the group at the cabana. You must now tell them of your challenge," Lana orders.

He takes a deep breath and answers her, "Challenge accepted, Lana!"

HYUNJIN: It's going to be the hardest test for me but will all the stuff I've gone through in the workshops, I'll show how much I've improved myself.

As Lana said, everyone has gathered in the cabana and waiting for both of you. It feels so awkward standing facing everyone, it's like he's trying to admit a crime he hasn't even committed yet

"We have news for you guys," you start the talk.

Hyunjin takes his turn to continue while steadily holding your hand, "Basically, Lana told us that we've got a night at the suite," he announces.

He can see that they don't take the news well because the last time you and he were in that suite, all hell broke loose so why the final test has to be held there he guesses is what everyone reckons.

"This is the final test," he says, emphasizing the importance of it, "If we pass this Lana will give back $90,000 to the prize fund."

Everyone is cheering at the mention of how much money will be gained from it but the key to success here lies in whether you both pass the test or not.

"Lord, help us all..." Diego sighs loud enough for him to hear it.

He understands that some people are still skeptical about him if the workshops really worked on helping him with his physical urges. But that's the motivation he needs, it encourages him to prove them wrong.

"The only way to make you guys proud is to pay you guys back," he says.

"That's right," Remy says, nodding along to his words.

You look at him before looking back to everyone, "Wish us the best of luck?"

No one says anything and it's getting awkward with each passing second goes in silence.

"Well, we've got nothing left now so please, do us proud," Andy says, representing everyone as he said it.

You look at each other at the same time that you both crack into laughter, he takes your hand and waves bye at everyone to leave for the private suite.

"Oh, yay! We get to go to suite again," you lowly exclaim and giggle.

HYUNJIN: It'd be nice to pay the debt to everyone but when I'm with her, the tension goes... [whistles] through the roof.

It feels like a dream still that Hyunjin is here.

The second you enter the private suite, you turn around and hug him again, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and drinking in his natural scent that you didn't know you missed so much.

"Missed you so much," you tell him again and again because telling him once is not enough and even though you're with him, you're missing him still.

He hugs you back and kisses you on the neck, without warning, hoisting your body to take you to bed.

The suite is decorated similarly to the first time you got here, the room is dim and lit candles lined up on one side of the wall, rose petals on the bed, a bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket of ice, the sex toys and condoms are present and ready to use.

You don't need any more pointers to sex, the room itself reminds you of what you did the last time you were here. Not going to lie, you get butterflies from the flashbacks.

Hyunjin swiftly pops open the wine and fills the flutes with bubbling wine.

"Do you remember what we did the last we were here?" You playfully ask him.

He licks his lips after sipping his wine, making them wetter and redder like a ripe cherry.

"When I told you you were on my mind 24/7, our time in the suite is included," he shamelessly admits.

"Which one?" You ask with a sly smile.

"The second time," he shortly replies.

It's impossible not to think about it when you had sex in this very room, on this very bed and the person you did it with is with you. You can see that he's thinking of the same thing too and despite everything, it was special for both of you.

"It means that it's our third time in suite," you remark, hooking your fingers on the belt loop on his jeans.

He leans in and puts your hair to the side so he can place a gentle kiss on your jaw. With his mouth only an inch away from your ear, he asks, "And you know what they say?"

"What?" You lowly ask back.

"Third time is a charm," he replies with a smirk and another kiss on your cheek, a little too close to the corner of your mouth.

You refrain from sexual stuff just fine when you're alone but when you're with him, all of your senses and everything you learned in this retreat are out of the window. He has that much influence on you and that's what makes him dangerous.

"Should we make a toast?" You suggest, raising your glass to the middle.

"Sure."

You clink your glasses together and say, "The third time is a charm."

"Third time is a charm," Hyunjin repeats the words while devilishly smiling at you and his teeth faintly biting his lower lips.

YOU: We did it once but I'm afraid, it'd only make us crave it more [bites lips]

You stand facing the sink and carefully take off your earrings, then your necklaces next, unclasping them one by one while Hyunjin checks the bathwater.

He then walks up to you, noticing that you probably need his help, "Need help?"

"Help me with the dress, please?" You sweetly ask as you place all of your pieces of jewelry into the soap holder.

"Okay," he obeys, putting all of your hair to the side before slowly unzipping your dress. He parts it open, exposing your back to the cool night air.

"Want me to take it off of you too?" He offers with his knuckles lightly caressing your back.

"Yeah, sure," you answer.

Hyunjin looks at you through the mirror as he pulls the straps of your dress down your arms and instead of keep pulling it down, he pulls it over your head and you raise your arms to the air to make it easier for him.

You can hear his low sigh as he takes a look at the reflection of your naked body in the mirror and he doesn't hesitate to slip his arms under and around you.

"My baby is so beautiful," he murmurs with his plush lips on your shoulder and drags them to your neck.

It feels a lot more arousing as he's holding your naked body while still fully dressed, you can feel his rough clothing making friction with your skin with the slightest of his movements.

"Mind your hands, please," you remind him as his hands slide down to your thighs.

He immediately rests his hands on each side of your waist and kisses your neck before pulling away. While you're putting your hair into a bun, you quietly watch him taking his clothes off through the mirror.

He's a lot more attractive than the one you imprinted in your mind, you wouldn't say he's muscular but he has muscles in the right places and they contracted when he's taking his shirts over his head, sending his hair disheveled.

You hurriedly distract yourself, taking care of the bath and turning the faucet off. You check the temperature once more by dipping your hand into the water.

"Bath is ready," you announce.

When you look over your shoulder, Hyunjin is already standing behind you, naked. You suddenly get nervous at how close he is, you can feel the heat his body emitting.

"You need help to take it off too?" He teasingly asks, picking at the thin strap of your underwear.

"If you want to," you coyly answer.

Hyunjin surely won't skip the chance to get physical with you, you stand still while hugging yourself as he takes your underwear off for you. He slowly pulls it down until it's pooling around your ankle and you kick it to the side.

"Are you going to help me get into the tub too?" You tease with a sly smile on your face.

To your surprise, he lifts you newlywed style and gently puts you down into the tub, showcasing his strength and the muscles on his arms.

"Anything else I can help you with?" He sweetly asks.

You take his hand and pull him close, leaving only a few inches between your faces. Seeing him this close and not being able to kiss him is a real torture.

"Actually yes, can you get the wine, please?" You politely ask with a soft smile.

YOU: I know for a fact that we can't be close to each other because if there's a spark, we'll catch a fire.

Memories are coming back, you and him in the bathtub, the water is warm but the temperature keeps on rising and rising. It's a scene that was once very familiar to him.

He'll never get used to seeing your naked body, you'll always appealing, alluring, and irresistible to him, it takes everything in him to not follow the urge to put his hands all over you.

The plan is to try to keep himself away from you but it seems like he already failed on that.

"Want to come to you," you say, putting your glass away and crawling over to him.

Unfortunately, your hand slips down the edge of the tub, sending you collapsing onto him but he's quick to catch you and steady you.

"Are you okay?"

You laugh as you rub your elbow, "I'm okay."

To avoid more accidents, he allows you to sit straddling him inside the tub, your hands are around his shoulders and your eyes are boring into his, filled with filthy ideas just like his.

"Let's get to know each other," you say.

He keeps his hands gripping the edges of the tub instead of on you, "Okay."

Your head is hovering above him and beads of water are dropping from the end of your hair onto his chest, "What's your favorite position?"

He kind of expected that the question would be about sex and he was right. Instead of running away from it, you're going straight for it, leading him into it. He drops his head to the back and groans.

"We shouldn't even think about it," he grumbles.

You're chuckling and lifting his head back to face you by supporting the nape of his neck with your hand, "We're just getting to know each other," you innocently say.

Hyunjin touches his lips as he thinks of an answer. He can think of his favorite positions but he can't help but think of the ones he wants to do with you. Then he looks at you and how you're straddling him, the way your eyes look down at him.

"I think this is the best position," he finally answers.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and place your hand on his chest, "Me on top is your favorite position?"

"I said best position for you, not for me," he explains it to you with a grin, "But I know I'd enjoy it nonetheless."

You giggle in response and lean in to kiss his neck, he's not expecting you to keep going at it, making a trail of kisses down the column of his throat.

This is not good and if he lets you keep going, he's not sure he can restrain himself anymore. He puts his hand on your neck and turns your head to make you look at him.

"We're here to talk so let's talk," he softly says, he gently touches your cheek with his thumb.

You nod and smile, leaning in while tightening your arms around his shoulders.

"Well, I'm so happy for us," you bump your nose against him, "Can you see that I'm so into you?"

It's hard to focus on the talk when your nipples are lightly grazing his chest. He has to actively tell his brain to keep it together.

"I never thought I'd meet the one here," he mutters to you.

You slip your hand into his hair, playing with his little ponytail and twirling it around your finger.

"Am I the one?" You ask with a shy smile.

He stares into your eyes which slowly enchant him, "You are the one."

He can't even believe that he said that out loud and his mouth would get ahead of his brain, but that doesn't make it less true. You are the one for him.

"I'd love to kiss you right now," you murmur with your lips merely inches away from his.

He immediately stops you from following your desire, he holds your face with both hands and keeps you close, "I'd love to do a thousand things to you but..." he can barely finish his sentence, he ends it with a sigh instead.

HYUNJIN: She's not making it easy for me, especially in the suite.

Bath time is over doesn't mean the temptation ends there too. You're dressed in a flimsy night dress that leaves so little to imagination and you catch him staring through it yet do nothing to stop him from doing it.

Hyunjin knows you secretly enjoy being ogled on like this.

"I feel like I need to test you a little bit," you say.

He lets out a chuckle, "Why?"

You put your hand across his chest and hover above him, "I need to know that you can be around me and you know, be good," you say with a nonchalant shrug.

He puts his hands under his head to prevent him from touching you, "I think I can. That's why I'm back," he not-so-confidently says.

"Okay," you repeatedly nod and touch his chest, caressing his soft, warm skin, then pour some wine onto it.

"What are you doing?" He asks with a suppressed moan as the wine streams down his front.

"I owe you a body shot, remember?" You coyly say, leaning in to drink the wine right from his body.

Hyunjin watches as you lick and suck the wine on his abdomen, you don't even hesitate to use your tongue to collect the droplets of wine on his abs.

"Oh, look at you being naughty!" He murmurs, feeling aroused at how you give him seductive gazes once in a while.

You giggle in response and continue your trail of kisses up to his neck and start nibbling on his ear, making his eyes flutter open and shut, immersed in the pleasure.

He has to use his hand to stop you or else, he'll get too worked up and—

You pull away and sit on the bed, tugging the hem of your night dress to take it off and leaving only your silk underwear on.

"And what are you doing now?" He asks, thinking that he's safely made it after that kinky body shot.

"You're okay with me sleeping naked tonight, right?" You say, tossing the night dress at him.

This is unfair. He's trying to be good and here you are, making it hard for him, literally and figuratively, and it's like everything he learned in that workshop evaporated from his head the second he sees your naked body.

You crawl over to him and just stay like that, hovering above him, teasing him with your body and how your breasts hang close to his face.

Using his knuckles, Hyunjin caresses your sternum down to your abdomen, then rests his hands on each side of your waist. How did he get himself into this compromising position?

"I'm anxious," he mutters.

You slowly lay yourself down on top of him and prop your elbow against the mattress to support your head, "Why?"

"Because I'm able to do whatever I want with you," he murmurs with his hand continuously rubbing the soft skin on your back.

You swipe your thumb across his lips and turn his head to face you, "If it were up to me, we could just say fuck it."

He slyly grins and licks his lips, making them glisten under the dim light, "Should we?"

You place a hot kiss on his neck and another on the sensitive skin behind his ear, then you softly whisper to him, "I say let's enjoy ourselves."

HYUNJIN: Despite everything, I think we deserve this last suite.

In the morning, it rains down kisses on your back, shoulder, and neck. He stretches his arm out, gesturing you to rest your head on it so he can pull you closer and peppering you with more neck and shoulder kisses.

"Morning," he hums to you.

"Morning," you mumble with eyes barely open.

You both stay like that for another moment, cuddling each other and simply enjoying each other's presence in comfortable silence.

After a while, he looks over your shoulder and says, "I had a great night last night."

You hold his hand and clutch it close to your chest along with the duvet, "Me too."

The morning continues with breakfast, you borrow Hyunjin's shirts since you're wearing nothing but your underwear. It really brings back the memory of the first time you went to the suite together with him.

While you're busy chewing your food, he suddenly grabs your elbow.

"You have a bruise, babe," he informs you with his thumb gently rubbing on it.

You put down your fork and immediately have a look at it, there's a blossoming bruise right below your elbow.

"Oh?" You guessed it was from last night when you accidentally slipped in the tub.

"Does it hurt?" His voice is tinted with concern.

"Well, it's your fault," you grumble at him and pick up your fork to continue eating.

He looks so puzzled at your words, making you want to tease him more.

"You were so rough last night," you jokingly add with a grin.

"Not that you minded last time," He replies with a cheeky response, then aggressively throws himself at you and attacks your neck with kisses.

There's not much time left in the suite, you head straight to the bathroom after breakfast, wash up, and change into a new pair of bikini. You're brushing your hair and tying it into a ponytail since you didn't take any of your hair products with you.

Hyunjin lifts you by the waist and sits you down on top of the sink, deciding to seduce you at the last minute, kissing you all over your chest and neck. Moans are spilling out of your parted mouth as he drags his full lips along your collarbone, then kisses the base of your throat.

He cages you between his arms and slightly bends down to be on the same eye level as you. The way he looks at you fondly yet intensely gets your heart flips and your belly turning at the same time. You keep your hands on his chest just in case he tries to do something.

However, you're not sure you can restrain yourself too when he looks this good with his hair slightly tousled and his lips are merely inches away from yours.

He then leans in, bringing his mouth to the side of your head, "I can put it in for a bit," he seductively whispers with his breath tickling your ear.

If you were anywhere than here, you would have crumbled in front of him in a second. Thankfully, you remember the task at hand and immediately push him away.

"Come on, we have to go!"

YOU: [Chuckles] It's kind of hard to resist him because I'm really, really attracted to Hyunjin.

The two of you going to the bedroom since everyone else is still there, probably waiting in anticipation whether we win that $90,000 back or not.

"What are we going to say to them?" Hyunjin asks.

"The prize fund is zero so I guess there's no money to lose here," You jokingly answer.

Hyunjin pushes the door of the bedroom and lets you in first. You see that everyone is still sitting on their beds and the chatter abruptly stops when they see you enter the room.

You both keep your facial expression calm and plain as you take a seat on the bench sofa in the middle of the room with Lana sitting prettily on the table at the end of the sofa.

Hyunjin looks at everyone and then at you, "Do you want to start?"

Well, you haven't thought of what you want to say but everyone is looking at you in anticipation and waiting for you to say something.

You open your mouth to speak but the cone gets ahead of you, Lana chimes and lights up.

"Last night, you both faced the ultimate test," Lana goes straight into business.

"If Hyunjin could put what he learned into practice, and as a couple you could refrain from breaking any retreat rules, the prize fund will be increased from $0 to $90,000."

You keep looking at the cone as she speaks and at times, glancing at Hyunjin.

"However, what I did not see was that your partner would be the problem."

Lana doesn't have to expose you like that, you were just having a little fun last night. You dramatically roll your eyes at the cone then look away.

"Even though she was successful in sexually arousing Hyunjin, he was able to dig deep, hold firm, and respect the rules of my retreat."

The most important part of it all is that you did not break the rules but okay, you'll let it slide because Lana is going to give back that $90,000.

"Which means the prize fund now stands at $90,000," Lana announces.

"Oh, yeah!" Diego triumphantly shouts and punches the air at the same time.

Andy is loudly whistling in reaction while everyone else is applauding the two of you for successfully paying your debts.

"Proud of you, guys," Edie cheerily says with a big smile on her small face.

"This is what you called growth," Remy says with two thumbs up.

It does pay to be good and you're happy that you don't owe anyone anything now. You can't say that it was easy to pass the test but you're proud of yourself for not acting selfishly and proving that you both have grown personally and as a couple.

"As a reward for showing restraint and putting the interests of the group above your own, I'm sending you on a date this afternoon," Lana adds.

Hearing that gets you to jump up and crash yourself at Hyunjin, and thankfully, he catches you right on time. Instead of putting you down, he hoists you higher and gives you a spin.

"Aww, stop it! You guys are so cute," Vic says in jealousy.

YOU: The last few days have been so hard for both of us. We earned this date. [Squeals] Oh, I'm just so excited!

Hyunjin meticulously picks his outfits for the date.

He settles on a light blue shirt and dark swimming trunks, he ties his long, dark hair half up and half down, and he uses his cologne with the scent you like so much.

As he waits by the beach for you, he's organizing his thoughts and planning on the things he wants to say to you. He has a plan in mind but he hasn't figured out how to do it yet, but more importantly, how to get the best outcome.

There you are, looking so beautiful with a smile that is brighter than the sun, walking up to him and only him. He holds his hand out of you even though you're still out of his reach.

"Have you been waiting long?" You ask the second you take his hand.

"Not long enough, apparently," he jokingly replies.

A boat takes you to a small island where the staff has prepared a nice picnic, along with a basket of food and a bottle of wine.

It's such a nice date, the sun is about to set for the day and there's no one in sight, it's just you and him, enjoying each other's company.

"You look amazing," he compliments you and how you look in your floral sundress.

"Thank you, baby. So are you," you compliment back with a smile.

He still doesn't know how to start, he can't just suddenly talk his feelings out but he knows he has to consider that he has limited time to do it, this date won't last forever and if he doesn't do it now, he'd only allow himself to keep retreating.

"I'm going to be honest, it's your physical caught my attention first," he confesses.

You smile and keep your eyes on him, letting him finish his talk while holding your champagne flute close to your mouth.

"I can't even say anything bad about you. You're stunning, undeniably beautiful," he awkwardly raises his hand at you.

Your smile grows wider and brighter, flustered from his words.

"But what truly amazed me was what you have inside. You're beautiful inside and out, and I admire you for that," he sincerely tells you as he lovingly stares at your face.

He puts down his glass of wine so he can take your hand and holds it in his, he looks at you again with a facial expression that turns a little tense from a while ago.

"I learned a lot with everything we've been through," he says, his thumb lazily rubbing the back of your hand as he speaks.

"We've come a long, long way," he adds.

Realizing that the talk is getting serious, you also put your drink away and give all of your attention to him.

"Yeah," you agree with a light nod.

"And for as long as I can remember, my emotions have been so shut off. I never felt what I feel for you with anyone else, ever," he emphasizes every word to let you know how much he means it.

You tilt your head to the side without taking your eyes off of him, and a smile that never wears off even for a second.

"You've brought out a vulnerable side of me I never wanted to bring out," he admits.

You nod again to show him that you are present and listening to every word he's saying.

"You made me realize that I do have a heart and I'm willing to take whatever risks are to come," he continues.

The smile on your face wavers a bit and you ask, "Are you sure?"

He nods and confidently answers, "Yes."

His next question is the one that he dreads to ask you but he has to, he has to know what you think before he can continue with the most important of all.

He gulps air and bravely asks, "What do you think about doing long distance relationship?"

He thought asking it would be the scariest part but it's not, it's waiting for the answer.

"Well, that's going to be a big challenge," you honestly answer.

For the first time, you break your eye contact with him and add, "The thought of it is scary to me."

The answer is making him nervous and he suddenly doubts his decision to ask you the big question. He gets caught between two choices: continue his plan and risk getting rejected or abort the plan and try again next time?

Risk it or play it safe?

HYUNJIN: I want her to be my girlfriend but the one thing that scares me the most is the person I've fallen for lives on the other side of the world.

It seems like something you said displeased Hyunjin in a way, maybe you said something he doesn't want to hear and you understand if he feels that way, you just want to keep it honest with him.

Since Hyunjin has done talking, you take the turn to tell him about your feelings and more. It's impossible to put your feelings into words but you try your best at it.

But first, you close the gap between your bodies, you scoot closer to him, and put your clasped hands on your lap.

"Hyunjin," you softly call him to get his attention.

"Yes?" He sweetly replies.

"I loved meeting you and getting to know who you really are," you barely began but you're feeling emotional already, "I loved how we've fallen for each other so fast but at the same time, it was natural and nice."

He keeps his eyes on you and at times, keeps your hair tucked to your ear from the sea breeze.

"We got to talk about our lives and exchange thoughts and ideas too," you continue while trying not to break into tears in between your words.

"And the way you're always there for me, oh..." you let out a sigh with eyes closed, "it's amazing."

From what he said earlier, you get it now that he's dreading the same thing with you. Once the retreat ends, the two of you have to go back home and live far away from each other. You can't even bear losing him for those two days after he got eliminated so what makes you believe you can stand living far away from him?

It's hard but it's not about capability, it's whether you're willing or not. For him, you're willing to do anything.

"Someone a million miles away that's worth it will always be worth it," you tell him.

He looks so tense that you doubt he catches the meaning of what you said to him so you simplify it for him.

"No man I've ever met is worth it," you hold his hand tighter and continue, "Except you."

The warmth and the glow on his face return almost immediately like someone has turned up the brightness on his face.

"I've never liked someone as much as I like you and I'm willing to make it work," you remark.

Hyunjin looks relieved but you can see that he's holding something back, you sense he still has something else to say to you.

"Um..." he tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear.

You lean in close and curiously ask, "What?

He looks up and he immediately holds your eyes in an intense gaze, "I would like to go to the next step," he says.

It's like someone holds your heart and squeezes it tight, making you hold your breath without you wanting to.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Hyunjin asks with eyes that are filled with hopeful glints.

You allow yourself to breathe to give him a confident answer, "Yes."

Hyunjin doesn't wait to put his arms around you and pull you into a hug, he buries his nose in your neck to drink in your natural scent that gives him a sense of comfort.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes..." you repeatedly say as you hug him back.

Without looking, you can hear him smiling close to your ear and you don't expect him to say those three words right into your ear.

"I love you."

You immediately pull away from his hug and look at him, "Me too," you whine.

You almost cry because all this time, you thought he didn't like you as much as you do or even had the faintest idea that he would be the first and this soon to say those three words to you.

"You love me?" He asks in disbelief.

"I've been holding myself back from telling you that 'cause I'm not sure if you feel the same so I waited for you to say it first," you can't hold it much longer, you let your emotions out and your eyes instantly get teary.

"Oh, baby," he coos, pulling you into a hug again. He holds your face with both hands and places a chaste kiss on your forehead, long and lingering, making your heart overflow with warm feelings.

"Say it again to me, please?" He sweetly begs.

"I love you," you softly mutter.

You thought saying it would lessen the ache in your heart but it's the opposite, your heart still aches every time you say it because it's real and it's true, and the pain is the proof of it.

There's that melodic chime and you look around to see where it comes from, not realizing that it's both of your watches turn green.

Hyunjin doesn't waste another second but bring your head close and slightly tilts your head upward. He flashes you a smile before leaning in and placing his soft lips on yours. You close your eyes to heighten the other senses so you can taste him more and feel him better.

The kiss itself is rewarding and exceptional, you feel like kissing him for the first time all over again.

He stops and pulls away for a second to ask, "Is it still green?"

You glance down at your wrist and nod, "Uh-huh, it's still green."

Hyunjin dives in for another kiss, putting his hand on the nape of your neck and deepening the kiss rather too passionately, sending you both to fall onto the picnic mat.

YOU: We've still got a lot to learn and there's going to be plenty more challenges for us out there but if he's by my side, I don't think anything can go wrong.

Some people are hanging out in the firepit, catching the two of you walking hand-in-hand, returning from the date. They are hooting at the sight of you and you can't help but smile, well, you've been smiling non-stop since Hyunjin asked you to be his girlfriend.

"Look at you, guys! Smiling ear to ear!" Saskia teases you with a pat on your butt.

You both sit on the smaller sofa facing everyone, "I know you won't believe it but we got a green light," you brag with a grin.

"Oh!" Saskia coos with her hands covering her mouth.

"Go on, spill!" Emilie demands the details from you.

"It was a beautiful date. We went to this beautiful small island, just the two of us," you make it succinct for all of them.

"And we're official now," Hyunjin adds with her arm around your shoulder.

"Man, you have a girlfriend now!" Andy proudly says, coming at him for an aggressive hug.

"Aww, I'm so happy for you guys," Emilie mutters with an envious smile.

The happy moment has to end with Lana assembling everyone in the cabana. You both successfully gained back $90,000 in the prize fund so you don't have to worry about the money anymore. Then again, you never know what's coming, all you know is she always makes you worry in this retreat.

The cone chimes and at this point, you give up on trying to guess what kind of news she's going to announce this time.

"Hello, everyone."

"Hi, Lana!" Everyone replies

"How do you feel knowing the retreat is almost over?" She asks.

"I'm happy we learned a lot," Andy answers.

"Yeah. Exactly," Saskia agrees with him.

"Sad that it'll be over soon," Edie says with a pout.

"Can we stay a little longer?" Saskia jokingly asks.

"As this is your last night in the retreat, I've prepared a special Cinelana with your best moments in the retreat," she announces.

All is cheering in response to this delightful surprise from Lana but Edouard isn't that delighted to hear it.

"Another Cinelana?" He asks with a weird look on his face, "I heard the last one wasn't very good."

While Andy is rubbing his hands together in excitement, "It's going to be awesome."

"Fuck. Everyone is going to cry," Frida says, already fanning her eyes in case it waters.

The TV lights up with the screen showing the word 'Cinelana' and then a video plays, a compilation of moments from the first time the group entered the retreat to the recent one where everyone had fun during the cooking workshop.

Everyone cheers whenever someone is kissing and laughs whenever it shows the goofy things people did, and for you, your heart bursts whenever you and Hyunjin appear on the screen, getting all sorts of emotions as you're watching it.

Edie puts her arm around you and holds you close as the video keeps playing, she's getting emotional as well the more she watches.

When the video ends, everyone takes a moment to compose themselves before applauding. Looking back at it, you can see that you have grown a lot as a person and you find yourself getting emotional by it, you carefully wipe the corners of your eyes and try not to ruin your makeup.

"Damn. I look that good on TV?" Andy playfully says.

"Play it again!" Saskia pleads with her hands raised in the air.

Lana chimes again and starts talking, "After reviewing your steps here at the retreat, I can see that you've changed a lot since you arrived here. Anything you'd like to share?"

Everyone shares their experiences in the retreat and how it changed them in a way. When it comes to your turn, you take a second to gather your thoughts and organize them into words.

"I feel like I had a lot of barriers and here, I learned to open up and really be myself," you share.

Hyunjin takes his turn next, licking his lips before speaking, "In here, I learned that the more honest you are with people, the more they become part of your life," he says with a smile and a glance at you.

It's only hitting you now that the retreat is going to end soon and you feel emotional all over again. Everything that you went through here, shaped you into who you are today and for that, you're grateful for this experience.

After all, everyone is really happy to know that we did our best and everything worked out in the end.

YOU: I'm having mixed feelings, you know? I miss everything that has happened here. It was really like a movie, it went by so fast.

The lights are on too early or that's what you thought. You stay lying on your stomach and dive back into your pillow, refusing to wake up.

Not long after, Hyunjin sneaks his hand under and rests it on the arch of your back. He lands gentle caresses on your back and softly murmurs, "Wake up, baby."

"Mmh," you hum in response to let him know that you're awake.

Dissatisfied with your answer, he hovers above you and slowly puts most of his weight on you.

"Wake up," he says again with a slobbering kiss on your bare shoulder.

"I'm awake," you croak with your eyes closed.

He gently removes the hair covering your face to place a kiss on your cheek, "Still sleepy, mmh?"

You lift your head from the pillow and nod with your eyes still shut.

"Cute," he comments and places another kiss on your cheek.

He lets you sleep more as he cuddles you in his arms, playing with your hair while chatting with Andy on the next bed.

A while later, the cone chimes for her usual morning greeting.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Morning, Lana!" Diego is the loudest to reply to her greeting.

"Welcome to the last day of the retreat."

It's kind of hard to believe that you're close to the end line and when you look back at it, it feels so short compared to the thought you had when you started it.

"I'll be announcing who the finalists are shortly," Lana announces.

Hoping to win the money too would be too much to ask, you already feel incredibly lucky that Lana decided to give Hyunjin another chance and make it possible for you to finish the retreat together with him.

"This is the last day! Let's make it count!" Edie cheerfully shouts to the room.

Hyunjin cups your cheek and looks at you, "Want to swim together?"

"Okay," you mumble.

"Okay?"

"Okay," you repeat with a chuckle.

You head straight to the bathroom to wash up and change into a swimsuit before joining Hyunjin in the swimming pool.

The morning sun heats the pool water, making it lukewarm and comfortable for you to dip your feet in. You sit and watch Hyunjin skillfully swimming in a backstroke style.

As he waddles his way to you, you hold your arms out at him, "Take me for a ride, baby!"

He brushes his wet hair to the back before turning around, offering his back at you, and lets you hop on it. You put your arms around his neck for support as he takes you for a swim around the pool.

"So, what's our plan?" You surprise him with a question as the two of you stand on the side of the pool.

"Uhm..." he takes a second to wipe the beads of water on his face, "You're coming home with me, that's for sure."

You prop a hand under your chin and slyly smile at him, "And?"

This time, he wipes the beads of water hanging under his chin, "You want to know?"

"Uh-huh," you eagerly nod.

"Come closer and I'll tell you," he says with his fingers gesturing you to come close.

You obey and lean closer, he leans in as well but his mouth gets way too close to your ear and when you think he's about to whisper something, he kisses your neck instead.

He keeps you close with his arm tightly wrapped around your waist and instead of trying to fight it, you cave in and hold him back.

It's a moment like this that makes you wish things remain the same once you get outside of this retreat.

YOU: I'll miss waking up next to him and just being with him all the time [sadly smiles]

A little after lunch, Lana gathered everyone for the finalist's announcement. They may seem calm but you believe, they anticipate the news on whether they have the chance to win the money or not.

Lana comes online and after all these times, that melodic chime makes you nervous still.

"Oh, I'm not going to miss that sound," you groan.

Hyunjin smiles and rubs his hand up and down your arm to comfort you.

"Hello, everyone," Lana greets.

"Hello, Lana!" Everyone enthusiastically replies which is very unusual.

"I've been collecting data since you arrived and have now conducted my final analysis," She informs.

You have accepted the fact that your chance to be a finalist is slim, close to zero so you don't anticipate the announcement as much as everyone else.

"As you are aware, there was a prize fund of $200,000 allocated to aid your development. Now, the prize fund stands at $90,000."

"That's a lot of money," Diego says even though more than half of the total prize money has gone.

"There are three places at the final," Lana reveals.

You see everyone is glancing at each other and probably, calculating their chances in their heads as they keep following Lana's further explanation.

"Following my rules alone isn't enough to win. The finalists are those who have shown the most personal growth during their time at the retreat."

YOU: Will I win the money? Probably not. But would I like to win the money? Yes, I'd love to.

Hyunjin doesn't hope much about winning the money, he's happy just to gain that money back for everyone to win in the first place.

"The first finalist is..."

He also believes that Lana will make the right choices so whoever gets chosen, deserves it.

"Vic and Edouard, I nominate you as a couple," Lana announces.

Vic and Edouard take a stand and hug each other, looking utterly happy to be one of the three finalists. As a couple, they blossomed from all the hardships they went through together and that makes them deserve a spot in the final three.

"The second finalist is..." Lana continues with the announcement.

Hyunjin sees that you don't seem that hopeful to be called as a finalist as well but not disappointed either. The most important thing of all is you got each other and that's enough.

"...Edie."

A round of applause is aimed toward Edie who gladly stands up to take the second finalist spot, smiling as Lana explains the reason why she chose her to be a finalist.

"The third and last finalist is..."

His guess is either Frida or Andy because they both have shown so much growth in the retreat and they've been avid followers of Lana's principles.

"...Hyunjin."

It takes him a minute to register that Lana called his name, well, his guess is off-mark because he didn't expect that he'll be a finalist, or even considered to be one.

You keep yanking his arm, urging him to stand up as Lana instructed. He quickly gets ahold of himself and gets up from the sofa as everyone looks at him with pride.

"Hyunjin, although you connected with your partner from the start, you struggled to change your player ways, putting your sexual desires first and breaking numerous rules that I have to take drastic changes."

You quietly hold his hand behind him and stare up at him with a proud smile on your face, shaking it in excitement.

"But when I gave you a second chance, you embraced the opportunity to grow and found the importance of emotional intimacy."

HYUNJIN: I'm just happy to be considered that I am worthy enough, really.

It's a privilege to see him grow, he's changed so much from the person you met on the first day of the retreat to the man you're looking at now.

As someone who takes a small part in his transformative journey, you're more than happy to see his growth being acknowledged and standing as one of the finalists.

"Hyunjin, Edie, or Vic and Edouard will walk away with $90,000 and the decision will be made by the remaining guests."

At the end of the day, it's up to us to choose who actually wins because we are there every step of the way and being with each other all the time. You can only hope that everyone is making the right decision.

"Will the shortlisted guests please leave the cabana while the voting takes place?"

You get up to give Hyunjin a quick hug before he leaves with the other finalists.

"See you later," he mutters to you with a peck on your cheek.

"Mmh. See you later," you say with a smile.

Edie waves her hands and blows kisses at everyone before turning around to leave the cabana.

"I've been with them since day one. I've seen their journey so much and it's hard because how can you compare them?" Andy says, torn in between three choices.

"It's a question of decision which one you think deserves it most," Saskia suggests.

YOU: Hyunjin may have broken the most rules in the retreat but I've seen him learn and grow from those mistakes so my vote goes to him.

The dressing room is crowded and full of chatters, everyone is busy getting ready for the last party in the villa.

You put on the white dress you've been saving for which fits the theme 'White Party'. For the hair, you get help from Vic, curling them into loose, soft waves while you're doing your makeup.

This is what you're going to miss the most, everyone is in one room and interacting, there is laughter and smiles, and all sorts of energy converge in this one room.

Since the finalists have to wait in the dressing room, you make time to have a few words with Hyunjin and come up to him for a hug.

"I'm so proud of you," you mutter low enough only for him to hear and ignore that there are other people in the room.

He doesn't even try to stop you but stays still as you place little kisses and leave faint lipstick marks all over his face.

"So, so proud," you say again while tightening your arms around him.

He carefully pats your hand without ruining your hair and then kisses the top of your head.

"We're going to win that money," he jokingly says with a sly smile.

There's a possibility that he'd win but you don't want to put on a high hope. You decide to laugh it off but secretly wish that it'll come true in your head.

"You'd better. Flight tickets aren't cheap," you joke back.

With another kiss on his cheek, you leave the dressing room and catch Frida checking herself out in the bathroom. You decide to join her to check your appearance one more time.

"Look at us!" Frida says, putting her arm on your shoulder, "We became new women."

You smile as you look at both of your reflections in the mirror, and you like the person that you're seeing, she's confident, she's emotionally available, and ready for the world.

YOU: I came in a player and now I'm leaving with my head high and a smile on my face. I just need Hyunjin to win that money [laughs]

You and Frida are the last ones to join everyone by the pool where the last party is held. Frida notices that everyone is already holding a drink in their hands.

"Is that Prosecco?" She asks.

Frida squeals even though no one is answering her, she quickly grabs two glasses for her and you with Diego filling them for both of you.

"Let's have a toast for Lana," Andy shouts.

Everyone raises their glasses in the air and waits for the cue to drink it.

"And cheers to our long, hard, sexless summer," Edie adds.

Not long after, the finalists join the party with a dramatic entrance. The moment you had with Hyunjin earlier was so brief that you didn't pay attention to his outfit.

Silk shirts seem tacky to most people but Hyunjin is not most people, he looks damn good in it. It's one of those moments that makes you wonder if he really is your boyfriend. Heck! You even forgot that he's your boyfriend.

"You look amazing," you whisper into his ear.

"Thank you," he shyly says, blushing.

For the first time, everyone is happy for Lana to interrupt the party, mostly because they can't wait to find out who's going to take home the money.

"Good evening, everyone."

It may be going to be the last time you hear that melodic chime and God, let it be the last time.

"During your time at my retreat, you have broken my rules 20 times," Lana announces.

You almost choke on your wine hearing that, feeling guilty for contributing to half of those rule breaks.

"Goddamn!" Remy exclaims with eyes widening in slight shock.

"Throughout your stay, I've observed people commit to the process and ultimately make a significant change," Lana continues.

Edie cups her hands around her mouth and loudly says, "You did a good job, Lana!"

Everyone feels the need to give Lana a round of applause because all the credit goes to that cone-shaped cockblocker.

"The time has come to announce the winner."

This is where things get tense and you feel nervous for Hyunjin no matter how much you convince yourself that he doesn't need to win that money, he doesn't need to win anything at all.

"Finalists, please stand up!" Lana orders.

Hyunjin looks at you and you hurriedly give him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

"You got this, baby," you mutter with a smile as he gets up to hear the winner's announcement.

HYUNJIN: We've all been going through so many emotions and pushing ourselves to be better.

YOU: So happy that we've been able to share this experience with everyone here [smiles]

"The votes have been counted and only one finalist can check out with a $90,000 prize."

Hyunjin still can't believe that he's standing as one of the finalists and possibly, wins the money. It's a little funny though, remembering he went through a lot to get that money back.

"The person in third place is..."

It would be funnier if he won that money too, right? But he should remain humble, the other two are as deserving as him to win it if not more.

"...Edie."

Instead of looking disappointed, Edie keeps on smiling, she blows kisses to everyone, including him, Vic, and Edouard. Hyunjin smiles back at her, giving her a round of applause for winning third place.

Then it hits him that he's on the top two and it feels real with you holding his hand so tightly behind him.

"The winner who will be leaving with $90,000 is..."

He can feel you hold his hand tighter and tighter in each passing second his knuckles turn white.

"...Vic and Edouard."

YOU: We may have not won but I still win because I have the best man here.

HYUNJIN: Money is easy to make, but love is hard to find [smiles]

YOU: [looks at Hyunjin] Well said, baby.

Even though you didn't hear the name you wanted to hear, it doesn't stop you from celebrating. You even come to give them a hug to congratulate them on their win.

"Congrats, Vic!" You sincerely say to her as you tightly hug her.

Looking at her crying in happy tears gets you emotional as well, your eyes start to water, feeling tremendously happy for both of them and for everyone too.

To fully celebrate the moment, Edouard pops open a bottle of champagne and sprays it at everyone. You're lucky that Hyunjin immediately shields you from getting wine all over your dress.

After Edouard and Vic take a big, triumphant sip of wine, Lana comes with one, last announcement:

"My retreat is officially over. The rules no longer apply."

The way you and Hyunjin immediately look at each other and waste no time to crash your lips together that your teeth almost collide.

The kiss is momentous, making it a special memory that you'll cherish for life. Dare you say, like a movie.

"Pool party!" Andy spontaneously shouts into the night as he runs and jumps into the pool fully clothed.

Everyone laughs at the idea but a moment later, following suit, jumping into the pool with their clothes still on. Hyunjin looks at you to see if you think of the same thing as him. You nod in signal and take his hand, walking with him to the edge of the pool to finally jump into the swimming pool together.

He emerges out of the water first and hurriedly pulls you out, he puts your arms around him as support.

He suddenly gets the urge to utter his feelings and goes with it, "I love you."

You put your forehead against him and smile, "You know I love you too."

Out of happiness, Hyunjin lifts you up and quickly brings you down once he notices that your wet dress is stuck to your body and exposes everything, and a crazy idea crosses his head at that moment.

"What?" You ask in confusion.

He leans into your ear and says, "Want to check the suite for one last time?"

You gently hit his chest in reaction and break into laughter, and he thinks he should be taking it as it is, a crazy idea and nothing more.

You look around before looking back at him and say, "We should go now before anyone notices."

And this is why he likes you, you're shy but bold at times, a bit crazy but that's how he likes it. But the best thing of all, you are his.

YOU: Any final words of wisdom, babe?

HYUNJIN: It was an amazing journey with a perfect ending [smiles]

YOU: [nods] Yes.

HYUNJIN: But if I have to be honest, I just want to take her home now so we can f—

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