#just ugh worst pain of my life to shove a piece of plastic in my vagina and it just disappears into a void inside u once it passes

[rainmonarch]

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[burwickdestination]

Unhappy Birthday

It’s James’ birthday today (April 6th) I wrote a fic about his previous birthdays in honor of this not-so-special day. Under the cut, 3,300 words, not proofread. Kinda depressing.

10

“Yo, Amy. Isn’t that that kid? He’s back again.”

The young woman looks up from where she’d been busily counting the money from the till to see her coworker jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, towards the front of the restaurant. Sure enough, through the glass door, she can see a small figure standing in the parking lot, barely illuminated in the darkness by the restaurant’s front sign.

She sighs, throwing the money back into the register draw. It’s that little Asian kid again, the one that lives nearby, in the rundown apartment building that probably should’ve seen a wrecking ball a good 15 years ago. Always showing up like a little beggar with bruises and scrapes and a quiet attitude… It’s like they say, you feed a stray once and they don’t go away, coming by for scraps again and again.

She doesn’t bother putting on a coat as she pushes the front door open and begins walking towards the boy, ignoring the chill of the spring night that meets her bare arms.

“Kid,” she calls. He slouches, making himself small and probably ruining his spine in the process. A hazel eye peeks up at her from under his hood, black locks of hair a mess in front of his face like he’s trying to hide it from view.

Coming to stand in front of him, she crosses her arms. “Kid,” she says again and he finally lifts his head.

She almost sucks in a breath between her teeth at the sight before her. That is one nasty bruise, the size of Texas taking up the left side of his face. Unfortunately, it’s not an uncommon sight either. She shakes her head with a sigh. What is the world coming to that ten-year-olds are getting into street fights?

“I can’t keep giving you leftovers, you know. I��m going to get in trouble sooner or later.” She tries to keep her voice gentle but still serious. It’s pretty obvious this skinny kid isn’t getting food at home and it sucks, she doesn’t want to deny him, but she has to.

He looks away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, slouching so far she can imagine the kind of back pain he’ll be having later in life if he keeps this up.

The quiet that falls is only broken by the sound late night traffic on the overpass in the distance. They stand there, what they’re waiting for unclear. She’s just about to turn and head back inside when the boy speaks up.

“...It’s April 6th.” His voice is quiet, one of the rare times she’s ever heard him speak.

She raises an eyebrow. “...Yeah… It is. What about it?”

He looks away, hiding himself in his hoodie once again. “...It’s my birthday.”

Oh.

She shifts uncomfortably.

...Damnit.

“We…” She tugs on her ponytail, chewing the inside of her cheek. “We probably have at least one piece of cheesecake left.”

The boy lifts his head again, eyes wide. Slowly, a smile creeps onto his face and she can see he’s missing a canine tooth, but more than that she can see the way his left eye starts to water. If you get beat so bad it hurts to smile, why keep fighting?

One last sigh and she gestures for him to follow. “Come on.” And follow, he does, like an eager puppy about to get a treat. That’s just too damn depressing.

14

Boisterous laughter fills the night as young bodies bump and push in their stumble out into the once empty street.

James tenderly touches the new ring hanging from his septum as one of his friends shouts back into the shop, “Thanks, dude!”

“Man, this was a great idea!” another voice shouts. James grunts as a body collides with his, an arm thrown over his shoulders. The pale, freckled face of his best friend grins back at him, in spite of the dirty look he’s thrown. “Right, James? Feeling like a new man with that steel in your nose?”

James rolls his eyes and doesn’t deign to respond. It was probably a bad idea, even he knows that. But it felt so damn good in the moment, another piercing to his collection, another reason for people to gawk, another reason for him to give the finger to those people.

He doesn’t even care. He likes making bad decisions. Fucking himself up, it’s… what’s that word? Cathartic? It’s fucking cathartic. No one can do it to him if he gets him first, right?

...He doesn’t even know what he means anymore.

His thoughts are interrupted by his buddy giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Happy birthday, dude.”

“Oh, right! It’s, like, your birthday, huh?” One of the girls latches onto his arm. He’s gotten so tall, despite his age, he doesn’t even look out of place with the older teenagers that for some reason have taken to him. “Come hang with us. I totally got my uncle to sneak us some beer, it’ll be awesome!”

Beer…? Shit, this is getting worse. Beer in itself is a bad decision, one that’ll lead to more bad decisions. Such as kissing his best friend, a boy, thus ruining their friendship and leading to a lot of confusion for him for the next few years. But the world’ll prove that won’t be the worst or only bad decision for the rest of the night.

The first is when he agrees easily, knowing he’s never drank before.

The second is when one of the other girls says, “Oh, I’m gonna call my parents. They’ll freak if I stay out all night and don’t tell them. I’m just gonna tell them I’m studying at your place tonight, okay, Ann?”

It reminds him of his own home obligations and he pulls out his cell phone. His thumb hovers over the buttons as he debates with himself.

He’s supposed to call, right? Calling would just… invite anger, time to stew. But so would not calling, perhaps even worse than calling. If the phone is even answered. Maybe it’ll be equal, either way… so unpredictable, he doesn’t know what’s the right thing, just walking on eggshells for 14 years.

The answer, he’ll quickly come to realize, is they’re no right thing, no matter how hard he tries. A situation too irrational for a kid to understand that he’ll never be good enough.

But he’s not going to back out. Either way, he doesn’t want to go home.

So he shoves his phone, undisturbed, back into his back and grins, saying, “Fuck it, let’s go.”

It was a bad decision, he’ll come to find.

It was the worst decision.

It was a mistake.

And he can’t take it back.

21

“Happy birthday.”

All it takes is those two words to make his skin crawl like a centipede. He recoils as if burned, a deep frown setting in between his brows.

“Whatever,” he responds gruffly, yanking open the refrigerator door much harder than he needs to, in search of a bottle of water. Slamming the door shut, he twists the cap off and gulps down a third of the bottle in one go, thoroughly ignoring the amused smile on Alpha’s face.

“What’s wrong with a little birthday greeting, boy?” He chuckles and James’ body temperature spikes, rage doing far more than the heat of the shower had and now this cold water isn’t helping.

“I hate my birthday,” James growls. The water bottle’s fragile plastic dents in his barely restrained grasp. “What’s to celebrate? Just being born? I didn’t do anything and I sure as hell didn’t want this. ‘Oh, on this day 21 years ago, you got pushed out of a vagina and no one’s been happy since! Congrats! Be miserable, you prick!’”

The slam of the water bottle on the counter punctuates his rant and water shoots out of the top, spilling all over the kitchen island and his arm. He scowls and turns to grab a dish cloth, swearing under his breath.

Alpha clears his throat, raising a fist if just hide the smirk playing at his lips. He watches the young wolf wipe up the mess just as aggressively as when he caused it.

“Well… At least you’re old enough to drink now?” he offers, quirking an eyebrow. James shoots him a dark look, snatching what remains of the water bottle.

“I’ve been drinking since I was 14, so thanks, but you can’t make me think today is special or in any way good.” He brushes past Alpha, bumping into his shoulder harder than he probably needed to. “I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me.”

Alpha watches him leave, smirk turning into a sad smile. He hasn’t known him long, but it’s like James has been an angsty teen for the past 20 years and will continue to be one for the next 20.

27

The rain pounding against the tiny window of the door has the focus of all his otherwise zoned-out senses. Tiny droplets of water hitting glass in the quiet bar, somehow it’s soothing for his injured mind.

“Really coming down out there, huh?” James tears his eyes away from the sight to see the bartender in front of him, wiping down the counter. The old man smiles. “No wonder it’s so dead tonight.”

James doesn’t even need to look to know, the quiet an obvious sign of just how many bodies have dragged their sorry asses to the bar by the coast on a rainy Thursday evening. He’s one of them, the silence of his house a bigger stab at his shot nerves than the gentle sounds of living even amongst the sorrowful.

He stares down at his drink, then tips his head back, downing the liquor in one gulp and grimacing as it burns the whole way down.

“Yeah,” he coughs, sliding the glass back towards the bartender. “Ain’t any reason to brave this weather for a beer today.”

“Aye.” The man flashes a knowing smile at James, one he can’t see, as he takes the glass. “We rarely get a ton o’ business unless it’s some special holiday. Nothing special about today.”

James can’t help the way his features twist into a wry smirk, the bitter taste on his tongue, he knows, not from the alcohol. “Amen.”

He leans back on the stool, hand going for his breast pocket to find a pack of cigarettes, when a tap on the counter draws his attention down to the lowball glass now sitting in front of him.

The old man’s eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles. “One more. Double whiskey, on the house. Happy birthday, detective.”

“Ugh… I forgot I told you that’s today.” James frowns. Why the hell did he say that anyway? It’s no one’s business but his.

He stares down at the glass like it’s about to spring to life and bite him. Those two little words alway invoke this… awful feeling inside of him, memories that well up at the forefront of his mind, like he’s slapped his hand down on a hotplate and can’t bring himself to remove it, second after second of searing pain until he’s begging himself for mercy, tears streaming his face, but his muscles are frozen, he can’t move, he can barely even scream anymore, so much pain he can’t-

His inner spiral is broken by the feeling of a warm body sitting down beside him. He hadn’t realize his jaw was clenched so tight until it relaxes and an ache sets into his teeth. He lets out a breath and turns his gaze to whoever it was that brought him out of that.

“Hi.” He’s greeted by a gentle voice and the pretty smile of an attractive young woman. She turns to face him fully. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but did I just hear it’s your birthday today?”

“Ah… Yeah, it is.” He braces himself, ducking his head as he finally accepts the glass, taking a sip with all the restraint he can muster to not gulp down the whole thing. He didn’t even notice her come in, whenever that was. Then again, he hasn’t been paying much attention to any of the other space fillers in the joint. The only reason this woman appearing is a surprise is because he has no clue when he started letting his senses settle into static, enough to not even notice someone behind him. What’s wrong with him lately…?

“It doesn’t seem to be too happy of a birthday, though,” she says. Now, what could give her that idea? Although he can sense in her body language she’s trying to be friendly. Nervous, but trying. Whatever, he’ll play.

“No, it’s really not.” James shakes his head. “But it never is. I’m not a fan of my birthday.”

He watches the ice in the glass shift with the movement of him lifting it to his mouth, pausing as he considers. Should he really say this…? Eh… fuck it. What does it matter anyway?

“And… My girlfriend and I broke up last week,” he confesses.

The woman takes that as her cue to strike. She lays a hand on his arm and says, in her most fawning, sympathetic voice, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The bark of laughter he wants to let out slams to a halt against his teeth and he just barely manages to wrangle it into a subdued chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Don’t be. It was for the best.” He reaches up, brushing aside black locks to reveal the three circular scars just above his ear. His cigarettes, her actions. “She did this to me.”

“Oh.” The surprise is so evident in the woman’s voice he almost laughs again. Threw her off. Too heavy for strangers. Nice.

He waves it off, shifting tone as he finally gets a good look at her. He quirks an eyebrow. “You looking for me to buy you a drink? Because I can do that.”

What the hell, might as well get something out of this shitty day.

“I’m James.” He offers a hand. “Det. James Ko.”

She shakes his hand, ruby red lips pulling into a smile. “Amelia. Dr. Amelia Sharp.”

“So, Doctor.” He raises his glass to his lips, signaling to the bartender with his other hand.

“Yes, Detective.” She turns to face forward, straightening up.

“Haven’t seen your face around here.” The wolf sets its sights, haunches tensing, the spring of the bite held in its jaw. Ready to pounce.

He looks at her, smirk in place. “You new in town?”

35

It’s the angry buzz of his phone that wakes him, rumbling violently against the wood of the nightstand and suddenly he’s throwing the blanket off himself. His feet touch the floor and he hunches over, tangling his fingers in his hair as he barely holds back a growl, the throbbing in his head crescendoing to a pounding.

Not a moment later, he can feel his eyes shifting. Just the tiniest change to a wolfish gaze and the pain subsides, melting to a blissful nothing. Perks of werewolf healing

Once that’s settled, he finally picks his phone up, nose wrinkling as the screen shines a bit too brightly back at him.

“Ah… fuck.”

He almost falls off the bed in his haste to reach his jeans and begins pulling them on. That’s of course when the body behind him begins to stir.

“Mm…” The young man sharing the bed rolls over. “Leaving so soon?”

James almost shudders at the hand that slides down his bare back. Ugh, he shouldn’t have stayed as long as he had as it is, he definitely can’t hang around. It’s the fingers in the waistband of his boxer shorts that make him jump to his feet, out of reach with the pretense of yanking his pants on.

“I’m late for work,” he says as he fumbles with his zipper. On a day like this, he’s really not in the mood for conversation. He refuses to admit to himself that it was a mistake, but he knows it wasn’t the most thought out choice.

He was… desperate. For what, he doesn’t know. To not be alone? He just needed something. A soft touch. A warm body. A few moments of bliss. Just not thinking for a few hours. Anything to ignore the fact that it’s his birthday and he’s thirty-fucking-five years old.

“No need to be so cold the morning after, Detective.” He can feel like slime of that smirk on his spine as he pulls his shirt on. His fingers don’t want to cooperate in buttoning it up.

“You said you knew what this was,” he answers with a shortness like he doesn’t know the guy is right. It’s not his modus operandi to be an ice king after sex, but he wants this day over before it began. Any niggling to his temper won’t end well.

The man laughs lightly, taking on that faux ‘sweet and innocent’ tone James has alway hated. “I do, I do. Just expected, I don’t know, maybe a little breakfast together after the way you took advantage of me like that, Detective..”

James stops cold. His button almost rips off, the way his hands tense.

Clearing his throat, he calmly resumes buttoning his shirt—leaving the top couple buttons undone, of course. Then, heart hardening to black ice, he turns and fixes the man with the cold stare of a wolf enraged.

“I had more to drink than you,” he hisses.

The man’s smile turns nervous. “I know, it was… a joke.”

“It’s not a joke.” Tension crackles in the air. James grabs his boots, not even bothering to put them on as he calls over his shoulder, “I didn’t give you my number, so don’t contact me.”

And with that, he’s out the door, hurrying to the parking lot.

Okay, he’s ready to admit it was a mistake. Damnit, he’s normally so good about that, too. They may be flings, but they’re supposed to be enjoyable ones. Just two people who can at least get along having fun together, making each other feel good.

Not some college twink wanting to get into the pants of a detective over a decade older than him like a conquest because he has some unresolved fucking daddy issues.

Ugh… and now the headache’s coming back.

Finally in the safety of his car, James leans his head against the steering wheel. He must’ve lost brain cells over the years, how could he be so stupid…?

Another angry buzzing of his phone and he growls, digging it out of his pocket to find it’s actually a call, not a message.

Upon seeing the name alight on his screen, the tension immediately melts into exhaustion and he sighs. Aryn… Of course.

“Hello,” he answers, pressing the phone to his ear and preparing himself.

“You disappoint me, Mr. Ko.” Yep, there’s her reprimanding voice. Oof, she even changed the honorific. “An hour late, you should be ashamed.”

He groans, leaning heavily back in his seat. “Spit on me, I deserve it.”

“...Now, James, how can I be mad when you sweet talk like that?”

A chuckle escapes him before he can stop it. He lazily inserts his key into the ignition. “Ah… I’m absolutely screwed when I get there, huh?”

“Swamped,” she chirps.

Great…

The car engine roars to life as he twists the key and he settles back into his seat for another procrastinating moment. His gaze turns to the outside, hand moving to roll down the window and let in the cool air and sweet smell of spring. He sighs. Fuck, he’s tired.

“We really need to get another body here to take on a few of these cases.”